Category: English

1 At the pre-wedding party, we played a drinking game: answer with “Of course” or take a shot. Savannah’s best friend Carter cornered her. “I’ve seen you naked a few times, right?” She laughed. “Of course.” She fired back. “You secretly want to sleep with me.” Carter grinned. “Of course!” Lost in their world, they volleyed back and forth. I sat in the corner, acid burning my throat. Then Carter turned to me. “Freebie, Savannah. In the next life, you’d still choose Michael.” Everyone knew the answer. Savannah went silent. She chugged her beer. Awkward glances swept the room. “Don’t get the wrong idea,” she forced a smile. “I just wanted a drink. Of course I’ll marry Michael.” Laughter resumed. Glasses clinked. I sat in the dim corner, eyes stinging. Savannah had lost, so it was Carter’s turn to ask me. He smirked, already knowing he’d won. “You’re not showing up to the wedding tomorrow, right?” My voice came out too calm. “Of course.” I won the game. But in this relationship, I had lost everything. … Carter raised an eyebrow and looked at me. “Savannah, your little husband is super competitive.” The crowd immediately started teasing. “Savannah, the groom-to-be is speaking his absolute truth right now!” “You better coax him before tomorrow!” Savannah let out a dismissive scoff. “Coax my ass. It is just a stupid game.” What a great excuse. Just a game. The two of them used this game as a smokescreen to blatantly flirt, while I, her actual fiancé, sat beside her like a ghost. Carter lifted his chin at me. “Alright, your turn. Keep it going.” “You are in love with Savannah, right?” I forced myself to sound composed, but my chest felt completely suffocated. Carter offered a casual, indifferent smile. “Of course.” “Groom-to-be, your attacks are way too weak. Let me turn up the heat.” He leaned forward. “Last month when you were on your business trip, I helped Savannah relieve some tension. You don’t mind, do you?” My breathing completely stopped for a second. My fingers began to tremble. Carter casually threw an arm over Savannah’s shoulder, a bright smile on his face. “This girl was missing you like crazy, and she had nowhere to release it. As her bro, I just did her a solid. Gotta admit, Savannah has the absolute best body I have ever seen.” He reached out, pretending to slide his hand down her waist. Savannah intercepted his wrist, pulling him playfully into her chest. “Spill it. Whose else have you seen, huh?” “Please, since when does the kid boss the dad around?” Carter’s lips curled into a smirk. He was clearly waiting for me to break down. “Groom-to-be, if you can’t say ‘Of course,’ you have to drink.” I fought with everything I had to control my shaking voice. “Of course.” The playful wrestling between the two of them instantly stopped. Last month, I was out of the country for a massive project. I worked day and night, destroying my sleep schedule just to build a solid foundation for Savannah and my future. I never could have imagined that while I was working my life away across the ocean, she and her guy best friend were taking a sledgehammer to that exact future. I stared dead at Carter, pronouncing every word with crystal clarity. “You are just a homewrecker hiding behind the title of ‘best bro’, right?” The laughter and music in the private room abruptly died. Carter’s smug expression froze. He opened his mouth. Before the word could even leave his lips, Savannah clamped her hand over his mouth. She slammed her beer bottle onto the table and glared at me, her brows pulled into a tight knot. “Are you out of your damn mind?” “It is just a game! Why are you taking this so seriously?” The rest of the room immediately chimed in to back her up. “Yeah, man, don’t be so dramatic. They are strictly platonic. It is not as dirty as you are making it out to be.” I looked at them in absolute disbelief. “Taking it seriously?” “He brags about helping her relieve her needs, and when I call him a homewrecker, suddenly I am the one taking it too seriously?” Savannah’s tone dripped with suppressed irritation. “What homewrecker? He is my best friend. If anything were to actually happen between us, do you honestly think it would even be your turn?” Best friend. Always the best friend. The boiling resentment I had buried for months finally erupted. “I would rather it never be my turn!” “And just a minute ago, you would rather down an entire bottle of beer than give a fake ‘Of course’ to appease me. Are you not the one taking this seriously?” She pulled at her collar, looking incredibly annoyed. “I already told you I just wanted a drink.” “Besides, look at you acting like a hysterical mess right now. Who would ever want to choose you in the next life?” It felt like a gaping hole had been blasted through my chest, letting the freezing winter wind howl straight into my lungs. I swallowed hard and spoke. “He didn’t answer. He has to drink.” Carter shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “Fair is fair. I will drink. But groom-to-be, once I finish this glass, you can’t hold a grudge against me anymore.” Savannah snatched the heavy glass right out of his hand. “You know you have a bad stomach. I will drink it.” She tipped her head back and drained the liquor in one gulp. She turned to look at me, her eyes hardened. “Michael, since you want to play, I will play to the very end for him.” “Listen closely. No matter what you ask me, I will say ‘Of course.’” Seven years. I knew this woman far too well. The tight clench of her jaw told me everything. She was waiting for me to do what I always did. Back down, apologize, and hand her a graceful way out. Ever since Carter entered the picture a year ago, everything between us had shattered. But because of the massive sunk cost of our seven year relationship, I kept retreating. Step by step. This time, I refused to take a single step back. This final question, carrying an answer I already knew, was the very last chance I was ever going to give her. I looked straight into her eyes and spoke slowly. “You don’t love me anymore, do you?” She froze for a fraction of a second. “Of course.” Dead silence swallowed the entire room. A sharp, abrupt laugh ripped out of my throat. She would rather use those three words to win a stupid drinking game than use a single glass of alcohol to save our relationship. I fought down the suffocating ache in my throat and pulled out my phone, sending a text to a specific contact. [I have a wedding fully prepped here. Do you want to get married?] The moment I received an affirmative reply, I turned around and walked straight toward the door. The second the words had left Savannah’s mouth, she knew she had messed up. Seeing me get up to leave, panic flashed across her face. She rushed forward and grabbed my arm. “Michael, where are you going?” “To the bridal boutique. To pick up my suit.” After all, I had a very different wedding waiting for me tomorrow. Hearing this, the tight knot between Savannah’s brows instantly smoothed out. She let out a very obvious sigh of relief. “I will drive you.” She paused, assuming I had compromised yet again. “Carter is coming too.” “What does he need to go for?” Carter pouted, feigning innocence. “Savannah, look at your man, always drowning in jealousy.” “I am obviously going to pick up the bridesmaid dresses for the girls.” The second the words left his mouth, he shoved past me, pulled open the passenger door of her car, and slid right in. He looked at me standing outside the window, pretending to just realize his mistake. “Oh damn, I am so used to sitting here.” He shook his head and patted Savannah’s hand as she shifted gears. “Your husband is going to call me a homewrecker again. I can’t handle the heat.” “Never mind, never mind. I will just sit in the back.” Savannah turned to look at me, letting out an impatient click of her tongue. She was just about to lecture me when I cut her off. “No need.” I walked straight to the back door and got in. Surprised by my sudden cooperation, Savannah glanced at me through the rearview mirror. She opened her mouth, but ultimately swallowed whatever she was going to say. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it happened, but Savannah’s passenger seat no longer belonged exclusively to me. Just last week, Carter had a sudden craving for a road trip to the Grand Canyon. Savannah packed a bag and drove him without a second thought. Halfway there, he complained he was bored and didn’t want to go anymore. Savannah turned the car around and drove over a thousand miles back home just to appease him. Two days ago, during a massive torrential downpour, I waited for Savannah outside my office building for an entire hour. When I finally called her, I found out she had taken a detour to pick Carter up and completely forgot about me. Years ago, when we first bought this exact car, she hugged me tightly, spinning around in circles with her eyes full of pure adoration. “Michael, this is your exclusive throne. Nobody else is ever allowed to take it!” Yet right now, the car’s GPS navigation was using a custom voice pack recorded by Carter. The two of them were happily chatting away about inside jokes I couldn’t even begin to understand. I looked out the window at the streetlights blurring past in the dark. The very last flicker of hope in my heart quietly burned out in the confines of this cramped car. The moment we walked into the bridal boutique, Carter eagerly rushed forward, looking around in awe. “Damn, you guys have so many suit options here.” He stopped in front of a pristine tuxedo on a mannequin, letting out a dramatic gasp. “This one is gorgeous!” “Too bad your boy is strictly anti-marriage. I will never get the chance to wear something like this.” Savannah raised an eyebrow at him. “Then try it on now. Otherwise, you really will miss your chance.” Before I could even process what was happening, Savannah grabbed Carter by the shoulders and shoved him into a fitting room. A long time passed before he finally stepped out, acting coy and clutching the lapels of the suit. “Savannah, your husband’s taste is wild. This suit shows way too much chest.” “Let me see.” Savannah stepped right up to him, forcefully pulling his hands away from his chest. She openly and shamelessly dragged her eyes over his physique. “Who would have thought you were actually hiding some muscle under there?” “Shut up, you just don’t know how to wear it properly. Blaming my husband’s suit for being revealing.” With that, Savannah actually reached out, her hands running over his chest to adjust the fabric for him. Watching them act completely oblivious to my existence, a wave of profound absurdity washed over me. I had literally wasted seven years of my youth on this person. “Savannah, you accompanied me to my suit fittings three separate times. Do you seriously not remember that this is my wedding suit?” She turned around, a deep frown on her face. “Of course.” I completely froze. For a second, I couldn’t tell if she was still obnoxiously playing the ‘Of course’ game, or if she genuinely believed that forgetting her own groom’s wedding suit was perfectly normal. “You change your mind all the time. You kept swapping between different main suits. How am I supposed to remember?” “As long as you are the one wearing it tomorrow, who cares?” She rubbed her temples, looking thoroughly exhausted by my presence. “Is that right,” I said, my voice completely flat. “But he is wearing it right now.” “Carter, take it off.” I turned to look at the boutique clerk standing nearby. “This gentleman put on my custom wedding suit without permission. Please assist him in taking it off.” Savannah stared at me in shock for a moment before stepping aggressively in front of Carter to shield him. “Michael, when are you going to stop throwing these tantrums?” “Forget it, Savannah,” Carter rolled his eyes, reaching up to undo the bowtie. “Just listen to your husband. I will take it off.” Savannah slammed her hand over his to stop him. When she looked back at me, her eyes were burning with pure fury. She lowered her voice into a dangerous whisper. “Do you want to cancel the wedding tomorrow?!” I let out a cold, sharp laugh. “I think you are the one who doesn’t want to get married. Or maybe you want to marry this homewrecker instead?” The air in the room instantly evaporated. The clerk stood completely paralyzed, terrified to make a single sound. The color drained from Savannah’s face, replaced by a dark, stormy rage. She forced her words out through gritted teeth. “Say that again.” My entire body was shaking. Even my voice couldn’t stop trembling. “Did I say something wrong? You two act like a couple but hide behind the word ‘besties’. During that stupid game, when he asked if you would choose me in the next life, you would rather chug a bottle of beer than say yes.” “Enough!” Savannah violently kicked a heavy wooden stool. It smashed into a floor-to-length mirror, shattering the glass into a million pieces across the floor. Her voice spiked into a hysterical scream. “When the hell are you going to stop targeting him?!” “Next life? I am sick and tired of dealing with you in this life!” I stared at Savannah, completely unable to reconcile this furious monster with the sincere, loving girl I met seven years ago. After graduation, we started a business together. We crammed ourselves into a cheap, tiny studio apartment. During the hardest days, we had to split a single cup of instant ramen for dinner. I gave her every single penny of my savings without a second thought. I even pawned the only relic my deceased father left me, a jade pendant I had worn around my neck since childhood. Back then, I genuinely believed we would be together for the rest of our lives. When Savannah finally made it big, the very first thing she did was buy back that jade pendant and place it around my neck. She looked at me and said, “Michael, one lifetime is not nearly enough with you. Next life, and the life after that, we will always be together.” She had long forgotten the promises she made. She didn’t even want to spend the rest of this life with me anymore. Hot tears finally spilled over my eyelashes and smashed onto the floor. “Since it has come to this, let’s break up.” Seeing my face covered in tears, Savannah completely froze. She opened her mouth, seemingly just realizing the weight of the words she had screamed at me moments ago. “Michael…” Savannah panicked, violently slapping herself across the face. “I went too far. I am an absolute bastard.” “We are not breaking up. We are getting married tomorrow, okay?” She stepped forward and wrapped her arms tightly around me, but her clothes were entirely drenched in Carter’s cologne. My body stiffened. I shoved her away. Savannah stood there, completely lost on how to fix the damage. She instinctively turned around, hoping to call Carter over to smooth things out, only to find the discarded tuxedo lying in a heap on the floor. Carter was gone. Before she could process anything, her phone rang. It was one of her bridesmaids. Savannah hurriedly answered it. “Savannah, what is wrong with your guy?” “Carter is at the club wearing nothing but a tank top! He is chugging hard liquor, and we can’t stop him!” When she turned back to look at me, the brief flash of guilt in her eyes had already been completely swallowed by blame. “Look at what you did, Michael.” With that, she slammed the boutique door and rushed out into the night. At that exact moment, my heart turned to solid ice. A long time passed. The clerk finally approached me, her voice soft and hesitant. “Mr. Michael, are you… still going through with the wedding?” “Given the circumstances, our store can process a full refund for you.” “I am getting married.” Remembering a certain someone’s preference, I added quietly. “Change the entire suit. I want it in a light, soft color.” The clerk looked shocked. Gathering her courage, she tried to advise me. “Sir, all of us here think… that woman doesn’t deserve you at all. Are you absolutely sure you want to marry her?” I offered her a gentle smile, genuinely appreciating her kindness. “The wedding continues. But the bride is changing.” When I pushed open the door to my apartment, the overwhelming red wedding decorations hit me like a physical blow, making my eyes sting all over again. I grabbed a duffel bag and started packing my essentials, preparing to leave this place forever. My phone screen lit up. It was a message from Savannah. [Michael, Carter drank too much and was rushed to the hospital. I will be home a bit late.] At the exact same time, a notification popped up on the iPad resting on the sofa. She had forgotten to log out of her messaging app on the tablet. It was her private bridesmaid group chat. Carter had invited me to a group chat once. After a single “Welcome, groom-to-be”, the chat had been dead for a year. It turned out they had a completely separate, active group chat behind my back. He had just uploaded a flood of intimate photos and videos with Savannah. [Hey girls, the anti-marriage guy’s wedding trial run.] He was wearing my wedding suit. Savannah was wearing a tailored tuxedo. The background was the exact banquet hall booked for tomorrow’s wedding. I tapped on a video and watched it loop over and over again. It was a viral wedding dance trend on TikTok. A lot of couples were doing it. Months ago, I had begged Savannah to film it with me, but she flat out refused, claiming it was too embarrassing. Yet in this video, Savannah was looking at Carter with absolute, undeniable adoration, performing the exaggerated dance moves with clumsy, enthusiastic effort. The group chat instantly exploded. [Michael hasn’t even walked the red carpet yet, and our boy Carter beat him to it! Hahaha! Michael is going to die of anger!] [Carter looks so good in that suit. Unlike a certain someone who looks like a total stick insect.] [You two are just the perfect match. Savannah, maybe you should just swap grooms tomorrow.] Suddenly, a knock echoed from the front door. “Mr. Michael, a flower delivery for you.” It was a massive bouquet of chamomile flowers. Every single time Savannah messed up, she would send me a bouquet to apologize. But Carter was the one who loved chamomile. I was severely allergic to it. I had told her this countless times, but she simply refused to remember. The group chat was still buzzing rapidly. [The hotel rooms are right upstairs from the banquet hall. You two aren’t going to…] Savannah finally replied. [Stop it, guys. Two separate rooms. He is drunk.] [Savannah is so devoted to her man. She can resist any temptation.] Staring at the screen, my face was entirely devoid of emotion. I just felt an agonizing pity for my last seven years. Pity for the younger version of me who had fed his youth to the dogs. In the past, I would have silently accepted the flowers, suppressing my severe allergic reactions just to accept her apology. Just as I was about to drop the entire bouquet into the trash can, my phone rang. It was Savannah. “Michael.” Her voice carried a hint of desperate pleading. “I bought you some flowers. About what happened today, I am so sorry.” She paused. When I didn’t respond, she continued. “Michael, Carter is unconscious in the hospital. I have to stay here and watch over him.” “I will come pick you up bright and early tomorrow for the hotel, okay?” It was almost laughable. Such a pathetic, amateur lie. “No need. I will get there myself.” My voice was calm and steady. The line went completely quiet. Savannah clearly hadn’t expected me to answer so decisively. She vaguely sensed that something was wrong. Her tone filled with unease. “Michael, you are still coming to the wedding, right?” I replied with a perfectly flat tone. “Of course.” Savannah, you were the one who said we were playing the ‘Of course’ game to the very end. I hung up the phone and immediately dialed the wedding planner. “Hi. I need to completely change the content displayed on the main screens tomorrow.” “And I need you to put a specific slideshow on a constant loop.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “616418”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My brother went into cardiac arrest. I called Greyson twenty-seven times before he finally answered. “One hundred thirty-six thousand dollars? Harrington funds are for commercial growth, not your family’s bottomless pit. Start a crowdfunding campaign. I’ll send the link. You’re an adult, Norah. Stop relying on others to clean up your mess.” Numb with cold outside the ER, I returned to our estate at 2 A.M. for my brother’s records. Through the study doors, I heard Greyson speaking tenderly to his assistant. “Order a four-hundred-thousand-dollar pink Porsche Panamera for Jasmine. Put it on the corporate account. She scraped her knee today. Scars don’t suit a young girl. Have it drive her daily.” Jasmine was an intern of seventeen days. Spotting me in the hallway, Greyson nodded approvingly. “Adults solve their own problems. I donated ten dollars to your crowdfunding page, by the way. I had to show some support for my wife.” I gave a hollow reply and walked into the study. Clarity struck like a blow. He had the resources. I simply wasn’t worth the expense. I pulled the divorce papers from the drawer and signed my name, stroke by stroke. From this moment on, we were strangers. … When Greyson’s ten-dollar donation cleared, my brother Lucas saw his heart rate drop below twenty for the third time. The nurse rushed toward me, her voice panicked. “Mrs. Harrington! He needs to be moved to the hybrid operating room immediately. We need the initial deposit of one hundred thirty-six thousand dollars cleared right now.” I stared at my phone screen. Donor: Greyson Harrington. Amount: $10. Note: Adults must learn to carry their own weight. I dialed his cell again. When he finally answered, his irritation spilled through the speaker. “Norah, how long are you going to keep throwing this tantrum?” “Lucas went from ventricular tachycardia to fibrillation,” I rasped, my throat raw. “The doctor said any further delay will cause brain hypoxia. Please, loan me the money. I will sign a formal promissory note.” He let out a dry, dismissive laugh. “Do you have any idea how much your brother has cost over the years? Harrington capital drives enterprise, Norah. It is not an endless treasury to keep your family on life support.” Inside the trauma bay, someone shouted, “Prepare the defibrillator!” My knees gave out. I collapsed onto the cold tile floor. “He is only twenty-two years old. I am begging you.” “Begging will not change reality. People need to face consequences. You cannot dump your financial risks onto others every time life gets hard.” The line went dead. A second later, a text arrived with a link to a public assistance form. Then came the notification for his ten-dollar contribution. 2 At two-thirty in the morning, I returned to the estate to retrieve Lucas’s medical history files. The main hallway was dark. Greyson stood near his study doorway, his voice softer than I had ever heard it. “Forget the waiting list at that Swiss rehabilitation clinic. Pay extra for the VIP expedited track. Jasmine scraped her ankle today. A girl should not have to live with scars. Book her for the full scar-restoration package while she is there.” He hung up, noticed me standing by the stairs, and frowned. “Why are you back?” “To get his old medical records.” He extended a hand toward the folder in my grip. “How is he doing at the hospital?” “Still in critical care.” He hesitated for a second. “I already made a donation.” I looked up, meeting his eyes. “Ten dollars?” His face darkened. “The amount is irrelevant. What matters is the gesture.” So ten dollars was his idea of a meaningful gesture. “And what about Jasmine?” I asked softly. “She scrapes her ankle, and you buy her a VIP spot at a private clinic in Switzerland?” Greyson’s eyes turned sharp and cold. “Jasmine is different. Her older sister saved my life. Her family sacrificed for me.” “So Lucas’s life has to yield to hers?” “Stop dragging your brother into every conversation!” he snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut. “Nadia died in that warehouse fire years ago! Can your family stop using sickness and guilt to bleed me dry?” The words slammed into my chest like a blunt blade. Perhaps realizing he had crossed a line, he retrieved a first-aid kit from the cabinet and gently applied a bandage to my cracked fingernail. “Pain is manageable, Norah. Do not turn your pain into an excuse to make demands.” Years ago, when Harrington Corporation faced a massive liquidity collapse, Greyson was hospitalized with severe gastric bleeding. I stayed by his bedside for three days and three nights without sleep. Every hour, my phone vibrated with calls from aggressive creditors. I spent those nights holding a wet cloth to his forehead with one hand and begging investors for loans with the other. I secured every penny through sheer desperation. I weathered those dark nights so he would not have to. When he finally woke up, he gripped my hand and whispered, “Norah, I owe you my entire life.” Over time, he gave his gratitude to the Ross family, his gentle patience to Jasmine, and reserved only cold, condescending lectures for me. I pulled my hand back, walked into the bedroom, and retrieved the divorce decree. I had revised those documents many times before. The first time was when he abandoned our anniversary dinner to attend Jasmine’s birthday party. The second time was when he casually referred to Lucas as a long-term financial liability. Tonight, the final thread snapped. I signed my name at the bottom. Norah Prescott. My hand did not tremble as the ink dried on the paper. The next morning, I did not go to the registrar office. I went straight to the law firm beneath the Harrington corporate tower. Mr. Bennett, my attorney, reviewed the file line by line. “Are you certain you want to proceed with a litigated divorce?” I nodded without hesitation. “Yes. We can attempt mediation, but do not let him stall.” At ten-forty, a text from Greyson popped up on my screen. [Jasmine is getting her ankle evaluated today and she is feeling anxious. Stop acting out. We will talk at home tonight.] I stared at the message for a moment before typing back. [If you want to talk, contact my attorney.] He called immediately. I declined the call, switched my phone to silent, and headed straight back to the ICU. 3 Lucas was awake, an oxygen mask fitted tightly over his pale face. When his eyes caught mine, a dim spark lit up his expression. “Sis,” he rasped softly. I leaned over his bed, gently brushing his hair back. “Does it hurt?” He shook his head, then looked past my shoulder. “Did Greyson come with you?” I tucked the heavy blanket around his shoulders. “He is busy with work.” The faint light in his eyes dimmed, but he quickly forced a soft smile. “He runs a massive company. It makes sense that he is busy.” My throat tightened so much it hurt to breathe. Lucas had always admired Greyson. He used to say Greyson was like a lighthouse, that as long as you could see a faint beam of light in the dark, you could endure anything. Only now did I realize that light was never meant for us. It was a spotlight, shining brightly on the Ross family, on his corporate empire, on every respectable person in his inner circle. It never once touched the dark corner where we stood. That afternoon, the hospital accounting desk issued an urgent payment notice. I took my mother’s heirloom jade bangle, my father’s vintage pocket watch, and the diamond engagement ring Greyson had bought me, laying them out on the counter of a downtown pawn shop. The shopkeeper evaluated the items quietly. “In a hurry?” “It is to save a life,” I said. He offered a price far below market value. I did not bother to negotiate. When the clerk tried to run my card for the remaining balance, the machine beeped red. A transaction failure notice flashed on my phone screen. My supplementary card had been restricted. Category blocks: Medical Institutions, Pawn Services, High-Value Wire Transfers. Minutes later, Greyson’s executive assistant called my line. “Mrs. Harrington, Mr. Harrington noted that you are currently under emotional distress and might make impulsive financial decisions. He placed a temporary risk management hold on your cards. He mentioned that you need to practice better long-term asset allocation.” I gripped the receiver tightly, my knuckles turning white. “Tell him I will be handing a record of this action directly to my divorce attorney.” Half an hour later, my online medical campaign was flagged. System Alert: [Your campaign has been suspended due to reports of exaggerated medical claims and unauthorized celebrity brand association.] The platform support agent confirmed that an official corporate account had filed a verified complaint. The claim stated that I was weaponizing my status as the spouse of the Harrington Corporation CEO to gain public sympathy, severely damaging corporate reputation. I stared at the ten-dollar donation sitting at the bottom of the frozen page, and a bitter laugh escaped my lips. Greyson would not offer help. And he would ensure no one else could, either. That evening, he walked into the hospital ward holding a stack of high-interest medical financing forms. “The credit limit on this medical loan is substantial,” he said, setting the papers on the bedside table. “Sign it, and the funds will be released today. Also, delete that fundraising link immediately.” I looked at him coldly. “Why?” “You are my wife. Publicly begging for money ruins the reputation of Harrington Corporation.” “My brother is dying, and your primary concern is brand image?” His brow furrowed into a deep crease. “My concern is preventing you from degrading yourself into a beggar! Pawn shops, high-yield loans, public charity, why do you resort to these dramatic scenes instead of managing things properly? Why must you always demand resources from me?” “Because you are my husband,” I said flatly. He scoffed. “A husband is not an automated teller machine.” “And a wife is not a high-risk asset for you to manage and restrict.” His expression turned instantly hostile. “Norah, you are becoming unbearable.” “I used to believe that if I endured everything quietly, you would feel a little empathy,” I replied in a low voice. “Then I realized that my silence only made it easier for you to walk all over me.” I picked up the loan documents and tore them down the middle, page by page. “I will find my own way.” Greyson glared at the torn paper on the floor. “Then you had better remember this moment. Do not call me in the middle of the night crying for help.” 4 After he slammed the door shut, Lucas opened his eyes. He looked at the torn paper scattered near the trash bin and spoke in a frail whisper. “Sis.” “Yeah?” “Six years ago… the person who pulled Greyson out of that burning warehouse was not Nadia Ross.” My hand froze over the water glass. “What did you just say?” “It was me,” Lucas whispered, his breath raspy. “I was sixteen. I went into the fire and dragged him out.” I stood frozen beside his bed. After that catastrophic fire six years ago, everyone claimed Nadia Ross had saved Greyson’s life. Nadia died from her injuries, and Greyson transformed his guilt into an eternal obligation toward the Ross family. Meanwhile, Lucas had returned home that night coughing up blood, suffering from severe smoke inhalation and permanent myocardial damage. He told me he had simply inhaled smoke near the perimeter. He begged me not to tell my new husband. I grabbed his trembling hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?” A faint, tired smile touched his lips. “You had just married into his family, Sis. If I came forward then, it would have looked like we were demanding a reward. Nadia was dead, and dead people cannot defend themselves.” My throat burned with unspeakable pain. “So you stayed quiet for six years?” “I never planned to hide it forever,” he murmured, staring up at the harsh fluorescent lights on the ceiling. “I guess it is just too late now.” I placed my hand gently over his mouth. “Stop talking nonsense.” He crinkled his eyes softly. “Sis… I would really love a glass of warm water.” I hurried out to the nurse’s station to fill the pitcher. As I rounded the corner of the corridor, a delicate voice called out to me. “Norah.” Jasmine Ross stood near the VIP elevator, a small square bandage neatly taped over her right ankle. She was holding a leather folder from the private rehabilitation center. Looking at that tiny piece of gauze, a surge of absurd bitterness hit me. Lucas was lying in a standard ward, denied basic medical hardware over a missing deposit, while she occupied a VIP recovery spot for a minor scrape. I stopped in my tracks. “Six years ago, at the logistics warehouse… did your sister actually step foot inside those flames?” Jasmine’s face paled for a fraction of a second before her lips trembled into a wounded pouts. “Norah… how could you speak about my deceased sister like that?” Her voice was not loud, but it carried perfectly across the quiet hallway. Right on cue, her phone rang. Jasmine picked up, her voice instantly dropping into a delicate, tearful whine. “Greyson… I am fine. Norah was just asking me a few questions about my sister.” A few seconds later, she held the phone out toward me. Greyson’s voice hit my ear like a frozen blade. “Norah, are you harassing Jasmine now?” “I am asking about the fire,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “What actually happened that night.” “I warned you never to bring up Nadia!” he growled. “She sacrificed her life! Must you drag a dead woman into your petty, calculating schemes?” Calculations. Always calculations. I let out a soft, mirthless breath. “Greyson, if you wake up one day and realize you knelt at the wrong grave, repaid the wrong debt, and protected the wrong person… what will you do?” He sneered through the speaker. “That day will never come. I know who pulled me out of those flames.” The line snapped shut. Jasmine lowered her phone, wiping away an imaginary tear. The timid expression on her face vanished, replaced by a cold, triumphant smile. “Norah, you need to learn your place. Some debts belong to people who know how to keep them.” I met her gaze evenly. “Stolen debts always burn the hands that hold them.” 5 That evening, I returned to the estate to retrieve my official identification documents. Jasmine was lounging on the velvet sofa, her leg propped up on a plush ottoman. Greyson was crouching beside her, carefully unwrapping her bandage. When I stepped through the foyer, Jasmine flinched and drew her foot back. “Norah… please do not misunderstand. Greyson was just saying the hospital dressing was too rough.” Greyson did not bother to offer an explanation. I walked past them without a word, entered the master bedroom, and gathered my passport, marriage certificate, and the original copies of the property collateral agreements I had signed years ago to rescue his firm. Greyson followed me inside, closing the door firmly behind him. “Are you truly taking this to court?” “Yes.” He gripped my wrist tightly. “Lucas is still in the ICU. If you blow everything up right now, who is going to back you financially?” I looked up into his eyes. “I do not need your backing. I just need you to stop standing on my neck.” From the living room, Jasmine’s soft voice drifted through the door. “Greyson… my ankle is throbbing again.” Greyson’s hand unclasped from my wrist almost instantly. In that final second, the last lingering echo of hope inside me died completely. I returned to the hospital that night. On Lucas’s pillow lay a small scrap of paper with his shaky, uneven handwriting. [Sis, if I do not make it through this, please stop begging him.] [I just want you to be okay.] I crumpled the paper tightly in my palm and sat by his side until dawn. Two days later, Lucas suffered a third critical collapse. The attending physician informed me that he required immediate placement on a temporary circulatory assist unit. There was only one available console left in the hospital inventory. Another patient was next in line, waiting for payment confirmation. If we could not clear the deposit within forty minutes, the unit would be reallocated. Cost: One hundred thirty-six thousand dollars. My bank accounts remained frozen. The funds from the pawn shop were entirely depleted. The crowdfunding page was still under audit. I sat in the stairwell, scrolling down my contact list until my finger stopped at Greyson’s name. I knew I should not call. But through the heavy doors behind me, my brother was losing his fight against time. The first call went unanswered. The second was rejected. On the third attempt, the call connected. The background was loud with activity, the sharp clinking of crystal glasses, loud applause, and Jasmine’s delighted voice ringing out. “Greyson, am I truly eligible for this corporate honor?” Greyson’s warm laugh carried through the line. “Your sister would be proud of you.” I held the phone tightly to my ear. “Greyson.” The noise on his end quieted slightly. “What now?” “Lucas needs a circulatory assist device right now. I am short one hundred thirty-six thousand dollars. I will sign a formal loan agreement.” He did not ask about my brother’s condition. Instead, his tone turned icy. “Did you call because you know I am attending the Ross family memorial gala tonight?” I froze. His voice boiled over with suppressed anger. “Today is the anniversary of Nadia’s passing. Jasmine is representing her family publicly for the first time. Are you calling right now just to make a scene and humiliate me in front of everyone?” Listening to the blaring alarms down the hall, I found myself completely speechless. My brother was fading away on an operating table, and his only concern was that my desperation was embarrassing him at a party. “If it were Jasmine lying in that bed waiting for equipment right now,” I asked softly, “would you hesitate?” Silence hung heavy on the line. The silence was an answer in itself. A moment later, he spoke coldly. “Jasmine would never use an illness to manipulate me.” I closed my eyes. “Greyson, you will regret this.” He let out a harsh laugh. “The only thing I regret is that on the night I agreed to marry you, I missed Nadia’s final phone call. Stop testing my patience, Norah.” He hung up. A nurse burst through the double doors at the end of the hall. “Mrs. Harrington! The doctor needs you to sign the high-risk consent form immediately!” The doctor handed me the clipboard, his face grim. “If we cannot secure the assist device, the surgical risk spikes dramatically. You need to be prepared.” My hand trembled as I signed my name. My phone chimed again. It was Greyson. His voice had softened slightly, as if he were finally condescending to offer a crumb of patience. “I had my assistant contact a private credit lender. The interest rates are higher, but the approval process is fast. Go sign the paperwork.” I looked at the red warning lights outside the operating room. “The hospital needs the funds right now, not tomorrow.” He was quiet for a second before sighing. “Then there is nothing more to be done. Everyone has their own fate to accept.” The moment those words left his mouth, the double doors burst open once more. “Family! The patient has gone from fibrillation to complete asystole!” My phone slipped from my fingers, hitting the linoleum floor with a sharp clatter. The speaker was still on. Greyson’s voice floated out into the hallway. “Norah? Stop pretending you cannot hear me.” Inside the trauma bay, voices screamed over the alarms. “Start chest compressions!” “Epinephrine, one milligram!” “Push it now!” Twenty minutes later, the doors opened slowly. The lead surgeon pulled down his surgical mask, his face pale. “Mrs. Harrington… we did everything we could.” When they rolled Lucas out, his face was covered by a white sheet. I tried to step forward. My feet felt as though they were nailed to the floor.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “616403”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 After eye surgery, I saw emotional auras. True care glowed warm orange—like the neighbor’s reunion or the old woman’s chestnuts. But my wife Stacey’s aura stayed a dull, suffocating gray. By my hospital bed, feeding me soup. On our anniversary, clasping my necklace. Even at night, tangled together, her gray never wavered. I told myself her love was just deeply buried. Until Finn’s welcome banquet. Lights died. Finn gasped, terrified of the dark. Stacey lunged, slamming me to the floor. From the ground, I watched her pull him into a fierce embrace. “Don’t be afraid. I’ve got you.” In the blackness, a blinding orange erupted from her—so bright it scalded. “Finn, are you hurt?” Lights flickered back. Everyone saw Stacey shielding Finn. I slumped against a table two meters away, elbow bleeding, knees throbbing on marble. She finally glanced at me, still glowing that violent orange. In seven years, it was the first time I’d seen that color on her. It burned my eyes. But it was never for me. … Finn gently stepped out of her embrace and smoothed his hair. “I’m fine, Stacey.” He looked over at me, his tone entirely too casual. “You should check on Neil. It looks like he took a pretty hard fall.” Stacey stood up and walked toward me. I gripped the edge of the table and slowly pulled myself up. I didn’t yell. I didn’t cause a scene, nor did I demand to know why she had shoved her own husband aside. I simply looked at the fading orange glow around her, turned my back, and walked toward the exit. “Neil.” Stacey caught up to me at the hotel entrance, grabbing my wrist. She frowned at the blood dripping from my elbow. “The blackout happened too fast. You know Finn is terrified of the dark.” Her voice was steady, carrying a tone of absolute justification. She didn’t bother explaining who she cared about more. She just used the phrase “you know” to force me back into the role of the understanding, compliant husband. I stared at her aura. It had completely returned to that lifeless gray. “So when you shoved me out of the way, did you know it was me?” Stacey froze for a fraction of a second. “It was chaos. I couldn’t see anything.” She let go of my wrist and reached into her purse for her car keys. “Neil, the three of us have known each other for years. Don’t make this ugly over a stupid accident.” I didn’t say a word. I just got into the passenger seat. She insisted on driving me to a nearby urgent care clinic. When the ER doctor scrubbed my open wound with iodine, a piercing sting shot through my nerves. Stacey was standing right next to me when her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and answered immediately. “Stacey, I think I dropped my car keys in the banquet hall. Could you come back and help me look?” Finn’s voice filtered through the speaker. It wasn’t loud, but it was just clear enough for me to hear every word. Stacey looked down at me. My elbow was still bleeding. The doctor hadn’t even applied the bandages yet. “Let the doctor finish up,” she said, tossing her credit card onto the metal counter. “I will be right back.” The clinic door swung open and clicked shut. I watched her silhouette disappear into the night. I didn’t ask her to stay. Half an hour later, my arm was fully bandaged. The clinic door swung open again. But it wasn’t Stacey. Finn walked in, holding a steaming cup of coffee and a pharmacy bag. He stopped right in front of me. “Don’t be mad at Stacey, Neil. She just panicked.” He offered me the coffee, his expression perfectly open and guiltless. “You know how it is. I got trapped in an elevator as a kid. The dark really messes with my head.” I didn’t take the cup. “She definitely panicked,” I replied flatly. Finn smiled and took a seat next to me. “We’ve all been in each other’s lives for so long. Don’t let my coming back create a wedge between you two.” He wasn’t fighting me. He wasn’t overtly stealing her. He just effortlessly inserted himself into the concept of “the three of us” as if it were his birthright. It was past midnight when Stacey finally came home after dropping Finn off. I had already showered and was sitting quietly on the living room sofa. She tossed a small pharmacy bag onto the coffee table. “I got you some scar cream. Stop giving me the cold shoulder.” She slipped off her coat, sounding deeply exhausted. “Finn just got back to the States. The welcome party turned into a disaster. He feels terrible about it.” I looked at the suffocating, ashen gray radiating from her body. “Stacey,” I said softly. “If Finn had been the one bleeding on the floor tonight, would you have told him to stop making things ugly?” Stacey’s brow furrowed in instant annoyance. “But that didn’t happen, did it?” She turned and walked toward the master bathroom. “Go to sleep, Neil. Stop overthinking.” The sound of the shower running echoed through the quiet apartment. I picked up my phone and opened an email I had received two weeks ago. The subject line read: [London Restoration Center Fellowship Offer Confirmed]. My thumb hovered over the screen. Without a single second of hesitation, I tapped accept. The next morning, I walked into the dining room. Stacey was already up and had prepared breakfast. She slid a bowl of sweet pumpkin oatmeal across the table. “You lost blood last night. Eat something warm.” She pulled out a chair and sat down, her tone surprisingly gentle. I stared at the steaming bowl of sweet oatmeal. I didn’t touch my spoon. I hate pumpkin. Even the smell of it makes my stomach turn. The person who is obsessed with sweet pumpkin oatmeal is Finn. I have always preferred a savory breakfast sandwich. Three years of marriage, and she couldn’t even remember my most basic preferences. “Why aren’t you eating?” she asked. “It’s too hot.” I pushed the bowl away. Her phone buzzed on the table. Finn had just sent a message to our group chat. “Thanks again for last night, Stacey. How is Neil’s arm? Do you want me to drop off some antibiotics?” I glanced at the screen. It was our trio group chat, dead and silent for three years. The name was still a stupid joke from college: “The Golden Trio.” Stacey picked up her phone, typing back immediately. “No need. You’re still jetlagged. Get some sleep.” I watched her fingers move across the screen. My bandages hadn’t even been changed today, yet her first priority was Finn’s jetlag. “Let’s go out for dinner tonight,” Stacey said, putting her phone face down. “Finn doesn’t know his way around the city anymore. We can eat together, make up for the dinner we missed last night.” I looked up at her. “Do you know what today is?” Today was my birthday. Stacey paused. Not a single ripple of emotion crossed her face. “We can celebrate your birthday another day.” She took a sip of her black coffee. “A welcome home dinner only happens once.” I stared quietly at the dead gray light surrounding her. She was like a freezing stone I could never warm up. “Okay,” I nodded, standing up from the table. That afternoon, on my way to the restaurant, I opened that pinned group chat. I changed the group name to: “Stacey and Her Friend.” The chat went dead silent for a few seconds. Finn replied first with a smiling emoji. “Wow, Neil. That sounds so formal. We used to be a lot closer than that.” A private message from Stacey popped up immediately after. “Why did you change the group name?” “Finn just got back. Why are you purposely trying to make him uncomfortable?” I typed a single reply. “I’m just making the relationship titles accurate.” She didn’t text back. Dinner was at an upscale French restaurant. Finn, wearing a loud designer shirt, sat right next to Stacey. The waiter handed out the wine menus. Finn smiled and looked across the table at me. “Stacey used to outdrink all of us in college. Do you keep her on a tight leash, Neil?” I picked up my water glass and took a sip. “She has a weak stomach. She can’t do hard liquor.” Finn raised an eyebrow. “Is that right?” He turned his head to look at Stacey. “Back in the day, she would take shots with me until three in the morning and still make it to her morning lectures.” Stacey didn’t correct him. She gracefully sliced her steak, a very faint, nostalgic smile touching the corners of her lips. “That was when we were young and stupid.” The exact moment those words left her mouth, a soft, warm orange glow bloomed around her. It was faint, but it was undeniably real. Looking at that light, the very last shred of struggle in my heart completely flatlined. Halfway through the meal, I stood up. “I have some restoration files to organize. I’m heading out early.” Stacey frowned. “Finish your food. I will drive you home.” “No need.” I grabbed my jacket and walked out of the restaurant without looking back. As I reached the parking lot, I heard footsteps approaching from behind. “Neil.” Finn leaned against the hood of a nearby car, his voice perfectly calm. “I know you hate that I am back.” He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, pinching it between his fingers. “But Stacey and I knew each other long before you came into the picture. There is a lot of history between us. You don’t just erase that overnight.” I looked at him. “And your point is?” Finn chuckled, blowing a cloud of smoke into the cool air. “My point is, if you can’t handle it, you should just bow out.” “Stop suffering in silence while making everyone else miserable.” I looked at his smug, open face and didn’t bother arguing. When I got home, I opened my laptop. I pulled up the email from the London Restoration Center and began filling out the detailed visa application. For the next few days, I stayed quiet. I gathered my passport, my certificates, and my portfolio. The floor of my study was covered with delicate restoration tools and ancient texts. When Stacey pushed the door open, I was carefully sealing a few rare books my grandfather had left me into moisture proof bags. Her eyes swept over the open suitcase on the floor. Her brow furrowed. “Are you going on a business trip?” I sealed the bag shut. “Something like that.” She walked closer, opening her mouth to ask more, but her phone suddenly rang in her pocket. She answered it, her tone instantly softening. “You looked at the venue? Okay, I will be right there.” Hanging up, she grabbed her coat draped over the back of the chair. “Finn is putting together a small photography exhibition. There is an issue with the venue.” She looked at me. “I need to go help him sort this out. We can talk about your trip when I get back.” I didn’t even look up. “Sure.” The second the front door clicked shut, I shoved the final stack of paperwork into my suitcase. She didn’t even have the time to ask where I was going. That afternoon, I went to the bank to print out six months of financial statements for my visa application. When the teller handed me the printed receipt, I stared at the numbers and completely froze. More than half of the money in our joint savings account, the money we had been saving for our trip to Iceland, was gone. The transfer memo simply read: “Deposit for Finn’s Exhibition Venue.” Two years ago, when I was recovering from my eye surgery and my vision first started coming back, I told her I wanted to see the Northern Lights. Stacey had held my hand, her voice solemn and full of promise. “As soon as your eyes are fully healed, I will take you.” We had saved that money for two years. Now, the Northern Lights had been traded for Finn’s spotlight. I folded the bank statement, slid it into my bag, and hailed a cab straight to the exhibition venue. The gallery was a mess. Construction workers were busy setting up display frames. I walked in and immediately spotted the item sitting inside the central glass display case. It was a vintage film camera. My grandfather’s camera. The last thing he ever left me. Next to it sat a sleek placard printed in elegant cursive. “The Source of Finn’s Early Inspiration.” I stood in front of the glass, the blood running cold in my veins. “Neil, what are you doing here?” Stacey walked over holding a roll of blueprints, looking completely unfazed. “Finn is just borrowing it.” She pointed at the camera. “Your grandfather kept it in pristine condition. It fits the aesthetic of the exhibition perfectly.” I turned my head to look at her. “Did you ask me?” Stacey went quiet for a second before rolling up the blueprints. “Do we really need to draw such strict lines between us?” Her tone carried a hint of irritation. She was looking at me as if I were a child throwing an unreasonable tantrum. Finn climbed down from a nearby ladder and dusted off his hands. “Neil, perfect timing.” He walked over to the glass case, his smile bright and totally shameless. “I meant to call you. Your grandfather’s camera has so much character. It’s the perfect centerpiece for my show.” I stared at him. “That belongs to me.” Finn blinked, feigning surprise, before his smile grew wider. “Of course it does. I didn’t say I was keeping it.” He looked at Stacey. “Stacey told me you wouldn’t mind, so I went ahead and used it.” Stacey stepped forward, deliberately positioning herself between Finn and me. “It’s just a camera, Neil. He will give it back when the show is over.” She lowered her voice. “This exhibition is crucial for Finn’s comeback. Do not embarrass him right now.” I looked at the suffocating, dead gray aura surrounding her. “Stacey,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “We are done. Let’s get a divorce.” Stacey’s face drained of color. Her eyes darkened with absolute disbelief. “Over a camera?” She thought I was losing my mind. “Leave Finn out of this. He just got back, and putting this show together has been stressful enough. We’ve been friends for years. Stop being so overly sensitive and ruining everything.” I didn’t argue. I reached out, slid open the unlocked glass pane, took out my grandfather’s vintage camera, and walked out of the gallery. It was raining lightly on the opening day of Finn’s exhibition. I had no intention of going, but I realized I was missing a crucial document for my visa. Two days ago, Stacey had carelessly stuffed it into her briefcase. I had no choice but to go to the gallery to find her. As I walked into the grand lobby, I saw Stacey standing by the sign in desk. She looked surprised to see me, instinctively reaching out to touch my shoulder. I stepped sideways, avoiding her touch entirely. Her hand froze in midair before she slowly pulled it back. “Since you are here, do you want to walk around with me?” She was still radiating that pale, lifeless gray. I shook my head, turning away to look for her briefcase. That was when I noticed the massive projector screen by the entrance playing a video montage. The title read: “Reunion: The Ten Years We Walked Together.” I froze in my tracks. The screen showed rolling lavender fields in Provence. Finn was running ahead, turning back to smile brightly at the camera. Stacey was walking right beside him, carrying his heavy camera bag. The warm sunlight stretched their shadows together on the grass. The next shot was on the banks of the Seine. It was dusk. The two of them were leaning against the stone railing, Finn resting his head comfortably on her shoulder to watch the sunset. Stacey whispered something, he laughed and playfully shoved her, and she smiled brightly in return. The next clip was outside a small street cafe. Finn was rubbing his hands together in the freezing cold. Stacey took off her trench coat and draped it over his shoulders. It was the coat I had bought for her birthday last year. In the bottom right corner of the video, the dates were watermarked. October 15, October 17, October 20. I remembered those days vividly. I had been bedridden with a severe fever. “The fifteenth,” I said, my voice completely devoid of emotion. “You told me you were on a business trip to New York.” Stacey went dead silent. “Finn was stranded in Europe alone,” she finally said. “He didn’t speak the language. I just flew out to help him.” Still gray. Always gray. The gallery lights suddenly dimmed, signaling the start of the opening ceremony. Finn stood on the small stage in a crisp white shirt, smiling effortlessly into the microphone. “Before we begin, I want to invite someone very special up here with me.” His gaze cut through the crowd and landed squarely on Stacey. “Stacey, come up here.” Stacey walked up the steps. The spotlight hit them both simultaneously. And then I saw it. The moment she stood next to Finn, the gray aura around her cracked. A warm, vibrant orange light began bleeding through the cracks, inch by inch. Just standing beside him was enough to light her up on fire. Finn turned his head to look at her before addressing the audience, his voice dripping with affection. “This exhibition wouldn’t have been possible without her.” “From picking the theme to booking the venue, from the equipment to the layout. She was there every single step of the way.” “When a massive storm derailed my shoot in Paris, she walked the streets with me in the freezing rain to find new locations.” He paused, his voice dropping to a soft whisper. “When I broke down crying at four in the morning, I made one phone call, and she was there twenty minutes later.” “Without Stacey, this reunion wouldn’t exist.” The gallery erupted in applause. The orange light around her flared even brighter. A journalist raised his hand. “Finn, care to elaborate on your relationship with Stacey? If you told us you two were married, we’d believe it!” The crowd cheered. Stacey turned slightly and lifted her microphone. “Actually, we are just…” Finn suddenly leaned in close, whispering something in her ear. I could read his lips perfectly. He was saying, “Stacey, just this once. All the media is here, I need the publicity. Neil won’t get jealous.” He looked up at her, his eyes curving into a perfect smile. Stacey stopped talking. She didn’t nod, but she didn’t finish her explanation either. Finn turned back to the crowd and offered a dashing smile. “Since you are all so curious… Stacey is definitely much more than just a friend to me!” The audience went wild. Flashbulbs went off like a strobe light. Finn turned slightly and reached out. His fingertips brushed against the back of her hand. She looked down at his hand. One second. Two seconds. She didn’t pull away. He slid his fingers through hers, interlocking them tightly. The warm orange aura surrounding her violently erupted, burning so bright and so hot it looked like it was going to consume the entire room. The applause was deafening. “They look so perfect together!” “Is this their official announcement?” I stood in the sea of people, looking up at the stage, watching their two brilliant orange auras merge perfectly into one. They really did look perfect together. My phone buzzed in my pocket. “Sir, your car to the airport has arrived.” I turned around, slipping through the cheering crowd. I found her briefcase behind the desk, pulled out my missing document, and walked away. That radiant orange light burned brighter and brighter behind me, but it had absolutely nothing to do with me anymore. When I stepped out of the gallery, the rain was coming down much harder. “Let’s go.” As the car merged onto the highway, I leaned my head against the cold window, watching the raindrops trace down the glass like tears. My phone screen lit up. A text from Stacey. “Where did you go?” I stared at it for a few seconds before locking the screen. The airport was incredibly quiet. I printed my boarding pass, checked my luggage, and walked through security. The overhead speaker chimed. “Flight to London is now boarding.” I stood up, pulling my carry on behind me, and walked down the jet bridge. Goodbye, Stacey.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “616419”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 To get back at the golden girl who made my high school a living hell, the second graduation ended, I stole her photos and dove into online dating. I scored eight boyfriends at once, each one a totally different type. By day, I worked shifts at the local convenience store. By night, I flipped on a voice changer and flirted with them. As college move-in day drew near, I dumped them one by one with the flimsiest excuses. Block, delete, clean sweep. When I got to the very last guy, he was stammering into his mic, nervously asking to meet up in real life. I hit him with pure ice. “I don’t do timid men. We’re done.” I blocked him instantly, dropped my phone, and sank into bed with a satisfied sigh. Suddenly, floating lines of glowing text hovered right before my eyes. [LMAO this side character is unhinged! The lengths she goes to just to mess with the main girl!] [Her absolute worst scheme was just catfishing guys with the lead’s pictures.] I clutched my phone, my head throbbing with pure rage. The girl who called me a trashy orphan, dumped leftover cafeteria grease on my head, and tried to strip my clothes off in front of everyone gets to be the “main girl”? [Honestly though, she’s so tragic. She was supposed to be the real Belmont heiress…] My eyes snapped open. The golden girl’s last name was Belmont. … The floating comments kept scrolling across my vision like a live stream playing directly inside my brain. [She has no idea she’s the true Belmont heiress.] [She was kidnapped as a baby! Her birth mom went into severe depression, and if they hadn’t adopted the current lead, the mom wouldn’t have survived.] [The Belmont parents never gave up searching. They still remember her birthmark. Any time they hear of a girl with a crescent-shaped red mole on her shoulder, they travel out to check in person.] [They spent eighteen years doing charity work just to build good karma for her safe return.] The massive revelation slammed into my chest. I couldn’t breathe. I wasn’t abandoned. I had parents who loved me. They had never stopped searching for me, chasing down every single rumor no matter how small. And Giselle Belmont, the mean girl who had spent three years tormenting me, was nothing more than an adopted substitute. I lay on that creaking cot all night, staring at the cracked ceiling while memories of high school flooded back. Freshman year, Giselle stood at the podium in a designer dress I couldn’t even name, introducing herself with effortless grace. I sat in the back corner by the window, wearing a faded uniform, the strap of my cheap sandals bound together with three layers of clear tape. When she walked past my desk, her nose wrinkled in disgust. Later I realized she was disgusted by the faint scent of mothballs clinging to my clothes. At first, she maintained her image as a gentle, charitable rich girl. Until the day of orientation camp when we were changing clothes in the locker room. She pushed the door open and caught sight of the red, crescent-shaped mole beneath my collarbone. Everything changed after that. She treated the entire class to high-end French dining, casually mentioning she was sick of eating it. Meanwhile, I hid in the cafeteria eating ninety-cent noodles, thinking a splash of soy sauce was absolute luxury. When it was my turn for classroom duty, she accidentally knocked over an ink bottle and forced me to scrub the floor on my knees. During gym class, she tripped me during the half-mile run, then pretended to help me up while loudly claiming I was just clumsy. She and her clique called me a charity case, mocking me for having no family and barely scraping together tuition. I had no proof to report her because she covered her tracks flawlessly. For three miserable years, I was forced to endure her cruel glare, wrapping myself in oversized clothes, barely daring to show my face. I swallowed my anger for three long years. The only revenge my teenage mind could cook up after graduation was using her photos to catfish guys, making her future boyfriends think she was a serial player. Now the floating comments were telling me that everything Giselle enjoyed belonged to me. Her last name, her wealth, her status, every step she took while stomping on my dignity, belonged to me. [If only she’d go reclaim her family! She’d never be bullied again, and she wouldn’t have to worry about tuition or rent.] I touched the smooth skin below my collarbone. She had targeted me so relentlessly because she knew she wasn’t blood. She knew her adoptive parents were still searching for their biological daughter, and she was terrified of being cast aside. So she treated any girl with a red mole on her shoulder as a mortal threat. A cold smile spread across my face. Catfishing a few guys with her pictures was far too light. I could make her pay a much steeper price. 2 I didn’t rush off to claim my real parents right away. Instead, I poured all my energy into my part-time job to save up for tuition and expenses. On orientation day at the university, I ran straight into Giselle again. “Sienna!” She jogged over with a bright beam, her voice loud enough to echo down the entire hallway. “We ended up in the same dorm hall! What a crazy coincidence! Is your suitcase heavy? Let me help you with it!” She reached out for my battered suitcase with practiced warmth, as if three years of petty malice had never happened. I smiled softly and handed the heavy bag over. “Thanks so much, Giselle.” She froze for a fraction of a second, clearly caught off guard by my smooth cooperation. [Look at the lead putting on her angel act again. Doesn’t she get tired?] [She just wants a ugly duckling around to make her look like a swan.] [The funniest part is that the side character’s catfishing actually worked! One of the guys showed up on campus looking for Giselle, calling her a heartless ghoster.] [Giselle is losing her mind right now. She has her eyes set on the sole heir of a billionaire family, so her reputation needs to stay squeaky clean.] I smirked inwardly. I played along perfectly. As Giselle hauled my heavy suitcase, I followed right behind her with soft words of gratitude. When she offered to make my bed in front of our new roommates, I handed her tissues to wipe her sweat. In front of everyone, she declared, “We went to high school together, so we know each other inside and out.” I nodded beside her, agreeing with a sweet, docile smile. Our roommates looked at us with envy, gushing about how close we were. That was Giselle’s first shield in college. To rebuild her persona as the flawless campus darling, her very first step was using a poor classmate to highlight her own generosity and wealth. I was the perfect prop. At the freshman welcome gala, Giselle took a seat right next to me. Before the opening act even finished, she launched into her routine. “Do you know Jasper Sinclair? The sophomore heartthrob? His family is insanely wealthy. Half the girls in our department are dying to get his contact info, but he shuts everyone out.” “Did you get it?” I asked, feigning curiosity. Giselle let out a subtle, triumphant laugh. “He actually added me himself. He came up to me out of nowhere, asking what I like to do, even asking if my throat had ever been injured or anything…” She touched her delicate neck, smiling radiant satisfaction. “See? He even paid attention to small details like that. He’s totally into me, isn’t he?” [I am dying of laughter! Jasper is literally trying to figure out if she’s the girl who catfished him LMAO!] Giselle missed my strange expression and continued her boastful chatter. “Do you think he’s going to make a move soon? I was worried I wouldn’t find anyone up to my standards in college, but I get scouted on day one! I guess when you’ve got it, you…” Her sentence cut off abruptly as a tall, icy-looking guy walked up to our row. “Giselle Belmont. Do you have a minute? I need to talk to you.” Giselle perked up instantly, shot me a playful wink, and floated after him like a delicate butterfly. I stayed in my seat, staring at the back of Jasper’s head. A memory suddenly flashed through my mind. A raspy, panicked voice over a late-night voice call: “Baby, please don’t leave me! I have super thick skin, I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t toss me away…” That desperate voice overlapped perfectly with the icy wall of a man standing right in front of me. I almost burst out laughing right then and there. It was him. The absolute last guy I had dumped, the poor soul I had ghosted without a single word of explanation. He had tracked down Giselle to verify something, while Giselle genuinely believed her charm was working magic. I felt zero guilt for fooling Jasper Sinclair. I only felt pure, unadulterated joy waiting for Giselle’s inevitable downfall. 3 Jasper was no fool. The girl he had talked to online complained about cafeteria staff having shaky hands, gushed about convenience store skewers being better than fancy restaurant food, and vented about bizarre customers from her evening shifts. The real Giselle, on the other hand, only ever talked about three things: how much her handbag cost, the per-person price at high-end dining spots, and which powerful executives her dad was doing business with. So Jasper began looking elsewhere. When he walked into the campus convenience store where I worked my night shift, the floating text went wild. [He already knows Giselle isn’t the girl! Now he’s just roaming around the convenience store.] [He looks at literally everyone like they’re his ghosting ex. He’s like a heartbroken widow!] [He’s testing the side character now! After all, whoever used Giselle’s name and photos had to be someone close to her!] When I scanned his energy drink at the register, I had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing. Behind Jasper’s stony, aristocratic face, he was probably losing his mind every single day. Giselle, meanwhile, was ready to explode. She had assumed Jasper was already in her pocket, another admirer bound to bow down before her. Instead, the prize was slipping through her fingers. She watched in disbelief as Jasper shifted his “coincidental” encounters from her to me. From the convenience store to the study hall to the track field, he seemed to pop up wherever I was. After three days of brooding, she finally cornered me in the cafeteria. “Sienna. You and Jasper Sinclair have been awfully cozy lately.” I slowly swallowed my soup. “I haven’t really noticed.” Giselle’s smile twitched for a split second. “You’re a penniless charity case. Don’t go delusional thinking a guy like him would ever look at you.” I gave a helpless shrug. “Then go get him yourself. It’s not like I have him on a leash.” Giselle choked on her rage and stomped off. From that day on, whenever Jasper “happened” to run into me, Giselle would miraculously spawn a short distance away, glaring daggers. I purposefully dropped a few subtle details from the past while chatting with Jasper. His eyes lit up instantly. His suspicion grew stronger by the second. He was almost certain I was the voice behind his screen. “Why did you…” I looked at his hesitant, handsome face. Jasper was undeniably drop-dead gorgeous, stupidly rich, and surprisingly devoted. But the hatred inside my heart ran far too deep. I wasn’t going to spare anything or anyone if I could use them to my advantage. [Jasper is kind of pitiful though.] [Pitiful my ass! Is he more pitiful than the female lead’s victim? She catfished him for two months without taking a dime of his money or anything physical. What did he lose besides a little pride?] [Exactly! While he was sipping fifty-dollar pour-over coffee, Sienna was drinking tap water!] [Next month is the university anniversary gala! Her birth parents are attending as major donors! If only they could reunite!] I stopped paying attention to Jasper’s awkward attempts at small talk and headed straight to the student center to sign up as an anniversary host. Since I didn’t have fancy performing arts training, hosting was my best shot at standing on that stage. A few days later, the results were posted. Giselle strolled into our dorm room with a dazzling smile. “Congrats, Sienna! I heard you got picked as one of the stage hosts!” I was honestly surprised. Everything had gone suspiciously smooth. “This is the centennial celebration, so tons of VIP guests are attending. Since it’s your first time hosting, you need to look presentable.” Giselle leaned in close, her voice dripping with affectionate concern. “I have a couture gown in my closet that would look stunning on you. Why don’t I lend it to you?” Our roommates swooned with envy. “Sienna, your friend is amazing! Borrowing a real couture dress?” “I’ve never even seen couture in real life! Giselle is so generous!” “They were high school besties, of course she doesn’t mind!” Their praise satisfied Giselle immensely. [DON’T ACCEPT IT! Giselle is setting a trap! She bought itching powder and lined the entire inner dress with it!] [Once she puts it on, she’ll break out in hives and scratch herself raw on stage! Her reputation will be completely destroyed!] [And the gala is being live streamed in 4K! The recording will be saved in alumni archives forever!] [Just reject her! The school provides rented gowns for hosts anyway!] I simply offered a sweet, innocent smile. “Sure! Thank you so much, Giselle.” 4 Giselle delivered a stunning dusty pink gown to my room shortly after, repeatedly reminding me that I absolutely had to wear it for the gala. I agreed enthusiastically, then promptly sealed the dress inside a heavy-duty garment bag and never touched it again. On the afternoon of the centennial gala, the backstage dressing room was chaotic. When Giselle pushed open the door, her eyes landed on me. I was wearing a simple, elegant sapphire-blue dress. “Why aren’t you wearing my gown?” Her tone carried a sharp edge of anger. “The fit wasn’t quite right,” I said with an apologetic smile. “Thank you though! I’ll make sure to get it dry-cleaned and returned to you.” Giselle’s eyes flickered, and she quickly smoothed her expression. “It’s fine. That blue one looks nice too. Good luck out there!” Ten minutes later, I stood in the wings waiting for my cue. Giselle came walking through the crowded hallway holding an open tub of body paint. With a sudden, clumsy stagger, she slammed right into me, spilling dark paint all across my chest. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” It was textbook bad acting. I froze in place while everyone around us turned to stare. “I didn’t mean to!” Giselle projected her voice across the room. “I tripped on someone’s bag, I am so, so sorry!” Passersby rushed over with paper towels and makeup remover. Someone mumbled under their breath, “What good is an apology? She has to go on stage in three minutes!” I didn’t blow up. “I’ll just modify it.” I reached into a nearby prop kit, grabbed a sharp pair of fabric shears, and sliced right through the stained neckline with a clean snip. I trimmed the fabric along my collarbone, transforming the high-neck gown into a dramatic off-the-shoulder cut. My entire upper chest and shoulders were instantly exposed. Right beneath my right collarbone, a distinct, crescent-shaped red mole stood out against my pale skin under the bright lights. I stood up and spun around in front of the mirror. The raw edge sat perfectly below my neck, looking like an intentional, modern design. The remaining paint flecks wiped away easily with cleansing wipes. A few female crew members gathered around, gushing with praise. “Wow, your hands are so quick! That looks ten times better!” “The original neck was a little stiff, but this looks so regal!” “If I hadn’t watched you cut it, I’d think it came like that!” I smiled gently, securing the altered seam with hidden safety pins so it wouldn’t shift on stage. Giselle stared at the red mole, her jaw clenched so tight her muscles bulged. She had a cello solo scheduled tonight. Both of her parents were sitting in the front row. If they saw Sienna Lane… “Ruining a rental dress provided by the university means you’ll have to pay for it out of pocket,” Giselle warned coldly. The surrounding students shifted uncomfortably, eyeing Giselle with sudden dislike. She claimed it was an accident, yet now she was rubbing salt in the wound. “It’s not a rental,” I replied with a calm smile. “I bought this dress off a secondhand app for twelve dollars.” Giselle’s face paled. She realized how terrible she sounded and tried to backpedal, but I gave her no chance. I took my microphone, passed right by her shoulder, and stepped out onto the massive stage under the glare of high-definition 4K broadcast cameras. The spotlights locked onto me, illuminating the crescent red mark clearly for the entire audience. [HER PARENTS ARE LOOKING AT THE SCREEN RIGHT NOW OMG!] [HER MOM IS IN THE VIP FRONT ROW! SHE SAW THE MOLE!] Mrs. Evelyn Belmont, who had been making polite conversation with the university dean, suddenly froze. Her eyes locked onto the giant screen, and her voice began to tremble uncontrollably. “Nick… look at the stage. The host’s shoulder…” Mr. Nick Belmont fought back his rising panic, his voice thick with emotion. “We need to speak to that girl. Right now.” 5 Backstage, Giselle frantically typed out a text to Jasper. “Sienna is unbelievable. She deliberately cut her dress to show off her chest and shoulders. Who is she trying to lure in?” In the past, she had talked mess about me constantly, and Jasper had always remained silent, never taking the bait. This time was different. A reply popped up instantly. “I think she looks stunning. And I really dislike the way you talk about other women. Let’s delete each other.” Before she could process it, her screen refreshed. User has enabled privacy settings. You are no longer contacts. Giselle stared at her phone in absolute disbelief. She had spent three whole months working on Jasper. Everyone on campus believed Jasper was pursuing her, a rumor she had intentionally fed through vague smiles and subtle hints. Now, she was dumped before they were even official, cast aside without a single explanation because he had never belonged to her in the first place. What drove her truly insane was that Jasper had blocked her specifically to defend me. Giselle shook with violent fury. I was walking toward the private dressing room, reaching up to detach my lapel mic and receiver. The room was completely empty, everyone else was still out front watching the show. The moment Giselle slipped inside, she locked the heavy door behind her. Without a word, she reached over and pressed the power button on the microphone pinned near my chest. Seeing the small indicator light go dark, she rested against the vanity table, looking down at me with pure, unadulterated contempt. “Sienna, do you really think showing off a bit of skin is going to get you a ticket into a rich family?” I kept my head down, staring at the mic receiver, saying nothing. It was a defective piece of equipment I had picked up at a flea market. The wiring was reversed. When the light was on, it was muted. When the light went dark, it was live. Both body mics were patched directly into the main auditorium sound system. Before stepping on or off stage, I always adjusted the toggle. Dealing with Giselle required attention to every microscopic detail. “Are you deaf? I’m talking to you.” Believing no one was listening, she threw away her polished mask entirely. I raised my head, my eyes rimmed with sudden red. “Giselle… I don’t understand…” Giselle let out a harsh sneer. She felt completely secure. She had verified there were no security cameras, no witnesses, and she had personally switched off my microphone. She didn’t have to play the benevolent heiress anymore. “Did you think Jasper looking at you meant he actually liked you? A wealthy guy like him just finds a trashy orphan like you entertaining. Once he gets bored, he’ll toss you in the gutter. Who do you think you are?” I remained silent, tears welling up in my eyes. “And the hosting spot?” She poked her index finger hard against my shoulder. “You think you won that on merit? I told the student council president to pass you!” “I just wanted to see you put on a pretty dress and stand on that stage, breaking out in hives and scratching yourself like a dog live on camera.” She pulled her hand back, her tone dripping with genuine disappointment. “Too bad you knew you didn’t deserve good things and bought a cheap secondhand rag instead.” My voice cracked into a soft sob. “Why do you hate me so much… I thought you changed… I thought you weren’t the person you were in high school…” “Why would I change?” Giselle snorted in disgust. “A lowlife like you was born to be stepped on by me. Didn’t three years of high school teach you your place?” As she spoke, she grabbed the collar of my dress and yanked down violently. Two safety pins popped, and the fabric tore with a loud rip. “I’ll shred this garbage right now so you have to walk out naked!” “Giselle, stop!” I screamed, struggling back. “If you do this here, aren’t you afraid people will find out?” Giselle glared down at my panic, enjoying every second. “Nobody will ever believe you! Everyone knows we’re best friends. I was just helping my sweet friend change into a better dress…” She yanked again, trying to tear the seam completely. A deafening BANG echoed through the room as the heavy dressing room door was kicked open. [THE OUTSIDE WORLD HAS COMPLETELY EXPLODED OMG!]

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “616404”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

In my previous life, the school’s notorious bad boy made a bet that he could conquer the untouchable ice-queen of our high school within a month. He asked me to pass a love letter to her, my childhood best friend. Back then, I had her bright future in mind. I hid the letter, and as a result, they missed out on each other for five whole years. By the time she returned from studying abroad, the bad boy was already married to someone else. She firmly believed my jealousy had ruined her epic romance and torn them apart. She used her newfound power to destroy my family, and I was tortured to death in the freezing snow, my eyes wide open in unmerited agony. In this life, facing the bad boy’s request once again, I simply made a hundred photocopies of his love letter and stuffed every single one into her locker. Then, I happily took the elite overseas scholarship for myself. Fine by me. You get your epic, world-shattering romance, and I get the bright, limitless future! 1 Staring at the obnoxious pink envelope Jaxon handed me, a dizzying wave of realization washed over my mind. I had been reborn. The familiar scent of chalk in the classroom, the mundane chatter of teenagers, and the face of the guy standing right in front of me. It all felt like a waking nightmare looping endlessly in my head. I died in the dead of a bitter, unforgiving winter. A group of thugs had laughed like hyenas while stomping my bloodied body into the frozen pavement. My white shirt was stained beyond recognition. Someone had mercilessly dumped a bucket of freezing saltwater over my battered body. The salt seeped into my open wounds, bringing a violent, burning agony that shot through every nerve like high-voltage electricity. The bone-deep pain literally suffocated me. I lay on the ground, groaning in pure torment as crimson blood slowly trickled from the corner of my mouth. That was the exact moment the girl I had always placed on a pedestal walked toward me, her chin raised in absolute arrogance. Her eyes were clouded with a toxic, concentrated hatred, looking at me as if I had slaughtered her entire bloodline. “Arthur, you make me sick! You tore Jaxon and me apart just to satisfy your own twisted, selfish desires. If it weren’t for you, we would have been together years ago!” “Didn’t you claim to love me? How does it feel to be destroyed by the very person you supposedly loved?” “Do you think your death will earn my forgiveness? No! I will never forgive you!” After venting her twisted fury, Lily turned on her designer heels and walked away without a single backward glance. Watching her retreating figure, my heart had shattered into unrecognizable pieces. I never imagined that a girl so fiercely proud could push me into the abyss all for a piece of trash like Jaxon. Even worse, she genuinely believed I was the villain who ruined her life. Lily and I grew up on the same suburban street. We were childhood friends who constantly competed yet pushed each other to be better. Over time, a quiet, tender affection had bloomed in my chest. In high school, Lily was gorgeous, top of her class, and had an endless line of suitors. I was right there with her, always scoring just a fraction of a point lower, forever trapped in second place. Then Jaxon transferred in. He was the school’s rebellious heartthrob, the guy every girl whispered about, while Lily was the untouchable, brilliant ice-queen. One was wild and charismatic, the other cold and beautiful. To everyone else, they were a match made in heaven. That was when Jaxon asked me to pass a love letter to her. Even though I had feelings for Lily, I never actually wanted to sabotage her happiness. But I had personally overheard Jaxon bragging in the locker room, laughing about how he just wanted to mess around with her and see what it felt like to corrupt the perfect straight-A student. Plus, Lily was on the verge of accepting a prestigious scholarship to study in Europe. To protect her, I chose to hide Jaxon’s letter. I never expected them to miss each other for five years. When she finally returned, Jaxon was already married. Lily decided my possessive jealousy was the culprit. Utilizing the wealth and connections she built overseas, she hired people to humiliate and beat me, watching coldly as I froze to death. Even my parents, the kind neighbors who had watched her grow up and invited her over for the holidays, were killed in a staged car accident orchestrated by her. Thinking of all this, the blood in my veins ran ice cold. Since they were so madly in love, why shouldn’t I play the perfect wingman? I carefully took the letter from Jaxon. Just to be absolutely certain it wouldn’t get lost, I went to the library, printed a hundred copies, and crammed every single one into Lily’s locker. This time, there was no way they could miss each other. Let’s see if their true love could actually survive reality. After doing my good deed for the day, I sat down and furiously powered through two advanced placement mock exams. The affection I held for Lily in my past life wasn’t even pure love. It was just the natural admiration you feel for someone brilliant, mixed with a healthy dose of teenage rivalry. Yet my innocent crush became her definitive proof of my “toxic jealousy” and ultimately signed my death warrant. Now, I was totally done with that fruitless, one-sided infatuation. I was going to focus entirely on myself. I would never let blind emotion dictate my choices again, nor would I ever beg for someone’s affection. I finally understood a universal truth. You only get to dictate your own life when you are strong enough to stand alone. 2 It didn’t take long for the entire school to buzz with the news of Jaxon and Lily’s insanely romantic rooftop confession. This time, they were officially a couple. Watching Lily lean into Jaxon’s chest, giggling softly and acting completely unlike the fiercely ambitious girl I knew, felt surreal. It made me think of the pathetic version of myself from the past. The guy who practically handed her his beating heart on a silver platter. The idiot who would run across town at midnight just because she texted, “I’m craving ice cream.” The fool who buried his favorite jacket at the bottom of the closet just because she once casually mentioned the color was ugly. But all that pathetic behavior evaporated the second I opened my eyes to this second chance. I gave the happy couple one brief, indifferent glance before diving back into my textbooks. Over the next few months, the gossip mill never stopped churning. Lily started skipping classes for Jaxon. She threw him lavish surprise parties, got into screaming matches with other girls over him, and even followed him to sketchy underground clubs to get matching tattoos. Her signature composed, icy demeanor was entirely gone, replaced by a frantic, uncontrollable euphoria. She was drowning in teenage rebellion, entirely forgetting the promises she made to herself about conquering the academic world. Natural talent only gets you so far. The consequences of blowing off school eventually caught up with her. Her grades plummeted, and she shockingly dropped out of the top fifty in our grade. Jaxon knew I used to have a crush on her. He purposely walked up to my desk, draping an arm around Lily, and smirked. “You two used to hang out all the time. Never felt a spark for the boy next door?” Lily scoffed, rolling her eyes in disgust. “Arthur? He’s so rigid and boring. Who would ever like him?” Jaxon laughed out loud, grabbing her waist and pulling her into a messy, aggressive kiss right in front of the whole class. The other students gasped, their faces turning red as they awkwardly looked away. I didn’t even blink at the two clowns performing their little circus act. I just flipped the page of my calculus workbook. My relentless grind paid off immensely. In the final statewide mock exams, I absolutely shattered my previous plateau. I successfully turned the tables and claimed the undisputed number one spot. Even better, the school counselor called me in and told me that the coveted full-ride scholarship for a joint program in London was going to be awarded to me. He patted my shoulder, telling me to keep up the stellar work and make the school proud. In my past life, that golden ticket belonged to Lily. Now, the gears of fate had shifted, and the reward for unwavering dedication belonged to me. With the overseas offer secured, I didn’t even need to take the final SATs, but I didn’t slack off. Instead, I studied harder than ever, devouring college-level material and expanding my horizons. As for Lily, she was rapidly fading into the background of my life. 3 I didn’t hear Lily’s name again until I went to drop off some paperwork at the counselor’s office. Fierce arguments and heavy sighs echoed from behind the partially open door. “Lily, what is going on with you? Ever since you started dating, your grades have completely tanked. If you keep this up, forget about the Ivy League, you’ll be lucky to get into a local community college!” Her parents were sitting on the couch, looking utterly defeated. “Honey, you’re still young. Your main focus right now needs to be your education.” The counselor tried a softer approach. “Lily, you’re standing at a major crossroads. One wrong turn right now can derail your entire future, do you understand? We’re adults, we’ve seen this happen. If you really want to date, you can do it in college.” Lily lifted her chin, her eyes blazing with stubborn defiance. “You all keep saying it’s for my own good, but you just want to control me! You want to mold me into your perfect little trophy to satisfy your own egos! Jaxon showed me what actually matters in life. I’m happy right now. Is it a crime to want to live my own life? You guys just don’t get it!” Her parents were left speechless, their faces twisting in genuine agony. “Sweetheart, how could you say that? We’ve poured everything we have into you for years. Not for our egos, but so you wouldn’t have to struggle later in life.” Lily crossed her arms and sneered. “Stop acting like saints. I know the truth. You talk a big game, but you’re just terrified I’ll embarrass you! Jaxon isn’t the deadbeat you all think he is. He has his own dreams, and he treats me like a queen. I would give up everything for him!” Without waiting for a response, Lily spun on her heel and stormed out, slamming the door. She froze for a split second when she saw me standing in the hallway, but then she aggressively looked away and brushed past me. Standing there, processing the absolute circus I had just witnessed, a wave of complicated emotions hit me. So this was how Lily had viewed things all along. Right then, I felt a deep pang of pity for her parents. They had poured every ounce of love and every dime they had into her, never denying her anything. Yet their unconditional devotion was twisted into “toxic control” in her eyes. I let out a breath, walked into the office, and handed the papers to the counselor. “Sir, here are the forms you needed.” He took them, rubbing his temples in exhaustion. “Great, just leave them on the desk.” I put them down and turned to leave. “Hold on, Arthur!” he called out. I stopped and looked back. The counselor hesitated for a moment before speaking softly. “Whatever you just heard in here, keep it to yourself, alright?” I nodded calmly. “Understood.” Stepping out of the building, the crisp air filled my lungs. Lily’s path and mine had officially split into two parallel lines that would never intersect again. She could walk her tightrope, and I would walk my solid bridge. We were destined to become strangers. I buried myself in my work, shutting out the noise of the world. Finally, the day of my departure arrived. Friends and family threw a lively farewell dinner. Lily’s parents came to see me off too, though their smiles were incredibly strained. “Congratulations, Arthur. Make sure you keep in touch when you’re in Europe. If only our Lily could have been more like you…” The sudden blare of the airport boarding announcement drowned out the rest of their sentence. I politely said my goodbyes and hurried toward the gate. I felt bad for how much they were suffering, but it simply wasn’t my problem anymore. The moment the plane’s wheels left the tarmac, I knew my life was about to transform in ways I couldn’t even imagine. Living abroad, I pushed myself to the absolute limit. I practically lived in the university library. The grind paid off, and I graduated with a prestigious dual degree, top of my cohort. My old high school friends had also gotten into solid universities back in the States, and we kept in touch through group chats. Every now and then, a piece of news about Lily would filter through. Because of her obsessive romance, she bombed her SATs and barely scraped into a no-name state college. Her parents were heartbroken and tried every desperate tactic to break them up. Naturally, this only fueled Lily’s rebellious fire. She packed her bags and ran away from home to move in with Jaxon. One of the girls from our old class quietly mentioned in the chat that she had spotted Lily at a free women’s clinic. She said Lily looked sickly, exhausted, and had lost a frightening amount of weight. I read the message and felt absolutely nothing. A hopeless romantic like Lily, as long as she stayed tethered to Jaxon, would always worship at the altar of love while letting her actual life burn to the ground. 4 The next time I saw Lily in person was at our five-year high school reunion back in the States. Everyone had changed so much, eagerly swapping stories about frat parties, college finals, and corporate grind. “Arthur, man, I read your latest paper in that journal! Absolute genius!” “Isn’t your mentor some legendary professor? I saw a picture of you two in an article. Makes us all look good having a celebrity in the group!” “I literally brag to my coworkers that I went to school with you. You’re like a mythical creature to them.” I sat at the table, offering polite and humble replies, enjoying the warm atmosphere. Everything was perfect until someone nervously piped up and asked the golden question. “Hey, Lily. Are you and Jaxon still together?” The loud chatter in the room instantly died. Every single pair of eyes darted toward the girl sitting quietly in the corner. Lily looked nothing like the radiant prom queen she used to be. She was wearing heavy, expensive-looking makeup, but it couldn’t hide the deep exhaustion etched into her features. There was a rough, cynical edge to her that hadn’t been there before. She forced a tight smile, her tone unnervingly flat. “Oh, we broke up a while ago.” A collective murmur of shock rippled through the room. The legendary rebel and the ice-queen, the couple that practically demanded the spotlight, had crashed and burned. Back in the day, their contrasting dynamic was thrilling. But once they were stripped of the high school bubble and the halo of good grades, reality hit hard. There was nothing charming about their differences anymore. After ruining her college prospects, Lily had followed Jaxon to a mediocre city. Desperate to reclaim her lost glory, she tried to completely isolate herself and focus on studying to prove everyone wrong. By doing so, she ended up ignoring her beloved bad boy. Jaxon might have stopped getting into fistfights, but a leopard doesn’t change its spots. His wandering eye and charismatic smile drew a lot of attention in the real world. His most persistent admirer turned out to be a wealthy older woman, a literal sugar mama who was beautiful and thrilled to throw cash at him. Jaxon got hooked on the easy money and luxury cars. He grew increasingly irritated with Lily, who had lost her sparkling charm and was always stressed about exams. Eventually, he dumped her and moved into the rich woman’s penthouse. The betrayal broke Lily. She spiraled into a deep depression for months. Eventually, she clawed her way back to reality and tried to finish her degree. But her desperate, frantic need for instant success led to burnout. She graduated with mediocre grades and ended up in a mind-numbing, entry-level corporate job. Jaxon, just like in my past life, ended up marrying a well-off woman, and rumor had it they were living a comfortable, happy life. After briefly gossiping about the drama, the classmates smoothly changed the subject, losing interest. In my previous life, Lily had gone to Europe, networked with the elite, and returned as a high-powered investment banker with a massive net worth. People at the reunion had practically tripped over themselves trying to compliment her and kiss her feet. But now? She was just another exhausted office drone. No one wanted to waste their breath on her. Watching the scene unfold, a heavy sigh escaped my lips. The visceral memory of what Lily had done to me for Jaxon’s sake still echoed in the back of my mind. Yet it was wild to realize that one tiny decision of mine to deliver those letters had fundamentally rewritten her entire existence. But honestly? Who cares. I had my own brilliant life and a future to build. I didn’t have to live in her shadow anymore, nor did I have to look over my shoulder constantly, fearing she would murder me. I was untouchable now. To me, Lily Mercer was nothing more than an insignificant speck of dust in the grand scheme of my life. 5 I genuinely thought that after the reunion, my path would be entirely wiped clean of Lily. Our parents were technically still neighbors, but Lily hadn’t returned home since the day she ran away. Her parents had spent years crying behind closed doors, gradually pulling away from the neighborhood social scene. Then, one evening, while I was casually reviewing an academic journal on my couch, my phone buzzed. It was an unknown number. When I answered, Lily’s heavily slurred voice leaked through the speaker. “Hey, is this Arthur? It’s Lily. Can you… can you come pick me up? My head is killing me.” “Sorry, I’m busy. I can call your parents for you,” I replied coldly. “No!” she shrieked, the sudden volume piercing my ear. “They don’t want me anymore. Please, Arthur, I’m begging you. Just for old time’s sake, we grew up together.” I massaged my temples, feeling a headache coming on. My instinct was to hang up, but I figured it would be better to drive over and permanently shut this down face-to-face to avoid future harassment. So, I grabbed my keys. I found her slouched outside a dingy dive bar downtown. Apparently, her corporate firm had just done a massive round of layoffs, and she had been given the axe. Looking at her now, there was zero trace of the arrogant girl I used to know. Her mascara was smeared down her cheeks, and she reeked of cheap tequila and stale smoke. When she saw me, her eyes immediately welled up. She weakly raised a half-empty glass she had smuggled out and let out a pathetic laugh. “Arthur. If I hadn’t dated Jaxon, do you think… do you think things would have been different?” Her eyes were swimming with raw regret and desperation, like a lost child asking for a lifeline. I didn’t offer her an ounce of comfort. I just stood under the flickering neon sign, staring at her with eyes as cold as ice. Seeing my blank reaction, she just kept rambling. “I regret it. God, I regret it so much. If only I hadn’t let some stupid teenage romance ruin my brain. I didn’t know I would end up like this! Why didn’t the counselor or my parents try harder to stop me? Maybe if they had just dragged me out of there, I wouldn’t be sitting in this gutter.” “You know what? I’m so incredibly jealous of you. You have everything, Arthur. And I… I literally have nothing left.” Tears streamed down her messy face, her voice cracking with genuine sorrow. Yet, looking at the sobbing mess in front of me, my heart was a stone. Not a single drop of pity materialized. I stopped myself from turning away, taking one step closer. “You’re right,” I said, a cruel smirk touching my lips. “Your life is a tragedy. But you absolutely deserve every second of it.” Lily froze, the glass slipping from her hand and shattering on the concrete. She stared at me, utterly blindsided. “W-What did you say?” I leaned in, pronouncing every word with crystal clarity. “I said you deserve it, Lily. Even sitting in the dirt, you’re still pointing fingers. Everyone tried to save you. They practically begged you to stop, but you plugged your ears and screamed at them. And now you have the nerve to blame them for not trying hard enough? You are an insanely selfish person. You aren’t crying over the great romance you lost. You’re crying because you threw away the money, the status, and the vanity you think you were owed. That’s why you’re a failure.” “How… how dare you speak to me like that!” Lily’s whole body shook with rage. She pointed a trembling finger at my chest. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?! If you had just taken Jaxon’s love letter and thrown it away back then, none of this would have happened!” I looked at her delusion, a wave of profound disgust washing over me. “Get a grip on reality, Lily. If I had destroyed that letter, you would have just spent the rest of your life resenting me for sabotaging your epic, star-crossed destiny.” I looked down at her one last time, my eyes filled with nothing but contempt. “You and Jaxon. Honestly? You two were made for each other.” Without another word, I turned my back on her and walked away into the night, officially cutting the dead weight from my life.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “616420”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Three years into my studies abroad, my mom issued an emergency decree: get back home immediately. Word had reached her that my childhood friend, Jasper, was being thoroughly played by a master-level gold digger. The girl was calculating every move, luring him in, taking his money and his heart, and turning him into a walking ATM. Jasper’s mom was completely out of options. She begged me, his childhood “white moonlight,” to fly back and strip away the scammer’s sweet, innocent facade. At the time, I was strolling along the riverbank in Florence, taking a photo for a passing couple. I replied nonchalantly, “Look, everyone has to suffer a little for love. Besides, if it’s a mutual trap, who cares? How bad could it really be?” My mom went dead silent over the phone for two seconds. “There’s a green field on top of his head big enough to race a herd of wild horses.” 1 My childhood friend, Jasper, had been targeted by a top-tier green tea manipulator. She didn’t just demand an astronomical bride price. On the very eve of the engagement party, she insisted on adding a brand-new luxury sports car to the deal. Jasper was willing to swallow the disrespect, but his mother wasn’t. After conspiring with my mom, they decided to throw a Hail Mary and summon me back to save Jasper from his own romantic stupidity. Fearing this was just a trick my mom pulled to lure me home, I reached out to my best friend, Phoebe. Phoebe promptly sent me a album’s worth of photos showing the girl cozying up with other men. Damn. There really was a whole cavalry riding on Jasper’s head. I didn’t waste another second. I booked an overnight flight and landed just in time to crash the engagement banquet. The party was held on the thirty-second floor of Starlight Grand Hotel. It was obvious Jasper had poured his heart into setting it up, though the same couldn’t be said for his bride-to-be. Before my plane took off, I learned from a mutual friend that everything had been set and invitations sent. Then Whitney, the bride, suddenly demanded a new car at the last minute. The elevator doors chimed open, and the sharp click of my high heels broke the tense standoff in the room. Under the gaze of dozens of guests, I lunged forward and threw my arms around Jasper’s neck. “I missed you so much, babe!” I squeezed and kneaded his handsome, bewildered face. “Why did you lose so much weight?” Beside him, Whitney, wearing a champagne-colored mini dress, visibly froze. She was petite, pale, with soft features and almond eyes. Objectively speaking, a classic beauty. The exact “innocent first love” archetype that straight guys fell for instantly. Brushing a strand of hair behind my ear with my flashy manicure, I leaned toward Jasper and whispered softly, “This is it?” “Jasper, who is she?” Whitney asked, her voice soft and sweet like honey. I hopped down and turned to face her, my tailored crimson dress bold and striking. “Oh, you must be my bro’s girl!” I shook her hand enthusiastically. “Jasper talks about you all the time! You look so thrifty and traditional, not materialistic at all.” Around us, mutual friends stopped eating, drinking, and scrolling on their phones. Everyone was practically begging for popcorn. Whitney eyed me up and down, keeping a perfectly harmless smile on her face. “Is that so? How come Jasper has never mentioned you to me before?” I raised an eyebrow. Okay, she had some moves. I looked over at Jasper, a guy whose IQ and EQ were on completely different planets. He didn’t pick up on the subtle jabs at all and was actually preparing to make a friendly introduction. “Harper, this is Whitney, my fiancée. Whitney, this is Harper. We grew up together.” I promptly shoved him out of the main battlefield. “Oh, he probably just didn’t want you to overthink things,” I said smoothly. “We practically shared the same cradle growing up. His dad was strict, so whenever he got in trouble, he’d hide at my place. We ate together, hung out together, basically shared everything. But honestly, what’s there to worry about? Us girls should stick together.” I playfully flicked the back of Jasper’s head. “Don’t worry, Whitney. Now that you two are together, I’m definitely on your side.” The overwhelming flood of information left Whitney momentarily speechless. She could only offer a strained smile. “Well… thank you then.” “I heard you have your eye on a new Honda?” I continued, analyzing the situation with utmost seriousness. “Jasper is being way too stingy. When I went abroad, he gifted me an Acura. How is he being so clueless now? You definitely shouldn’t back down on this.” The entire banquet hall fell dead silent for a few seconds. Nobody expected me to shift the conversation so fast. But what came next was even faster. “Since Whitney isn’t satisfied, let me just cancel this engagement party. Marriage is a huge deal. You should only hold the party when all the terms are settled.” Before Whitney could recover from her utter shock, I was already waving down the event host. “Wait! Who are you to cancel it just like that?” someone shouted from the guest tables. “Why are outsiders interfering in their relationship?” She even brought her own hype squad? I smirked slightly. “Outsiders shouldn’t interfere. So, are you his insider?” Felix, my other childhood friend who had leaked the info to me, spat out a mouthful of red wine. Low giggles rippled through the crowd. Jasper frowned slightly, stepping between Whitney and me. “Alright, Harper. You traveled a long way back. Let’s keep the peace.” “I am keeping the peace! We’re all just chatting and laughing,” I said, poking his chest lightly with my fingernail. “Since the floor is already booked, why don’t you convert this into a welcome-back party for me instead?” Whitney finally lost her composure. “Harper, was it? You just got back, so you might not know this. Booking a private floor at Starlight Grand is extremely difficult, and reservations can’t be modified on a whim.” I crossed my arms and remained silent. Felix looked like he was about to burst from holding in his laughter. “Whitney, you might not know this since it’s your first time here, but the CEO of Starlight Grand is actually her dad.” 2 After the party dispersed, Jasper’s mother insisted I come over to their house. I excused myself, claiming I needed to adjust to the jet lag, and promised to visit another day. Jasper offered to drive Felix and me home. As for Whitney? She was “urgently” called away by her company. The male lead behind the wheel remained completely silent. In the back seat, drowsiness finally caught up with me, and I drifted into a light nap. Only Felix, sitting beside me, was enthusiastically sending voice notes to friends who hadn’t made it to the event. “You guys hated Whitney and flaked on the party. You missed out big time.” “Queen Harper returned today and completely wiped the floor with her.” I rolled my eyes. “Why don’t you add ‘All hail the Dragon Lord’ while you’re at it?” Felix’s fox-like eyes curved into a mischievous smile. “Trying to play the green tea game in front of you is like trying to teach Shakespeare how to write English.” That much was true. Unlike Jasper, I had never been particularly popular with the older generation growing up. In math class, I used to draw portraits of the handsomest boy in the room, fold them into paper airplanes, and toss them across the aisle, watching his face turn bright red. I was once dragged into the office by an angry middle-aged female teacher and scolded severely. She strongly advised my homeroom teacher to move me to the “seat of shame” right beside the podium. “Sure thing,” I had said, playing with a pencil without even looking up. “Just don’t ask me to design the school bulletin boards for the next couple of semesters.” In middle school, I hated wearing the stuffy school uniform jacket during hot summers, so I tied it around my waist. The patrolling dean caught me and berated me for lacking modesty and decency. I looked at the righteous, overly paternal man for a second, then smiled and tapped my left cheek. “That’s funny. Your son didn’t seem to mind it at all.” The boy I drew back then was Felix, who later moved into our neighborhood compound. The dean situation was eventually solved by Jasper, who spent hours sweating over a three-thousand-word self-reflection essay on my behalf. The three of us formed an inseparable trio ever since. Jasper lived up to his clean-cut reputation. While other boys were covered in sweat and rolling in the dirt, he kept a neat buzzcut and crisp, pristine shirts. I used to think that if the neighborhood voted for the “Ideal Son-in-Law,” he would easily top the list. Felix was equally handsome. The very first time I felt self-conscious about my appearance was because of him. But he had a sweet tongue; even when he broke the rules, he maintained a polite, obedient front. Then there was me. The most common evaluation I received was: “So young, yet so flashy and manipulative. Doesn’t look like a proper girl.” “Her parents are busy with business and neglect her upbringing. Look at her, showing off her shoulders and legs all day. How improper! Only my foolish boy would fall for that.” “Tell me about it! But if she ever tried to be my daughter-in-law, I’d refuse.” At the time, Jasper and I were walking on the shaded side of the alley, and those sharp whispers floated down clearly from above. He immediately used both hands to cover my ears. Even though it was early spring, sweat had broken out across his forehead. Jasper looked down at me and said softly, “Don’t listen to them. You are yourself.” The sunlight shifted, catching the tips of his messy hair and eyelashes. He looked impossibly handsome. In the quiet space of our shared breath, his face flushed red as he made his very first promise to me. “Harper, it’s not up to them to want you or not. I want you.” 3 Before I could reunite with all my old friends, I was summoned by my ridiculously busy father. He pointed at trending clips and social media posts, asking me what was going on. I gave the screen a quick scan. The original post title was: So, in the end, I still lost to his childhood white moonlight. It was a long, emotional essay detailing how meticulously she had cared for Jasper and how deeply she loved him, only for me to return from abroad and turn their engagement party into my personal welcome-back bash. The attached photos included sneaky snaps from the venue and a pitiful selfie of her with red, crying eyes. The comment section was a chaotic mess: Holy crap, novel trope in real life? Did she crash a wedding? So shameless! Stealing someone’s man? Total pick-me energy. Lacking boundaries is terrible, but her face is stunning. Honestly, who wouldn’t be confused? Are your morals following her looks? No matter how pretty she is, you can’t do that! After reading through, I handed the phone back to him. “So, did you call me here because this happened at Starlight Grand and hurts the corporate image, or because you actually care about your daughter?” “Of course—” “Of course it’s about Starlight’s reputation,” I took a deep breath, stepping back while looking at him. “Otherwise, you would have known that my mom was the one who called me back. It’s been five days since I landed in San Francisco from Florence.” With that, I turned and walked out. It didn’t matter. It was a fact I had known for a long time. It was simply being reconfirmed once again. I adjusted my emotions while driving, and by the time I stepped into the private lounge, I was back to my usual self. “Hey, welcoming our heiress back! Did you bring back a handsome Italian souvenir?” “Nope.” “That doesn’t sound like you,” my best friend Phoebe pinched my cheek. “Who are you keeping yourself pure for, huh?” My heart skipped a beat. My hand holding the wine glass paused for a fraction of a second. Felix took a deep breath and dramatically clutched his chest. “Harper, I didn’t expect… I’m so moved. I accept your proposal.” “?” I passed my wine glass over to him. “You haven’t even had a drink yet. What kind of drunk talk are you spewing?” The lounge erupted into exaggerated laughter and teasing. Jasper sat quietly in a dim corner, wearing a light blue shirt. Shadows fell across his brow, hiding his expression. “You guys backed the wrong pair! Who do you think Harper came back for?” “Oh right! Why is Jasper being so quiet?” Someone finally noticed the supposed main character, turning everyone’s attention toward him. “Harper didn’t come back once during her two years of grad school, yet she rushed back specifically for you!” “Isn’t she a hundred times better than the Ginger Girl?” “Don’t compare Ginger to Harper. Is she even worthy?” Phoebe leaned over to explain the nickname to me. “Ginger refers to Whitney.” “Why?” She grinned wickedly. “Because ginger never blooms, no matter how much water and fertilizer you give it.” Clatter. Jasper set his fork down on his plate with noticeable force. The room went instantly silent. He had a notoriously gentle temper and almost never lost his cool. It was rare to see him with such a cold expression. I was somewhat surprised. “You can keep your personal opinions about Whitney,” he said calmly. “But we haven’t broken up. In front of her fiancé, you shouldn’t talk about her like this.” “Fiancé? You gave yourself that title, didn’t you?” Phoebe snapped back sharply. “Jasper, what kind of fiancée demands a luxury car the day before the engagement? If Whitney really loved you, we wouldn’t say a single word!” “I work long hours. She brings me meals, cleans my place, and takes care of everything. Is that not love?” “Ha! If some handsome sucker threw ten grand at me every single month, forget being a maid, I’d call him daddy!” Felix and I spoke in unison without any warning. “Woah, woah, let’s not go that far.” Then we looked at each other across the round table. “Why are you copying…” Double synchronization. The tension in the lounge suddenly turned hilariously awkward. I cut him off with a look and pulled down Phoebe, who was about to stand up in frustration. “I’m going out to the hallway for a smoke,” Felix ran a hand through his hair, chuckling lazily. “Keep it down in here. People outside might think we’re running a fight club.” “Shut up, you instigator,” I poked him playfully, sending the golden boy off before turning back to Jasper. “Go on.” “Hmm?” “Other people’s opinions aside, you know your relationship with Whitney best. I want to hear the full story straight from your mouth.” “Why did your mom frantically reach out to mine, begging me to come back and reason with you?” Jasper softened his tone. “It’s just about the bride price. Harper, you know that while I’m not swimming in cash, I can afford it. My mom thinks Whitney is materialistic, but she just doesn’t understand her. Whitney works incredibly hard. She came here alone with no background or family support. Since I love her and have the means, why shouldn’t I make the girl I love comfortable?” Honestly, Jasper had always been a man of few words. This was the first time I had ever heard him speak so candidly, openly, and passionately. He was clearly head over heels. It seemed the purpose of my trip back home was… I smiled, and before I could offer my blessing, the lounge door was suddenly kicked open. The excitement in Felix’s eyes was practically overflowing from his expression. He pointed a thumb over his shoulder at Jasper. “I stepped out for two minutes, only to catch your true love flirting with another man by the window.” 4 The room exploded into shocked silence. All our friends exchanged bewildered glances. Jasper’s composure was almost unbelievable. “It’s probably her boss.” “Well, her boss is certainly attentive,” Felix shook his head with a sigh. “My boss never sends me flowers.” What?! One second Phoebe was mocking Jasper for being a hopeless romantic, and the next second she was fiercely defending her friend, her face red with rage. “Screw this! Perfect timing to settle the score for her online smear campaign too! Watch me tear that fake bitch apart!” The group scrambled to hold her back. “Don’t deploy the nuclear option!” “This restaurant isn’t ours! We can’t wreck the place!” “Calm down! Calm down!” “Phoebe, sit down,” I said calmly. “Certain things can only be resolved by the main parties involved.” Jasper looked pale. Before leaving, he offered us a polite nod. “I’m sorry. I’ll resolve this and come back as soon as possible.” I dropped a few peeled shrimp onto Phoebe’s plate. She finally sat back down, grumbling as she ate, “He’s tall, handsome, smart, an elite professional! How did he end up so brain-dead in love?” Everyone in the lounge ate in silence, wondering what kind of storm Jasper was about to walk into. After all, she was his first love. To prevent him from doing something drastic out of heartbreak, Felix was assigned the heavy duty of keeping watch from a distance. I slowly sipped my soup, feeling an inexplicable restlessness creeping into my mind. I couldn’t pinpoint the source, like a tangled ball of yarn with no loose end. Was it because of Jasper? Words spoken in our youth meant nothing. Why take them seriously after all this time? Was it because of Felix? Having a crush on him was ancient history from elementary school. Even Jasper had moved on, so how could a guy who naturally attracted women like Felix stay focused on one person? “Let’s wrap it up,” Felix returned, pulling out the chair next to me, Jasper’s former spot, and sitting down casually. “Where is he? Why are you back alone?” I asked. “Do you care that much?” A faint flush of alcohol tinted the corners of his eyes. His cool fingers lightly tapped the tip of my nose. He draped an arm over the back of my chair, effectively leaning over me. “Why don’t you go after him then?” I frowned. “Felix, you know I hate the smell of smoke.” He stared at me with hazy, dark eyes for a moment, then obediently sat back upright. He almost looked a little pouted. I sent him to keep watch, so why did he come back smelling like a brewery? Dinner was effectively over. Seeing his state, I doubted we’d get any useful information out of him. Everyone packed up their things and paired off to head home. Felix was genuinely tipsy. Phoebe and I had to haul him from both sides just to drag his heavy frame into my car. Just as I was congratulating myself on staying sober, Phoebe turned around and stepped straight into her family’s Mercedes. Great. So I was the sole driver left to handle the mess. Starting the engine, I glanced at Felix slumped in the passenger seat. Annoyed yet helpless, I leaned over to fasten his seatbelt, only for him to catch my hand. We were old friends, so a little touch was nothing. But… The warm, dim light inside the car contrasted with the chilly night air outside, making the heat where our palms met feel dangerously intimate. I feigned annoyance. “What are you doing?” Felix mumbled something incoherently under his breath. Left with no choice, I leaned my upper body completely over him to listen closer. Hearing what he said, rage exploded in my chest, and I landed a quick punch right against his ribs. “Sleep with you?! Listen to yourself! Are those human words?! Felix, you dare harbor those kinds of thoughts about me?! Believe it or not, I’ll tell your dad tomorrow! You—” My punch sent him into a coughing fit, unable to utter a full sentence. “Get out of my car right now! What are you leaning closer for? Do you want me to—” His hand reached past me, grabbing… the bottle of mineral water in the center console. The second half of my sentence froze in my throat. I watched in total, dumbfounded silence as he unscrewed the cap and chugged the water down, his throat moving rhythmically, his long fingers gripping the bottle tightly. A deep flush spread all the way to his ears. Oh… He meant water. After finishing the water, he tossed the empty bottle cleanly into the roadside trash can outside the window. He turned back to look at me, his expression extremely complex and hard to read. “Harper, I really wonder what on earth you learned at the Florence Academy of Art.” I felt like dying of embarrassment. The sheer humiliation was off the charts. Maybe I should just board a plane back to Italy right now. Clearly, I was no longer suited for survival in this city. A playful glint surfaced in Felix’s eyes as he enunciated each word clearly: “Give… me… water. Water. Not that.” I glared at him fiercely. “Shut up! You’re getting a free ride and you still have so much to say? That water was two bucks. Venmo or CashApp? Pay up right now!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “616405”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 At eight, my brother Kyle unplugged my mechanical heart to charge his phone. Found blue and suffocating, I survived but suffered permanent nerve damage from oxygen deprivation. After that, Kyle became a ghost in our home. Our parents stopped smiling at him, stopped speaking to him, pouring every ounce of themselves into keeping me alive. Father took a grueling offshore job to pay my heart’s maintenance fees. Mother quit hers to watch over me, vowing lifelong penance to beg God for my years. I believed I had parents who loved me fiercely, despite my broken body. Until the national college placement deadline. The house lost power. As the countdown ticked, Mother didn’t hesitate. She ripped the backup battery from my heart to power the laptop. My chest erupted in a shrill alarm. I reached for her. “Mom, no… my heart needs…” She spun, slapping me hard. “Because of this battery, your brother has been punished for ten years! Other backups exist! Why are you so selfish? You ruined his childhood, now you’ll destroy his future?” She snatched the battery and shoved me into my bedroom, locking the door. Minutes later, the portal closed. Through the wood, I heard their ecstatic cheers. My knees buckled, and I collapsed onto the floor. … The piercing alarm of my heart gradually slowed, fading into a flat, hollow hum. I whispered into the darkness, “Mom, I won’t be a burden to you anymore.” As I fell, the back of my head slammed against the sharp edge of the desk. Warm, sticky blood began to pool beneath me. The room spun, darkness encroaching from the edges of my vision. My body grew ice-cold. I tried to scream, to drag myself toward the door. “Mom… help… please, save me…” But the nerve damage from my childhood medical crisis chose this exact moment to paralyze me. I lay on the floor, my muscles spasming, a violent wave of nausea making me dry-heave. My throat felt as though it had been filled with wet cement. I could not even make a sound. Outside, my mother was wrapping her arms around Kyle, pressing a proud kiss to his forehead. “My boy, I knew you could do it! You’re going to change your life!” “Not like your brother, always sick, dragging this entire family down into the dirt. Well, today is a happy day. Let’s not talk about him.” A crushing ache bloomed in my chest. Tears slipped silently down my temples. My mother did not know that the other backup batteries in the closet had died months ago. I had noticed, but because I knew how hard my father worked overseas to send money home, I kept quiet. I figured one working backup battery was enough. I never imagined it would end like this. With the last ounce of strength in my fingers, I clawed at the heavy wooden bookshelf beside me, hoping to make enough noise to alert her. The shelf groaned, then came crashing down in a deafening roar. A faint wave of relief washed over me. Surely, with a noise that loud, she would come running. But the crash only startled her, and she immediately assumed I was throwing a tantrum. “Toby! What is wrong with you?” she screamed through the door. “Just because we borrowed your power source for a few minutes, you throw a fit like a toddler?” The more she spoke, the angrier she became, her voice cracking with resentment. “What did I ever do to deserve this? The entire family has run ourselves ragged to pay for your treatments! We ignored Kyle for ten years, putting every single scrap of our attention on you! Is that still not enough?” I heard her keys jangling as she rushed to the door. “If you have a problem, say it to my face! What is this silent treatment supposed to mean?” But the heavy bookshelf had wedged itself perfectly against the doorframe. No matter how hard she rattled the knob, the door would not budge. “I brought your battery back, Toby! Open the door!” But my lungs were empty. My face was turning blue, my lips dark, and vomit was catching in my throat. I tapped my fingers weakly against the floorboards, trying to make any sound. But it was too faint. She could not hear it over her own anger. Assuming I was just ignoring her, she let out a furious scream and threw the battery hard against the wood. “Fine! Keep acting like a spoiled brat! See if I care!” “You won’t be happy until you’ve driven me to my grave! I sacrificed my life for you, and you turned into this selfish monster!” “You are just jealous because Kyle scored better than you! Toby, you utterly disgust me!” My heart was barely twitching now, yet the phantom pain was agonizing. In my mind, I screamed, Mom, I’m not! I placed first in the entire state! I wanted to surprise you and Dad! I’m not jealous of Kyle! But there would be no surprise. Only horror. Kyle tugged at my mother’s arm, his voice dripping with sweet consolation. “Mom, don’t be angry. You still have me. Toby is just having a hard time accepting things. I’ll talk to him later.” The anger melted from her face instantly. She pulled him into a warm embrace. “Oh, Kyle. At least you are sensible. If only your brother had half your maturity, I could die happy.” I slipped into a cold, crushing dark. My eyelids felt like lead. The blood from the back of my head had pooled so deep it was beginning to seep under the crack of the door. Just as my conscious mind began to fade, the front door burst open. “Toby! Dad’s home!” A tiny spark of hope flared in my chest. My father loved me. He would check on me first. His footsteps drew closer. I curled my body, fighting the agony to blink my eyes open. I thought I felt a ghost of warmth return to my limbs. But before he could reach my door, Kyle dashed across the foyer and threw himself into my father’s arms. “Dad! You’re finally back! I missed you so much!” My father frowned, instinctively reaching to pat him and move past. But my mother chimed in with a beaming smile. “Kyle did amazing on his placement exams, Thomas! He might get into a top-tier state university!” The exhaustion vanished from my father’s face, replaced by pure joy. “Really? That’s incredible! What do you want as a reward, Kyle? Dad will get you whatever you want.” Kyle smiled shyly. “Having you and Mom healthy is the only reward I need.” My father’s eyes filled with tears. My mother turned away to wipe her own. While I lay dying behind the door, choking on my own blood. I wanted to scream, but a thick, metallic taste flooded my mouth, choking out my words. My father finally looked around. “Where is Toby? How is he doing?” My mother curled her lip. “Toby? He’s throwing a tantrum in his room because Kyle outscored him. He thinks he’s too good for us now. I’ve been calling him for hours and he won’t say a word.” My father fell silent, letting out a heavy sigh. He walked over and knocked gently on my door. “Toby? It’s Dad. Can you open the door, please? I bought that strawberry cake you love. It doesn’t matter how you did on the exams, Toby. Dad loves you no matter what.” Behind the locked door, I was covered in blood, my face a terrible shade of blue. Tears and blood mingled, soaking into my collar. I’m sorry, Dad, I whispered in my mind. I’m so sorry I was such a burden. I’m sorry… The silence in my room remained absolute. My mother’s patience snapped. She marched over and kicked the door hard. “Toby! Are you dead in there? Where are your manners? Your father is talking to you, and you can’t even offer a single word? He worked his fingers to the bone for you, and this is how you treat him?” Mom, just open the door, I begged silently. Open it and you’ll see me. My father quickly pulled her back. “Lower your voice. He’s just upset right now.” My mother yanked her arm away and stormed toward the master bedroom. “Fine! Let’s ignore him! Let him play his little game. Let’s see if he can go the rest of his life without speaking to us!” The footsteps faded. I had used up my last breath of life. The cybernetic pump in my chest gave one final, violent shudder, and then stopped forever. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing up. I felt weightless, and the chronic, suffocating pain that had haunted me for years was entirely gone. Overjoyed, I ran toward my parents. “Dad! Mom! I’m cured! I’m not going to be a burden anymore!” But my hand passed right through my mother’s shoulder. I stared at my translucent fingers, and the horrifying truth settled in. I was dead. My mother was sitting on the couch, her face buried in her hands as she wept. “Is he trying to kill me? If anything happens to him, how am I supposed to go on?” I bit my lip, reaching out to brush away her tears. “I’m sorry, Mom. Don’t cry. It’s my fault. I always make you worry.” But my fingers slipped right through her cheek. She suddenly gasped, looking up. “Thomas, do you think… do you think something actually happened to him? No, I have to check on him!” My father stood up to follow her. “Of course not. Don’t scare yourself.” Just then, in the hallway, Kyle quietly slipped over to the breaker box and flipped the switch back up. He hung his head, murmuring softly, “Don’t hate me, Toby. I just wanted Mom and Dad to look at me for once. I’m sorry.” I watched him, paralyzed with shock. A bitter smile crept onto my face. The power outage was a lie. It was a play orchestrated entirely by my little brother. The next second, Kyle raised his own hand and slapped himself across the face with stunning force. He stumbled backward, tears flowing instantly, and ran wailing toward our parents. “Dad! Mom! Toby beat me!” He threw himself into their arms, sobbing hysterically. “I just wanted to go in and apologize to him, but he lunged at me and hit me! He called me a worthless parasite and said I was trying to steal your love! He said… he said you are the most useless parents in the world and he wishes he were adopted! He deliberately shut off the power so I couldn’t submit my college application! He wanted to ruin my life!” Kyle pulled back his collar, showing the red mark on his cheek. “Dad, Mom, I’m so scared!” I rushed in front of my parents, screaming at the top of my lungs. “Dad! Mom! I didn’t do it! He’s lying! I’m dead, how could I have hit him?” But no one heard a thing. My mother trembled, her face twisted in rage. “To think I was actually worried about him! I spent ten years of my life sacrificing everything for him, and I raised a venomous snake!” My father rubbed his face wearily. “We spoiled Toby too much.” I stood frozen, tears streaming down my ghostly face. “I didn’t… I’m not a bad kid. I’m not a snake.” My father gently wiped Kyle’s tears away. “Don’t cry, Kyle. Dad bought cake. Let’s eat it together and ignore him.” Kyle offered a sweet, obedient nod. He cut a slice of cake for each of them. “Dad, Mom, I’m the luckiest kid in the world.” I sat on the empty chair beside them, staring longingly. It was strawberry cake, my favorite. I could almost smell the sweet vanilla frosting. But my mother gently pushed her plate away. “You eat it, Kyle. Mom can’t touch this. It has eggs in it.” She lowered her gaze. “I made a vow before God. I will live on water and simple vegetables for the rest of my life to keep your brother safe.” My throat tightened. I leaned in to wrap my arms around her, but my embrace was nothing but air. The new silver threads in her hair cut through my soul like a knife. My father sighed, picking up a slice of cake and walking over to my door. He knocked, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “Toby, stop this nonsense. Just apologize to your brother, and we’ll forget all about it. Come out and eat something, okay?” But dead boys don’t talk. He waited, then set the plate on the floor. The fire of resentment flared in my mother’s eyes again. She shoved a large forkful of cake into her mouth, chewing aggressively. “If he doesn’t want to eat, let him starve! We aren’t going to pamper him forever. I have more than one son.” I bit my lip. Yes, at least they still had Kyle. They wouldn’t be too lonely when they found out. Suddenly, the phone rang. My mother wiped her mouth and answered with a bright smile. “Hello, Mrs. Gable? Yes, Kyle’s application went through perfectly. Don’t worry.” The counselor on the other end pressed on. “That’s wonderful. And what about Toby? Did he choose Harvard or MIT as his first choice?” The moment she heard my name, the warmth drained from my mother’s face. She did not even care to hear the rest of the sentence. “Toby? He’ll be lucky if he gets into a community college. It doesn’t matter what he chooses.” Without waiting for a reply, she hung up. I stood frozen, my soul splintering into a million pieces. “Mom, I got the highest score in the state. I didn’t embarrass you. Why didn’t you even bother to ask? Do you really hate me that much…” My father shook his head in disappointment. “I never cared about his grades. I only wanted him to be healthy, for us to be a happy family. I don’t understand how he became so bitter.” The injustice of it all felt like a rusty blade twisting slowly in my chest. The dining room fell into a suffocating silence. But before going to bed, they still left a small plate of food outside my door. A pity I would never taste it. The next morning, my mother came to check on me early. She saw the plate of food and the slice of cake sitting untouched. The frosting had melted, and the strawberry was shriveled and dark. Her face fell, her anger returning with a vengeance. She pounded on the door. “Toby! Get out here right now!” Silence. Her eyes brimmed with angry tears. “What do you want from me? You won’t eat, you won’t talk, are you trying to starve yourself to punish me? Do I need to get down on my knees and beg for your forgiveness?” My father rushed over, pulling her back. “Toby, enough is enough! Open this door and talk to us! Your mother’s health is fragile, stop tormenting her!” Just then, the doorbell rang. My mother wiped her face quickly and went to open it. On our doorstep stood a news crew carrying heavy cameras. “Hello, we are from the State Broadcast Network. We’re here to interview your son.” My mother’s eyes lit up, her anger evaporating in an instant. “Kyle! Come out here! The TV station is here to interview you!” Kyle ran out of his room, his chest puffed out with pride. But the reporters exchanged puzzled glances. The lead journalist smiled politely. “Is Toby not home? He scored the highest in the entire state on the national placement exams. We’re here for him.” Kyle’s smile froze. My father gasped, an uncontrollable wave of joy washing over his face. “I knew it! I knew my boy had it in him!” My mother quickly ushered them inside, her hands trembling with excitement. “That silly boy, why didn’t he tell me? Please, come in! He’s in his room. I’ll go get him.” I began to shake with terror. I threw my spectral arms wide, trying to block her path. “Mom, no! Make them leave! Dad, stop her! Don’t let her see me like this, please!” But they could not hear me. The reporters followed closely, their cameras rolling, transmitting the live broadcast directly to thousands of screens across the state. The heavy bookshelf wedged behind my door had already been loosened by my mother’s violent kicks. With one firm push, the entire unit gave way and crashed to the floor inside. My mother stepped into the threshold. “Toby, Mom is coming in! The news crew is here, it’s a live broadcast! Everyone is watching, hurry up and get—” The words died in her throat. Through the camera lens, my pale, lifeless body lay slumped on the floor, surrounded by a massive pool of dark, congealed blood. The reporters froze, but the camera remained fixed on my face. My mother’s face drained of all color. She let out a piercing, soul-shattering shriek. “Toby! Toby!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “616421”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Six months into an online relationship and my boyfriend still refused to meet up in real life. Desperate for answers, I hired a food delivery guy to go do some undercover detective work. When the delivery guy finished his mission, he called me with a desperate plea. “Look, sis, just cut your losses. That guy isn’t tall, he isn’t handsome, and the main thing is, he looks like he’s pushing sixty! He was literally holding a cane!” Hearing that, I completely lost my mind. I logged right into the chat app and pounded out a message: You ancient geezer! We’re over! The next day, I dragged my miserable body into the office, only to overhear my coworkers gossiping. “What on earth set off Mr. Mitchell today?” “I know, right? Why is he running around asking everyone for links to anti-aging face masks?” 1 When I received the phone call from the delivery guy, I felt like my world was collapsing around me. On the other end of the line, he was still painting a vivid picture. “I swear I’m not making this up, girl! When the door opened, I stood there in complete shock. The guy wasn’t tall, wasn’t handsome, and looked like he was about sixty years old. He even had a walking cane in his hand!” “You’re in the prime of your youth. Find someone else. Otherwise, if people see you two together, they’ll think you have an old age fetish!” I mumbled a response in a complete daze, having no idea how I even hung up. By the time my senses returned, tears were streaming down my face like a river. No wonder he always refused to meet me. He was literally so old that moving around was a challenge! And those generous CashApp transfers he kept sending me over the months, were those his retirement pensions?! The thought made me sob even harder. Sniffling, I opened my phone to send all the money back to him. The moment the chat interface popped up, my phone vibrated. My online boyfriend had sent a text: Thank you for ordering afternoon tea for me, baby~ Are your nails done yet? How about I buy you some boba tea? I almost threw up right then and there. The mere realization that I had been calling this old geezer “babe” for half a year made my stomach churn with intense nausea. Oblivious to my sudden meltdown, he kept sending messages: Still getting your nails done? Text me when you’re finished, okay? I’ll reimburse you. A string of large cash transfers followed immediately after. When it came to money, he had never been stingy. Of course! Someone who doesn’t have a job to go to spends money with total freedom! Simmering with rage and resentment, I rejected all the cash transfers and aggressively hammered on my keyboard: No need. I never imagined you were such a wrinkly old fraud. Even saying ‘we’re breaking up’ makes me feel disgusted. Don’t ever contact me again! 2 After sending the message, I blocked and deleted him in one swift sequence, then began packing up everything in my apartment. The clothes and bags the old fraud had bought me? Thrown out! The shopping gift cards he had topped up for me? Sold off! The artisanal cured sausages he had personally smoked and sent over… I hesitated for a second. The old guy actually had incredible culinary skills. Those sausages tasted way better than anything bought from a store. Wait, I was looking for a boyfriend, not hiring a private chef! What good were delicious sausages?! So, I packed up the sausages along with the rest and threw them all into the dumpster downstairs to feed the local stray dogs. I didn’t step foot outside for the entire weekend, curling up on my sofa and wallowing in sorrow. It wasn’t until Monday morning that I finally put on some makeup and dragged myself to work. The moment I stepped into the company, I sensed an unsettling atmosphere. A storm was clearly brewing. “Melanie!” A coworker waved at me frantically. “Hurry up and scan your badge!” I hurried over to clock in and asked in confusion, “What’s going on? Everyone looks so panicked.” My coworker let out a heavy sigh. “Mr. Mitchell is back from the regional branch, and he’s in a horrific mood today! Half a dozen colleagues went into his office to give reports and got chewed out until they were practically weeping!” I froze for a moment. Bryce Mitchell was back? Our big boss had been inspecting the regional branches for almost six months, and he was finally returning to headquarters? I had only joined the company during those six months, so I had never actually interacted with him. Older colleagues said that while he was a bit distant, he wasn’t difficult to get along with. Looking at the situation now, though, it seemed those rumors were completely dead wrong. “He can’t just lose his temper for no reason, right?” I asked, bewildered. “Who set him off?” My coworker looked around to make sure nobody was nearby, then leaned in close to whisper, “Word on the street is that his girlfriend dumped him!” “And it was an out-of-the-blue, total blackout breakup!” 3 It really was the season for breakups… Connecting it to my own tragic situation, I couldn’t help but sigh. Curiosity got the better of me, though. “People don’t just break up out of nowhere. There has to be a reason, right?” My coworker squeezed out a few words through her teeth. “Apparently, she dumped him for being too old…” I sucked in a sharp breath. “Bryce Mitchell is old?!” Isn’t he not even thirty yet?! On top of that, with a face that looked like a male model, he still got dumped for being too old? Just what kind of ethereal goddess was his girlfriend?! Right as the words left my mouth, the elevator doors across from us chimed open. The doors slid back, and I locked eyes directly with the person standing inside. It was Bryce Mitchell. I had no idea whether he had heard my loud remark, but his icy gaze sent a shiver straight down my spine. “Mr. Mitchell,” my coworker greeted him hastily, and the bustling hallway went dead silent in an instant. I instinctively took two steps back and followed suit. “Mr. Mitchell.” Bryce gave a lukewarm response and stepped out of the elevator. Just as it seemed he was going to walk right past me, his footsteps abruptly stopped. The next second, he turned his head and locked his gaze squarely on my face. “Which department are you from?” 4 I stood there, momentarily stunned. My team leader quickly chimed in beside me. “This is Melanie Foster, the new hire in the planning department.” Bryce stared at me for a few more seconds before issuing a quiet command. “Have her come to my office later to present her project report. I want to see the quality of our new recruits.” The team leader nodded frantically in agreement, but my mind was spiraling. Why on earth did a low-level rookie like me have to give a personal report to the CEO? “Don’t be nervous,” my team leader comforted me once Bryce had walked away. “You’ve been following this project from the start anyway. Getting some face time in front of the big boss will do wonders for your career when you want to lead bigger projects later.” Since things had already come to this, I had no choice but to gather my files and head up to the executive suite. Bryce’s office was on the seventeenth floor. It had magnificent natural lighting, but the silence inside was terrifying. I spent a long time mentally preparing myself at the door before finally knocking. “Come in.” A deep voice echoed from inside. I let out a slow breath and pushed the door open. “Mr. Mitchell, I’m here to present the project report.” Bryce sat behind a massive mahogany desk, his face devoid of any expression. “Go ahead.” I had indeed been tracking this project closely, so I knew the structure and details inside out. I spoke continuously for about ten minutes before wrapping up. “That covers the main scope, Mr. Mitchell.” Bryce didn’t speak immediately. He simply flipped through the document I had brought. After a long moment, he raised his head, his sharp features unreadable. “Are you nervous?” I gave an honest nod. “A little.” Bryce showed no reaction to that. He lowered his eyes again, finished reading the final set of data, and tossed the folder onto the desk with a light thud. “Go down to HR and process your handover.” I froze. “Mr. Mitchell?” Bryce looked at me, his voice flat and calm. “You’re not suitable for the planning department.” My heart instantly dropped into my stomach. Was he firing me?! 5 Panic surged through me, and I hurriedly tried to salvage the situation. “Mr. Mitchell, I know my presentation had flaws, but I’m more than willing to learn from the seniors in the department! Please give me one more chance!” Bryce paid no attention to my plea. He turned to his computer and started typing, looking very much like he was drafting an email to HR. Watching his hands move, I knew there was no turning this around, and a wave of bitterness washed over me. Isn’t the saying go that when you’re unlucky in love, you’re lucky in your career?! How come I ended up losing both my love life and my job?! The more I thought about it, the more miserable I felt. Suppressing my rising emotions, I forced myself to ask, “Mr. Mitchell, can you at least tell me where I failed? Just so I can learn from my mistakes and not repeat them at my next company.” At that, Bryce finally looked up. His gaze lingered on my reddened eyes for a moment, and an expression of subtle helplessness crossed his face. “Why would you go to another company? To work as a corporate spy?” I pouted slightly. “Aren’t you firing me?” Bryce seemed to let out a quiet, amused breath. “When did I ever say I was firing you?” He pointed to the folder on his desk, his tone indifferent. “You managed to turn such a tiny piece of work into a comprehensive ten-minute breakdown. Keeping you in the planning department is a waste of talent. Come work in the executive suite.” I blinked, not quite understanding. Bryce was forced to turn his computer monitor around so I could see it. Only then did I realize that he wasn’t typing a termination notice at all, but an internal transfer form. He was reassigning me to his personal office! “Complete your handover this morning, and report to my office this afternoon,” Bryce said, giving me a quick glance. “Any issues with that?” My heart stopped aching, my eyes stopped watering, and I nodded like a toy bird on a spring. “No issues at all!” Bryce gave a quiet hum and pushed the folder back across the desk. “Head back and pack your things.” I responded happily and stepped forward to take the file. Yet, when my fingers touched the cover, I couldn’t pull it away. I paused, looking up, only to see Bryce pressing his hand firmly on the folder, his knuckles slightly white. “Your nails…” He stared at my fingers, his dark eyebrows pulling into a faint frown. “They look somewhat familiar.” 6 I instinctively lowered my head to look at my hands. Since it was my lucky zodiac year, I had specifically gotten a bright cherry-red gel manicure, a style I had actually chosen together with that old fraud from my online relationship. Now, looking at this shade of red gave me a sudden surge of irritation. “Yeah, this style is really popular this year. A lot of girls got it done,” I gave a forced smile, secretly deciding to get them removed the moment I got home tonight. Bryce looked at my nails, then looked at my face, and ultimately said nothing more. He simply waved his hand to dismiss me. The rest of the morning was a chaotic blur. By the time the transfer paperwork was finished, it was already lunchtime. I finally caught my breath and headed down to the cafeteria. My appetite had been terrible over the past two days, so I only ordered a simple bowl of vegetable noodles. After sitting down, I habitually pulled out my phone, took a picture, and sent it to my pinned contact: Baby, lunch check-in~ After sending it, I set my phone down and started eating. Two bites in, a strange, creeping realization hit me. Didn’t I already delete that old fraud’s chat?! Then who in the world had I just sent that update to?! My heart leaped into my throat. I frantically grabbed my phone and unlocked it. When the screen lit up, my eyes went completely dark. My current pinned contact was… Bryce Mitchell! Just half an hour ago, I had added the big boss’s contact through his assistant and pinned him at the top as instructed. Who could have guessed I’d make such a fatal blunder right off the bat! “Bad habits are going to be the death of me…” I groaned internally, my fingers flying as I tried to unsend the message. But the two-minute window had already passed, leaving it permanently delivered. Even more terrifying, my phone vibrated in the very next second. Bryce had actually replied: Who are you calling ‘baby’, Melanie? 7 Dying of embarrassment, I typed out a panicked explanation: I am so sorry, Mr. Mitchell! I sent that to the wrong person… Bryce didn’t seem to mind. He simply asked: That’s all you’re eating? I answered truthfully: My appetite hasn’t been great these past couple of days. Bryce’s end went quiet, and he didn’t reply again. Assuming he was just engaging in polite small talk, I put my phone away and focused on my food. Because of the transfer paperwork, I had come down to the cafeteria late. Paired with my habit of chewing slowly, the cafeteria had mostly emptied out while my bowl of noodles was still half-full. There was still half an hour left of the lunch break. Just as I was debating whether to keep eating or head upstairs for a nap, a shadow suddenly fell across my table. Looking up, I was surprised to see Bryce’s executive assistant. “Still eating?” She smiled warmly and handed over a high-end food container. “An addition to your lunch.” I blinked, taking it carefully. Opening the lid, an incredible aroma wafted out, revealing several beautifully prepared gourmet dishes. “Wow, thank you!” My appetite instantly returned. As I dug in, I caught a glimpse of the restaurant logo on the container and gasped softly. “Wait, this place is ridiculously expensive!” The assistant waved a dismissive hand. “Mr. Mitchell’s treat. Enjoy as much as you like.” I let out a soft whistle. “I have to say, working in the executive office has its perks. Free high-end meals!” The assistant laughed softly. “Not usually. Mr. Mitchell rarely orders takeout; he usually eats at the cafeteria with everyone else. I guess he just wanted a change of flavor today.” I blinked, thinking to myself how lucky I was to score a free luxury meal on my very first day. The afternoon passed smoothly with light tasks. I spent most of the time shadowing the senior assistant, and left work right on time. After returning home and finishing dinner, I flopped onto the couch, ready to launch a mobile game. The second I logged into my account, my screen flashed wildly with notifications, 99+ popping up so fast the phone vibrated right out of my grip. It took a full minute for the phone to settle down. Only then did I spot the culprit, who was, unsurprisingly, that old fraud. I had blocked his chat app, but I had completely forgotten to remove him from my game friend list! Looking at the glowing couple badge hovering above our avatars, a wave of disgust washed over me. I moved to sever the in-game bond immediately, but a private message popped up a split second faster: Baby, you finally logged on! Baby, why did you break up with me? QAQ I cringed at the text. How old was he, still using cute kaomoji emoticons? Absolutely nauseating! Refusing to even reply, I opened his profile to remove him. But right before my thumb tapped ‘Delete’, another message flashed on the screen: I’m not even thirty years old yet! I know I’m a bit older than you, but I’m hardly an ancient geezer, right? Baby, is there some kind of misunderstanding between us!! 8 Not even thirty? For real? I froze, completely bewildered. There was a massive difference between thirty and sixty! Even if he aged poorly, he couldn’t possibly look thirty years older than his real age! Fearing I wouldn’t believe him, he sent another message right away: Baby, if you don’t believe me, I can send you a photo! Forget it. Nine out of ten online photos were heavily edited, and the tenth was usually someone else entirely. Zero credibility. Seeing that I still wasn’t responding, he unleashed his ultimate card: Baby, let’s meet up in real life. Once you see me with your own eyes, you’ll know I’m not lying to you. I hesitated. If he actually had the nerve to suggest an IRL meeting, there was a very high probability that he wasn’t a sixty-year-old man after all. Besides, we had been talking for half a year, and our personalities and interests matched terribly well. If we really went our separate ways over a stupid misunderstanding, I would feel a genuine sense of regret. After a moment of deliberation, I typed back: Fine. We can meet. But I pick the time and place. He became instantly ecstatic: Baby, you finally replied to me! I’ll listen to you! Wherever you say, we’ll go there! After thinking it over, I chose a bustling downtown shopping mall purely for safety reasons. Even if the guy turned out to be some kind of creep, he wouldn’t dare try anything under the watchful eyes of a huge crowd. Once the meeting was set, he started pleading again: Baby, can you add me back on the chat app? I really can’t get used to not saying good morning and good night to you. I gave him a icy response, telling him we would discuss it after meeting in person, and then immediately logged off. The next day was Tuesday. Morning traffic was an absolute nightmare. I sprinted into the building and managed to clock in right on the dot, only to find everyone in the executive office already seated. “I’m so sorry I’m late,” I apologized nervously. The senior assistant shook her head. “It’s fine, we just got here too.” “Oh, right,” she pointed to my desk. “Mr. Mitchell brought some home-style delicacies prepared by his house cook for us to share. Yours is right there.” Looking at the box on my desk, I thought to myself that Bryce was actually a pretty decent boss. “Is he not in a bad mood today?” The assistant smiled. “Yeah, he seems to be in a pretty good mood, actually.” Men really were unpredictable creatures. I opened the box on my desk, and one item inside instantly caught my attention. It was a pack of cured, smoked sausages. 9 The packaging looked strikingly similar to the ones the old fraud used to mail to me. I pulled out a piece and took a bite. Holy crap, even the flavor was identical! Could it be the exact same recipe? Puzzled, I asked the assistant, “Where is Mr. Mitchell’s house cook from?” She shook her head. “I’m not sure. Somewhere local, I think.” I hummed thoughtfully, wondering if that old fraud had just bought some commercial gift packs off the shelf to fool me back then. I originally wanted to find an opportunity to ask Bryce about his cook, but the executive suite proved to be insanely busy. Bryce himself was constantly traveling between branches, so it wasn’t until Friday’s weekly summary meeting that I saw him again. Maybe it was just my imagination, but throughout the entire meeting, Bryce seemed completely distracted, repeatedly checking his wristwatch. Checking the time so anxiously, did he have a date tonight? I didn’t have time to gossip, though. The moment the clock struck the end of the workday, I rushed straight to the shopping mall. Friday night traffic was brutal. By the time I reached the mall entrance, I was already twenty minutes late. Fearing he might think I was flaking on purpose, I logged into the game to send a quick message: Traffic was terrible, I just arrived at the mall entrance. Almost at the exact same moment, a reply popped up on my screen: I’m so sorry, baby! I’m late too, I just pulled up to the entrance T^T I blinked. You’re at the entrance too? North entrance or South entrance? Just as the text sent, a sharp notification chime sounded from a short distance right in front of me. It was the distinct sound of an incoming game message. I instinctively looked up, only to lock eyes with a terrifyingly familiar face. It was Bryce Mitchell. Why was he here? I stood frozen for a second before letting out a stiff, dry greeting. “Mr. Mitchell, what a coincidence.” Bryce stared down at me, his dark eyes deep and unreadable. “It really is a coincidence.” He looked at me, then down at the phone tightly clutched in my hand, his expression turning strangely complex. “Melanie, what are you… doing here?” 10 Telling my boss I was here to meet an online boyfriend felt wildly embarrassing, so I couldn’t bring myself to say it. Seeing my silence, Bryce’s gaze grew even darker. He took a few steps closer, opening his mouth to speak, when someone called my name from behind him. “Melanie!” I turned my head and saw an old college classmate I hadn’t seen in ages. A flash of inspiration hit me, and I turned back to Bryce. “I’m meeting a friend for dinner!” Bryce visibly stiffened, clearly caught off guard by that answer. He stared at me, repeating slowly, “You’re… meeting a friend?” I waved at my classmate not far away and nodded rapidly. “Yes, yes, my friend is already here! I’ll be going now, Mr. Mitchell!” Without waiting for his response, I bolted toward my classmate, grabbed her arm, and practically dragged her away while whispering for her to play along. Fortunately, Bryce didn’t chase after us. When I stole a backward glance after putting a significant distance between us, I saw him standing completely alone under the streetlamp, looking inexplicably… desolate. “What’s the story there?” my classmate whispered, nudging me. “Did you have a fight with your boyfriend? Damn, Melanie, your boyfriend is gorgeous!” I shook my head frantically. “That’s my boss!” She stared at me in disbelief. “Then what was that? The way he looked at you was anything but innocent!” I didn’t know what to say to that. With a stoic face like Bryce’s, what could anyone possibly read from it? Entering the mall, I parted ways with my classmate and hurried toward the reserved restaurant. It was peak dinner hour, but thankfully I had booked a private dining room in advance. Once inside, I let out a massive sigh of relief and sent a message to my online date: I’m in the private room. Sending you the room number now. He replied instantly: I’m at the restaurant too, baby! Coming in right now. My heart took a sudden, violent leap, and the hand holding my phone began to tremble uncontrollably. Time seemed to compress into a single fraction of a second. Almost the very moment I set my phone down, the door to the private room was knocked and pushed open, a figure stepping right into view… 11 When I saw who stepped through the door, I froze. “Ma’am, I am so sorry to bother you. We just received notice that due to a circuit maintenance issue, the mall will experience a temporary blackout for about ten to thirty minutes. It might affect your dining experience.” Standing at the door wasn’t an online boyfriend, but a restaurant waiter, looking thoroughly apologetic. “We are deeply sorry for the inconvenience. Would a fifty-dollar voucher be acceptable as compensation?” I blinked. “So I can’t eat here right now?” The waiter nodded apologetically. “We sincerely apologize for ruining your plans. We will also provide a free parking voucher.” “Uh… alright then.” I grabbed my jacket and stood up to follow the waiter out of the room, then suddenly remembered something. “Wait, the person I was meeting…” Before I could finish my sentence, the lights flickered once and went completely black. The mall had lost power. The customers knew what was happening, so there wasn’t widespread panic, but with so many people and children around, the restaurant quickly degenerated into a noisy chaos of shuffling feet and startled gasps. Standing on the steps between the private rooms and the main dining hall, I completely lost my footing in the dark. “Ma’am? Ma’am, please follow me. Don’t stand in the middle of the stairs, it’s not safe!” The waiter’s voice was right in front of me, but I couldn’t see a single thing. I had mild night blindness, which essentially made me as blind as a bat in pitch darkness. “Excuse me, could you turn on your phone flashlight for a second?” I reached out blindly, trying to find a railing to hold onto, but the moment my hand extended, a panicked customer rushing down the stairs slammed hard into my shoulder. “Watch out!” The waiter’s warning came a fraction of a second too late. I was already pitching forward, falling toward the steps below. Just as I braced for impact, a pair of strong arms reached out through the dark and caught me firmly. In the very next second, a bright beam of flashlight illuminated the space between us. 12 The flight of stairs wasn’t high, but my forward stumble carried decent momentum. The person who caught me took a forced step back from the impact, yet his arms remained locked securely around my waist, holding me safely against his chest. Scared out of my mind, it took me several seconds to catch my breath and look up. “Thank…” My voice choked in my throat as I met the face illuminated by the light. “Mr. Mitchell??” Looking at Bryce’s familiar features, my mind went blank. “Why are you here?” Bryce looked down at me, a tight frown pulling at his brow. “Are you hurt anywhere?” I shook my head slowly. “You came just in time.” Still bewildered, I pressed on, “Were you coming here to eat too?” While this restaurant was popular, its status was hardly high-end enough for an executive like Bryce to frequent. A sudden thought struck me, and I pointed upward toward the higher floors. “Mr. Mitchell, did you get the wrong floor? The upscale steakhouse is on the fifth floor.” Bryce looked at me with a faint trace of helplessness. “Am I not allowed to eat here?” I scratched my cheek. “It’s not that, but that steakhouse up there clearly suits you much better.” “What’s the point of fitting the restaurant?” Bryce stared down into my eyes, suddenly reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair away from my face. His voice softened into something gentle and intimate. “Fitting the person is what matters.” The gesture was so outrageously affectionate that I froze in place. “Um… excuse me, you two…” Behind us, the waiter spoke up nervously in the dark. “Who should I give the meal vouchers and parking pass to?” Bryce raised his head, extending a hand smoothly. “I’ll take them.” The waiter hesitated. “But the private room was booked under the lady’s name…” Bryce gave a quiet, firm nod. “We’re together.” “The person she came to meet is me.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “616406”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When I transmigrated into this beast-kin world and faced a mandatory matchmaking system, I couldn’t stomach the thought of human-animal intimacy. I bypassed all the muscular, half-beast suitors and chose a ordinary, limp-legged spider instead. I kept him as a pet for six months. Until one morning, right after waving goodbye to his fuzzy little legs before heading to work, my world turned upside down. I suddenly saw a floating wall of text glowing in the air. [Is this NPC crazy? She ignored all the fluffy, handsome beast-men and chose the ultimate villain as her husband!] [And she actually kept him locked in such a tiny terrarium. No wonder Gideon divorced her the second his wounds healed so he could go chase after the female lead.] [Poor cannon fodder. Before she could even taste the sweet life of a billionaire’s wife, the villain had her taken out.] As someone who worked a grueling nine-to-five and saved every penny just to retire early and do absolutely nothing, my vision went completely dark. I immediately called the Ministry of Marital Affairs to file for divorce, and then I promptly shipped the spider back to the wealthy family he belonged to. I thought I had cut all ties, ready to slip back into my quiet, average life as a corporate drone. But at the office, my boss, a man who was usually cold, distant, and serene with his subordinates, suddenly became a walking powder keg. He spent every day staring at me with bloodshot, furious eyes. According to the office gossip, his wife had walked out on him. “All those good looks wasted,” a coworker muttered in the breakroom. “He doesn’t even know how to seduce his own woman!” 1 My coworker looked completely exasperated. “What decent guy acts like that? He is constantly frozen over, never showing a hint of a smile. How is he supposed to keep his woman’s attention?” In the breakroom, Toby, the golden retriever beast-kin from the tech department, let his fluffy ears droop sadly. His long tail swayed slowly as his bright eyes remained locked on me. My fingers twitched. I had to restrain myself from reaching out to pet him, lest I get arrested by a police dog for workplace harassment. Three years ago, when I first crossed over to this world, the local administration immediately dragged me in for mandatory matchmaking. Female humans were incredibly rare in this world. Most male beast-kin were so desperate to marry that they were willing to offer their entire fortunes as a dowry just to marry into a woman’s household. The officer who found me, a German Shepherd with a sleek uniform and a high-ranking badge, had not even asked for my name or why I had suddenly appeared in the desolate wilderness of his patrol route. Instead, he simply flexed his muscles and kept showing me profiles of eligible bachelor candidates. He practically begged me to choose him too. To please a potential wife, the male beasts would show off their animal forms. The fluffy ones, of course, were the most popular. But as a pure-blooded human, looking at those suited cats and dogs did nothing for me. I wanted to pet them, not marry them. Committed to avoiding any beast-kin intimacy, I looked past the handsome models and pointed at a tiny, limp-legged spider that could not even take human form. Under the stunned stares of the registration officers, I took my newly minted ID card, the keys to my apartment, and a relocation fund of two hundred thousand credits. Then, I walked out, completely satisfied. 2 I kept my betrothed as a pet for six months. I had to admit, spiders in this world were surprisingly expressive. Before I left for work every morning, he would stare at me with his large, dark eyes, his fuzzy legs twitching slightly. I assumed he was waving goodbye. I would smile, look down at him, and whisper, “See you tonight.” Whenever I did, he would cover his eyes with his front legs, peeking at me through the gaps like a shy teenager. That routine lasted until last week, when those glowing bullet comments suddenly manifested before my eyes. [Wow, this cannon fodder is actually pretty, but her luck is terrible. She skipped the fluffballs and chose the big bad villain instead.] [She kept him locked in that tiny glass box too. No wonder he bolted the second he recovered.] [Later, when the villain wants to clear his past to pursue the heroine, he has this girl wiped out to erase his history.] Already exhausted by my morning commute, my mind went completely blank. I skipped work entirely. Under the spider’s curious gaze, I retreated to my bedroom and called the Ministry of Marital Affairs to demand a divorce. The officer on the line was Marcus, the German Shepherd who had first processed my arrival. He had apparently been promoted. When he heard my request, he did not ask any questions. He simply gave a soft, understanding, “Of course.” The divorce went through instantly, bypassing the usual bureaucratic nightmare. I packaged the little spider and sent him back to the prestigious family estate. He belonged to one of the wealthiest, most powerful clans in the country. Rumor had it their CEO had been missing for six months, yet no one had bothered to search for him, assuming he was just off searching for true love. While I felt a lingering twinge of guilt, I knew my dream of a quiet retirement could not be ruined by a hidden villain. I severed the bond cleanly. But the moment I returned to work, my icy, polite boss, Gideon, transformed. When I first applied to Aether Corp, I took a position as his secretary. Gideon, a brilliant and young general manager, had never minded that I relied on a translator. He had mentored me patiently, correcting my mistakes with clear instructions instead of anger. He had guided me through the rough transition of my new career. But when he returned from his recent leave, everything changed. It started with a meeting with our partner, David. David was thirty, unmarried, and a textbook billionaire bachelor. He was so eager to find a wife that he practically preened like a peacock whenever a woman walked by. In fact, his hair even had a few bright red feathers tucked into it. David and I were fairly friendly. Whenever I stood behind Gideon with a professional, expressionless face, David would secretly wink at me. But this time, Gideon stepped directly between us, his expression incredibly dark as he glared at his business partner. “If you have this much free time, David, it seems you aren’t serious about this merger. We will reschedule.” He turned on his heel and walked out. I followed him, utterly bewildered. Was this the same professional, unflappable boss I knew? Even worse, every time I went into his office to deliver documents, Gideon would look at me with profound sorrow. His beautiful eyes were swollen, as if he had spent hours weeping, and his gaze was that of a abandoned lover. The office gossip claimed his wife had left him. The younger bachelors in the company always joked that his cold demeanor would drive any woman away, but I had never taken those jokes seriously. Now, hearing Toby talk about Gideon’s red eyes, I shivered. Had his wife really run away? 3 Curiosity is a universal human trait. Even if it was unprofessional to gossip about my boss, I leaned closer to Toby, clutching my coffee mug. “Gideon is so handsome. Did his wife really leave him?” Toby’s fair skin flushed a soft pink. His tail wagged like a frantic fan. “Yeah. Allison, when you look for a husband, don’t pick someone like Gideon. A proper wife needs to be accommodating, but he looks like the possessive type who would hunt down a homewrecker and bury him in the backyard.” I nodded absently. “Good point.” I had no intention of marrying Gideon, or anyone in this beast world. The biological differences alone seemed daunting. Toby smiled warmly, stepping closer. To make office life easier, beast-kin usually remained in human form, though they kept a few animal traits. Toby’s long, fluffy tail was currently brushing against my legs, tickling the bare skin beneath my skirt. I smiled and gently nudged his soft ears, pushing him back slightly. “That tickles, Toby. You’re too close.” Toby’s eyes widened, turning glassy and soft like a typical puppy’s. He bit his lip, trying to hold back a happy whimper. “Right. Sorry.” The fluffy warmth receded as Toby suddenly excused himself, covering his face as he bolted from the room. Before I could wonder what had happened, the glowing text flashed again. [The dog looks calm, but his mind is completely blown right now.] [Classic golden retriever trait. The young master is barely holding it together. Look at his tight trousers, I won’t even spell it out for you.] [I’m so jealous. This cannon fodder really knows how to handle him. Let the dog out, let me in!] I rubbed my eyes, wondering if these comments were written in some bizarre online slang I couldn’t comprehend. Suddenly, a rustle came from the sofa behind the indoor plants. It sounded like a kettle coming to a boil. Realizing I had just been gossiping about my boss, I cautiously stepped around the greenery. To my horror, Gideon was sitting there. He slowly raised his head, a single tear slipping from his red-rimmed eyes. Beside him sat a crumpled, empty tissue box, his shirt looking just as disheveled. I offered a stiff, awkward smile. “Good afternoon, Gideon.” Who would have thought the untouchable general manager of Aether Corp would hide in the employee breakroom to cry? He was famous for his strict professionalism. His office was always spotless, his shirts buttoned to his throat, and his elegant hands were the only bare skin he ever exposed. He wore no jewelry, save for a simple silver band on his left ring finger. The female staff had discussed that ring before. “Gideon is so loyal, but that ring is so cheap. It looks like the standard issue from the Ministry. People with money usually upgrade theirs immediately. His wife must be a minimalist.” I had listened to those chats with amusement, vaguely recalling that the Ministry had given me a similar pair when I registered. I had left the spider’s ring in his terrarium, and I had no idea where I had tossed mine. Staring at Gideon’s bare ring finger, a cold sweat broke out down my spine. Oh, no. Did I just offend my boss? Is he going to cut my bonus? Gideon simply stood up, his wet eyelashes casting long shadows. He reached out and gently plucked a stray yellow dog hair from my shoulder. “You should change your shirt tomorrow,” he murmured softly. “This one is dirty.” “Right away,” I muttered, nodding quickly. No wonder everyone said he was a neat freak. His reputation was entirely justified. 4 I made it back to my apartment by ten past six, marveling at the incredible work-life balance of this world. Then, my phone buzzed with a message from the Ministry of Marital Affairs. [Dear Allison, since your previous marriage has dissolved, and in accordance with Article 3, Section 15 of the Marital Code, we have matched you with ten eligible bachelors. Please select your preferred method of contact.] I closed my eyes, my fingers hovering over the screen as I prepared a polite but firm rejection. Another text immediately followed. [Please note that if you decline to participate, the Ministry will initiate repatriation protocols, which include reclaiming your two hundred thousand credit relocation fund and the keys to your apartment.] I stared at the screen for two seconds. [Understood. I look forward to it. Let us start with online chatting.] I rolled my eyes and began scrolling through the sleek profiles. The candidates were exceptionally handsome, well-dressed, and wealthy. Any suitor presented to a human female was bound to be elite. But because they all retained animal traits, I felt less like I was choosing a partner and more like I was browsing a zoo directory. I lost interest quickly until I spotted the only profile without a photograph. The system labeled him as the “most difficult match.” All his personal records were classified, and there was no indication of his marital history. I smiled. I loved difficult cases. I could chat with him a few times, claim we were incompatible, and the Ministry wouldn’t be able to penalize me. But the moment our chat connection was established, the floating text reappeared. [Oh my god, what kind of cursed fate is this? The villain just got divorced and was supposed to match with the heroine, so why is he chatting with the cannon fodder again?] [Does this girl have a death wish? Someone give her a different man. The golden retriever boy would be perfect, he’d look so cute crying for her.] According to the comments, the villain’s online persona was cold and sharp, deterring most women. Only the original heroine would see past his icy exterior to the warm heart beneath, eventually healing him with her persistent, encouraging messages. As for my character, she would find him incredibly pretentious, mock his anonymity, and accuse him of hiding his face because of physical inadequacies. That insolence would seal her fate. I felt like I was holding a live grenade. Since I couldn’t throw it away, I decided to make myself completely unappealing. [I should warn you, I only practice Platonic love. If you can accept that, we can keep talking.] The comments erupted in laughter. [This is hilarious. Gideon becomes a total possessive maniac later. He literally breaks headboards, and she’s talking about Plato? Don’t make him laugh.] I bit my lip, hoping this would end it. A second later, a reply popped up. [That works for me.] What? 5 I was forced to keep chatting with the mysterious villain. He was incredibly clingy, almost suffocatingly so. He behaved as if he were constantly starved of attention, always finding ways to prolong our conversations. If I got distracted and stopped replying, my phone would buzz with massive wire transfer notifications. [You have received 50,000 credits… You have received 100,000 credits… You have received 100,000 credits.] When I opened the chat, he had sent a dozen pathetic spider emojis. Initially, he had sent some puppy emojis, but after I casually mentioned that golden retrievers were cute, he went silent for twenty minutes. When he returned, his profile was filled with custom-made spider stickers, complete with giant, watery eyes and adorable, pouty expressions. The local internet forums were losing their minds. [Did the official emoji store glitch? Why did they dump all the popular templates and replace them with spiders? Who actually likes spiders? Who approved this design?] The villain seemed quite hurt by the backlash. He sent me an emoji of a little spider rolling around on the floor, throwing a tantrum. I sent a lazy pet-on-the-head sticker. He perked up instantly, sending a brief voice note. His voice was low, raspy, and incredibly intimate. “Thank you for the pets, baby.” I nearly dropped my phone on my face. When Monday arrived, the office became incredibly busy. We were wrapping up a major merger, and the contract required endless legal and technical revisions. I spent my days running between departments and my nights sleeping like the dead, leaving no energy to check my messages. Gideon was also swamped, constantly staring at his phone between meetings. I certainly couldn’t slack off in front of him. Only during my lunch break did I leisurely scroll through the missed texts. I discovered the anonymous villain had sent a photo of his workout the previous night. In a dimly lit gym, he looked flushed from an intense session, beads of sweat rolling down his pale, chiseled chest, tracing the sharp lines of his lower abdomen before disappearing past the frame. His accompanying message was surprisingly shy. [I went to the gym last night. It was exhausting… (sad spider emoji)] I stared at the image, secretly pressing my fingers to my nose to check for a nosebleed. It was a delicate, perfect shade of pink. As an ordinary girl, I was entirely unprepared for this level of visual stimulation. I quickly saved the image to my hidden folder. “What are you looking at that’s making you smile like that?” Gideon’s cool voice suddenly sounded above me. I locked my screen in one fluid motion, stood up, and flashed my most professional smile. “Just chatting with a friend, Gideon.” His expression grew even more despondent. “What kind of friend makes you smile like that?” He looked miserable because I hadn’t replied to his texts, even though he had spent the entire night posing for that perfect gym photo, his heart racing the whole time. I kept my polite smile, too embarrassed to admit I was on a matchmaking app. Gideon shook his head, his voice soft and defeated. “Forgive me. That was intrusive. It is your private life.” He paused, looking down at me. “You’ve worked hard this week. Take the afternoon off, and I will double your quarterly bonus. Enjoy your weekend.” His deep-set double eyelids gave him a striking, romantic look. When he stared at you like that, it felt as though he were ready to fall in love. My heart hammered against my ribs, momentarily dazed by his generosity. What an incredibly manipulative executive. I eagerly packed my things, suddenly in the mood to reply to my mysterious spider. [Looks good. Keep them coming.] A loud thud echoed through the office. I looked up to see Gideon stumbling slightly, having bumped into the edge of his desk. When he noticed my gaze, he raised his head, his face flushed a deep crimson, his watery eyes filled with a mixture of embarrassment and desire. He looked like a ripe peach that would burst at the slightest touch. The word sensual almost escaped my lips, but I bit my tongue. My ears felt incredibly hot. What was Gideon doing? Where was his professional decorum? 6 On Sunday afternoon, the Ministry arranged a date for me at a private lounge. I took my time getting ready, applying light makeup and grabbing my bag. I expected to exchange a few polite words and leave. But the moment I walked into the private room, I froze, my professional mask slipping back into place. “Good afternoon, David.” The mature, thirty-year-old billionaire offered a low chuckle, gesturing to the sofa beside him. “You’re here. Come sit.” He wore a low-cut shirt that exposed his muscular chest, his long legs crossed casually, and his dark hair was styled with vibrant, elegant feathers. He possessed an aura so commanding it made people want to bow. David and Gideon had been classmates at Evergreen University, known as the legendary duo of their generation. But while Gideon was a freezing winter, David was a brilliant, blazing summer. His sharp features and charismatic personality allowed him to control every room he entered. Including this date. “Here, try this,” he said smoothly, offering a spoonful of delicate custard. “The chef here is decent. If you like it, I’ll take you to a better place next time.” I leaned in and took a bite. The simple dish tasted absolutely heavenly. David certainly knew how to live. Seeing my reaction, he curled his lips into a satisfied smile, resting his chin on his hand as he watched me. “Gideon kept you on such a tight leash. If you hadn’t gotten divorced, I would have stolen you away and hidden you from him.” David spoke of kidnapping as if it were a casual hobby. I stopped eating the food he offered, feeling a bit put off by his overbearing, possessive attitude. “Let’s just talk, David.” I wanted to finish the date and go home. David chuckled indulgently. “Of course. What would you like to know about me, Allison? My family fortune, my career, my height, or perhaps… other measurements? I am happy to share.” He kept leaning closer, invading my space. As a bird beast-kin, his body heat was incredibly intense. His pinky finger brushed against my wrist, and his red-soled shoes lightly tapped my ankle. He looked completely confident, as if I were already his prize. But my initial panic about dating a business partner had faded, replaced by cool calculation. The elite bachelors presented by the Ministry rarely had any relationship history, and despite David’s wealth, his aggressive personality had kept him single for years. His casual style today was actually meticulously planned, right down to his expensive cologne. He wanted to seem dominant, but his gestures were incredibly gentle, as if he were terrified of displeasing me. He had even fed me the exact dish my eyes had lingered on when I first sat down. Realizing this, I relaxed completely. Instead of pulling away from his close presence, I leaned forward, catching him off guard. Our breaths mingled. If David had not instinctively flinched, our lips would have touched. Even so, my lips brushed against his soft, flushed cheek. “What are you doing?” he gasped, recoiling slightly. His cool, confident mask shattered instantly, a dark blush spreading across his pale skin. He looked like a sheltered young man who had just been scandalized. “I heard bird beast-kin run very hot, sometimes even causing minor burns with prolonged contact,” I whispered, tilting my head. “I read that the base of your wings is the warmest spot. Can I feel it?” David’s eyes widened in utter shock, his face practically smoking. “Are you insane? You can’t just ask to touch a man there!” I shrugged, turning away. “Fine, if you won’t let me, this is boring. I’m leaving.” I knew I was teasing him, but his arrogance had annoyed me. As I stood up, a hand gently caught the hem of my jacket. David let out a soft, strained sound, his shoulders tensing. With a sharp rip of fabric, a pair of magnificent, flame-colored wings unfurled inside the private lounge. I leaned down, pressing my hands against his firm chest, my fingers sinking into the incredibly soft, downy feathers of his wing joints. “Good boy,” I murmured. David let out a small, helpless whimper as I thoroughly enjoyed petting his beautiful, warm feathers. On my way home, my phone buzzed continuously. I had muted it during the date to avoid distractions. [Baby, how is your weekend? Are you resting well?] [I went swimming today. Here is a photo from my workout.] [Allison, why aren’t you replying to me?] [Are you busy today? You didn’t… go see another man, did you? That’s impossible, right?] […Fine. It’s okay if you play around a bit, I will always be here waiting for you. Please reply when you can, I love you.] […Allison, did you really go?] [I’m going to die. (crying spider emoji)] He was incredibly intense, almost draining. But to keep the villain calm, I sent a quick reply. [The office had an emergency, so I had to work. I’m heading home now.] He replied within seconds. [I understand! Thank you for working so hard, baby. Here’s a little gift! (happy face)] [You have received 50,000 credits.] I sighed, realizing I was getting far too comfortable playing this role. But the men in this world were simply too skilled at temptation. At the exact same time, Gideon sat in his dark, empty office at Aether Corp, clutching his phone, his jaw clenched so tightly his teeth nearly ground to dust.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “599281”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I used to cover every single expense for our extended family’s overseas vacations. I used my airline elite status to upgrade their flight tickets, redeemed my hotel points for executive suites, and even pre-paid all the airport transfers and Ubers. Everyone got used to it. Occasionally, someone would post a nine-photo grid on social media with a location tag, and that was the extent of their gratitude. That all changed when my aunt dragged a self-proclaimed “travel guru” into the family group chat. The moment this guru saw the pristine, non-shopping itinerary I had spent days building, she dropped a rolling-eye emoji into the chat. “Goodness, this girl sure knows how to throw money away, doesn’t she? Booking five-star luxury resorts for a simple tropical getaway? Let’s be honest, she’s just using your money to indulge herself. Folks our age can find local tour packages for a fraction of that cost.” The elders in the family immediately started hitting the like button. She followed up with another message: “As luck would have it, I have access to an exclusive insider deal. Nine days and eight nights for just nine hundred and ninety-nine dollars, all-inclusive. Meals, lodging, and transfers. I’m not making a dime on this. I just want to help my dear brothers and sisters enjoy life without getting ripped off.” I quietly opened my airline app. I had to thank this so-called expert. Finally, I could stop wasting my top-tier rewards points, stop acting as a free bilingual translator in the middle of the night, and stop getting blamed for spending too much money. Now I could go watch the Northern Lights in Scandinavia all by myself. … The expert Aunt Martha brought into the chat went by Pamela. Just last night, I had posted the full itinerary for next month’s family trip to a tropical island resort. It was a fourteen-page document detailing everything from arrival visa forms to daily dinner reservations. I had pulled three consecutive all-nighters after my day job to get it done. The group chat had been dead silent all day. Until Pamela joined. She dropped five consecutive sixty-second voice notes, all boiling down to one main point: my itinerary was a money pit. I sat in front of my laptop, watching the messages flood the screen. Aunt Martha was the first to speak up. “Nora, Pamela is right. That hotel you picked is over three hundred dollars a night. Pamela’s tour package covers eight nights for less than a grand total. The price difference is just absurd.” My younger cousin, Jake, chimed in next. “Sis, you’re used to staying in fancy places when you travel for work, but there’s no need to be so flashy when the whole family goes out together. Imagine how much duty-free shopping we could do with the money we save on those rooms.” My hands rested on the keyboard, but I didn’t type a word. That three-hundred-dollar-a-night resort wasn’t costing them a single cent. I held Titanium Elite status with the hotel chain. I had booked four ocean-view suites entirely using the three hundred thousand rewards points I had accumulated over two years of grueling business trips. I had even contacted the hotel manager in advance to ensure Aunt Martha’s room had accessible facilities and a complimentary fruit basket. The flights were no different. I had locked in spacious front-row seats for eight people using my airline perks, and I had personally covered over a thousand dollars in taxes and fees on my credit card. All these details were listed on the final three pages of the itinerary. Clearly, not a single person had read them. “I think Pamela’s deal sounds fantastic,” said Cousin Rachel, Aunt Martha’s eldest daughter. “Meals and rooms are covered, plus a dedicated tour guide. Nora, just cancel all those complicated bookings you made. We’re going with Pamela this time.” Complicated bookings. I stared at those words on the screen, then picked up my phone. Pamela dropped a payment QR code into the chat. “Alright, everyone! Spots for the nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine deal are extremely limited. Scan to transfer your payment right away so I can lock in your reservations!” Screenshots of confirmed payments immediately flooded the screen. Aunt Martha sent hers. Jake sent his. Rachel sent hers too. Aunt Martha tagged me. “Nora, hurry up and transfer your share. Let Pamela show us what real value travel looks like.” I tapped into my airline app and opened my bookings. Eight round-trip tickets. Cancel. A prompt popped up: A cancellation fee will apply. I tapped confirm. The refund processed back to my original payment method. Next, I opened the hotel app and canceled all four suite reservations. Three hundred thousand points instantly bounced back into my account balance. When everything was done, I took a screenshot of the flight cancellation confirmation and dropped it into the family chat. “Flights and hotels are canceled. I won’t be joining. Have fun on your trip with Pamela.” 2 The group chat went silent for ten seconds. Then Jake sent me a private message. “Sis, if you’re not going, that’s fine, but can you send me your airport lounge pass QR code? I want to take my girlfriend in for a free lunch before we board.” I stared at his text. On every previous trip, I had used my unlimited lounge access to bring him in. He had grown accustomed to helping himself to complimentary premium water and hot buffets, snapping photos to flex on his social media. “Lounge access is strictly tied to my personal boarding pass. If I’m not flying, you can’t get in,” I replied. Jake sent back an annoyed emoji. “Wow, you really are petty. Just because you aren’t coming, you take away our perks too? Fine, we’ll just buy fast food ourselves.” I didn’t bother replying and closed the chat. Aunt Martha posted a voice note in the main group, her tone laced with resentment. “Nora is just too delicate to handle real travel. Let her be. Pamela, how do we handle our entry visas?” Pamela replied instantly. “Don’t worry, my dear friend! Visa on arrival. Just bring your passports and let’s go. My team handles everything.” I watched Pamela’s reply, then took a sip of iced water. The standard queue for visa-on-arrival at that airport usually took three to four hours. If you wanted the express lane, you needed to pay a cash tip per person. Pamela hadn’t mentioned a single word about that. I flipped my phone face down on the desk, opened a browser tab, and began searching for first-class flights to Iceland for next month. The following afternoon, Pamela posted the official travel schedule in the group chat. It was a flashy, cluttered graphic labeled “Ultimate Tropical Paradise Tour.” I was in the middle of reviewing my confirmation email for an Icelandic Northern Lights tour when my best friend, Lauren, forwarded me a screenshot of the chat. Lauren was connected with Jake on social media, so she could see what was happening. “Nora, is your aunt’s family out of their minds?” Lauren sent a frantic voice note. “A thousand bucks for flights, hotels, and meals? Look at this itinerary. ‘Royal Jewelry Center,’ ‘Latex Mattress Experience Hall,’ ‘Exotic Snake Venom Institute.’ This is literally the textbook zero-dollar package tour scam from a decade ago!” I zoomed in on the graphic. The schedule called for a six in the morning wake-up call every day, returning to the hotel at ten at night. Out of seven days on the ground, four and a half were dedicated entirely to shopping stops. Under accommodation, it simply read “Local Luxury Hotel” without naming a single actual property. It was the classic low-cost shopping trap. The tour guide didn’t make money from the package price; they earned commissions by locking tourists inside stores until they hit forced spending quotas. I closed the image and texted Lauren back. “They’ve already paid.” Lauren was exasperated. “Your aunt has a heart condition! Sitting on a bumpy tour bus for eight hours a day to get dragged through forced shopping stalls? Can her body even handle that? Didn’t you warn them?” I thought about it for a moment, then opened the family group chat. I didn’t write a long lecture. I simply typed one clear message: “Visa on arrival requires each traveler to carry at least three hundred dollars in local cash for random customs checks. Also, the jewelry centers and latex halls on the itinerary are typically mandatory spending stops. You might want to verify if your payment covers required minimum purchases.” After sending it, I put my phone down. Three minutes later, Aunt Martha blew a fuse. “Nora, what is wrong with you? It’s bad enough you refused to come, but now you’re trying to curse us? What forced spending? Pamela explicitly said this is a friend-and-family rate! You just can’t stand seeing us get a great deal without you!” Jake was quick to chime in. “Sis, those online guides you read are completely outdated. Pamela has led dozens of tours. You think she doesn’t know how this works? Stop spreading fear.” Rachel added her own commentary. “Nora, try to be a bit more open-minded. We know you’re upset that we canceled your three-hundred-dollar-a-night hotel, but there’s no need to make up lies to slander Pamela.” I sat in front of the screen, reading those three responses. Pamela dropped a sighing emoji. “Nora, dear, I know you’re used to high-end luxury travel and look down on budget tours for ordinary folks like us. But you shouldn’t throw mud at my reputation. I’ve been in this business for years based entirely on trust. If anyone here doesn’t trust me, I will gladly refund your money right now.” Aunt Martha panicked instantly. “Pamela, don’t listen to her nonsense! We trust you completely! Nora, stop posting your bitter comments in here and ruining everyone’s mood.” I stared at the screen, tapped the group settings, scrolled all the way to the bottom, and hit the button. You have left the chat. The world went instantly quiet. I opened my payment apps and banking portal. Previously, to make things easier for Aunt Martha when she went out, I had linked her account to my card with a five-hundred-dollar monthly allowance for groceries and rideshares. I unlinked it. Next, I removed Jake from my streaming service sub-accounts and revoked Rachel’s secondary access to my shopping membership. In ten minutes, I scrubbed away every single perk and privilege my relatives had been leeching off my accounts. 3 Lauren called me immediately. “You left the group?” “I left.” I slid my printed visa documents into a clear folder. “Good for you,” Lauren snorted over the line. “I just saw Jake post a status update saying, ‘Some people just hate to see others thrive. So bitter.’ They have zero clue how much money you’ve been saving them all these years.” “They don’t need to know,” I said, sealing the folder. “I fly out to Reykjavik next Wednesday. My fifteen-day vacation was approved.” “Awesome!” Lauren cheered. “I can’t wait to see what happens when they land and the tour guide turns on them.” I didn’t comment. I opened my drawer and pulled out my passport. Over the past three years, its pages had been covered with stamps from across the globe. Every single time, I was trailing behind a crowd of relatives, acting as the designated banker, translator, and tour guide. From today on, this passport served no one but myself. A week later, I landed at Reykjavik Airport. It was twenty-three degrees Fahrenheit outside. Wrapped in my high-end winter parka, I stepped into the pre-arranged Mercedes chauffeur service. When I arrived at the Blue Lagoon luxury retreat, the front desk manager noted my elite status and upgraded my standard room directly to a private villa with its own geothermal spring, complete with two complimentary bottles of champagne. I soaked in the steaming, mineral-rich waters, gazing out at the snow-capped mountains in the distance. My phone vibrated on the waterproof ledge. Lauren had sent a few screenshots. They were posts from Aunt Martha and Jake. Aunt Martha had shared a selfie from inside a tour bus. In the background, the vinyl bus seats were torn and the window curtains were stained yellow. Her caption read: VIP Luxury Coach, away we go! Living the sweet life with Pamela! Jake had posted a photo of a hotel room. It was tiny, the sheets were visibly wrinkled, and there was water damage in the corner of the wall. His caption read: Charming local guesthouse! So authentic and cozy, way more character than those boring, copy-paste luxury chain hotels. I swiped past the images without replying. That evening, I dressed up for dinner at the hotel’s Michelin-starred restaurant. It was an extremely exclusive spot that I had booked two months in advance. At the table next to mine, a man in his fifties was struggling in broken English to discuss the wine list with the sommelier. After listening for a moment, I stepped in politely and helped him confirm the exact vintage of Burgundy he was looking for. The man walked over to thank me and handed me his business card. He was an executive director at a listed tech firm, named Mr. Prescott. “You really know your wines, Miss Nora,” Mr. Prescott said with a warm smile before returning to his seat. “I just travel frequently for work, so I’ve picked up a few things,” I replied, tucking the card away. Over the next hour, we struck up a casual conversation. He mentioned that his company was planning a high-level retreat for their executive team in Europe next month. The budget was substantial, but their internal admin team kept submitting generic proposals—either cliché tourist traps or standard golf resorts. I opened my iPad and pulled up a private Swiss itinerary I had designed for myself a while back. “Mr. Prescott, if budget isn’t a constraint, you should consider St. Moritz. Skip the overcrowded tourist peaks. Arrange a private helicopter drop on the glaciers, stay at Badrutt’s Palace, and charter a private panoramic car on the Glacier Express for your internal board meetings.” I swiped through the screen, showing him detailed route maps, hotel interiors, and a logistical backup plan calculated down to the hour. Mr. Prescott studied it intensely. Ten minutes later, he looked up at me. “Miss Nora, which firm do you work for?” I named my company. “Our internal team could never put together a plan like this,” Mr. Prescott said, pulling out his phone. “I want to hire you as an external consultant to orchestrate this executive retreat. We will pay top market consulting fees, plus cover all your travel expenses.” I looked at him calmly. “I only care about professionalism,” Mr. Prescott added as he added my contact. “What you just showed me proves you put immense care and precision into your work. I despise paying for cheap, inefficient results.” By ten that night, Mr. Prescott’s assistant had emailed a draft consulting contract to my inbox. A ten-thousand-dollar retainer, to be deposited into my account within three days. 4 I signed the agreement and hit send. I took a sip of champagne. The Icelandic night sky was brilliantly clear, and the Northern Lights began to swirl in delicate ribbons of green outside my floor-to-ceiling window. I hadn’t spent a single dime out of pocket, nor had I subsidized anyone. I had used my expertise to earn the compensation I deserved. My phone vibrated again. This time it wasn’t Lauren. It was an unlisted international call via a messaging app. I looked at the screen and knew instantly who it was. It rang six times before I pressed accept. “Nora! Nora, pick up!” Aunt Martha’s voice shrieked through the speaker, dripping with sharp hysteria and pure panic. The background noise was deafening—men shouting aggressively and women screaming in terror. I held the phone away, turned on the speaker, and set it on the table. “What is it?” my tone was flat. “Nora, you have to save us! We’re locked in!” Aunt Martha sobbed uncontrollably. “That Pamela is a fraud! She brought us to some latex mattress factory, and the tour guide locked the doors! They said if we don’t buy seven thousand dollars worth of stuff, we aren’t allowed to leave! They took all our passports!” “Where’s Jake?” I asked. “Jake tried to argue with them, and two local security guards pinned him against the wall and slapped him! Now they’ve locked him in a back room! They said if we don’t pay, they’ll call the local police to arrest us!” Aunt Martha was shaking so violently her voice was barely coherent. “Nora, send me five thousand dollars right now! No, send ten thousand! We need to buy tickets and get back home!” I looked at the ten-thousand-dollar retainer contract sitting on my tablet, then picked up my champagne glass. “Aunt Martha,” I said, my voice echoing clearly through the silent villa room. “I warned all of you in the group chat that low-cost package tours rely on forced spending. You told me I was making up lies because I couldn’t stand seeing you get a good deal.” “I was wrong! Your aunt was blind!” she screamed, desperately pleading. “Just send the money to rescue us first! We don’t know anyone here, what if something terrible happens to us?!” “I don’t have money to send you,” I said. “How could you not have money?! You stay in three-hundred-dollar hotels all the time, just swipe your card!” Aunt Martha snapped, her tone momentarily slipping back into her old, entitled habit of demanding things from me. I held my glass, looking out at the snow peaks. “Aunt Martha, let me do some math for you.” I pulled up a note on my phone. “Two years ago in Osaka, I bought round-trip tickets for six of you, which cost me three thousand five hundred dollars. Last year in Singapore, when Uncle got sick at the theme park, I covered twelve hundred dollars in medical bills and flight change fees. Over the past three years, I have spent over eleven thousand dollars of my own money on your flights, hotels, visas, and expenses.” The line went eerily quiet, save for the faint sound of the tour guide cursing in broken English in the background. “Those luxury hotels were booked with rewards points I earned by grinding late nights on business trips. Those lounge access passes were perks I earned by flying seventy segments a year.” I read off the numbers without a trace of emotion. “You thought I was wasting money, and you thought Pamela’s cheap deal was the better choice. Now you are receiving the exact level of service you paid for. That seems entirely fair.” “Nora! Are you even human?! I’m your aunt!” she screeched at the top of her lungs. “Jake is still in their hands! If you leave us to die, how are you ever going to look your parents in the eye when you get home?!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “599297”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel