Category: English

I was doing a live interview alongside the top-tier rapper Jax Wilder. The interviewer playfully asked if we had ever dated a rapper. I smiled and said, “I did. We dated for three days. He wrote three thousand diss tracks about me afterward. Like gum on the bottom of my shoe.” Beside me, Jax looked over with his dark, quiet eyes and stated calmly: “It wasn’t three days. It was two days, 23 hours, and 58 minutes.” 01 Jax Wilder just dropped a new track. In three minutes, it topped the Spotify charts. In ten minutes, it was the number one trending topic on X. The hashtag #JaxWildersEx was hanging high at the top of the trending list, tagged with a massive red “VIRAL” icon. Sitting next to me in the makeup chair, my manager Valerie scrolled through her phone and sighed enviously. “Viral again. Jax could practically buy a mansion in Beverly Hills just with the ad revenue from his trending hashtags.” She scrolled through the comments, clicking her tongue. “Another track dissing his ex. Seriously, how deep is this grudge? How many songs has he written to drag her?” I looked at myself in the mirror—my makeup was flawless, my expression utterly serene. I shook my head and said, “Who knows.” “Which is exactly why you should never date a rapper.” That was Valerie’s final takeaway. It wasn’t until my hair and makeup were completely done that I checked my own phone and realized Vanessa Hale was also trending. She had “liked” Jax’s new song and immediately un-liked it a second later, but eagle-eyed fans had already screenshotted it. Internet sleuths even dug up old photos of them attending the same events. “Look what I found! The ex Jax has been dissing for three years is actually Vanessa!” “I knew the vibe between them was weird! So this is their history!” “The simulation is glitching! But wait, why am I shipping this so hard?!” “Hold up! Aren’t they both attending the Hollywood Music & Film Gala tonight? Waiting for the reunion!” “Praying for the ultimate lovers’ reconciliation!” … I had to admit, the internet’s ability to fabricate drama out of thin air was getting impressive. They spoke with such conviction that even Valerie was eating it up. “Did they actually date?” However, her appetite for gossip vanished a second later. Because I was wearing the exact same gown as Vanessa. A fashion clash at a major gala like this meant one thing: someone was going to get obliterated by the public. I didn’t even need to use my brain to know that Vanessa’s agency was definitely going to buy eight hundred PR articles claiming she “outshined” me, and hire eight thousand bots to tear me to shreds online. Tsk. So annoying. The head of my styling team had red-rimmed eyes and kept apologizing to me. “Serena, I am so sorry. We had no idea Miss Hale would suddenly switch to this gown. I swear, her team’s pre-approved options absolutely did not include this dress.” She looked like she was about to cry. I glanced over at the distance, where Vanessa was shooting me a highly provocative smirk. I shook my head. “It’s not your fault. We just weren’t cautious enough.” 02 I guessed Vanessa was pulling this stunt to get back at me for stealing her dream role as the female lead in an upcoming blockbuster. I couldn’t help it. My acting was just undeniably better than hers. The director wasn’t blind. Vanessa deliberately lingered near the red carpet entrance, waiting for me instead of walking ahead. When I approached, she put on a fake smile and whispered so the media couldn’t hear: “Take a guess. Who do you think the internet is going to call ugly tonight?” “Have you heard the saying?” I waved gracefully to the cameras, replying to her under my breath. “Clashing outfits isn’t scary. Whoever is ugly is the one who should be embarrassed.” I slowly let my gaze trail up and down her body with a meaningful smirk. “What do you think?” She snapped her mouth shut, her face looking like she had just swallowed a lemon. Deep down, she probably knew it too. When it came to pure looks, everyone in this industry had to take a back seat to me. In other words, the reason I had so many haters was entirely because of this face. I had taken on way too many “evil, glamorous villain” roles. The audiences who couldn’t separate the character from the actor flocked to my social media to hurl abuse. Since I had a notoriously bad temper, I frequently picked a few “lucky” haters to curse out in my replies. It was a vicious cycle, and my haters multiplied daily. I didn’t care. Bad publicity was still publicity. As long as the paycheck cleared, I was fine. Vanessa and I walked up the steps side by side. As she looked at the broad back of the man signing the media wall ahead of us, her eyes completely softened. “Serena, you don’t need to struggle tonight. The winner is definitely going to be me.” “Oh?” I followed her gaze to the man ahead. He had already turned around. He wore an unbuttoned white tuxedo jacket, a loose black tie swaying in the breeze, drawing attention to his sharp jawline and the prominent, sexy jut of his Adam’s apple. His gaze collided with mine in mid-air. The smile on my face didn’t falter. Vanessa’s smile, however, completely froze. One look and you could tell they had history. I stared at his expressionless face, my gaze dropping to his left hand. Under the flashing camera lights, a plain silver band on his index finger caught the glare. I pulled my gaze back and asked Vanessa, “Is this your trump card?” Vanessa shot me a side-eye, her tone dripping with pity. “Yes. Too bad your ex isn’t an A-list, chart-topping rapper, right?” Hmm. Interesting. 03 Jax didn’t wait for us. Vanessa gestured for me to walk ahead. As she followed behind, she deliberately stepped heavily onto the trailing hem of my gown. I pitched forward, squeezing my eyes shut, bracing myself for the absolute humiliation of face-planting in front of hundreds of cameras. Instead, I crashed into a rock-hard chest. The faint, crisp scent of cedarwood drifted into my nose. I remembered he used to hate perfumes. Every time I sprayed anything, he would wave his hands to clear the air, wrinkling his nose and complaining, “Smells terrible. Like rotting wood.” Then, he would grab my waist, bite down hard on my neck, and admire the teeth marks he left behind, laughing as he pulled me close. “It’s only fair. I need to leave my mark too.” “Are you a dog?” Even though I said that, I never once pushed him away. The warmth enveloping me suddenly vanished as he stepped back. I opened my eyes to see Jax’s tightly clenched jawline. There wasn’t a trace of a smile on his face. His eyes were freezing cold, lacking even basic polite warmth. So cool. Once I was standing steady, he turned and kept walking without waiting for me, as if catching me had just been a glitch in the matrix. I glanced back and saw Vanessa looking pale and flustered. She truly looked like a deeply devoted woman whose heart had just been shattered by her ex. If she could bring this level of acting to a movie set, the director wouldn’t have replaced her with me. The three of us walked up to the interview stage. During the signing portion, Vanessa deliberately signed her name right next to Jax’s. The cameras immediately zoomed in for a tight shot of their names side by side. I imagined X was probably crashing right now. She got her viral moment for the night. The ultimate tragedy of two ex-lovers meeting at the pinnacle of their careers but refusing to acknowledge each other. Isn’t that exactly the kind of angst the audience loves to eat up? She really understood marketing. The red-carpet host noticed the dynamic too. Always eager for drama to boost ratings, the host made a bit of small talk before surprisingly asking the three of us if we had ever dated a rapper. Vanessa stole a glance at Jax, her eyes instantly turning red. A second later, a tear was ready to fall. She choked up and whispered, “Yes.” “What kind of relationship was it?” Lost in “memory,” Vanessa offered a bitter, nostalgic smile. She looked at Jax and said, “He… didn’t talk much, but he treated me very well. He once told me he was going to write me into his songs. Later…” She paused, flashing a fragile, heartbreaking smile. “He really did it. But between us… we can never go back.” The fans behind the barricades started screaming hysterically. Written into his songs. That was practically a neon sign screaming that she was Jax’s ex. Even the host was stunned. She clearly hadn’t expected Vanessa to be so bold. She wanted to dig for more, but Vanessa refused to say another word, simply staring at Jax with eyes full of sorrowful longing. “What about you, Serena? Have you ever dated a rapper?” Asking me was purely a polite formality. I glanced at the two people beside me. One was an expressionless block of ice; the other was a weeping willow. How boring. I offered a shallow smile. Originally, I wasn’t going to say anything. If Vanessa hadn’t intentionally clashed outfits with me and stepped on my dress, I would have gladly let her keep her fake hype. But since she drew first blood, I was going to scorch the earth. Besides, I had been tolerating her for far too long. “I did. We dated for three days. He wrote three thousand diss tracks about me afterward. Like gum on the bottom of my shoe.” My tone wasn’t sorrowful like Vanessa’s. It was a cold scoff, laced with heavy provocation. After all, the guy in question was standing right next to me. He deserved to be insulted. The host froze. She clearly didn’t expect me to claim I had dated a rapper too. She probably thought I was just desperately trying to steal the spotlight, which explained the slight glint of disdain in her eyes. She opened her mouth to give a polite, dismissive reply. But her words never came out. Jax lifted his microphone. His dark, quiet eyes looked straight at me, and he stated calmly: “It wasn’t three days. It was two days, 23 hours, and 58 minutes.” After one second of absolute, dead silence… The entire venue exploded. 04 Vanessa practically dragged her gown as she fled the stage. I bet her legs had turned to jelly. Understandable. After spending weeks building the hype, believing she held the ultimate trump card, she just realized she had handed the royal flush directly to her enemy. The most awkward part? Our assigned seats inside the gala were right next to each other. She collapsed into her chair, staring at Jax’s back a few rows ahead. Ignoring the fans trying to sneak photos of her, she snapped at me: “Are you happy now, Serena?” I smoothed out the skirt of my gown, dusting off the invisible dirt. She had stepped on my dress earlier, and even though there was no footprint, I still felt it was filthy. “What does this have to do with me?” I played dumb. She turned to glare at me, her eyes bloodshot. “You’re Jax’s real ex-girlfriend! Why didn’t you say anything?! Do you get a sick thrill out of watching me make a fool of myself?!” Yeah, actually. It was hilarious. But I didn’t dare say that out loud. There were cameras everywhere. If a lip-reading fan caught that, I’d be roasted alive. I put on my best innocent face. “You never asked me.” “You…!” “Don’t be mad.” I smiled, patting her hand in mock comfort. I leaned close to her ear, keeping my face angled away from the cameras, and enunciated every word slowly and clearly. “Who told you that your dream guy is my ultimate simp?” Vanessa’s ears turned bright red. She glared at me furiously but didn’t dare push me away in front of the crowd. I grabbed her hand. She was wearing a plain silver band on her left ring finger. It was unbranded and completely clashed with her luxury gown tonight. I knew she wore it specifically to match the silver ring on Jax’s right hand. He had worn that plain silver band for years. He never took it off. “Vanessa, do you know something?” I held her ring finger, playing with the silver band, sliding it halfway off before pushing it back on. I could feel her fingertips trembling. I imagined that right now, in her eyes, I probably looked like a literal demon. I smiled at her—cold, unfeeling—and delivered the brutal truth she desperately didn’t want to hear. “That ring on Jax’s hand? I gave it to him.” That’s why he couldn’t bear to take it off. Idiot. 05 For the rest of the night. Vanessa didn’t say a single word to me. She was shivering the entire time. Maybe the AC was just too high. She didn’t dare open her phone. I understood. Her PR team was probably working overtime doing crisis management, but it was useless. Aside from her most delusional fans, no one was going to believe her anymore. Everyone could see she was just trying to leech off Jax’s fame. Even setting aside the general public, Jax’s rabid fangirls were going to eat her alive. She didn’t dare look at her phone. But I did. Wow. As expected of an A-list superstar. In just a couple of hours, I had gained over 700,000 followers. Every time I refreshed the page, the number jumped. It was still climbing. My DMs were exploding so fast my app was lagging. I had never seen a notification list move with such terrifying speed. I skimmed through a few messages: “OMGGG SIS IS JAX GOOD IN BED?!” “HE IS SO OBSESSED WITH HER! HE IS SO OBSESSED!” “Jax is honestly punching above his weight with this one! She is gorgeous!” “SISTER! Tell us exactly what those three hours were like! Spare no details!” “I KNEW there was a reason he lunged to catch you on the red carpet! Muscle memory!” “Ugly bitch, how did you trick Jax into dating you? Did you save his family from a burning building or something?” “Hahahahaha I’m laughing so hard! No wonder Jax can’t get over her, if I dated a baddie like that I wouldn’t get over her either!” “Omg sis I’m so sorry I used to leave hate comments on your page! I apologize! From now on you are our one and only true Queen!” “Why YOU?! Vanessa is ten thousand times better!” … Surprisingly. Aside from a few delusional fangirls, hardly anyone was sending me hate. Even the people who used to hate on me were being attacked by his fans. “Keyboard warriors who can’t tell the difference between a TV character and a real person need to shut up and stop embarrassing yourselves!” “You act so tough online but you’re a loser in real life. Shut your mouth and stop spewing garbage before we end you.” “We will protect the Queen’s comment section at all costs!” “Where is Jax?! Is he just going to sit there while people insult his wife?!” “Is that all this stupid man is good for? Sis dumping him was the best decision she ever made!” “RT! Jax, channel that energy you had when you were writing diss tracks! At least keep your wife’s comment section clean!” … Of course, there were a few comments saying: “Why her?! She’s so basic! What does Jax even see in her?!” But someone immediately fired back: “Are you blind? Look at the photos!” “We’re all girls here, why are you tearing another woman down just because you’re jealous?” “If he didn’t date her, do you think he’d date you? Who even are you? You listened to his music so much it fried your brain?” That hate comment was deleted by the user a minute later. Wow. For the first time ever, I saw Jax in a new light. As expected of a rapper’s fandom. Their trash-talking skills were even better than mine. Of course, the most lethal one of all was the man himself. Jax won the award for Song of the Year. As he delivered his acceptance speech, I could feel the cameras zooming in on my face. My smile was polite and elegant, and I clapped calmly along with the rest of the crowd. On stage, Jax looked equally unfazed. He stared directly into the audience, right at my section, gripping the trophy tightly. “Finally, I want to thank my ex-girlfriend. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be who I am today.” True. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have had the material to write three thousand diss tracks. You’re very welcome. A wave of teasing boos and cheers erupted from the audience. Jax’s expression remained perfectly calm. His voice was smooth as he added one final sentence: “I also just want to ask her—” “When you dumped me all those years ago… do you regret it?” 06 “Not a single bit of regret.” The gala had just ended, and I responded directly on X. The tweet had barely been live for a minute before Valerie called me. “Who told you to post that?! And why didn’t you ever tell me you were Jax Wilder’s ex?!” “Why would I?” I was soaking in a bubble bath, a sheet mask on my face, letting out a satisfied sigh. “It’s ancient history. There was nothing to talk about.” Valerie was silent for three seconds before tentatively asking, “So… when you rejected Mason Cole last month, was that because of Jax?” “What are you talking about?” I opened my eyes, peeled off the sheet mask, and splashed some hot water on my shoulders. “I just genuinely think Mason is ugly.” “Are you insane? He has tens of millions of fans who worship his face, and you’re calling him ugly?!” Valerie panicked, warning me: “You can say that to me, but do NOT say that in public. If anyone hears you say that, your career is over.” “I know, I know.” I wasn’t brave enough to provoke a massive A-list movie star. But even if I didn’t provoke him, he insisted on provoking me. I was a regular cast member on a popular reality TV show. Mason was the special guest for this episode. The director told us Mason had specifically requested to join at the last minute. To balance the teams, they had to invite a second guest star. When the director said that, he shot a wicked, knowing smirk in my direction. My heart skipped a beat. Seriously, director? You’re gossiping too? It turns out everyone in the entertainment industry lives for the drama. When Jax jogged onto the set wearing a sleek black tracksuit, I couldn’t stop myself from rolling my eyes so hard I almost saw my own brain. And of course, the director wanted to maximize the chaos by making us split into teams. Everyone quickly paired up, leaving me and a young pop-star girl staring at each other awkwardly. The director said, “The two guest stars can choose who they want to team up with.” “I choose her.” “Serena.” At the exact same millisecond, both Mason and Jax pointed their fingers directly at me. So dramatic. I looked at the pop-star girl. Her face was flushed with irrepressible excitement. Makes sense—getting a front-row seat to this love triangle without having to buy a ticket? I’d be excited too. The director loved watching the world burn. “Since that’s the case, let’s settle this like men!” Arm wrestling. I gave up hope. Mason was massive and lived in the gym. There was no way Jax could beat him. The director told them to talk some trash before the match. Mason looked at me, then at Jax. “If you lose, she’s on my team today.” I almost broke out in hives. Jax shot me a chilling glance, then said flatly, “Then come and try to take her.” To my absolute shock. Jax won. Mason’s face turned beet red, the veins in his biceps popping, while Jax looked completely effortless. It looked like he barely broke a sweat pinning Mason’s wrist to the table. But I saw it. I saw Jax’s left hand, hidden under the table, clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. He was just pretending it was easy. As expected of a rapper. Image is everything. He didn’t use to be like this. Back then, he was like an obedient, sweet puppy. Only in very specific, private moments did he ever show his teeth. Jax won. He politely said to Mason, “Good match.” Mason rarely lost face like this, and he looked visibly pissed. With his A-list status, he was usually treated like royalty wherever he went. The pop-star girl quickly stepped in to smooth things over. “What does that mean? Are you upset you have to team up with me? I’m gonna complain!” Mason’s expression finally softened a bit. “A bet’s a bet.” The pop-star flashed a bright smile, cheering Mason on. “Don’t be sad, Mason! A true champion doesn’t care about the first few rounds. Just watch us make a massive comeback later!” Jax ignored them and walked straight toward me. I looked at his cold, unbothered face and asked, “Didn’t you use to hate going to the gym?” He didn’t even look at me. He grabbed a towel, wiped the sweat off his face, tossed it aside, and finally turned his head. His dark eyes hid emotions I couldn’t decipher. He spoke only four words: “Someone said they liked it.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “421718”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Three years into our engagement, my fiancé and my younger sister were declared lost at sea after a tragic shipwreck. For six months, I mourned them, only for a rescue team to find them alive on a remote, deserted island. The twist? They both claimed to have total amnesia. Yet, despite forgetting who they were, they had somehow managed to fall deeply in love, completely unaware of their pasts—or so they claimed. When the cameras found them, my sister was heavily pregnant, cradling her baby bump while nestled securely in my fiancé’s arms. In that exact instant, I went from grieving fiancée to the internet’s favorite punchline. The media was instantly obsessed with their “miraculous” tale of survival and love against all odds. Even my own parents, blinded by the spectacle and the impending grandchild, cornered me. They begged me to be the bigger person, to “let them be happy,” and to officially step aside so my sister could have her fairy tale ending. I refused to be a doormat. But my silence was met with a smear campaign. My parents slandered me to the press, and the internet mob descended. I was doxxed, harassed, and disowned. Unable to take the relentless bullying any longer, I ended my own life in isolation. But fate gave me a second chance. Waking up before it all went down, I took control of the narrative. While they were still playing house on that island, I started a social media account. I didn’t use it to attack them; instead, I dedicated it to their memory, playing the role of the tragic, heartbroken, but hopeful woman waiting for her love to return. The entire country fell in love with my loyalty. On the day of their scheduled rescue, I arranged for a special live stream. I wanted the whole world to see the unfiltered reality—the immediate view of my “amnesiac” sister with her massive baby bump, holding the man who was supposed to be mine. That was the moment the real show began. 1 When I opened my eyes again, the gasp that left my throat was raw. I was back. Back in my living room, on the exact day the news broke about the cruise ship disaster. The local news station was on the TV, broadcasting live from the port. The anchor’s voice was grim, reporting on the chaotic search and rescue operations that were just beginning. My parents were sitting across from me, sobbing uncontrollably. My mother was clutching her grandmother’s silver cross, mumbling rosaries through her tears. I forced my hands to stop shaking, pushing down the visceral bile that rose in my throat, and walked over to comfort them. “Mom, Dad, we have to believe they’re okay. Faith and Ben are strong.” My mom looked up at me, and suddenly, her grief twisted into a violent, ugly rage. She lashed out, her voice breaking. “This is your fault! If you hadn’t insisted on this vacation, Faith never would have been on that damn boat!” I flinched, the echo of her words cutting just as deep as they did the first time. The hatred in her eyes was agonizing. In my past life, those words had shattered me, leaving me with a guilt so heavy it eventually crushed me. I had been the one to suggest a week-long cruise to celebrate my engagement to Benjamin Carter. Faith, my younger sister, had begged to come along, turning it into a family trip. But at the last second, my firm handed me a massive project that required me to stay behind. I had to watch from the shore, waving them off with regret. I used to believe it was a cruel twist of fate. Only after I died, as a restless spirit bound to them, did I learn the devastating truth. There was no coincidence. It was a setup. Faith and Ben had been sleeping together for months. The amnesia wasn’t real. It was a story they cooked up when Faith realized she was pregnant and they couldn’t hide it anymore. They invented a “fairy tale” of finding each other in the dark to wash their hands of the betrayal. I watched, unseen, as they paraded their “tragic love” for the cameras. Their story was so popular it was even optioned for a movie. And I, on the night I should have been celebrating my anniversary, drank myself into a stupor and ended it all. Even after I was gone, they couldn’t let me rest. They dragged the cameras to my grave, weeping on cue for the nightly news, all to generate buzz for their movie’s release. Remembering it all, my rage boiled over, but I pushed it down. This time, I had a part to play. I dropped to my knees in front of my mother, sobbing until I couldn’t catch my breath. “You’re right, Mom! It’s all my fault! If only I had been stronger, if only I had told her no, she would be safe… I can’t live with myself…” I let my voice crack and my body go limp, slumping onto the floor as if consumed by grief. I fainted—this time, it was mostly an act, but the exhaustion was real. When I woke up, the family doctor was in the house. He told my parents it was a vasovagal response from extreme emotional shock. My dad, seeing me so broken, couldn’t bring himself to blame me anymore. He started reasoning with my mom. “You can’t blame Alice, Martha. Faith is an adult; she made her own choice to go. Nobody wanted this to happen.” My mom looked at my pale, tear-stained face, and the accusations died on her lips. She settled for a resentful silence. In my last life, I had made the mistake of defending myself in that moment. I had argued that it was supposed to be my pre-honeymoon, that Faith had begged to come, and that Ben had encouraged it. I was immediately shouted down, called cold and selfish. That argument had severed my bond with my parents. They blamed me for every day she was missing. I wouldn’t be so stupid this time. You want to see grief? I’ll show you grief. I will be the most heartbroken woman this country has ever seen. 2 For days, I didn’t eat. I didn’t drink. I barely slept. I became a ghost in my own home, my face red and swollen from crying. Friends and colleagues came by, trying to console me. Even Ben’s family tried to tell me to take care of myself, that I shouldn’t fall apart while there was still hope. The shipwreck was the number one news story in America. Even late-night hosts were making sombre statements. The country was in a moment of collective morning. I took my phone, downloaded X (Twitter), and registered a new account. I used my real name: Alice Thorne. My first post was simple. 【Faith, Ben, please be safe. Please come home to me. I would give anything, half my life, just to know you’re both safe. #Shipwreck #SearchandRescue】 It was simple, and it带 tags. Within an hour, it had hundreds of likes and comments from strangers offering prayers. Every single day, I posted. My grief was raw, public, and utterly captivating. 【Day 7 of waiting. Why is this happening? Why them? I wish I had been on that boat instead of my beautiful sister and the man I love. I can’t eat. I can’t function. I feel like I’m dying. #WaitingforHope #FaithandBen】 【Faith, I remember the first day Dad brought you home. You were so small, like a doll. I was only five, but I felt this massive need to protect you. I watched you grow into such a vibrant woman. Yes, we had our sisterly fights, but I would give anything to have you annoy me right now. If I had just said no, if I had forced you to stay… #Sisterhood #GoneTooSoon】 【Ben, three years with you felt like a lifetime of happiness. You were my rock, my biggest cheerleader. You always gave me courage when I was scared. But now that you’re gone, I don’t know how to be brave. If I had just been selfish and stayed with you, maybe everything would be different. #MyLove #LostAtSea】 That last post went viral. Hundreds of thousands of likes. Tens of thousands of reposts. 【I’m crying. This is so devastating. Alice, you have to be strong.】 【You have to have faith, Alice. They are coming home. Take care of yourself so you can welcome them back.】 The comments were overwhelmingly supportive. But as the story grew, other opinions began to surface. 【I don’t get it. If she couldn’t go, why did her fiancé and her younger sister go without her? On a celebration cruise? That’s weird. #Sus #BoundaryIssues】 I smiled as I saw that comment gaining traction. I quickly typed a reply, making sure it stayed visible at the top. 【The tickets were already bought, and it was hard for everyone to get time off. I didn’t want to ruin it for them just because my schedule changed. They are family. Please don’t create drama where there isn’t any. Thank you for your support.】 By replying, I validated the question. The country was still on my side, but I had subtly planted a seed of doubt. Go on, everyone. Look closely. That way, when the truth comes out, you’ll remember this moment. In my last life, they used public opinion to destroy me. This time, I’m the one pulling the strings. 3 In my previous life, I never used social media. When Ben and Faith were rescued, they gave exclusive interviews to the big networks, telling their gripping tale of survival. A desert island, partial amnesia, fighting for life, and falling in love again in the wilderness—it was a modern-day romance novel. And to top it all off, a new life was beginning. The media adored them. They became “America’s Sweethearts.” I was the inconvenient fiancée who became a joke. My parents forced me into silence, afraid I would “ruin Faith’s happiness.” They bullied me into giving up my engagement. When the cameras found us, Ben, holding my pregnant sister, looked at me with open disgust. “I don’t know who you are. I only remember Faith. She’s my life.” And Faith, with her tears and her baby bump, dropped to her knees. “Alice, please. Please let him go. We’re in love.” When the press eventually found out we were sisters, my parents swore I had leaked the story. “She’s been through enough! How can you be so cruel? Do you want Faith to die from the stress?” They refused to listen to my explanations. They slandered me to the press themselves, claiming I had been cheating on Ben for months. They even produced fake “friends” to verify it. The internet mob was ruthless. I couldn’t leave my house without being spat on or having things thrown at me. So I ended it. Alone. On my anniversary. This time, I had a plan. Every day that passed without a rescue, I kept up the posts. I visited Ben’s parents, the Carters. My performance of grief was perfect. “Even though Ben and I didn’t make it down the aisle, I’ve loved him for years. In my heart, you are my family. I will never marry another. I will wait for him.” His mother sobbed, hugging me. Ben was their only child. Their grief was monumental, and they practically adopted me as their own daughter. I kept the social media account focused solely on Faith and Ben. My followers grew to millions. When brands approached me to monetize the account, I flatly refused. This solidified my “pure” grief image. The country genuinely believed I was a selfless, tragic figure. And then, six months later, it happened. They were found. A passing cargo ship had spotted their SOS signal and rescued them. I immediately posted: 【Ben, Faith, you’re real. This isn’t a dream. You’re coming home to me! I can’t wait to hold you both again! #TheRescue #MiraclesCanHappen】 The country was on high alert. The news cycle was 24/7 “The Castaway Reunion.” I subtly leaked the location of their arrival port to a few “fan accounts.” tabloid journalists and influencers got there long before my family did. I rode with my parents and Ben’s parents. My mother was vibrating with excitement, crying from pure joy. “Mom, don’t cry anymore. We’re going to have a happy family reunion.” She nodded, wiping her eyes. When the car finally pulled up to the dock, we saw the massive crowd. And through the gap, we finally saw the two people we had missed for six months. Six months of living on an island had made them look like survivors. They were sun-baked and disheveled. Faith was leaning heavily against Ben, and her belly was visibly, unmistakably pregnant. The entire universe seemed to stop. My mother’s hand flew to her mouth. 4 “Faith… your belly… what is that?” My mother’s voice was barely a whisper. Her hand was shaking as she pointed. Faith shrank into Ben’s arms, looking terrified. “Who are you people? I don’t know you.” A crew member who had rescued them stepped in. “They have total amnesia, ma’am. They don’t remember anything.” The crowd was massive. I could see dozens of phones pointed at us, streaming live to millions. Perfect. They had no idea they were about to be the biggest story of the year for all the wrong reasons. I put my hands over my mouth, the tears streaming. I pitched my voice high and loud, making sure every single phone caught it. “Ben! Faith! You don’t remember me? How could you… how could you do this?” “You are my sister and my fiancé!” “Aria!” My mother hissed, grabbing my arm and jerking me back. Her face was contorted in fury. “Shut your mouth! There are people watching! This is a family matter. Do you want to destroy Faith’s reputation?” I shoved her off. I didn’t care. I ran forward and grabbed Ben’s arm, sobbing. “Ben, it’s me! Your fiancée! I’ve been waiting for you for six months!” “I don’t know who you are!” He looked panicked. He tried to shake me off, and I let myself be thrown down, collapsing on the pavement. I let my body go limp, my eyes rolling back as I pretended to faint. The cameras caught it all. The flashbulbs were like lightning. The family reunion ended right there, and I was rushed to the nearest hospital. 5 When I woke up, I was alone in a hospital room, facing my mother’s fury. “Have you lost your mind, Alice?! How could you say those things in front of the press? Faith and Ben are survivors! They have amnesia! How could you be so selfish and cruel?!” My mom was shouting, and my dad was just shaking his head in silent judgment. They hadn’t cared when they thought I was a sweet, grieving fiancée, but the second Faith was safe, I was the enemy. “Mom, Faith is pregnant with Ben’s child. How could they do this to me?” “Shut up! Not another word!” The door opened, and Ben walked in, holding Faith’s hand. “I don’t know who you are,” Ben said, his voice cold. “Faith is the only one who was with me. She’s the only one I love.” He was looking at me with total indifference. I wanted to laugh. Smooth, Ben. Real smooth. Faith walked over to me, looking timid and frightened, playing the victim perfectly. “You’re my sister? I’m so sorry, Alice. We truly don’t remember our past. But I’m pregnant, and Ben and I… we’re in love. Please, don’t try to tear us apart. That’s cruel. Sister, I’m begging you. I’ll even get on my knees if I have to. Please, let us be.” She looked like she was about to drop to the floor, but my parents quickly grabbed her and helped her up. They acted like they were protecting her from a monster. “Stop it, Alice!” My mom yelled at me. “Your sister has been through hell! Can’t you just have a little compassion?” “Mom, I haven’t even said anything.” “That’s enough! This is how it is: Ben is Faith’s boyfriend now. You are not to say a single word about this outside of this family. Faith has been through enough trauma, and I won’t have you causing her any more pain.” “So it’s okay for me to be in pain, Mom? Is my happiness completely worthless to you?” “Faith has suffered six months on a deserted island! How much did you suffer, safe in your warm house? Stop being so selfish!” They ignored my tears, leaving me alone in the room. The second they were gone, I stopped the tears. I looked at the window, where I had hidden my phone. It had been recording the entire interaction. Faith, you wanted to be a star? Get ready. 6 Ben and Faith agreed to a exclusive live-streamed interview. I watched from my computer, sipping a cool drink. They were “America’s Sweethearts,” telling their story. “When I was first washed up on the beach, I had hit my head,” Faith said, looking at Ben with pure devotion. “When I woke up, Ben was there. He took care of me. There was so little food, but he always gave me the biggest portion. He practically saved my life…” She was crying, and the interviewer was wiping away tears. What a beautiful story. Suddenly, the production crew rushed in and pulled the interviewer away. “What’s happening, Ben?” Faith asked, looking genuinely scared. Ben frowned, looking at his phone. Tabloids, live streams, video leaks—everything was hitting at once. The chat on the live stream wasn’t filled with hearts and congratulations anymore. It was filled with venom. 【This is disgusting. Her own sister’s fiancé.】 【The amnesia is fake. They just want an excuse for the cheating.】 【I’ve been a follower of Alice since the shipwreck. I’m crying. The betrayal. This is evil.】 【They are trash. Just lock them both up. Alice deserves so much better.】 I saw my sister and my ex-fiancé, the “desert island lovers,” freeze in panic. Faith stood up and tried to explain to the camera, her face white with fear. “It’s not true! We have amnesia! We didn’t do this on purpose!” The chat wasn’t buying it. “Yeah, okay. Both of you just happen to have perfect selective amnesia that only erased your identities but left your motor skills intact. Show me a doctor’s note.” Ben stood up, trying to be the hero. “We haven’t been examined yet, but we are telling the truth. After this interview, we are going to the hospital for a full check-up.” He apologized to me, looking into the camera with standard actor contrition. “I am truly sorry for the pain I caused Faith’s sister. Even though I don’t remember her, I am deeply sorry for violating our engagement. I will do whatever is necessary to make it right.” After the interview, Ben registered a new social media account. He posted a fake “Amnesia Diagnosis” from a hospital his father had bribed. He also posted that he was immediately transferring $8 million to me as a settlement. His PR team worked fast, and the public opinion started to shift again. 【Well, it’s still sad, but at least he’s taking responsibility. Eight million dollars is a lot of money.】 【They do have amnesia. The doctor’s note is right there. It’s just a tragedy.】 【Ben is so protective of Faith. It is kind of like a movie.】 I saw the tide turning. I hit the “Repost” button on Ben’s statement. I added just two words: 【He didn’t.】

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “421719”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was my own greatest rival. Simply because I had too many secret identities. The A-list actress, the mysterious best-selling novelist, the cult-favorite comic artist, the top-tier voice actress, the pet influencer… I don’t know how it happened, but my “A-list Actress” persona and my “Best-selling Novelist” persona started a war on Twitter. Watching the drama spiral out of control, I logged into my author account to settle things. “Stop fighting. An author’s job is to write in peace. Stay out of the Hollywood drama, sweetie.” The next morning, my phone nearly exploded. My manager called me, sounding like she was having a mental breakdown. “Aria Thorne! Who gave you permission to publicly shade Sloane Winter?!” 01 Bad news: I am Aria Thorne. Worse news: I am also Sloane Winter. If that tweet had been posted from the Sloane Winter account, it would have meant the author was gracefully bowing out of the conflict. But because I was half-asleep and blind, I forgot to switch accounts. I posted it from the Aria Thorne account. Now, it looked like Aria Thorne—the “hollow” Hollywood star—was condescendingly telling Sloane Winter to stay in her lane. That “sweetie” at the end? It was the sarcastic cherry on top. The internet was on fire. By nightfall, #AriaThorneIsACanceledSnake was the number one trending topic. I scrolled through the comments, and it was a bloodbath. [Oh, look at her getting threatened. Just because Sloane is rumored to be entering Hollywood, Aria is scared of losing her throne? Please. Sloane is a natural beauty, an actual genius, and her books get adapted into hits. Aria is just a face and a body. She’s spiraling.] I felt the urge to scream. I never said my author persona was entering Hollywood! That was a total rumor! [“Stay in her lane”? Aria, check your own ego. You’re the one who needs to find a heart.] [I’ve always liked Aria, but this is a low blow. Why bully an author who’s just minding her business?] My manager, Monica, demanded I apologize to Sloane Winter. She even wanted me to “build a bridge” with her because she had secured me a spot on a high-stakes reality show that could fix my reputation. I agreed, sounding defeated. I went to X, copied some generic apology, and tagged the Sloane Winter account. Then, I logged into the Sloane account and replied: “No worries. All good.” I thought that would be the end of it. Instead, they hated me even more. [That’s the most insincere apology I’ve seen in 2026. Does Aria Thorne have a soul?] [Sloane only said ‘no worries’ because she’s a class act. She didn’t even use an emoji. She’s clearly still pissed, as she should be.] I tapped my screen so hard I thought it would crack. Who gave you permission to analyze my non-existent emotions?! 02 The reality show was a live-streamed event called Truth or Dare: Hollywood Edition. It was the kind of show that could either make a career or end one. When I arrived, the air was thick with tension. There were two “Mystery Guests” yet to be revealed. The producers decided to play a game: the six regular cast members had to use their personal networks to invite the mystery guests to the set. Whoever succeeded would get a “Secret Grand Prize.” I sat on the velvet sofa, planning to stay invisible. I had enough money; I was actually planning to retire from the exhausting movie star life anyway. Then, the first name flashed on the screen: Caleb Vance. Not that jerk, I thought, sinking deeper into the sofa. Caleb Vance was a billionaire tech mogul now, but we grew up in the same group home. He was two years older and spent my entire childhood teasing me. We went our separate ways as adults. When I first started acting, he invited me to join his talent agency. I told him to go to hell. The first person to speak was a rising starlet named Seraphina. She smiled sweetly at the camera. “I have Mr. Vance’s private number. I can try, but no promises.” The chat went wild. [Wait, isn’t Seraphina signed to Vance Media? Are the rumors true? The CEO and the muse?] [I heard Caleb Vance set aside a massive budget three years ago just to sign one specific girl. Seraphina signed right around then!] Among the “Caleb + Seraphina” shippers, one user named “Aria’s-Husband” was getting bullied for saying: [Caleb only wanted to sign Aria Thorne!] Seraphina dialed. The phone rang for five seconds, then he hung up on her. The room went silent. Seraphina forced a smile. “He’s a very busy man. He must be in a board meeting.” I hid a smirk. Caleb wasn’t busy. He was never busy when it came to causing trouble. Once, because he knew I was allergic to roses, he rented a helicopter to drop a thousand red roses onto my balcony. I spent two days in the ER and cursed him for an hour. Another time, he secretly planted a forest of weeds under my window because I once said I liked “natural greenery.” I only found out when the HOA fined me. The guy next to Seraphina, a B-list actor named Xander, looked at me. “Aria, you’re smiling. Do you think you can get Mr. Vance to show up?” I shook my head instantly. “No. I don’t even know him.” “Then were you laughing at Seraphina?” Xander pressed. “No,” I lied. “I just remembered a funny video of my cat.” The silence in the room was judgmental. “Aria, this is a professional show. Try to be more mature,” Xander said, playing the moral high ground. Then, Blair, another actress from my agency, chimed in. “Seraphina, why don’t you try again? Someone like Mr. Vance wouldn’t just ignore a call from someone as ‘special’ as you.” Seraphina bit her lip and dialed again. This time, he picked up. “Who is this?” Caleb’s cold, bored voice filled the studio. “It’s… it’s Seraphina, from the agency. We met last week at the gala…” “Don’t know you,” Caleb said, and the line went dead. The chat was stunned. Except for “Aria’s-Husband,” who was laughing in all caps. Suddenly, Xander grabbed a business card from the production table and shoved it at me. “Since you’re so relaxed, Aria, why don’t you give it a shot?” I froze. This idiot. I only had one phone with me. It had two SIM cards: my Aria Thorne number and my Sloane Winter number. I didn’t know if Caleb had my Aria number saved, but I couldn’t risk the Sloane number. I looked at my smartwatch. It had a standalone LTE chip I almost never used. I checked the battery: 5%. I dialed. [Wait, is she using a kid’s smartwatch?] [Watching her fail is going to be the highlight of my week.] The call went through. He picked up on the first ring. “Hello?” His voice was suddenly warm, almost playful. I pitched my voice higher, trying to sound like a generic PR rep. “Hi, Mr. Vance. I’m a guest on Truth or Dare. We’d love to have you join us.” “I know,” Caleb said. “I’m watching the stream.” “What?” “I know it’s you, Aria,” he drawled. “I’m already in the car. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” “I’m bringing a gift. And no, it’s not red roses this time…” Before he could finish, I tapped my watch and pretended it died. “Oh, no. Out of battery.” The chat exploded. [HE KNEW HER?!] [He said ‘I know it’s you, Aria’ so gently… I’m screaming.] [Seraphina’s face right now… someone call an ambulance.] 03 Before I could process the Caleb situation, the second name appeared. Sloane Winter. The studio turned into a freezer. Every eye was on me. I had just “shaded” her on X three days ago. The host introduced her with a grin. “The legendary author herself. We’ve reached out to her editor and secured her private number. Let’s see who can get her to show her face for the first time ever.” My phone buzzed in my pocket. The production team had just sent Sloane Winter’s number to everyone. My number. I looked at my phone. My agent had sold me out! The cast had to draw lots to see who would call first. I drew #1. Great. I dialed my own second number. The busy signal rang out immediately. I looked at the camera with a fake, apologetic smile. “It seems Ms. Winter is currently on another call.” The chat flipped on me instantly. [Aria is so fake. Sloane is obviously blocking her calls after that stunt she pulled.] [I bet she’s terrified Sloane will actually show up.] [“Aria’s-Husband” here: Just wait. The truth is going to hit you like a truck.] I reached into my pocket, held the power button, and slid to power off. The second person to call was Seraphina. She got a “User Busy” message. “Maybe her phone is dead?” Seraphina suggested, trying to regain some pride. “I’ll try again in two minutes.” She was trying to hog the guest spot. Blair Montgomery sneered at her. “Seraphina, if she wanted to talk to you, she would have. Don’t be desperate.” Seraphina ignored her and dialed again. This time, the phone in my pocket—which I thought I had turned off—vibrated violently. I must have hit ‘Restart’ instead of ‘Power Off’. “Oops,” I laughed nervously, pulling the phone out. “Spam call.” I declined the call right in front of the camera. Just then, Caleb Vance walked into the studio. He was wearing a casual charcoal suit, looking every bit the “Ascetic Billionaire.” But in his arms, he was carrying a massive bouquet of… dandelions and clover. The chat lost its mind. [Dandelions? Who gives weeds as a gift?] [Aria is a gold digger; she probably hates those weeds.] [Caleb Vance is a troll. I love him.] Caleb walked straight to me and handed me the “weeds.” “Long time no see,” he whispered, sitting right next to me. I glared at him. “Go away.” “Sorry,” he murmured under his breath so the mics wouldn’t catch it. The chat saw the interaction and assumed he was marking his territory. But then, the drama shifted. Someone had dug up my “Secret Burner Account.” It was an account where I ranted about my writing process. I had complained about every character I ever wrote. When I had writer’s block, I called the book “garbage.” When the heroine was captured, I called the hero “a useless wimp who can’t even fly.” The “Aria Thorne” haters were using it as proof that I was a toxic person who hated the very industry I worked in. They claimed I was mocking the actors who played those roles. The hashtag #CancelAriaThorne was gaining massive traction. The live stream was lagging because so many people were logging in to curse at me. The producers had to pause the stream for a moment to fix the servers. In the quiet of the studio, Xander turned to me with a sneer. “The mask is off, Aria. You’re a bitter, mean girl. You’re done.” Before I could speak, Caleb stood up. He looked Xander up and down. “Your name is Xander, right? You should worry about your own contract. My legal team is already looking into your ‘unprofessional conduct’ on this set.” Xander turned pale. Seraphina tried to ‘comfort’ Caleb. “Mr. Vance, you shouldn’t defend her. She even mocked you in her posts.” Caleb laughed. “She did? Good. I like it when she’s honest. I’m a bit of a masochist when it comes to her. Any problem with that?” I hit him with my elbow. “Shut up.” 04 I hated Caleb Vance. Everyone in the group home knew that. I was there before he was. Back then, I was shy and sensitive. The other kids bullied me. When Caleb arrived, he was the tallest and the meanest. He made sure no one else touched me—just so he could have the exclusive right to tease me himself. He used to call me “Goldfish” because he said I had a three-second memory when it came to his insults. I hated that name. One day, I hit him with a textbook and started crying. He sat next to me and didn’t apologize, but he stopped calling me Goldfish. He started calling me “Aria.” That was when he gave me a ring he’d woven from clover and dandelion stems. “When we grow up,” he’d said, “this will be our promise. I’ll marry you.” I threw the ring into the grass. “I’d never marry a jerk like you! When I’m famous, I’m going to have real diamonds and red roses!” We grew apart. Caleb went off to reclaim his family’s lost empire. I went off to college, realized I was deathly allergic to roses, and started my “thousand masks” journey because I was broke. I took the name Aria Thorne for the screen. I took Sloane Winter for my books. I took other names for my art and voice work. I became a success because of Caleb—not because he helped me, but because he taught me how to be tough.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “421720”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

For the first three years of our marriage, my husband suddenly developed a profound interest in playing mahjong with his boss’s daughter. Whenever I confronted him about it, his defense was always the exact same script. “You’re an orphan. You don’t have a family to back me up, no connections, nothing. You can’t help me with my career at all.” He would follow it up with, “I’m playing cards to keep my boss happy. Isn’t that for the good of our family?” Then, after delivering those crushing blows, he would wrap his arms around me and sigh, playing the victim. “If you ever left me, you would truly be all alone in this world. Because honestly… who else would ever want you?” Eventually, I stopped arguing. I started pulling all-nighters, staying out late, and refusing to come home, telling him I was out playing mahjong too. At first, he thought I was just throwing a childish tantrum, waiting for me to break and come crawling back. Until one morning, we ran into each other at the front door—both of us returning from a night out. Panic finally set in. He begged me to stop leaving, promising he would stay home and keep me company every single night. Instead, I looked him in the eye and demanded a divorce. Because at the mahjong table, I hadn’t been wasting my time. I had found my biological father. He was a billionaire. And for the first time in my life, I finally had a real family. 1. It was past International Women’s Day. At 1:00 AM, I was sitting alone in the dark living room, staring blankly at the framed wedding photo on the wall. Gary still wasn’t home. Every year on this day, he used to buy me a bouquet and take me out to a nice dinner. This year? He wasn’t answering my texts, and my calls went straight to voicemail. I scrolled mindlessly through Instagram. My thumb suddenly stopped. Garyia Schwimmer, the daughter of Gary’s department director, had just posted a new story: “Luck is on my side tonight! Thanks for feeding me the winning tiles, Gary~” The photo was a selfie taken at a luxury mahjong table. Gary’s arm was draped casually over the back of her chair. Garyia was smiling so hard her eyes were practically squeezed shut. Someone had commented, “The chemistry between you two is insane.” Garyia replied with a blushing emoji. I locked my phone, tossed it face down onto the couch, and didn’t look at it again. At 6:00 AM, I heard the deadbolt click. Gary walked in reeking of cheap cigarettes and stale whiskey. The top three buttons of his dress shirt were undone, and his hair was a mess. I stood up from the couch. “You stayed up all night playing cards with her again?” He kicked off his shoes, not even bothering to look up at me. “Yeah.” “You’re spending seven nights a week playing games with another woman. Do you think that’s normal?” He finally lifted his head. His eyes were bloodshot and filled with absolute irritation. “Whether it’s normal or not is none of your business. Do you know who her father is? My next promotion completely depends on him liking me!” My throat tightened. I couldn’t speak. Seeing my reaction, he walked over. His tone suddenly shifted, softening as he draped a heavy arm over my shoulders. “Aria, I know you feel neglected. But look at it logically. You grew up in an orphanage. You don’t have a family, you don’t have a dime to your name. You’re lucky I even married you.” “If you left me, who else would ever want you?” He had been repeating that exact phrase for a solid year. Every single argument we ever had ended with those exact words. It was like a dull, rusted knife sawing back and forth over the exact same wound. I didn’t say a word. Assuming I had surrendered like always, Gary kissed my forehead. “I’m taking a shower and going to bed. I’m exhausted.” I stood frozen in the middle of the living room, listening to the water running in the master bath. My mind drifted back to five years ago. We were still in college. He pursued me relentlessly. When I told him I grew up in the foster system and aged out of an orphanage, his eyes welled up with tears. He promised me he would give me a real home. During our senior year, he got down on one knee in front of my dorm building and proposed. He told me he had secured a great corporate job. He promised he would bring in ten grand a month, and that I’d get six thousand of it as my personal allowance. He told me I would never have to work a day in my life. I could just stay home and be happy. From the day I was old enough to work, I had been constantly hustling. Waiting tables, handing out flyers, working multiple shifts just to survive. He was the first person in my entire life who looked at me and said, “You don’t have to work anymore. I’ll take care of you.” So, I said yes. For the first two years of our marriage, he really was wonderful. Flowers on every holiday, dates every weekend. But during our third year, Garyia Schwimmer returned from a study abroad program. During a corporate dinner, Garyia tagged along. She wanted to play mahjong, and they needed a fourth player. Gary happily volunteered. The very next day, his salary—which had been stagnant for two years—was miraculously increased. From that day forward, whenever Garyia called for a game, Gary was at her beck and call. It started with Sunday afternoons. Then weeknights. Then all-nighters. I spent more and more nights sleeping alone in an empty house. At first, I fought him. I screamed and cried. But he always weaponized the same twisted logic to shut me down: “You can’t help my career. Is it a crime that I’m trying to climb the ladder myself?” “If you leave me, how are you going to survive?” “Who else is going to want you?” I walked into the guest bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. The reflection in the mirror made my stomach drop. My hair was greasy and flat. My skin was a sickly, sallow yellow. My eyes were puffy, with dark, heavy bags dragging down my face. Three years ago, I was known as one of the prettiest girls in my graduating class. Gary wasn’t the only guy begging to date me. And now? I stared blankly at the hollowed-out woman in the glass. My eyes suddenly began to burn. Is this what I had let myself become in just three years? I was Aria Sterling. I survived the orphanage, paid my own way through college, and made it to twenty-four without relying on a single soul. How did getting married turn me into such a pathetic, helpless loser? 2. The next day, Garyia set up another game. Shockingly, Gary insisted on bringing me along. “I’m taking you so you can see that our relationship is completely professional. I want you to stop making up paranoid fantasies in your head.” He said the words confidently, but his eyes briefly darted away from mine. I didn’t argue. I actually put effort into my appearance that day. I wore a nice dress, tied my hair up neatly, and put on some light makeup. He drove us to an incredibly exclusive, private mahjong parlor. The decor was dripping in luxury. The second we walked in, I heard the crisp clatter of the tiles. Garyia was sitting at the head of the table. When she saw me, her eyes curved into a condescending crescent moon. “Oh wow, the wife actually showed up?” Gary chuckled nervously. “I brought her out to see the real world.” Garyia casually gestured to an empty chair. “Does the missus know how to play?” I shook my head. She let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Makes sense. Growing up in an orphanage, it’s not exactly a high-society hobby, right?” The other two players at the table suddenly found their phones incredibly interesting, refusing to make eye contact. Gary actually laughed along with her. “She had a rough childhood. She doesn’t understand this kind of culture.” My fingernails dug so hard into my palms they almost drew blood. I kept my mouth shut. The game started. I sat next to Gary, watching in silence. Halfway through the night, Garyia hit a losing streak. Her face grew visibly darker with every hand. She looked up, glaring directly at me. “Ugh. Having some people sitting right across from me is completely ruining my luck.” Gary immediately panicked. “Aria, go sit somewhere else.” He pointed to a plush sofa in the far corner of the room, leaning in to whisper urgently. “Aria, please. Just go sit over there and relax for a bit.” I gave him a long, dead look. Then I stood up and walked over to the corner couch. They resumed their game, laughing and joking as if I wasn’t even there. Every time Garyia lost a hand, she would playfully lean her weight against Gary’s shoulder. He never once pulled away. I sat in the dark corner, watching them. They finally called it quits at 1:00 AM. Garyia stood up, naturally hooking her arm through Gary’s. “Gary, drive me home? The streetlights in my neighborhood are out, and it’s too dark.” Gary glanced back at me. “Order an Uber and go home.” Without another word, the two of them walked out the door together. I stood alone on the curb outside the club, waiting for my ride. The night breeze cut right through me, and I pulled my jacket tighter. My phone buzzed. Garyia had posted a new story: “Thanks to my exclusive chauffeur~” The photo was a selfie taken in the passenger seat of Gary’s car. She was making a cute pouty face at the camera, and Gary’s profile was clearly visible in the rearview mirror. I didn’t sleep at all that night. I opened the photo gallery on my phone and stared at our wedding photos for a very long time. Then, I opened the camera app and took a selfie right there in the dark. I put the two images side by side. One was me three years ago, glowing in a white dress, my eyes full of life and hope. The other was me now. Wearing a cheap, pilled sweater, looking like a dead, dried-up flower that had all the moisture sucked out of it. I asked myself… is this really the comfortable life I had signed up for? Sitting alone every night, waiting for him to come home so we could scream at each other. After the fight, he would sleep like a baby while I laid awake staring at the ceiling. The next day, he went to work, and I sat alone in an empty house. A vicious, unending cycle that had lasted an entire year. My body, my emotions, my absolute core—none of it was being nurtured. I was rotting away. Once the realization fully hit me, I picked up my phone and bought a premium gym membership. I booked a personal trainer, committing to five days a week. I scheduled a manicure, eyelash extensions, and finally chopped off the long, dead hair I had been growing out for three years, styling it into a chic, bouncy bob. The woman in the mirror was slowly starting to look human again. Then, I opened a local social forum and posted a thread: “Looking for girlfriends to teach me how to play mahjong. Located in the city center. I have plenty of time and money. Once I learn the rules, I’ll gladly pay to play~” I hit post and tossed my phone onto the bed. For the first time in years, I genuinely felt like tomorrow might actually be interesting. 3. I got a direct message the very next morning. “Hey girl! I’m a regular at this super high-end private parlor by the river. The vibe is amazing. I can teach you the ropes if you’re down?” “I’m down,” I replied. We agreed on a time and place. I arrived early. It was a gorgeous, exclusive club right on the waterfront, the parking lot packed with luxury imported cars. I walked up to the front desk and paid for a private room. Just as I got the key, my phone buzzed. The girl texted me saying something came up and she had to cancel. I felt incredibly awkward as I walked back to the receptionist to ask for a refund. “No problem at all, miss. We hope to see you next time,” the receptionist smiled professionally. I turned around, ready to walk out the front doors. “We’re short one player. Do you know how to play?” I stopped and looked over my shoulder. It was a middle-aged man, probably in his early fifties. He was dressed in casual designer clothes, but he carried an aura of quiet, immense authority. He clearly wasn’t an average guy off the street. I shook my head. “No, I don’t. I came here today to find someone to teach me, but I just got stood up.” He offered a warm, genuine smile. “Perfect timing. I’ll teach you.” I immediately took a half-step back, my guard shooting up. A strange, wealthy older man randomly offering to teach a young woman how to gamble in a private room? Red flags everywhere. He immediately sensed my hesitation and gestured toward the open door of a nearby VIP suite. “My son and daughter-in-law are in there waiting for me. We won’t be alone. You don’t have to worry.” I still didn’t move. He fell silent for two seconds, his expression softening into something incredibly vulnerable. “To be completely honest with you… you look exactly like my daughter.” I frowned. He kept speaking, his voice quiet. “My daughter passed away the day she was born. When I saw you standing at the desk just now, I actually froze. I apologize if I’m being forward. If you aren’t comfortable, just pretend I never asked.” I looked at him closely. There wasn’t a single trace of malice or creepiness in his face. He just looked… sad. I thought about it for a second. It was broad daylight, the club was packed with staff, and there were security cameras everywhere. Why not? I followed him into the VIP suite. There were indeed two other people waiting. A young man, roughly my age, with sharp features that strongly resembled the older gentleman. Sitting next to him was a stunningly elegant young woman, clearly the daughter-in-law. The second I walked through the door, the young woman gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. Her eyes went wide as saucers as she stared at me. The young man froze entirely, staring at my face in complete, stunned silence. The older man cleared his throat, taking control of the room. “Don’t be nervous, this is my family. This is my son, Julian. And his wife, Clara.” He turned to me with a kind smile. “My name is Wayne Schwimmer. What should we call you, young lady?” I offered a polite nod. “Aria Sterling.” Clara was still staring at me. Her lips parted slightly, and her eyes suddenly welled up with tears, but she quickly looked down at her lap to hide it. Julian also broke eye contact, staying entirely silent. Wayne acted as if he hadn’t noticed their bizarre reactions, warmly gesturing to the empty chair. “Come, sit. We needed a fourth anyway.” As I sat down, Clara kept glancing at me, her eyes still rimmed red. I offered an awkward, apologetic smile. “Is something wrong?” She quickly shook her head. “No, nothing! It’s just… you look exactly like…” “Don’t overwhelm the poor girl,” Wayne interrupted smoothly. “Come on, let’s show her the ropes.” They were incredibly patient. They actually spent the next few hours teaching me the game. How to draw, how to call, how to meld tiles, and how to calculate the scoring. Clara had the patience of a saint. Even when I kept forgetting the basic rules, she explained them over and over again without a hint of frustration. Julian didn’t say much, but every time I was about to discard the wrong tile, he would gently tap the table and explain the strategy behind keeping it. Wayne barely looked at his own tiles. He spent the entire game watching my face, as if he were searching for something specific. As we played, we kept up casual conversation. They asked where I was from. I told them I grew up here in the city. They asked what I did for a living. I told them I was a stay-at-home wife. They asked my age. I said I was twenty-six. When they asked about my parents, I told them I was an orphan. Wayne’s hand stopped mid-air over the table. Clara shot him a loaded look, but didn’t say a word. I tried to flip the script. “What about you guys?” “Small business owners,” Wayne smiled warmly. “Construction and engineering,” Julian added smoothly. We played until 10:00 PM. I finally checked the time and said I needed to head home. “Will you come back and play with us again?” Wayne asked, his voice entirely sincere. I thought about it for a second. “I will.” As I was leaving, Clara walked me to the lobby. Right before we parted ways, she suddenly grabbed my hand. I froze, caught off guard. Her eyes were red again. “Aria… please. Please come back and see us.” I was a little bewildered, but I nodded and gave her a reassuring smile. I walked out of the lobby and headed toward the elevators. As I passed by a VIP suite with its door cracked open, I subconsciously glanced inside. I stopped dead in my tracks. Gary was sitting at the table. Garyia was leaning heavily against his shoulder, giggling as she fed him a slice of fruit off a silver platter. I didn’t stop walking. I didn’t turn back. A month ago, seeing that would have broken me. I would have run to the bathroom and cried until I threw up. Tonight? I didn’t feel a damn thing. 4. Gary finally noticed the shift in my behavior. I started leaving the house before he woke up and coming back long after he was asleep. Whenever he was home, I was out. He asked where I was going. I told him I was out playing mahjong. He asked who I was playing with. I told him I had new friends. His face instantly darkened. The breaking point hit one morning when we literally ran into each other at the front door. We had both been out all night. He blocked the entryway, his face twisted with pure, irrational anger. “Starting today, you are not allowed to leave this house.” I stared blankly at him. “Excuse me? On what authority?” He pulled out his phone and shoved his banking app in my face. “I’ve cut off your monthly allowance. I’m not transferring another dime. You’re going to sit in this house and rot. You aren’t going anywhere.” I blinked, genuinely stunned. It was true that he gave me six grand a month. I had managed to put a little bit away in savings over the years, but I absolutely relied on that money to survive. He let out a cold, venomous laugh. “Aria, do you think I’m an idiot? You’ve been acting completely insane lately. Are you sleeping with someone else?” I looked at the man I married, and suddenly, I found the entire situation absolutely hilarious. “Gary, when you started staying out all night playing cards, I asked you that exact same question. And you told me I was a paranoid, hysterical bitch.” He choked on his words, his face flushing red. I stepped closer, my voice completely dead. “I go out to play mahjong. I’m not sleeping around. Can you look me in the eye and say the same?” “My situation is entirely different!” he spat defensively. “I’m doing it for my career! I’m networking!” I didn’t waste another breath on him. I stayed home that night, but I didn’t sleep a wink. My mind was finally, crystal clear. This man was entirely worthless. When he proposed, he promised he would take care of me. He promised he would give me a safe, loving home. I bought every single lie. And now? He cuts off my money to starve me out, treating me like a prisoner in my own home, demanding absolute obedience. Who did he think he was? Was I a stray dog he had adopted? Was I a pet he could lock in a cage when he got bored of me? I needed a divorce. The next morning, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Clara: “Hey Aria, are you free today? My father-in-law said he wants to teach you some advanced strategies.” I stared at the message, hesitating for a long moment. Fine. I’ll go. One last time. Once I filed the divorce papers, I was going to have to work three jobs just to keep a roof over my head. I wouldn’t have the luxury of playing mahjong ever again. I arrived at the club and walked up to our usual VIP suite. I pushed the heavy mahogany door open, and instantly froze in my tracks.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “421689”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Tallie stalked my Instagram grid for four entire years. She was absolutely convinced I was a billionaire heiress living in secret. Right before graduation, she managed to get her hands on a bizarre, supernatural artifact. She secretly fed both of our names into this so-called “Wealth Swap System” and forcibly traded our bank accounts. She stared at me with pure triumph. Her tone dripped with arrogant entitlement. “Don’t blame me for being ruthless, sweetie. You’re the one constantly flexing those penthouses and designer bags online. A real rich girl like you won’t even miss this pocket change, right?” Right at that moment, my phone screen lit up with a notification. It was a $0.50 refund receipt from a cheap discount shopping app. I stared at that tiny number, completely frozen. I was just a broke college student faking a lavish lifestyle online! 1 Tallie slammed the glowing parchment onto my desk. Our names were scrawled across the vintage leather in bold ink. A bizarre, blood-red light pulsed over the letters. She loudly announced that the system was permanently bound. “Avery, starting right now, your billions belong entirely to me!” Every single asset to my name was currently transferring to hers. My mind went completely blank. I lunged forward to snatch the glowing parchment. Tallie dodged with ease and held the scroll high above her head. A mechanical, icy voice echoed out of thin air right inside our dorm room. “Wealth swap complete. The process is irreversible. Binding permanently active.” I frantically pulled out my phone and tapped my banking app. The $0.50 I had saved up to split a bulk order of toilet paper was completely gone. The screen displayed a massive, mocking zero. Tallie was practically drooling over the progress bar on her own phone screen. She erupted into hysterical laughter. “Yes! It’s rolling in! I can literally smell the money!” I looked up at her crazed expression and desperately tried to explain. “Tallie, you are out of your mind! I don’t have any money!” “Those limited-edition Birkin bags on my feed were rented with a bunch of other girls online!” “You just inherited a massive disaster!” Tallie smacked the desk, violently cutting off my warnings. “Keep acting! Keep playing the victim!” She quickly pulled up a screenshot I posted last night, showing a location tag at a Park Avenue penthouse. She shoved her phone screen so close it almost hit my nose. “You’re worth billions. You post skyline views from luxury real estate every single day!” “But in real life, you’re a cheapskate who steals my shampoo! You capitalists are all the same. The richer you are, the stingier you get!” Her screeching drew a crowd. Students from down the hall gathered outside our door to watch the drama unfold. Tallie spun around and proudly announced it to the entire floor. “Listen up, everyone! Avery just got stripped of all her family wealth by a magic system!” “She is a total, pathetic beggar now!” Instead of calling campus security, the crowd started pointing fingers and laughing at me. “I always hated her guts. Walking around with that fake humble attitude while carrying a Hermès bag.” “Exactly. I asked her for a loan once and she totally ignored me. Rich and greedy.” “Karma finally got her. Serves her right!” They fed off each other’s toxic energy, unleashing years of petty jealousy right at my face. I pulled out my phone and opened my messages, frantically trying to find the chat logs from my discount rental group. Tallie lunged forward and snatched the phone right out of my hand. She raised her arm high and smashed my phone directly onto the concrete floor. The screen shattered into a spiderweb of glass. Pieces of plastic scattered everywhere. “Do you honestly think faking some text messages will fool me, Avery?” “You’re just trying to fabricate evidence of being poor to stall for time until your rich family saves you, right?” “Well, it’s not going to work!” Tristan, the reigning frat-boy heartthrob of our department, pushed his way through the crowd. He usually spent his weekends trailing after me like a lost puppy. Now, he walked straight over and stood shoulder to shoulder with Tallie. He shoved me hard. I fell backward onto the floor. My palms scraped against the rough concrete, oozing warm blood. Tristan turned to Tallie with the most sickening, flattering smile I had ever seen. Then he pointed a finger down at me and started screaming. “Avery, I always saw right through your disgusting, elitist facade!” “You used to look at the rest of us like we were trash.” “Look who’s the actual trash now!” Tallie soaked up his loyalty with a wicked grin, laughing until she was out of breath. 2 Tallie immediately whipped out her credit card. The system required twenty-four hours to fully settle the swapped assets, so she decided to run up her own credit limit in the meantime. “Once my billions hit the account tomorrow, I’ll just buy the entire bank!” She made a call and ordered the most expensive omakase sushi delivery for the entire dorm floor. She purposefully left me out. Less than half an hour later, the delivery arrived. The mouthwatering scent of premium sashimi and seared Wagyu beef filled the stuffy room. The other girls swarmed Tallie, kissing the ground she walked on. Tallie picked up the most expensive slice of A5 Wagyu with her chopsticks. Holding eye contact with me, she casually dropped the premium meat straight into the garbage can. “Ugh, this cut is a little tough. I wouldn’t even feed this to a stray dog.” She gave me a condescending smirk. “And I’m definitely not feeding it to you.” I ignored her completely. I stood up, grabbed a cheap cup of instant noodles, and walked toward the water dispenser. Tallie gave Tristan a subtle look. Tristan rushed forward and snatched my thermos right out of my hands. “Beggars don’t get purified hot water. Go drink from the bathroom sink!” he sneered. Swallowing my boiling rage, I dug into my drawer and pulled out my old, cracked backup phone. I was going to dial 911. Tallie saw what I was doing and laughed like a maniac. “Call them! Go ahead and cry to the cops!” “The system’s magic overrides human laws!” “The police have zero jurisdiction over supernatural wealth transfers!” I ignored her nonsense and pressed the dial button. Before the call could even connect, Dean Rollins pushed his way into the room to investigate the noise complaint. Tallie didn’t even flinch when she saw the campus administrator. She simply opened her banking app and wired five thousand dollars directly into the Dean’s personal Venmo account. “Consider this a personal donation to the alumni fund, sir.” Dean Rollins looked at the notification on his screen. A massive, greasy smile spread across his face. He turned around and glared at me with absolute authority. “Avery! What is wrong with you? You have zero sense of community!” “Tallie is out here showing incredible generosity, and you’re starting fights in the dorms!” He refused to listen to a single word I said. Citing my “disruptive behavior,” he ordered me to pack my things and vacate the dorm building immediately. I stepped forward, fighting for my rights. “Sir, she stole my property and physically destroyed my phone!” “I demand you check the hallway security cameras right now!” The Dean frowned and looked at the crowd of students. Every single girl on the floor stepped up and lied through their teeth. “We saw the whole thing, Dean Rollins. Avery went crazy and smashed her own phone.” “Yeah, she even tried to attack Tallie.” Tristan casually walked over and brought his heavy boot down directly onto my backup phone, which had slipped from my hand. The satisfying crunch of breaking glass filled the room. The backup device was completely dead. “Oops. My bad. Didn’t see it there,” Tristan said, his voice dripping with fake apology. I was completely cut off from the outside world. I patted my empty pockets. I didn’t even have a few coins left to rent a campus bicycle. Tallie marched straight over to my closet. She ripped the doors open and dragged my suitcase out by the handle. She hauled it to the second-floor balcony and, without a second of hesitation, hurled it over the railing. A loud crash echoed from below. The suitcase burst open on the pavement. All my cheap, five-dollar discount clothes scattered across the road. A campus street sweeper drove by, drenching my entire wardrobe in filthy, muddy water. 3 That evening, the university hosted its grand graduation gala in the main auditorium. Everyone was dressed to the nines, glowing in tailored suits and sparkling dresses. I walked right through the front doors wearing the dirty, mud-stained t-shirt I had salvaged from the street. I was desperately looking for higher university officials to report the insane events of the afternoon. The moment I stepped inside, the spotlights snapped toward the entrance. Tallie made her grand entrance wearing a staggeringly expensive haute couture gown she had bought by maxing out her credit cards. The dress was clearly two sizes too small, digging painfully into her waist. Around her neck hung an absurdly massive diamond necklace. The blinding sparkle drew breathless screams from the crowd. “Wow! Tallie looks like a queen!” “Now that is what true old money looks like!” Tallie soaked up the worship. She strutted onto the stage in six-inch stilettos and snatched the microphone from the host. “Drinks and food for the entire night are on me!” “And I’ll be drawing ten random names tonight to win the newest flagship iPhones!” The room exploded into absolute chaos. Students chanted her name like she was a goddess. “Long live Tallie!” “Tallie is a legend!” Taking advantage of the screaming crowd, I shoved my way to the front row. I ripped a spare microphone out of a tech guy’s hands. I screamed into it with everything I had. “She is lying to all of you! That necklace is fake!” “My net worth is entirely in the red! All she inherited was a mountain of debt!” My voice echoed through the massive speakers, booming across the hall. The auditorium went dead silent for exactly one second. Tristan reacted instantly. He bolted backstage and ripped the power cord straight out of the soundboard. My microphone went completely dead. Two burly security guards, heavily bribed by Tallie earlier, charged at me from the shadows. They violently twisted my arms behind my back, locking me in a brutal hold. I thrashed and kicked, but their grip was like iron. Tallie strolled down the stage steps, casually holding a crystal glass overflowing with red wine. She stopped right in front of me. Her eyes were pure poison. With a flick of her wrist, she poured the entire glass of wine directly over my head. The dark red liquid dripped down my hair. It ran down my cheeks and soaked into my already ruined collar. The crowd erupted into vicious insults. “Get this broke loser out of here!” “If you’re jealous of Tallie’s wealth, just admit it! Stop seeking attention!” Tallie lifted her foot. She brought her razor-sharp stiletto heel down hard onto my sneaker, grinding it brutally into my toes. “How does it feel at the bottom of the food chain, Avery?” she whispered directly into my ear. Pain shot up my leg, bringing cold sweat to my forehead. I clenched my jaw, staring deadly daggers into her smug face. Tristan walked over and handed Tallie a silk napkin to wipe her fingers. “Don’t get your hands dirty on her, Tallie.” Tristan turned his head and gave me a look of pure disgust. “You’re nothing but a stray dog now. Get the hell out of our sight.” 4 The guards practically carried me out and tossed me onto the cold pavement outside the campus gates like a bag of trash. My bones ached. Every joint felt bruised. The freezing asphalt sent a violent shiver down my spine. Heavy raindrops began to fall, soaking me to the bone in seconds. I felt miserable, humiliated, and chilled to my very core. Meanwhile, Tallie and her sycophants had relocated to the presidential suite of the city’s most elite five-star hotel. Champagne. Caviar. Endless luxury. They were throwing the party of the century. Completely drenched, I wrapped my arms around myself and huddled on the concrete steps of a 24-hour convenience store. At least the small awning kept the worst of the rain off my head. Across the street, a massive LED billboard on the side of a shopping mall suddenly roared to life. The blinding light cut through the rain, illuminating the entire block. Tallie’s heavily contoured, arrogant face filled the gigantic screen. A moment later, her screeching, amplified voice echoed through the city streets. “Listen up, citizens!” “If anyone spots a homeless beggar named Avery out on the streets tonight.” “Make her get on her knees and beg for mercy. Send me the video.” “I will personally wire a hundred thousand dollars in cash to whoever does it!” A hundred thousand dollars. To buy my absolute humiliation. A group of shady-looking thugs sheltering from the rain down the block stopped talking. Their eyes darted between the massive glowing billboard and my shivering figure on the steps. Under the flickering orange glow of a streetlight, they recognized my face. Greedy, predatory grins spread across their faces. They pulled out their phones and started closing in on me. “Well, well. If it isn’t the hundred-grand princess.” The leader, a guy with bleached blonde hair, sneered as he stepped directly into my personal space. He grabbed my jacket, yanked me off the steps, and shoved me roughly against the brick wall of the alleyway. The cold brick dug into my spine. He raised his hand, winding up to slap me across the face. His phone camera was pointed right at me. The ultimate humiliation was seconds away. Right at that exact moment. Sirens wailed in the distance. The ear-piercing sound of police cruisers erupted from the direction of the luxury hotel downtown, tearing through the quiet rainy night. The blonde thug froze mid-swing. Everyone instinctively turned toward the flashing red and blue lights reflecting off the clouds. I lifted my head and looked past his shoulder, locking eyes with the digital clock inside the convenience store window. The minutes were ticking down to the absolute limit. The system’s 24-hour settlement period was entering its final five minutes. Over in the presidential suite, Tallie’s global livestream was hitting its absolute peak. She had burned cash to buy premium front-page promotion on the biggest streaming platform. She wanted a million live viewers to witness the exact second her billionaire status became official. On camera, Tristan and the Dean pushed their faces into the frame, looking like absolute clowns. “Keep your eyes peeled, chat! You’re about to witness real royalty!” Tristan screamed into the lens. Tallie sat like a queen on the velvet sofa, basking in the endless stream of digital gifts and toxic hype from the chat. The countdown hit the final ten seconds. Tallie raised a crystal flute of champagne and chanted along with her viewers. “Ten, nine, eight…” “Three, two, one!” “System settlement complete!” The massive screen in the livestream synced directly with Tallie’s banking interface.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “421705”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The border conflict had been raging for two years. My husband, Colonel Dominic, had been missing in action for three months. Then, without any warning, he walked right through our front door. The moment I saw him, shock and overwhelming joy flooded my chest. I rushed into the kitchen to bring out a steaming bowl of his absolute favorite homemade beef stew. He sat at the dining table in complete silence for a long time. Suddenly, he looked up and spoke. “Candy, I need you to go out to the old oak tree and dig up that metal lockbox. I need what is inside.” My hand froze in midair. The spoon I was holding nearly clattered to the floor. There was no lockbox. Dominic and I had completely fabricated that story years ago just to coax our five year old son into going to sleep. It never existed. 1 I stared dead into the eyes of the man sitting across from me. It was a flawless replica. The deep set eyes, the sharp bridge of the nose, even the faint shrapnel scar grazing his left cheek. Everything was perfectly identical. “What metal box?” I forced my racing heart to slow down, squeezing out a natural looking smile. He wiped his mouth with a napkin. His eyes were perfectly calm, even tinged with a familiar warmth. “Did you forget? When Sam was five and throwing those night tantrums. We buried it under the tree together to calm him down.” Cold sweat instantly drenched the back of my shirt. Seven years ago, Dominic had just been promoted to major. Sam was going through a phase where he would cry all night. Dominic spun a tall tale, telling the boy that a magical metal box was buried beneath the old oak tree in our yard, guarding a very important secret. He said if Sam was a good boy and went to sleep, the box would magically produce endless candies. Sam bought it and went right to bed. The next morning, we took out some sweets we had hidden in the cupboards and claimed the box had conjured them as a reward. But we never actually buried anything. Besides Dominic and me, absolutely no one knew about this. Even Sam had long forgotten the childish fantasy. There was never a third person in on the secret. Who in the hell was this man wearing my husband’s face? “Right, look at my terrible memory.” I lowered my head, taking a bite of food to hide the absolute ice forming in my eyes. “It is pitch black out there. I will go dig it up for you first thing in the morning.” “Let us do it tonight.” His voice dropped half an octave. “You are in that much of a rush?” I asked. “The military needs it immediately.” He locked eyes with me, his gaze dark and bottomless. “It concerns highly classified frontline intelligence. We cannot afford to wait a single minute.” I met his stare, my palms slick with sweat. “Alright. Finish your food and I will grab the shovel.” He nodded in satisfaction and picked up his bowl to finish the stew. I stood up and walked toward the back room. The second I turned my back to him, my expression hardened into stone. If this man was not Dominic, then where was my real husband? Three months ago, the Defense Department sent an officer to my door. They told me Dominic went missing during a classified black ops reconnaissance mission. No body was ever recovered. I had washed my face with tears every single day since, truly believing he was gone forever. And now, a counterfeit was sitting at my dining table wearing his skin, demanding a fabricated metal box containing “classified intelligence.” There was only one logical conclusion. Dominic had been captured. He had endured horrific torture. Enemy operatives had broken him down, demanding the location of vital military secrets. He must have held out as long as he could before feeding them this exact lie about the old oak tree, sending them directly into a trap. I just did not know if he was still breathing. The thought of the agony he must have suffered made my chest ache violently. I took a deep breath, stepping into the back room and forcing myself to remain collected. “The water is hot. Do you want to wash your face first?” I called out, feigning casual domesticity. “Sure.” He stood up and walked over to the washbasin. I handed him a towel. He took it and instinctively pinched the back of his own neck to stretch his muscles. My pupils constricted. Even the way his ring finger slightly curled outward when he rubbed his neck was an exact, chilling replica of my husband’s habit. He shrugged off his worn military jacket, revealing the thin white undershirt beneath. Through the sheer fabric, I could clearly see the nasty, coin sized exit wound scar on his left shoulder. I could even see the jagged red burn mark on his ribs, right where Dominic had spilled boiling water years ago. The disguise was terrifyingly flawless. If he had not mentioned that imaginary lockbox, I never would have suspected a thing. How much time, money, and surgical precision had the enemy poured into crafting this perfect clone? They were truly desperate for whatever intelligence Dominic was guarding. 2 “Why are you staring at me like that?” He finished drying his face and turned to me with a half smile. “Just looking at how much weight you lost.” I let my eyes redden. My voice choked up naturally, the tears coming on command. “It is rough out there on the frontlines.” He walked toward me, reaching out to pull me into a hug. I subtly took a half step backward. “We should really wait until tomorrow to dig that up.” His outstretched arms froze midair. “Candy. You are not listening to me.” He stared me down, his voice completely void of warmth. I forced myself to hold his gaze. I pulled a heavy black metal flashlight from my pocket and flicked the switch. Nothing happened. “The flashlight is busted. Bulb must have burned out.” I shook the heavy metal casing, keeping my voice perfectly even. “It is too dark out by the oak tree. I will not be able to see a thing.” He took a step closer, crowding my space. “Do we not have a kerosene lantern?” “Wind is too strong tonight. It will not stay lit.” I stared right back into his suffocating glare. “Why are you acting so frantic? The thing is buried in our own backyard. It is not going to grow legs and run away.” “Fine.” He suddenly smiled, though the warmth never reached his eyes. “We will dig it up in the daylight.” I let out a breath I had been holding, but the cold sweat had already glued my shirt to my spine. I needed to find a way out of this house to alert the authorities. But nearly every able bodied man in the county was deployed. The only two armed reserve deputies stationed in our rural town had been sent to the city to escort supply trucks. They were not scheduled to return until the day after tomorrow. What the hell was I supposed to do against a highly trained enemy operative? My biggest fear was that he would lose his patience in the middle of the night and simply slit my throat. I was not afraid to die. But our twelve year old son, Sam, was coming home from boarding school tomorrow afternoon. I had to protect my boy. “What are you thinking about? You are spacing out.” He suddenly spoke, shattering my train of thought. “Nothing at all.” I turned around to clear the dishes. “Where is Sam?” He sat heavily on the wooden dining chair, asking the question far too casually. My heart skipped a beat. “He is at his boarding school. He comes home tomorrow afternoon.” I tried my hardest to keep my voice flat and unremarkable. “Perfect.” He tapped his fingers rhythmically against the wooden table. “We can dig up the box tomorrow morning and have a proper family reunion.” A violent shudder ripped through me. I realized right then that if I failed to produce that box tomorrow, I was not the only one who was going to die. Sam would be murdered right alongside me. After washing up, he sprawled out arrogantly on the bed in the guest room. He patted the mattress next to him. “Come to bed.” He looked at me with a predatory smirk. I tightened my grip on the sewing scissors hidden up my sleeve. “It is my time of the month. I am a mess, and I do not want to ruin the sheets.” I kept my tone icy. “Plus, your shoulder is injured. I toss and turn in my sleep. I do not want to hurt you.” He narrowed his eyes, openly analyzing me. “Candy. It feels like you are avoiding me.” I squeezed the cold steel hidden in my sleeve until my knuckles ached, but managed to force a bitter, miserable smile onto my face. “Avoiding you?” I grabbed a blanket and pulled it over my lap. “You vanish for two years without a single letter. I have been raising our son alone, living like a widow, dealing with all the vicious gossip in this town. And now you just waltz back in. You do not ask how we survived, you do not care about the hell I have been through. All you care about is some stupid metal box!” A tear dropped perfectly onto the back of my hand. He blinked, taken aback. A fraction of the suspicion bled out of his eyes. “I was just anxious, that is all.” His voice softened into a practiced apology. “Get some sleep. We will take care of it first thing in the morning.” I kept my eyes open until the sun came up. 3 The sky was just beginning to turn grey. The rooster in the neighbor’s yard had just started to crow. He abruptly rolled out of bed, his eyes sharp as daggers. “Sun is up. Let us go get the shovel.” My palms were drenched. I frantically racked my brain for another excuse to stall him. Loud, aggressive pounding suddenly rattled our front door. “Candy! Is it true? Did Dominic really make it back alive?” It was the booming voice of Mrs. Higgins from next door. A massive wave of relief crashed over me. I practically ran to the front door and threw it open like it was a life raft. A massive crowd was gathered outside. Half the town had shown up. A dozen men and women were crowded on my porch, holding fresh eggs, homemade pies, and two massive clay jugs of high proof moonshine. “Dominic is a goddamn local hero! Thank the Lord he made it back in one piece!” The crowd surged into the living room, instantly swarming the imposter. A violent twitch rippled near the corner of his eye. But a second later, he plastered on a flawless, humble smile, shaking hands and greeting the locals. When Mrs. Higgins patted his scarred shoulder and started crying, he comforted her with the exact words my husband would use. This operative had been trained in psychological manipulation. It was terrifying to watch. Seeing my opening, I quickly dragged the large wooden table into the center of the room and set out a dozen heavy ceramic mugs. “Surviving the war calls for a celebration! Nobody is leaving today! We are drinking to Dominic’s safe return!” I cracked the wax seal on the moonshine. The harsh, eye watering smell of cheap, raw alcohol instantly filled the room. It was one hundred and thirty proof homemade liquor. Three glasses of this stuff could knock out a full grown horse. “Dominic, these good people came all this way to see you. You have to give them a proper toast.” I poured a mug to the brim and shoved it right into his chest. He stared down at the alcohol, a flicker of pure malice flashing in his eyes. “Candy, I am still recovering from my injuries. Plus… we still have that chore out by the oak tree.” He lowered his voice so only I could hear. I immediately raised my volume. “Oh come on! What chore is more important than drinking with the folks who kept this town running while you were gone? You are going to break their hearts!” The local men immediately started jeering and cheering. “Yeah! Come on Dominic, do not act like you are too good for us country folks now!” “Drink! Drink! Drink!” Trapped under the eager stares of a dozen locals, he had absolutely no way out. He gritted his teeth, took the heavy mug, and downed it in one long gulp. The harsh liquor instantly flushed his face with an unnatural, burning red. Just then, a voice called out from the front yard. “Mom! I am home!” My heart stopped beating entirely. The crowd parted. A twelve year old boy in a faded school uniform stood in the doorway, a heavy canvas backpack slung over his shoulder. Sam. It had been two years. Ever since Dominic deployed, we sent Sam to the boarding school in the county capital. The boy had not seen his father in twenty four months. Sam stared blankly at the man sitting at the table. The spy froze for a fraction of a second before his training kicked in. His eyes lit up. He threw his arms wide open, his voice thick with fake emotion. “Sam? Look how big you have gotten! Come here and give your old man a hug!” Sam did not move an inch. He stared intently at the face that perfectly matched his memories. He furrowed his brows, then shifted his gaze directly to me. I gripped my apron, looking at the child I carried for nine months with eyes full of absolute, silent pleading. Maybe it was a mother’s intuition connecting with her son. Sam’s furrowed brow suddenly relaxed into a bright grin. He dropped his backpack, marched straight up to the table, and grabbed the second mug of freshly poured moonshine. “Dad! I missed you every single day you were gone!” Sam raised the heavy mug with both hands, his voice ringing loud and clear. “You made it back alive today. I am giving you this toast on behalf of Mom! If you do not drink this, you do not love me!” A flash of extreme, violent irritation crossed the spy’s eyes. But he could not blow his cover in front of the whole town. He took the mug with a forced, painful smile. “Good boy. I will drink to that.” He swallowed it down. Then came the third mug. Then the fourth. The local men took turns stepping up, and Sam stood right beside him, sweetly calling him ‘Dad’ while pouring pure poison down his throat. The operative’s eyes finally began to glass over. He stumbled to his feet, trying to shove his way toward the backyard and the old oak tree. “Candy… the box… go get it…” he slurred, blindly swiping at the air. “Drink up, Dad! One more for the road!” Sam grabbed the man by the shoulder, using his leverage to force another half mug of burning liquor straight into his mouth. The spy coughed violently, staggering backward. Finally. He collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, his upper body crashing heavily onto the wooden table. He did not move another muscle. The living room was still loud and chaotic, but to me, the entire world went completely silent. I stared at his slumped back. I reached out and gave his shoulder a hard shove. Dead to the world. The cold sweat on my back had completely dried, leaving me freezing in my own clothes. Sam walked around the table, stepping close to me and gently tugging on the hem of my shirt. “Mom,” the twelve year old whispered, his eyes suddenly cold and sharp. “Dad swore off alcohol two years ago right before he deployed. The town does not know, but he made a promise to me.” A violent shudder ran through my entire body. I grabbed my son’s hand and squeezed it tight. The tears I had been faking earlier were replaced by real, burning emotion. He was unconscious. It was time for us to strike back.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “421690”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The family trip to the Bahamas was supposed to be a dream vacation. Instead, it turned into a nightmare when I was brutally mugged on the private beach. I woke up paralyzed, my spine shattered and my internal organs severely damaged. My teenage kids cried until their voices went hoarse. They immediately chartered a medical evacuation flight to bring me back to the States, swearing to find the best surgical team money could buy. But as I drifted in the hazy space between consciousness and the heavy sedatives, I heard my daughter, Sophie, whispering to my son, Connor. “It actually worked out, Con. It’s better she’s paralyzed. This way she won’t fight the divorce, and Dad can finally give Audrey the life he promised her.” My son let out a heavy sigh. “Well, Mom always made things so hard for Audrey. Dad said he’d pay for Mom’s care for the rest of her life. We’ve done right by her.” The words hit me like a plunge into freezing water. The violent mugging wasn’t a random tragedy. It was a trap, hand-crafted by the two children I loved more than life itself, all for the sake of their father’s long-time obsession, Audrey. 1 “The patient’s spinal nerves are severely traumatized, and she has multiple organ lacerations. We need to operate immediately with our neurosurgical team, otherwise…” My husband, Wes, cut the doctor off flatly. “Let’s stick to conservative treatment for now.” The doctor looked deeply uncomfortable. “Sir, your wife’s condition is critical. The golden window for nerve repair is incredibly narrow. If we miss it, she might never walk again.” Connor chimed in, perfectly mirroring his father’s grave tone. “Dad, Mom is still so young. We can’t let her spend her whole life in a wheelchair.” “That is exactly where she needs to stay.” Wes’s voice dropped to a vicious whisper. “Audrey has waited for me for twenty years in the shadows. I am not letting her suffer anymore. Only when your mother is permanently out of the picture can I bring Audrey home where she belongs.” He cleared his throat, raising his voice for the medical staff outside. “Just keep her stable with the best pain meds you have!” Lying on that sterile hospital bed, I bit down on my tongue so hard I tasted copper. Tears slid silently down my temples into my hairline. The man who had stood at an altar and promised me forever was carving my heart out with a rusty blade. Everything suddenly made sick, twisted sense. His sudden burst of extreme affection over the last few months wasn’t him turning over a new leaf. He was just keeping me docile, clearing the final hurdles so he could replace me with the woman he actually wanted. And my own flesh and blood, the kids I would have taken a bullet for, were loyal only to a homewrecker. My three most trusted family members had formed a firing squad, and I was the target. The agony in my chest was so suffocating I gasped, triggering a violent coughing fit that felt like broken glass in my lungs. Wes burst through the door instantly. His face was a masterpiece of frantic concern. He wiped away my tears, his voice dripping with honey. “Victoria, sweetheart, are you in pain? Don’t be scared, I’m right here with you.” He stroked my hair with the exact same tenderness he used back when we first fell in love. Wes always deserved an Oscar for playing the devoted husband. Sophie sprinted out to the hallway, her voice frantic. “Nurse! Get my mom the strongest painkillers you have! She cannot suffer like this!” The sheer panic on their faces was flawless. Not a single crack in the facade. They were using this perfect, sickening performance to keep me locked in a cage of lies while they bled me dry. My heart cramped, and my grip on reality began to slip. The doctor rushed in, checking my vitals with practiced efficiency. Wes leaned down, his breath warm against my ear. “Victoria, the trauma is just too severe. I don’t trust these local surgeons. I’ve already pulled strings to fly in a top-tier team from Europe. We’ll wait for them to do the surgery, okay? It’s the safest route.” “I promise you, I will make sure you walk again.” A single, scalding tear escaped my eye. I couldn’t hold back the raspy, broken whisper. “Wes… will I really… stand up again?” His body went rigid for a fraction of a second. His eyes darted away, avoiding my gaze entirely. A moment later, he let out a heavy, theatrical sigh. “Victoria, when have I ever lied to you?” The physical numbness spreading through my limbs was nothing compared to the absolute zero of my dying heart. What else could I do? I closed my eyes, feigning exhaustion. “Okay. Whatever you say.” A relieved smile washed over his face. “That’s my good girl…” But before the words fully left his mouth, the doctor pulled back my hospital gown to inspect the gruesome wounds along my spine. Wes physically recoiled, color draining from his face. “How did she get butchered like this?” 2 The thugs had clearly treated my pain as a sport. They used jagged rocks and steel pipes, leaving a mosaic of bruised, broken flesh across my body. There was barely an inch of unbroken skin on my back. Connor turned his head away, faking nausea. Even the seasoned doctor hissed through his teeth. “Whoever did this had a serious vendetta. Ma’am, grit your teeth. The antiseptic is going to burn…” I shook my head weakly. “It’s fine.” Because the hollow cavity where my heart used to be had already forgotten how to feel pain. While the nurse dressed my lacerations, the muted voices of my kids drifted in from the corridor. “Are we really going to force her to sign over all her corporate shares now?” Sophie asked, her voice tight. “Look at her.” Connor was quiet for a long time. When he finally spoke, his tone was dead and clinical. “We have to. The corporation is an empire Dad and Mom built together. We can’t let her hog all the control. Audrey has waited long enough, she deserves a proper title and a piece of the pie.” Tears blurred the harsh fluorescent lights above me. The nurse froze, her hands hovering. “Did I hurt you, sweetie?” I shook my head. I genuinely couldn’t tell if the raw flesh on my back hurt more than the gaping hole in my soul. The people who were supposed to be my anchor were not only perfectly fine with paralyzing me, but they were also actively plotting to steal the empire I had bled for. Were we a family, or were we mortal enemies locked in a cage? Within the hour, my personal assistant’s number lit up my phone repeatedly. When I finally managed to answer, her panicked voice filled my ear. Rumors were spreading like wildfire through the executive board that the physical trauma had triggered a complete psychotic break. Along with the texts came supposed “evidence” photos of me thrashing around in the hospital bed, looking absolutely unhinged. [If Victoria stays CEO in this state, the company is going straight into the ground!] [I always heard she was mentally fragile under pressure. Guess it’s true.] [Wes has to step up and take over the board right now. For the sake of the shareholders!] Every single message was a dagger twisting in my gut. My whole body seized in a violent tremor. Sophie rushed into the room, snatching the phone from my weak grip with a look of profound pity. “Mom, stop looking at that garbage. It’s just internet trolls.” Wes was already on his own phone, barking orders with righteous fury. “Find out who leaked this! I want heads rolling by morning!” Connor stood by my bed, his face a portrait of righteous guilt. “I’ve already got the PR team working on crisis management. Don’t worry, Mom. As long as we’re here, nobody is going to touch you.” Their synchronized routine was a masterclass in manipulation. Not a single missed cue. It made me want to vomit. Wes crouched down so we were eye to eye, his gaze intensely genuine. “Victoria, no matter what storms come our way, you will always be the love of my life.” Sophie nodded fiercely. “We love you so much, Mom!” The corporate PR fire was quickly put out online. But the poison had already seeped into the boardroom. My reputation as the ruthless, untouchable corporate queen was in ashes. Even if my body miraculously healed, they had ensured I could never reclaim my throne. Let alone walk back into the sunlight. The lead physician returned with my final scan results, his expression grim. “The spinal damage is extensive and likely irreversible. We’re seeing multi-organ stress, and the nervous system is…” He hesitated, taking a deep breath. “The most pressing issue is a subdural hematoma pressing against her cerebral cortex. If the bleeding doesn’t stop, she could face permanent cognitive impairment.” Wes looked like he had been struck by lightning. “Cognitive impairment? You mean brain damage?” Sophie’s eyes welled with perfectly timed tears. “No… how could this happen?” They were thorough. They had orchestrated the perfect hit to shatter me both physically and mentally. That pristine, white sand beach was going to be the cage I rotted in forever. “Doctor, I don’t care what it costs,” Wes demanded, his voice thick with emotion. “You do whatever it takes to fix my wife!” “We will do everything medically possible,” the doctor promised. Wes, a man who built his career on stoic ruthlessness, openly broke down in tears beside my bed. “Stay with me, Victoria. I am never giving up on you!” I didn’t believe a single syllable. Once the room finally emptied out, I dragged my heavy, unresponsive hand toward the hidden panic button taped under the mattress rail. “This is Victoria. Initiate protocol Omega. Now.” Thirty minutes later, Wes rushed back in, his voice cracking. “Victoria, you’re awake? God, I was losing my mind, I thought we lost you…” He buried his face in my neck, practically suffocating me with his embrace. “I am not letting anything else happen to you!” As he pulled away, he shot Sophie a very specific, sharp look. She instantly whipped out her phone, gasping in manufactured delight. “Mom! That elite surgical team I called? They just boarded a private jet from London. They said there is absolute hope for your case! We’re getting you into surgery the second they land!” I stared at their lying faces, my own expression entirely hollow. They were only acting proactive now because they realized a brain-damaged wife would be useless to them. I needed to be somewhat lucid to legally sign over my assets to Audrey. I didn’t need their cheap, calculated mercy. 3 “Wes, just let it go.” He gripped the bed rails, his eyes wide. “Victoria, what are you talking about? This surgery is your only shot. If we don’t do this, you’re looking at a lifetime of paralysis and dementia.” I slowly shook my head. I was entirely past the point of caring. He opened his mouth to argue, but Connor pushed the door open, his face practically glowing. “Dad, Audrey is here.” Wes couldn’t suppress the flash of raw joy in his eyes. “Victoria, Audrey came to see you. Let me help you sit up.” He didn’t care that moving me sent blinding pain shooting up my spine. He cranked the bed up roughly, forcing me upright. My stomach churned with cold disgust. Audrey. The precious, untouchable ghost who had haunted my marriage for two decades. Wes had hidden her brilliantly. I only discovered her existence a few months ago when I intercepted a private email server. In their twisted little narrative, Audrey was a fragile, kind-hearted saint. Why would a saint come to visit the woman she was actively replacing? “Victoria, my god, are you okay? Wes and the kids have been absolute wrecks. I just had to come check on you.” Audrey floated into the room, a picture of delicate, helpless concern. My eyes immediately dropped to the potted plant in her hands. A sprawling, heavily thorned cactus. The universally understood symbol for isolation. For being untouchable and alone. Catching my stare, Audrey offered a sheepish, apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry, Victoria. I rushed over so fast, this was the only thing the hospital florist had left. People say cacti ward off bad energy. I hope you don’t mind.” She turned her doe eyes toward my husband. “Actually… Wes, could I grab a minute alone with Victoria?” She played the sweet, non-threatening angel flawlessly. Wes, naturally, melted. “Of course. Try to keep her spirits up.” The literal second the door clicked shut behind them, Audrey’s fragile mask vaporized. She stood over my bed, her eyes sweeping over my broken body with naked, euphoric triumph. “Who would have thought the great, terrifying CEO Victoria would end up a pathetic piece of meat strapped to a bed.” I met her gaze, my voice like crushed ice. “At least I’m not a cheap mistress spending her best years rotting in the shadows.” Her face twitched, a flash of ugly rage breaking through. “Call me whatever you want! I’m the one Wes actually loves!” “If he loved you that much, you wouldn’t have spent twenty years being my dirty little secret.” Audrey’s features contorted before settling into a cruel, jagged smirk. “You really don’t get it, do you, Victoria? Wes signed off on the kids’ little ‘accident’ plan. They were the ones who recorded your psychotic hospital freak-out and leaked it to your board.” She leaned in closer, dropping her voice to a venomous whisper. “And while those men were having their fun breaking your bones on that beach, while you were screaming into your phone begging your family for help? They were taking a lovely evening stroll with me.” “To them, Victoria, you are worth less than the dirt on my shoes.” Even though I had pieced it together, hearing the sheer brutality of it spoken aloud made my chest cave in. Audrey’s eyes glittered with malice. “If I were you, I’d just pull the plug. Do yourself a favor and hand over the title of ‘wife’ and the company shares peacefully…” She crossed her arms, waiting for me to shatter. To scream and cry. But my heart had already been reduced to ash. You can’t kill something that’s already dead. “You want it all? Take it. You can have the trash I’m done with.” Audrey let out a high, grating laugh. “Oh, you don’t even know the half of it. The board has already restructured. Wes has absolute controlling interest now. And you… you get to be a crippled vegetable for the rest of your miserable life.” “But honestly… that’s not enough for me. I want Wes and the kids to actively despise you.” Before I could process her words, she took two steps backward and violently slammed her own forehead into the sharp metal corner of my medical cart. Blood instantly poured down her face. As she collapsed to the floor, she hissed one final thing at me. “By the way, Wes only wanted you a little banged up. I’m the one who paid the thugs extra to make sure you wished you were dead.” I stared down at her, every ounce of sorrow vaporizing, leaving behind nothing but cold, absolute absolute malice. A second later, Audrey let out a bloodcurdling, theatrical scream that echoed down the hallway. Wes smashed the door open, shoving a massive heart monitor out of the way to dive onto the floor next to her. “Audrey! Oh my god, what happened?!” Connor and Sophie sprinted in right behind him, instantly screaming for my doctors to come save Audrey. Their entire universe revolved around the woman bleeding on the floor. Not a single one of them noticed that Wes had violently shoved the heavy heart monitor directly onto my broken arm, reopening my surgical stitches. Blood was soaking through my sheets. Audrey clutched her forehead, sobbing hysterically. “Don’t be mad at Victoria! It was my fault, I said the wrong thing and triggered her! Victoria, I’m so sorry, please don’t hurt yourself anymore…” Wes’s face morphed into a mask of pure, unadulterated hatred. He glared at me like I was a monster. “Audrey came here out of the goodness of her heart to comfort you, and you actually assault her?! You ungrateful bitch!” Connor looked at me with profound disgust. “You really have gone insane, Mom. You deserve exactly what you got. If Audrey needs stitches, I swear to God I will never forgive you.” They scooped her off the floor and rushed out of the room, leaving a trail of her blood behind. They didn’t look back once. Good. Let this be the end. The next time we cross paths, it will be a bloodbath. Wes dragged Audrey through every scan the hospital offered, only remembering I existed when the doctors confirmed she just had a superficial cut that wouldn’t even scar. I heard him tell Sophie in the hallway, “Go buy your mother some of that overpriced organic soup she likes. I was a little harsh earlier, she’s probably throwing a pity party.” Ten minutes later, Wes’s phone rang. It was Sophie. “Dad! Mom is gone! She left a letter from a massive corporate law firm on the bed! And Dad… our stock is tanking. A shell corporation just launched a massive hostile takeover of our entire firm!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “421706”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

At our company gala, Felix, the three-year sales champion, stood stunned under the spotlight. The prize he had just drawn left the room in shock: the boss’s wife. Panic flooded his face. He insisted it was a sick joke and shot me a desperate look. I walked on stage, patted his shoulder, and told him it was a gift I had prepared just for him. A heavy silence fell. Felix stood frozen, trembling. He begged me to stop joking, saying it would kill him. I calmly straightened his tie, feeling his racing pulse. I said I wasn’t joking. He was my best employee, and that was why I was rewarding him with my wife. Long before the gala, my wife Serena had already prepared his bonus: a villa, a Porsche, and a million in cash. When I joked if she wanted to give him the company too, she just frowned and told me to be more generous. I smiled and said nothing. 1 The suffocating silence in the room was suddenly sliced open. “Victor… Blackwood…” The sharp clatter of Serena’s stiletto heels parted the crowd like Moses parting the sea. She wore a stunning crimson evening gown, looking like a violent spark of fire burning its way straight toward the stage. “There is a limit to your twisted sense of humor!” She raised a hand, pointing a trembling finger so close to my face it almost grazed my eye. “Apologize to Felix. Apologize to me. Right now!” I lowered my gaze, landing on the emerald bracelet wrapped around her slender wrist. I had won it at a Sotheby’s auction for our anniversary last year. The piece was called Eternity. I used to believe that the love between us would live up to the name of those jewels. I thought we would grow old together. But yesterday, when I discovered the little “bonus” Serena had prepared for our top salesman behind my back, I realized that our marriage had long been shattered beyond repair in the places I couldn’t see. “I wasn’t joking.” I shifted my weight, taking a half-step back to let the spotlight fully illuminate Serena. “A luxury villa, a Porsche… I can afford to give away all of that. So why not throw in the boss’s wife?” A collective gasp rippled through the hall. Dozens of people subtly pulled out their phones. “Wait, hasn’t Mr. Blackwood always treated his wife like royalty? What’s going on…” “Is the boss actually joking, or is he just trying to put Felix in his place?” Felix took a stumbling step backward, his eyes clouded with raw, unfiltered fear. Serena’s pupils dilated. The vivid red of her dress only made the sudden, sickly pallor of her face more obvious. “Victor, have you completely lost your mind?” I chuckled softly. I reached out and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, my voice as tender as if I were coaxing a child. “Don’t worry about the logistics. The divorce papers will be waiting on your desk right after the gala.” “From today on, you belong to him.” “And the company belongs to me.” Standing under the harsh glare of the stage lights, the last trace of color vanished from Serena’s face. When she spoke again, her voice was absolute ice. “Are you done putting on a show, Victor?” She took a step forward, the heavy thud of her heels echoing over the plush carpet. “If you don’t want to pay out the year-end bonuses, just say it. Using me as a human shield? Do you think everyone in this room is stupid?” The crowd blinked in collective realization. A murmur of agreement swept through the room, as if my dramatic stunt was genuinely just a billionaire’s cheap trick to avoid writing checks to our hardest worker. Whispers erupted into open chatter. “Yeah, Felix single-handedly brought in more than half the department’s revenue this year. Anyone else would get a massive payout.” “The boss promised performance-based bonuses for everyone. Is he backing out now?” “Using his own wife as a lottery prize is insane. He’s obviously just trying to humiliate Felix to save a buck.” I let my gaze sweep across the room. It was like dragging the dull edge of a blade over their throats. The whispers died instantly. But at that exact moment, Felix dropped to his knees with a loud thud. “Boss!” He pressed his forehead to the stage floor, the absolute picture of a broken, desperate man. “If I messed up a contract, if I offended a VIP, just tell me! I’ll take any punishment you dish out. But please, don’t make jokes about Serena!” “If you don’t want to pay my bonus, keep it. I don’t want a dime. Just please don’t humiliate me like this.” “I have elderly parents to take care of, Mr. Blackwood! I can’t afford to lose this job!” Serena immediately seized the moment, her voice ringing out loud and clear. “Listen to that, Victor. Even your employees know more about loyalty and gratitude than you do. You’re afraid of paying them? Fine. Sign over your shares. I’ll pay them out of my own pocket. From this moment on, you don’t deserve to sit in the CEO’s chair.” She spun around to face the massive crowd of employees. “Listen to me, everyone! Whoever wants to follow me, stand on this side of the room. Your year-end bonuses? I’ll double them.” The banquet hall plunged into a deathly stillness. Then came the chaotic scraping of chairs. A few junior girls from the marketing department stood up first. The Director of Operations hesitated for a fraction of a second before kicking his chair back and walking over. Even Gary, the incredibly laid-back night security guard, let out a heavy sigh, unclipped his ID badge, and gently set it on his table before crossing the floor. The crowd slowly pooled behind Serena like a rising tide. I did the math in my head. Two-thirds of the company. The remaining third consisted of the core veterans from the tech and supply chain departments. I felt a flicker of genuine warmth knowing they were standing their ground for me. I looked down and let out a soft laugh. “Serena,” I said, casually brushing a speck of imaginary dust off my tailored suit cuff. “Are you seriously trying to stage a corporate coup right now?” A cold, calculating smirk touched the corners of her lips. “Victor, you’re a greedy, penny-pinching tyrant. You have zero appreciation for the blood and sweat these people pour into your company. All you want is to bleed them dry.” “You don’t deserve to be a leader.” Thunderous applause broke out from her side of the room the second she finished. “We stand with Serena!” I leveled a freezing glare at the traitors cheering behind her. “Do you honestly believe I’ve treated you poorly? Who do you think signed the checks for the bonuses you’re already holding?” “You’re going to bite the hand that feeds you for this woman?” Felix was still trembling on his knees. Serena reached down and gripped him firmly by the wrist. “Get up.” Her tone wasn’t loud, but it carried the manufactured authority of a queen holding court. “From today on, you work for me. I always keep my promises. The villa, the Porsche, the cash bonus… you’ll get every single penny.” Focus slowly returned to Felix’s terrified eyes. He stole a quick, calculating glance at me from the corner of his eye to make sure I wasn’t going to physically stop him. Then, using Serena’s grip for leverage, he straightened his spine inch by inch. The moment he was standing tall, it was as if Serena had injected him with pure adrenaline. His voice boomed loud enough to rattle the chandeliers. “Listen up, everyone! I’ve been at Blackwood Corp for five years. I went from a street-level cold-caller to a three-time champion. And I didn’t do it on luck. I did it because Serena gave me the resources. She had my back!” “Today, the boss treated his own wife like a carnival prize to make a fool out of me. I can take the hit. But you all saw it… even his wife can’t stomach his behavior anymore.” “Who in their right mind wants to keep working for a man who goes back on his word and uses his own family as bargaining chips?” He aggressively pointed a finger at me, leaning in so close I could smell the stale wine on his breath. “I’m putting it all on the line right now. Anyone who follows Serena, step over here. She’s signing the checks tonight, and they’re doubled. Anyone who stays behind with this cheapskate can stick around and see what kind of twisted lottery game he plays with your lives next year!” It was like he had tossed a live grenade into the crowd. The team leader of Sales Division Two slammed his wine glass onto the table, shattering it, and marched over. A young girl from accounting hugged her folders to her chest, jogged halfway across the room, then stopped to bow deeply to me before joining the defectors. Even the stoic manager of the supply chain sighed, his fingers lingering on his name tag before he finally pulled it off. Serena watched her new empire rapidly expand, her red lips curving upward like a drawn blade. She raised a hand, calling for silence. The applause, the footsteps, the nervous whispers were instantly snuffed out. “Victor…” She looked at me from a place of absolute, condescending superiority, staring down like I was an animal trapped in a snare. “Do you see it now? Once people lose faith in you, you can never buy it back.” I shrugged, not even bothering to offer a verbal response. Assuming she had won my submission, she pushed her advantage, stepping right up to the very edge of the stage. The harsh lighting stretched her shadow across the floor, making it look like a spear pointed directly at my throat. “I’m giving you two choices.” “Choice one. You hand over the company seals, the corporate legal documents, and the equity transfers. Right now. If I’m in a good mood, I might leave you five percent so you can at least afford a decent tie with your annual dividends.” “Choice two…” She paused, relishing her victory. “I call an emergency shareholder meeting tomorrow morning. I initiate a special resolution and strip you of your Chairman and CEO titles.” “Oh, and while we’re at it, sign the divorce papers. I’ll make sure it explicitly states that the husband committed major marital faults. Don’t worry, I won’t let you keep a single dime.” “So, Victor. Pick one.” Down in the crowd, her newly formed army chanted in perfect, deafening unison. “Step down! Step down! Step down!” The sound vibrated so hard the crystal fixtures above us shook. I looked down, slowly and methodically unfastening my cufflinks. When I looked back up, I raised a single finger, wagging it gently in her direction. “Serena, I think you’ve fundamentally misunderstood how this works.” My gaze drifted past her, past Felix’s smug face, past the sea of traitors chanting for my head. “I built this company from the ground up with my own two hands. I’m not begging anyone to stay. I’m the one who decides who gets to stay, and only those people get a slice of my pie.” Serena’s face twisted with disgust. “You’ve lost the entire room, Victor. Are you seriously still trying to act tough?” I didn’t answer her. Instead, I smiled, reaching into my suit pocket and pulling out a sleek black USB drive. “Ladies and gentlemen, weren’t you all dying to know why I decided to give my wife away to an employee?” I casually spun the flash drive between my fingers. “Everything will make perfect sense once you watch this.” “He’s bluffing!” Serena’s face darkened as she screamed at the crowd. “Victor, if you dare project whatever fake garbage you’ve doctored onto that screen, my legal team will sue you into oblivion for defamation and slander tomorrow morning. I will see you rot in a cell.” Her followers nodded in fierce agreement. Felix stepped up beside her, his eyes rimmed red, playing the part of the tragic victim pushed to the brink. “Don’t let him fool you with that flash drive, everyone!” He bowed deeply to the audience, then spun around to point at me, his voice choking with perfectly acted emotion. “Three years ago, I accompanied Mr. Blackwood to Miami to close a massive client. At eleven at night, he called me up to deliver an urgent contract to his penthouse suite. When the door opened, a woman walked out. And it wasn’t Serena. I was so terrified of what he would do to me that I bought a red-eye flight back that very night. The next day, he slashed my entire annual commission, claiming I had ‘mishandled client relations’.” “And that’s not all. Last September, I saw him with my own eyes making out with an Instagram model in the underground parking garage. I kept my mouth shut because I was terrified of retaliation. The man is willing to use his own wife as a lottery prize tonight! Is there anything he isn’t capable of?” The moment his speech ended, a hundred camera lenses zeroed in on my face. I looked down, smiling to myself as I re-buttoned my cuff. “Felix, it’s a genuine tragedy you aren’t writing screenplays in Hollywood. You have quite the imagination… It’s just a shame every word of it is garbage.” I held up the USB drive, pointing it toward the media console at the front of the stage. “Give me three minutes. I guarantee every single one of you will look at me very differently when it’s over.” “Don’t you dare!” Serena stomped her heel so hard it sounded like the stage floor cracked. “My grandfather is on his way right now! If you play that, you’re dead!” “Your grandfather?” I raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. “Didn’t you tell me the old man was resting at a clinic in the Swiss Alps until next week?” She choked on her words, her face flashing between sickly green and pale white. I sneered, turning my back to her and pressing the USB drive against the port. “Stop right there!” An old, raspy, yet overwhelmingly authoritative voice echoed from the fire exit at the very back of the hall. The crowd parted as if pushed aside by an invisible force, creating a perfectly straight path. Arthur Garrison. Sixty-eight years old. The absolute patriarch and founding pillar of the Garrison Group. He leaned heavily on a blackwood cane, dressed in a sharp, slate-grey tailored suit. I paused my hand and offered the old man a brief, respectful nod. “Arthur. You’re a bit early. We’re just getting to the climax of the show.” Serena looked like a drowning woman who had just been thrown a life raft. She rushed toward him, her voice melting into sickening sweetness. “Grandpa! Why are you here? Your health…” “If I didn’t come, you two would have burned the Garrison name to ash tonight!” The old man cut her off ruthlessly. But his eyes bypassed her entirely, locking directly onto me. Or more accurately, onto the flash drive in my hand. “Victor,” he said, his voice quiet but carrying the heavy grit of a man who had survived decades of corporate warfare. “Do me a personal favor. Don’t play it.” I smiled politely. “Arthur, I’m more than happy to give you the respect you deserve. But did either of them ever show me an ounce of respect?” “If you hit play right now, you are declaring war on the entire Garrison family.” “If the Garrison family is willing to be reasonable, I’ll gladly play nice.” I met his gaze dead on. The tension in the air was so thick it was hard to breathe. Suddenly, the old man handed his cane to his massive bodyguard. He raised his empty hands and clasped them together, bowing his head slightly toward me. It wasn’t a gesture from an elder to a junior. It was an equal-to-equal show of surrender. “Victor, I know exactly what is on that drive. Better than you do.” The entire room erupted into shocked whispers. Serena’s head whipped around, her eyes wide with terror. “Grandpa?” Arthur ignored his granddaughter, keeping his eyes fixed on me. “Give me ten minutes. I will tell everyone in this room the real story. When I’m done, if you still want to play the video… I will click the mouse myself.” He paused, his voice dropping into a register of old, unhealed grief. “Half the sins on that drive… belong to me.” I stayed silent for two long seconds. Then, I pulled the drive away from the port and slipped it into my pocket. “Fine. Ten minutes. But when the time is up, if anyone tries to stop me again, I’m burning this whole place to the ground.” I waved a hand at the tech booth, signaling the spotlight to shift onto the old patriarch. Arthur Garrison walked slowly to the center of the stage, taking the microphone. His shadow stretched long across the room, looking like a crumbling mountain. Serena tried to grab his arm to support him. He shoved her away. Felix opened his mouth to speak. Arthur silenced him with a single, lethal glare. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Arthur’s raspy voice boomed over the speakers. “Ten years ago, the Garrison Group’s supply chain collapsed. We were bankrupt. I was the one who practically gift-wrapped my own granddaughter and handed her to Victor Blackwood.” “Grandpa!” Serena cried out. He raised a hand, ordering her to shut up, and continued. “I told her to secure Victor’s affections by any means necessary, to get her hands on the capital we needed to survive. The money came through. Garrison Group lived. But from day one, this marriage was nothing but a transactional farce.” “I owe Victor. The Garrison family owes Victor. Tonight, he humiliated my granddaughter by offering her up as a prize. It’s a slap in the face to the Garrison name. It’s a slap to my face.” “But to be entirely honest, I threw my own dignity away ten years ago.” In the massive hall, even the clicking of smartphone cameras had stopped. I stood in the wings, my thumb running over the smooth metal casing of the USB drive. Suddenly, it felt incredibly heavy. When the old man finished speaking, he turned to face me. His eyes were like a stagnant pool of dead water. “Your ten minutes are up, Victor. The mouse is yours. Click it or don’t. It’s up to you.” “But remember one thing.” “If you tear her down tonight, you aren’t just destroying Serena. You’re destroying the very company you personally saved ten years ago.” I looked down. I pulled the drive from my pocket and jammed it securely into the media port. The tiny blue indicator light pulsed to life. I hovered my finger over the ‘Play’ icon. “Arthur, don’t blame me for not giving you face. Blame Serena for crossing the line.” “Victor!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “421691”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I have an ugly scar across my face. The older kids at the orphanage called me a monster. They tied me to an oak tree in the yard and smeared superglue directly into my scar. I didn’t dare to cry, because Mrs. Higgins, the matron, hated ugly kids who misbehaved. I wished upon every star, praying for the day my father would finally come and take me home. But when he finally did, there was already another little girl taking my place. My brother, Cole, blamed me for stealing her spot. He forced me to kneel on the floor on all fours, using my back as her personal footstool. If she so much as whispered that I was bullying her, my father wouldn’t hesitate to slap me across the face. “I should have left you to rot in that orphanage.” Later, when I was diagnosed with a terminal illness and was actually sent back to the orphanage, my father came looking for me, choking back tears. “I’m so sorry, Riley. Please, let’s go home.” But Daddy, bad kids who nobody loves don’t have a home. … “Stay down! If you make Patrika fall, I swear I’ll make you regret it!” I was kneeling on the hardwood floor right next to Patrika’s luxurious princess bed. It was the only spot in the room without a plush rug. The hard wood dug painfully into my bony knees. Cole gently held Patrika’s hands as she stepped up onto my back. “Riley is too skinny. It hurts my feet to step on her…” she complained softly. I never had enough to eat at the orphanage. I was five years old, but I was smaller and more fragile than a typical three-year-old. Patrika was entirely different. She was fiercely protected and pampered by my father and Cole, her cheeks round and rosy. Just her weight pressing down on my spine made me wobble. My bones cracked under the pressure. It hurt. But it didn’t hurt as much as being beaten by the other kids back at the orphanage. They used to take sharp pocket knives and trace the jagged edges of my ugly scar. Then they would pour superglue into the fresh cuts. They would stuff a filthy, wet rag into my mouth so no one could hear my muffled screams. Back then, I used to tell myself: It’ll be okay once Riley has a real family. They’ll definitely protect me. But the more I thought about it now, the more my chest ached. It felt just like the superglue pulling at my skin. I accidentally swayed under Patrika’s weight. Cole immediately smacked the back of my head. “Watch it!” “You already killed Mom, are you trying to break Patrika’s legs now?” “Patrika isn’t like you. She’s delicate. If she gets a single scratch, Dad will walk out of a board meeting to check on her. Know your place!” I stuttered out a frantic apology. “I’m sorry. It’s Riley’s fault.” The very first day I came home. Cole told me that when I was just learning to crawl, I accidentally knocked over a lit candle. To save me, my mother was burned alive in the ensuing house fire. And I simply vanished. He had shoved me to the ground, pointing a furious finger right in my face. “You should be dead. What right do you have to kill Mom and then just waltz back into this house?” I sat frozen on the floor. The wounds the orphanage kids had dug into my face tore open again. Tears welled up in my eyes. But I forced them back. I couldn’t cry. Mrs. Higgins always said ugly monsters like me didn’t deserve to cry. Only children who were loved had the right to shed tears. Besides, I was the murderer who killed my own mother. So if it hurt this much, it meant Mommy was angry in heaven, punishing me for being a bad kid. The butler suddenly announced from the hallway: “Young Master, Miss Patrika, Mr. George is home.” Patrika picked up the edges of her frilly dress and squealed, running out of the room to greet him. “Daddy!” Cole followed closely behind, his voice full of exasperated affection. “Slow down, Patrika, don’t trip!” The butler watched me as I stiffly tried to push myself up off the floor. A deep look of disgust flashed across his eyes. “Mr. George hates tardiness. Move faster.” I finally got my feet under me. The blinding pain in my knees made it impossible to stand up straight. As I swayed, about to fall, I reached out to grab something to steady myself. But as my hand brushed toward the butler’s sleeve, he aggressively stepped back. He watched with cold, dead eyes as I crashed heavily onto the floor. “Miss Riley, I might be the hired help, but I still have standards for cleanliness.” I didn’t fully understand what his words meant. But the look in his eyes told me exactly what I needed to know. He hated me. He thought I was filthy. I forced a dry, raspy apology out of my throat. It was a survival reflex I learned at the orphanage. As long as I apologized, the beatings wouldn’t last as long. By the time I limped my way into the grand dining room. They were already halfway through their meal. My father glared at me, his voice freezing cold. “Riley George. Why are you incapable of being on time?” 2 The last time I was late, Cole and Patrika had locked me in the basement storage room. I wasn’t found until the maids heard me scratching at the door the following evening. I missed two dinners that time. The time before that, Cole had zipped me into a large suitcase. I nearly suffocated to death, so naturally, I missed dinner then, too. This time, my knees were bruised black and blue, swollen so badly that every step felt like walking on broken glass. I really tried my best to get here quickly. I didn’t want Daddy to be angry. And I really didn’t want to be thrown away and sent back to the orphanage. “I’m sorry, Daddy. Riley just…” Before I could finish, Cole cut me off sharply. “I don’t care what your excuse is. The George family eats dinner exactly on time. Do you understand?” I froze for a second. Cole didn’t want Daddy to know about the games he liked to play with me. I didn’t say another word and quietly climbed into my chair. The plates in front of me were piled high with expensive seafood. I had eaten a single shrimp once at the orphanage. Immediately after, my entire body broke out in angry, red hives. One of the teachers there told me I had a severe seafood allergy. She said if it got bad enough, I would go to heaven. Seeing that I hadn’t picked up my fork, Patrika’s eyes filled with tears. “Riley, are you refusing to eat because you hate me?” “I know… I know you feel like I stole your place… I can leave.” I didn’t mean that at all! I opened my mouth to explain, but my father’s icy words stabbed straight into my chest. “Riley. If you aren’t going to eat, get out of my sight!” He pulled Patrika onto his lap, comforting her while handing her a stack of brightly colored gift boxes I had never seen before. “This is your home, sweetheart. Nobody is making you leave.” “You are my daughter. Don’t cry.” His gentle, coaxing tone was exactly what I had always dreamed of hearing. But the girl in his arms wasn’t me. My heart felt like it was being pinched by a crab’s claws. Even breathing hurt. I clutched my chest. I silently mouthed: Daddy, I think my heart is allergic to you. I didn’t know how much time had passed. The basement door clicked open. The butler handed me a small, plain bowl of porridge. “Mr. George was worried you’d be hungry. He sent this down for you.” I took the bowl numbly, instinct taking over. “Thank you.” By the time the words left my mouth, the door was already locked again. Daddy really did care about me! The warmth of the bowl radiating into my palms made my chest feel full. I had never eaten a hot meal at the orphanage. The older kids always forced me to eat their cold, discarded scraps. Since coming home, I was always locked away during dinner. I was never allowed to eat breakfast or lunch with them during the day. I wolfed down the sweet, warm porridge as fast as I could. Tears threatened to spill from my eyes. I felt so happy. I was so incredibly happy… I scraped the bowl completely clean. My little stomach was perfectly round and full. But it didn’t take long. Angry red hives erupted across my arms and chest. My throat began to swell rapidly. Patrika stepped into the basement, a sweet smile on her face. “I was worried you’d still be hungry, so I asked the chef to mix some scallop broth into your porridge. Was it yummy, Riley?” I couldn’t stand up straight. I collapsed onto the concrete floor. “Patrika… Riley needs to go to the hospital…” My voice was barely a raspy squeak. Cole let out a cruel, mocking laugh from behind her. “Stop being so dramatic. You need a hospital because you ate a bowl of rice?” “Since you’re full now, get up and play with Patrika.” He tied two thick ropes to a rafter in the basement. He tied one rope around my ankles, hoisting me up until I was hanging upside down, and forced me to grip the other rope tightly with both hands. “Patrika wants to go on the swings. You better hold on tight. If you drop her, you’re dead!” The hives covering my body burned and itched violently. I wanted to beg them to stop, but my throat was swelling so fast I couldn’t pull air, let alone speak. All I could manage were pathetic, muffled whimpers. “Shut up! Stop making those annoying noises.” Cole lifted Patrika up and placed her sitting directly on my stomach. The sudden, crushing weight made my sweaty hands slip against the coarse rope. The next second, Cole pushed Patrika hard from behind. My body swung wildly into the air. My vision began to blur and go black in patches. The single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling pierced my eyes. I thought I saw my mother standing in the light. If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be alive. You deserve this, Riley. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Mommy. The tears I had held back for so long finally broke. Patrika’s joyful giggles echoed louder than my quiet sobs. With every single cheer that left her mouth. My body and my heart splintered a little more. If people go to heaven when they die. Then a bad kid like me would definitely be going to hell. 3 I lost track of time. The butler’s voice echoed down the stairs. “Mr. George is home.” I was already completely numb to the pain. The coarse rope had shredded the skin on my palms, leaving them slick with blood. But I didn’t dare let go. I was terrified that if Patrika fell, she would get hurt. When my father walked down the stairs. Patrika viciously dug her fingernails into the back of my hand. The sudden, blinding pain caused my fingers to reflexively pop open. She instantly tumbled to the floor, scraping her knee. “Patrika! Are you okay?!” Cole rushed forward in a panic, pulling her up. My father rushed past me, immediately kneeling down to inspect her microscopic scratch. I was still hanging upside down from the rafters. Watching this beautiful, loving family moment made my eyes sting with fresh tears. “What on earth happened here?” My father barked orders at the maids to bring the first-aid kit. While carefully disinfecting her scratch, he demanded answers. Patrika stayed quiet for a moment, before finally letting out a devastated sob, acting as if she couldn’t hold back the injustice any longer. “Daddy… Riley was bullying me.” “She intentionally dropped me on the hard floor. It hurts so much…” Since the day she arrived, she had been treated like a porcelain doll. She had never known a day of pain. The moment she cried, my father’s heart broke. He finally ordered the butler to cut me down. Before my feet were even firmly on the ground, a heavy hand struck me across the face. The force sent me violently crashing back onto the floor. I stared up at him, forcing air through my constricted throat. “Daddy… I hurt too…” “I… I have hives…” But I forgot. My face was already a mangled mess of ugly, raised scar tissue. The hives were completely invisible underneath the damage. My father’s expression darkened into something truly terrifying. “Not only are you a pathological liar, but you’re a vicious bully too?” “Riley, I should have let you rot in that orphanage.” So it was true. Daddy hated me too. Cole stuck his tongue out at me, mocking me. “Serves you right. Hurry up and get sent back to the trash where you belong!” They carried Patrika upstairs, leaving me alone in the dark. I slowly pushed myself off the floor. I noticed a crushed ring of wildflowers lying near the staircase. Next to it were a few dried leaves I had pressed into bookmarks. I had spent weeks at the orphanage secretly collecting them, saving them so I could give them to my new family as gifts when I finally came home. But someone had trampled them. I carefully picked up the crushed pieces. Staring at the empty staircase where they had disappeared, the tears wouldn’t stop falling. The single, fraying thread in my mind that commanded me to be a good girl finally snapped. I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I scrambled up the stairs, chasing after them. “Daddy… Cole…” “Please don’t throw Riley away… Riley knows she was bad…” I screamed until my vocal cords bled. But my voice was entirely drowned out by the roar of the luxury SUV’s engine starting in the driveway. The car accelerated toward the front gates, and no matter how fast my little legs ran, I couldn’t catch them. Inside the car, the driver glanced at the rearview mirror. “Mr. George, Miss Riley is chasing the car…” My father looked in the mirror, then looked down at Patrika, who was still whimpering softly in his arms. His voice was like ice. “Ignore her.” Drip… The sky opened up, pouring heavy, freezing rain. I wiped my face with the back of my hand. When I looked down, my hand was smeared with bright red. I wiped my face again. Blood. It was all blood. I read in a picture book once that if you lose too much blood, you die. Mommy, this must be what bad kids get. I collapsed onto the wet pavement. The crushed flowers and leaves were washed away in the muddy puddles, completely destroyed. Just like my heart. When I woke up again. I heard my father talking to a doctor outside the hospital room door. “The little girl’s condition is catastrophic.” “The anaphylactic shock nearly killed her, and her body is covered in both old, healed fractures and fresh lacerations…” “But the most critical issue is the tumor growing in her brain. She likely only has a few months left to live.” My father’s voice was hoarse, trembling slightly. “Are you telling me… my daughter has terminal cancer?” So it was true. I really was going to die soon. I slid out of the hospital bed and quietly sneaked out the back stairwell. If Daddy wanted me to go back to the orphanage. Then I would go back. Before I left, I scribbled a note on a scrap of paper. Just like the day I was born, I disappeared without making a sound. When I showed up at the orphanage gates, Mrs. Higgins sneered. “Look who’s crawling back.” “Did your rich daddy finally figure out he didn’t want you?” I gripped the hem of my thin hospital gown, the rough fabric digging into my bloody palms. “No. Riley decided she didn’t want them anymore.” The older kids erupted into vicious, mocking laughter. “Who do you think you are?” “You got thrown away because you’re a hideous freak!” I didn’t even see who threw the first punch. Fists and slaps rained down on my face and body. I should have been completely used to this. So why did it hurt so much this time? It hurt so much I couldn’t stop crying. Riley doesn’t want to be thrown away. Riley doesn’t want to die. Riley isn’t a bad kid. My face was slick with fresh blood. Just as my knees gave out, I was caught in a pair of strong, unfamiliar arms. My father, his eyes bloodshot and blazing with rage, roared at Mrs. Higgins. “Is this how you take care of my daughter?!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “421707”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My daughter and I were in a terrible car accident that left us with total amnesia. Instead of staying to care for us, my wife, a psychiatrist, traveled the world with her depressed ex and his son. Slowly, we started to remember. My wife noticed we had become quieter, more independent, and well behaved. She thought her life was perfectly balanced. But on Christmas Eve, she left us again to be with her ex. When she finally came home, she overheard us talking. My daughter asked, “Dad, is that woman really my mom?” She said calling her “Mom” never felt right. I agreed. I said she wasn’t my type and I didn’t know why I’d married her. My daughter smiled. “You like Ms. Finnerty, right? She blushes when she sees you.” Before I could reply, she whispered loud enough to be heard through the door, “Dad, how about we just get a new mom?” 1 For dinner, I ordered two portions of suicide hot buffalo wings. My daughter and I were eating them, sweating bullets and breathing heavy. A voice, both familiar and incredibly foreign, suddenly echoed from behind us. “You didn’t wait for me?” We both jumped in our seats. Turning around, we saw a beautiful woman standing in the doorway. Her facial features were strikingly similar to my daughter’s, but she radiated a freezing, unapproachable aura. It was Madison. My wife, and my daughter’s mother. She walked closer, her eyes locking onto our grease smeared mouths and the basket of blazing red wings. Her brows knitted together in deep disgust. “We have been married for six years. Do you not know I have a severe stomach ulcer and can’t eat spicy food?” Sophie sucked the meat off a chicken bone and blurted out, “We didn’t order this for you. This is what we wanted to eat.” Madison froze dead in her tracks. I let out an awkward chuckle, scrambling to smooth things over. “Well… I saw your Instagram story. You were at the amusement park with Nathan and his son, so I just assumed you guys would grab dinner together.” “Oliver,” she cut me off. Her tone carried her usual, heavy impatience. “I have explained this to you. Nathan’s wife abandoned them, and it triggered severe clinical depression in both him and his boy. I am a medical professional. I am simply fulfilling my duty.” “But what about you?” she continued, her voice turning ice cold. “As a husband and a father, you not only caused a massive scene at my clinic, but you also taught Sophie to be petty and jealous.” She paused, staring down at us. “Did getting into that car crash finally teach you a lesson?” A tidal wave of memories crashed into my brain. I remembered finding out that the patient she had been doing round the clock care for was actually the guy she never got over from high school. I remembered dragging our daughter to her office to catch them in the act. She had just pulled us into a corner, looking utterly exhausted. She told me she kept it a secret because she knew I would overreact. She said abandoning a suicidal patient was medical malpractice. She told me to stop acting like a lunatic in front of her traumatized patient. Her cold, clinical tone always made me and my daughter look like hysterical maniacs. So, I had paid people to hold up massive signs outside her clinic, exposing her for having an affair with a patient. Sophie had taken a megaphone to kindergarten, chasing Nathan’s son around, screaming that his dad was a homewrecker and telling the other kids not to play with him. After that, Nathan and his son stood on a rooftop, crying and threatening to jump. To force me to back down, Madison pulled strings to get me fired from my job. She made sure Sophie was completely isolated and bullied at her preschool. I had suffered a total mental breakdown and threatened her with divorce. She finally compromised, promising to keep strict professional boundaries with them. Sophie and I had believed her. We had even booked our fifth anniversary trip months in advance, counting down the days until she finally took some time off. On the day of the trip, we went to the hospital with beaming smiles to pick her up. Instead, we received a freezing phone call. “Emergency business trip. The vacation is postponed.” We were walking out of the hospital lobby, completely crushed, when we overheard two nurses chatting and laughing by the corner. “Dr. Madison is so dedicated to Mr. Nathan. She actually took a six month leave of absence just to travel with him and his son for therapeutic healing!” “I know, right? I heard she’s already in a cab escorting them to the airport.” My ears rang violently. It felt like a massive chunk of my chest had been carved out with a rusty knife. Before the tears could even fall from my eyes, I looked down and saw Sophie’s pale little face. Huge tears rolled down her cheeks as her voice trembled. “Daddy… does Mommy really not want us anymore?” That single sentence shattered whatever was left of my sanity. I grabbed Sophie’s hand and ran toward the street, desperate to chase Madison down. We needed an answer. We needed her to look us in the eye and tell us if she still wanted this family. But before we ever caught up to her, the truck hit us. When we woke up in the hospital, our world had been wiped clean. Aside from each other, we had no idea who she was. And she used our amnesia as the perfect excuse to put us on a shelf and forget about us. The memories receded. Sophie and I exchanged a highly awkward glance. Even though our memories were back, the emotions attached to them were completely dead. Honestly, we couldn’t even comprehend why our past selves had acted so psychotic over this woman. We immediately swore to her that we wouldn’t cause any more trouble. We promised we would never bother her and her patients again. Madison’s face darkened even more. It took her a long time to regain her signature, controlling composure. “I am taking them to the national park tomorrow for nature therapy. Make sure you prep three lunchboxes for us.” “Sophie, make sure you copy an extra set of your class notes for Toby.” She turned toward the hallway, tossing one last cold remark over her shoulder. “You better keep your word. Don’t do anything… humiliating again.” The bedroom door clicked shut. Sophie and I looked at each other and shrugged at the exact same time. Then, I pulled out my phone and ordered us a massive, luxury breakfast delivery for the morning. Sophie texted her teacher, politely asking for a digital backup of the class materials. As for tomorrow? We already promised Ms. Finnerty we were going hiking with her. Nobody had time to worry about Madison. 2 Early the next morning, Nathan’s soft, gentle voice drifted in from the living room. “Madison, is it really just going to be us? Maybe… maybe we should invite Oliver and Sophie? I really don’t want them getting the wrong idea. I can handle the stress, but Toby is so little. He can’t take any more bullying…” Toby chimed in with a tiny, pitiful voice. “Dad, I’m okay. Sophie didn’t… she didn’t mean to be mean to me.” Madison’s voice immediately softened into a warm hum. “Be a good boy, Toby. Don’t worry about them. If I bring them along, God knows what kind of scene they’ll cause. It would ruin your therapy.” I sighed, rolled over in bed, and drifted back into a groggy sleep. The next time I opened my eyes, a brutal force was yanking me up by the collar of my shirt. Madison literally dragged me out of the bedroom and threw me into the living room. “Look at what your precious daughter did!” she hissed, her voice vibrating with rage. “Look at what she did to Toby!” Nathan was sitting on the floor, his eyes red and teary, cradling Toby. The boy was covered in mashed potatoes and gravy, shivering like a wet stray dog. My daughter was sitting on the floor in the middle of the mess. Her small hands were fiercely guarding three insulated lunchboxes. Her face was flushed bright red, and heavy tears were hitting the hardwood floor. “I didn’t push him!” she cried out, her voice cracking. “He’s a thief! He stole the lunch my dad made for me! I just wanted to get it back!” Madison didn’t even spare her a glance. She was entirely focused on using wet wipes to carefully clean Toby’s jacket, whispering comforting words to Nathan. Only after she finished did she turn around. Her eyes held a look of profound exhaustion, as if she was watching a pathetic, predictable reality show. “Oliver. Just because I asked you to make a few extra portions of food, you hold a grudge and teach your daughter to pull these disgusting stunts?” “You promised me last night you would behave. Did you really break your word that fast?” I took a deep breath, trying to explain rationally. “I didn’t teach her anything. And I believe Sophie is telling the truth. I left your three lunchboxes on the kitchen island hours ago. Toby probably just grabbed the wrong one by mistake…” “Enough.” Madison cut me off with absolute disgust. “Drop the act. I haven’t forgotten the psycho things you two used to do. The apple clearly doesn’t fall far from the tree. You need to take a long, hard look in the mirror and figure out how to be a real father.” Every word I wanted to say died in my throat. When we had our massive fallout in the past, we agreed to compromise. If she kept her distance from Nathan, we would keep the peace. After that, Madison did come home on time. She texted me her location. But the second Nathan’s son got a tiny scrape on his knee at kindergarten, she would drop everything, rush to the school, and force Sophie to apologize. Whenever Sophie cried and tried to defend herself, Madison would just glare at me with eyes made of ice. “Oliver, does your word mean absolutely nothing? Stop throwing tantrums. Do not drain the last drop of patience and love I have for you. Because if you push me to the edge, there will be nothing left to salvage.” The worst incident was when she looked down at Sophie and said, “If my daughter is this malicious and toxic, I don’t want her.” How could a little girl handle hearing that from her own mother? She had chased Madison’s car down the street barefoot, her feet bleeding on the pavement, desperately grabbing onto Madison’s coat and taking the blame for things she never did. “Mommy! I’m sorry! It’s all my fault! I’ll never do it again! I apologized to Toby!” “Please don’t abandon me and Daddy!” Since that day, my daughter never dared to defend herself again. I let out a very quiet sigh. What was the point of explaining? In her eyes, we were already convicted criminals with a long rap sheet. I pulled Sophie tightly into my chest. My voice was low and steady. “Sophie, give them the lunchboxes.” Sophie’s body went completely rigid. A second later, she aggressively wiped her face with her sleeve. She didn’t argue. She just quietly pushed the insulated containers across the floor. Madison didn’t even look at us. She bent down, scooped Toby into her arms, placed a protective hand on Nathan’s back, and walked toward the door. SLAM. The heavy thud of the front door echoed through the house, leaving behind a suffocating, dead silence. It was just me, my daughter, and a ruined floor. I quietly grabbed some paper towels and started cleaning up the mess. Sophie crouched down next to me, helping me pick up the spilled food. After a long time, I asked her softly. “Sophie. If one day, Daddy and Mommy don’t live together anymore…” “Who do you want to stay with?” I had asked her this exact question back when the drama with Madison was at its absolute worst. Back then, she had sobbed uncontrollably. “I don’t want Mommy and Daddy to separate! I want our family to be together forever!” But right now, there was zero hesitation. She looked up at me, her big eyes clear and remarkably determined. “I’m staying with you, Dad.” “No matter what happens, I only want you.” I looked at her, and a genuine smile broke across my face. The last trace of freezing cold in my chest melted away completely. I gently ruffled her hair. “Okay.” If she was with me, I had absolutely nothing to fear. 3 Just as I tossed the last paper towel into the trash, the doorbell rang. “Oliver? Sophie? Are you guys home?” Sophie’s eyes instantly lit up. “It’s Ms. Finnerty!” She bolted down the hallway to open the door. Outside stood a beautiful young woman with soft features. She immediately bent down to catch the little girl launching into her arms. Noticing Sophie’s red, puffy eyes, Finnerty’s voice instantly melted into worry. “Sophie, what’s wrong? Were you crying?” The little girl buried her face into Finnerty’s shoulder, whining pitifully. “The lunch Daddy made for me… got taken away…” “It’s okay,” Finnerty said, gently rubbing the girl’s back, her voice incredibly soothing. “I made a fresh batch. It has all of your and your dad’s favorites.” She had a magical way with kids. Within three sentences, she had Sophie giggling through her tears. Finnerty finally looked up at me, offering an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry for dropping by unannounced, Oliver. You weren’t answering your phone, and I got a bit worried.” “Please, don’t apologize,” I said quickly. “You literally saved my and Sophie’s lives. You’re always welcome here.” Half a year ago, Finnerty was the one who pulled us out of the mangled wreckage of our car. She ran every red light to get us to the emergency room. When she found out we had memory loss and were struggling with basic cognitive functions, she practically took over. She brought us home cooked meals every day and drove Sophie to and from school. Once our memories fully returned, she gracefully stepped back, keeping a perfectly polite and professional distance. But shortly after she found out the truth about our car crash, she mysteriously transferred to Sophie’s kindergarten as a new teacher. Finnerty’s ears turned a faint shade of pink. She spoke softly, “Oliver, I have the whole hiking trail mapped out. Ready to go?” Just as she promised, the day was perfectly organized. When Sophie got tired of walking, Finnerty naturally crouched down. “Hop on, kiddo.” I felt incredibly guilty. “Don’t spoil her too much, Finnerty. You’re already carrying the heavy backpack.” She just laughed, casually walking by my side. “It’s fine. I hit the gym all the time. I’ve got plenty of stamina.” For some reason, looking at her beautiful side profile in the sunlight, my heart skipped a weird beat. Even after we reached the rest area and she took Sophie to buy water, that strange fluttering in my chest didn’t go away. Right at that moment, a familiar, childish voice echoed from down the trail. “Mommy! Let’s race!” Followed by Nathan’s laughing voice. “Slow down, Toby! You’re going to trip.” And finally, Madison’s warm, affectionate response. “Sir Toby, your mother is going to catch you!” I turned around. My eyes locked directly with the three of them standing just a few yards away. The air instantly froze. Nathan’s face went completely pale. He yanked his son into his chest, his voice violently shaking. “Oliver… are you… are you stalking us again? I swear, Madison and I are just friends! Toby just misses having a mother, he doesn’t mean anything by it… take your anger out on me, just please don’t hurt my boy…” Madison instantly stepped forward, shielding the two of them behind her body like I was a rabid bear about to attack. Her jaw clenched, her eyebrows pulling together in fierce anger. “Oliver. I told you, this is a therapy session. Their mental state is incredibly fragile. How many times do I have to spell it out for you to stop acting like a paranoid psychopath?” I looked at her familiar yet alien face. I looked at the exact scenario that used to make me scream, cry, and lose my absolute mind. But standing here now, my chest was a lake of total calm. Honestly, the whole thing just felt comical. It’s crazy how you can’t even empathize with your past self. Looking at her, I genuinely couldn’t figure out what I ever saw in her. If I loved her, I would be furious right now. But I just waved my hand dismissively, my tone incredibly relaxed. “I know. It’s your job as a psychiatrist. You really don’t need to explain yourself to me.” “We’re just here to hike. Total coincidence. You guys keep doing your thing. Just pretend we don’t exist.” Madison clearly didn’t expect that. She stared at me intensely. “Toby just called me Mom. You aren’t mad?” I looked at her, genuinely confused. “Why would I be mad?” She analyzed my face, desperately searching for any crack in my composure, any sign that I was faking it. She found absolutely nothing. Her expression turned incredibly dark. The air around her grew even colder. After a long, agonizing silence, she seemed to reach a conclusion in her own head. She spoke with a cold, absolute certainty. “Drop the act, Oliver. I know you’re just throwing a tantrum. I will sit down and have a serious talk with you tonight. But right now, you need to go home. I’ll let this incident slide.” I was just about to tell her she was delusional when a clear, melodious voice chimed in from behind me. “Oliver, is everything okay?” Madison whipped her head toward the voice, her entire body freezing in place. “What’s going on?” Finnerty walked up to my side, carrying my daughter. Sophie’s face was covered in sticky sugar dust. I naturally stepped toward them. “What took you guys so long? Did Sophie beg you for junk food again?” Catching Sophie’s desperate, pleading look, Finnerty laughed smoothly to cover for her. “I just got her a tiny cotton candy for an energy boost. And this one is for you.” Like a magician, she pulled a massive, fluffy cotton candy from behind her back and handed it to me. I couldn’t help but smile. I reached out to take it. “Oliver,” Madison’s voice sliced through the air like a razor blade. “Who is she?” Hiding behind Madison’s legs, Toby peeked his head out and muttered, “Why is Ms. Finnerty here?” I blinked, suddenly realizing something. Ever since Nathan and Toby walked into our lives, Madison hadn’t dropped Sophie off at kindergarten a single time. She hadn’t even bothered to ask who helped us after the car crash. This was the very first time she was laying eyes on Finnerty. “This is Ms. Finnerty,” I introduced her simply. “If it wasn’t for her pulling us out of the wreck half a year ago, Sophie and I wouldn’t be here.” When it was time to introduce Madison, Finnerty already had a polite, gorgeous smile on her face. She extended her hand gracefully. “You must be Toby’s mother. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “421692”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel