Category: English

I loved Eric for ten years. But at his twenty-eighth birthday party, I watched him propose to his first love, Serena Miller. He mocked my foolish devotion, me, his foster sister. When Serena faked a fall down the stairs, Ethan slapped me, whipped me, and even locked me in the basement. He looked at me with disgust. “You’re too malicious. Who could ever love someone like you?” In the end, I died tragically in that cold, dark basement. Reborn, I knelt before my adoptive mother, declaring with absolute resolve, “I’m willing to marry Damian Vance.” Aurora POV At the twenty-eighth birthday party of billionaire heir, Eric Owens, he gave me the biggest “surprise” of my life. In front of all the powerful elites and media, he walked onto the stage, holding hands with his freshly returned first love, Serena Miller, and took the microphone. “I’d like to use today’s occasion to announce something. Starting tomorrow, the core ‘Stardust’ project of Owens Corp. will be fully managed by Serena as its chief director.” For a moment, the entire banquet hall fell into a deathly silence. Everyone’s eyes, sharp like needles, were directed straight at me. I, Aurora Hayes, was the orphan adopted by the Owens family, Eric’s adopted sister. The entire city knew that I loved Eric like a lunatic. And the ‘Stardust’ project? I’d spent three grueling years, countless sleepless nights, pushing myself to the point of collapse and even landing in the ER with severe stomach issues, just to secure that project for Owens Corp. It was my life’s blood. Now, with a single, dismissive sentence, he took what I’d literally fought for with my life and handed it to his beloved. Everyone held their breath, waiting for me to snap, waiting for me to charge the stage like a madwoman and claw at Serena’s hair, waiting to see the Owens family become a laughingstock. After all, I had once, to drive away women around Ethan, slit my wrists, jumped from a building, and even intentionally crashed my car into Serena’s. But I didn’t. I calmly placed my red wine glass down, took a pre-prepared document and a velvet box from my bag, and walked onto the stage step by step in my high heels. I pushed the documents and the box towards them. “Congratulations, and happy birthday. Here are all the core data and official seals for the ‘Stardust’ project. Serena, welcome back.” The velvet box opened, revealing a priceless Patek Philippe antique watch. I’d saved five years’ worth of earnings to bid on it. At the sound of “Serena,” Ethan’s hand, reaching for the documents, suddenly froze. He lifted his eyelids, his deep, sharp eyes staring intently at me, as if trying to drill a hole through my face. After scrutinizing me for a full thirty seconds, his brow furrowed, and he let out a cold laugh. “Aurora, what game are you playing now?” His tone was full of mockery and suspicion. I looked at the face I had been obsessed with for ten years. He had sword-like brows and star-like eyes, with a cold, rugged facial contour. I once loved this face so much that I would have given my life for it. But now, my heart felt like stagnant water. “No games.” I lowered my eyes. “I genuinely wish you both well. Since Serena is back, I’ll apply tomorrow to transfer to the struggling branch office out in the Pacific Northwest region, to make room.” The Pacific Northwest branch office was the most peripheral, most unprofitable part of the Owens empire, constantly losing money. Going there was like being exiled. Ethan’s brows furrowed deeply. He stared at me, seemingly searching for a trace of pretense on my face, but found nothing. A strange irritation inexplicably rose in his heart. Just as he was about to speak, Serena gently tugged his sleeve. “Ethan, is Aurora angry with me? If she doesn’t want to, I’d rather not take this project…” Her voice was weak and pitiful. Ethan immediately clasped her hand, giving me a cold glance. “If she wants to leave, no one can stop her. Aurora, remember your words. Tomorrow, you’ll go to the Pacific Northwest, and don’t you dare come back without my permission!” “Okay.” I turned and walked off the stage without hesitation, leaving the banquet hall. No one knew I had died once before. In my previous life, at this very birthday party, I had thrown a terrible fit, publicly slapping Serena. To avenge her, Ethan locked me in the basement for an entire month. Later, relying on my adoptive mother’s affection, I pestered him relentlessly, even resorted to drugging Ethan and forcing myself into his bed, practically blackmailing him into marrying me. But a forced marriage was hell. After we married, he treated me like an enemy, constantly suppressing me. He even leaked Owens family secrets to rivals to spite me for Serena, leading to Owens Corp.’s bankruptcy, my adoptive father jumping from a building, and my adoptive mother dying of depression. And I? I was kidnapped by Serena’s rabid fans and tortured to death. Before I died, I called Ethan a hundred times for help. When he finally answered, he only said one thing. “Aurora, what pity are you trying to evoke now? Just die.” Then he hung up. Living this life again, I finally understood: if he doesn’t love you, he just doesn’t love you. My unrequited love ruined the Owens family, and it ruined me. Back at the Owens family mansion, I walked straight to my adoptive mother’s room. I knelt straight down before her. My adoptive mother gasped in surprise, rushing to help me up. “Aurora, what are you doing? Did Ethan bully you again? I heard about him giving the project to Serena. Your mom will go scold him tomorrow!” I shook my head, looking deeply into her eyes. “The Owens family has raised me for ten years. It’s time I repaid their kindness. I hear the company’s cash flow has been cut off, and it desperately needs funding from the Vance family.” I looked up, my eyes filled with resolve. “I am willing to marry Damian of the Vance family.”

Aurora POV “You want to marry Damian?!” My adoptive mother cried out in shock, grabbing my shoulders, her voice trembling. “Aurora, have you lost your mind? Do you know what kind of person Damian is? He’s a cripple! Paralyzed from the waist down, notoriously violent, and rumored to have severe psychological issues! The Vance family found him three fiancées before, one went crazy, and two ended up in the hospital! If you marry him, will you even survive?” I didn’t struggle. I just clasped my mother’s hand back, my voice soft yet firm. “Rumors aren’t always true. Besides, in outsiders’ eyes, aren’t I also a crazy woman who would do anything to snatch my foster brother? Crazy matched with crazy? A perfect fit.” “But…” My mother’s tears fell. “I’ve always treated you like my own daughter. How can I bear to push you into a pit of fire?” “You know the Owens family’s situation better than I do. Ethan emptied the company’s liquid funds to invest in Serena’s movie. If the Vance family doesn’t step in, Owens Corp. won’t last another month.” I calmly analyzed the pros and cons. Seeing my mother’s face gradually turn pale, I added more weight to my argument. “Moreover, as long as I get married, Ethan can be at ease with Serena, no longer needing to guard against me. Owens Corp. is saved, and Ethan is free. It’s a win-win-win situation.” My mother looked at me for a long, long time, finally covering her face and sobbing. “My child… it’s Owens Corp. that has wronged you…” I gently patted her back, my heart filled with a sense of relief. “Please keep this from Ethan for now. I don’t want him to think I’m forcing him into this marriage. In half a month, the Vance family will send someone to pick me up, and we’ll go straight to register the marriage.” Half a month later. Coincidentally, that day was exactly when Eric planned to officially propose to Serena Miller. In my previous life, I ruined his proposal; in this life, I would use my marriage to give him the future he wanted. After comforting my mother, I returned to my room. Pushing open the door, the room was filled with traces of Eric. The walls were covered with photos I’d secretly taken of him; The closet was full of clothes he’d casually bought for me; on the desk was a lighter he’d carelessly tossed aside, which I’d cherished like a treasure. I looked at these things I once held so dear and felt a wave of nausea. I found several large black garbage bags and began to clean. Photos, ripped to shreds. Clothes, cut to pieces. Gifts, smashed. Piece by piece, I swept away ten years of infatuation and delusion into the trash. For three whole hours, I worked up a sweat, my fingers cut by the fragments, but looking at the empty room, I felt a lightness I had never known before. I took a shower and had just lain down to sleep. The door to my room was kicked open with a loud bang. I jolted awake and sat up. Eric stood in the doorway, radiating fury, clutching a tablet in his hand, his eyes as dark as if he intended murder. He strode to the bed and savagely threw the tablet at me. “Aurora, you’ve gotten quite bold, haven’t you? Acting all sweet and sensible on the surface, voluntarily handing over the project, but behind my back, you pull disgusting stunts like this!” I grunted from the impact, frowned, and picked up the tablet. On the screen was a breaking story, trending number one on Ins. #PureSerenaMiller_ExposedAsBullyAndDelinquent# #SerenaMiller_Plagiarism# #SerenaMiller_IntentionalHomewrecker# The exposé included detailed text and images: photos of Serena smoking and fighting in high school, color palettes proving her plagiarism of a new designer’s work, and even suspicious chat logs with several wealthy socialites. The comment section had exploded, full of people cursing Serena. I only glanced at it, then calmly tossed the tablet back onto the bed. “It wasn’t me.” “If not you, then who?!” Ethan grabbed my neck, pressing me against the headboard, the veins on his hand bulging. “In this city, besides you, that crazy woman, who else would relentlessly target Serena? Do you think if you ruin her reputation, I’ll give the project back to you? Dream on!” My breath was stolen, but I didn’t struggle. I just looked at him coldly. “Eric, I told you, it wasn’t me.” “Still trying to argue!” He gnashed his teeth. “In the past, you hired people to slander her, to spread fake news about her. When was it ever not you? Aurora, you’re truly sickeningly malicious!” Just then, hurried footsteps sounded outside the door. Serena, her face streaked with tears, rushed in and threw her arms around Ethan’s arm. “Ethan, stop hitting her! Aurora couldn’t have meant it. She just cares too much about that project. It doesn’t matter if my reputation is ruined, as long as you two siblings don’t turn against each other because of me…” She sobbed, breathless and trembling. Ethan immediately released me, tenderly pulling her into his embrace. When he looked at me again, his eyes were as cold as ice. “Aurora, post on Ins immediately to clarify, publicly admit these were all fabricated by you, and publicly apologize to Serena!”

Aurora POV “Why should I?” I clutched my neck, where red marks had appeared, and coughed violently several times, looking up to meet Eric’s gaze directly. “I will never admit to something I didn’t do.” Ethan’s face instantly darkened to an extreme. He released Serena, stepping towards me, his voice squeezed out through clenched teeth. “Aurora, do you think I’ve indulged you too much? Serena just took over the project, and now with this scandal, partners are threatening to cancel contracts. If you don’t clarify, she’ll be utterly ruined!” “What does her ruin have to do with me?” I sneered. “She knows full well what kind of rotten things she’s done. Eric, protecting her so fiercely, aren’t you afraid you’re protecting trash?” A loud, resounding slap landed squarely on my face. My head snapped to the side, my ears rang, and I tasted blood at the corner of my mouth. The room fell into a deathly silence. Serena covered her mouth, feigning a look of terror. “Ethan, why did you hit her…?” Ethan’s hand hung in mid-air, trembling slightly. He seemed to not have expected to hit me so hard; a fleeting look of regret flashed in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by coldness. “That’s the price for your sharp tongue.” He said coldly. “Aurora, I’m giving you one last chance. Are you going to post that clarification or not?” I slowly turned my head, wiped the blood from my lips with my thumb, and suddenly laughed. I laughed until tears almost streamed down my face. This was the man I had loved for ten years. For a woman full of lies, he condemned me without seeking the truth, even raising his hand to hit me. “Eric, didn’t you say I was targeting her because I loved you and wanted to snatch the project?” Barefoot, I got out of bed, walked to the corner, and tore open the large black garbage bags. Cut-up clothes, torn photos, smashed gifts, all spilled out onto the floor. Ethan’s pupils suddenly constricted. He stared intently at the framed photo, torn in half, on the ground. It was a picture of him at eighteen, which I had pestered him relentlessly to take. He used to hate it, but I had treasured it and displayed it by my bedside. Now, his face in the photo was shredded beyond recognition. “Did you see clearly?” I pointed to the mess on the floor. “I don’t love you anymore. Your things, I find them disgusting. So, I don’t have the time to target your precious darling.” Ethan’s face instantly turned ashen. “You…” He opened his mouth, but found his throat tight, unable to speak. Serena, seeing this, a flicker of jealousy in her eyes. She quickly pulled Ethan’s sleeve, saying softly and weakly. “Ethan, since Aurora says it wasn’t her, then let’s just drop it. We’ll think of another solution, don’t force her…” Ethan took a deep breath, giving me a cold glance. “It better not be you. Otherwise, I will never let you off the hook.” With that, he pulled Serena and turned to leave. I watched their retreating backs and said coldly. “Get out.” Ethan’s footsteps paused, his back stiffened, but he didn’t look back, striding out. I collapsed onto the floor, looking at the scattered fragments, and closed my eyes. It was over. It was truly over. The next morning, I carried my suitcase downstairs, ready to head to the Pacific Northwest branch office. This was my promise to him, and also a way to find a quiet place to avoid them before the Vance family came to pick me up. As I reached the living room, I saw Ethan and Serena preparing to leave for the company to handle the public relations crisis. Seeing me with my luggage, Ethan frowned. “Where are you going?” “To the company in the Pacific Northwest.” I said blandly. “Didn’t you tell me to get out yesterday?” Ethan choked, his face looking rather unpleasant. Just as he was about to say something, the main door was suddenly burst open from outside. A disheveled woman with bloodshot eyes rushed in, brandishing a gleaming fruit knife, like a madwoman, lunging at Serena. “Serena Miller! You bitch! You plagiarized my work, got me blacklisted from the industry, and my mom jumped from a building to help me with the penalty fees! Today, I’m going to make you pay with your life!” The sudden turn of events happened too fast; everyone was caught off guard. The knife sliced through the air in a cold arc, aiming straight for Serena’s chest.

Aurora POV “Serena!” Ethan’s eyes widened in fury, his body reacting faster than his brain. He instinctively wrapped an arm around Serena’s waist, pulling her fiercely into his embrace, while rapidly spinning his body to avoid the fatal stab. But he forgot I was standing right behind him. His forceful turn, combined with the sheer inertia, directly flung me into the path of the madwoman’s knife. The sound of a blade piercing flesh was eerily clear in the empty living room. A searing pain erupted beneath my left shoulder blade. The cold blade plunged deep into my body, and warm blood immediately gushed out, staining my white shirt crimson. I let out a muffled groan, my legs gave way, and I collapsed heavily onto the floor. “Aurora!” My adoptive mother shrieked, rushing down from upstairs. I clutched my wound, blood continuously oozing from between my fingers. My vision began to blur, but before darkness completely enveloped me, I clearly saw Eric’s face. He was holding a shaken Serena, turning his head to look at me, lying in a pool of blood. His pupils trembled violently, his face a mask of disbelief and a flicker of fleeting panic. He opened his mouth, seeming to call my name. But I could no longer hear. I woke up again in a hospital VIP room. The pungent smell of disinfectant made me frown. The moment I opened my eyes, I saw my adoptive mother sitting by the bed, her eyes swollen like walnuts. “Aurora, you’re finally awake! You scared me to death…” My mother held my hand, tears falling again. I weakly forced a smile. “Mom, I’m fine.” “What do you mean, you’re fine! The wound was barely an inch from your heart!” My mother suddenly turned her head and roared at Eric, who was standing by the window. “Eric, are you blind?! You can protect that bitch all you want, but why did you push Aurora out to take the knife?! She’s your sister!” Ethan stood in the shadows, his face terribly grim. He looked at me, his jawline tight, his voice a little hoarse. “I didn’t mean to. It was an emergency; I didn’t see her behind me.” “Didn’t see?! Who else do you see besides that Serena Miller!” My mother was trembling with rage. “Let me tell you, Aurora is about to…” “Mom!” I used all my strength to cut off my mother’s words. My mother froze for a moment, seeing the pleading in my eyes, and finally swallowed the rest of her sentence. Ethan subtly sensed something was wrong, his brow tightly furrowed. “She’s about to what?” “Nothing.” I looked at him coldly. “Mom means I’m about to go to the Pacific Northwest. I won’t die, so Mr. Owens doesn’t need to worry.” Ethan’s face immediately turned cold. He walked to the bedside, looking down at me, his voice carrying its usual mockery. “Aurora, you don’t need to play the pity card with me. Don’t think that just because you took a knife, I’ll soften up and give you the project back. Your trick is too cheap.” I looked at him, my heart devoid of even a ripple. “Eric, do you have a persecution complex?” I said calmly. “I’ll consider this knife wound repayment for ten years of the Owens family’s hospitality. From now on, I owe you nothing. The door is over there. Get out. I need to rest.” He stared intensely at me, as if trying to see through my pretense, but in the end, he only scoffed coldly. “It better be that way.” With that, he turned and strode out of the room. After a week in the hospital, as soon as my stitches were removed, I insisted on being discharged. The day the Vance family was to pick me up was approaching, and I didn’t want any trouble. On the day of my discharge, it wasn’t my mother who came for me, but Eric’s assistant. The car didn’t return to the Owens mansion but stopped at the entrance of a high-end private club. “Miss Hayes, Mr. Owens is waiting for you inside.” The assistant said respectfully. I frowned and pushed the door open to get out. The private room door opened. Inside, the lights were dim, and the air was thick with the smell of smoke and alcohol. Eric sat at the head of the table, Serena Miller leaning weakly against him. Opposite them sat a man with a fleshy face and vulgar eyes. That was Victor Reed, a notorious scoundrel in the city. Seeing me enter, Victor’s eyes immediately lit up, his gaze brazenly sweeping over me. “Well, well, is this Aurora? She really is a stunner.” My stomach churned, and I looked coldly at Eric. “What do you mean by this?” Ethan flicked the ash from his cigarette, his tone nonchalant. “Serena lost a few major collaborations due to the online scandal. Mr. Reed has a new project that can make up for the losses. Didn’t you say you don’t owe me anything anymore? Spend some time drinking with Mr. Reed tonight, get the contract signed, and then what you owe the Owens family will be completely paid off.” I looked at him in disbelief. To pave the way for Serena, to squeeze out my last bit of value, he was actually pushing me towards a notorious degenerate in their circle? “Eric, you truly sicken me.” I turned to leave. “Stop!” Eric’s voice was as cold as ice. “Aurora, if you dare to step out that door today, I’ll cancel all your cards and kick you out of the Owens family! You’re an orphan; without the Owens family, you’re not even worth a stray dog!”

Aurora POV My footsteps froze in place. Not because I was afraid of being kicked out of the Owens family, but because I was still a member of the Owens family. If I completely broke ties with Eric now, the marriage alliance with the Vance family might run into complications. I had to endure it for another half month. I took a deep breath, turned around, and sat on the far edge of the sofa. Eric looked at my compromise, a flicker of cold satisfaction in his eyes. “Mr. Reed, Aurora is all yours. You two chat nicely.” Eric stood up, wrapping an arm around Serena Miller’s waist as he walked out. As they reached the door, Serena glanced back at me, a malicious smirk playing on her lips. The private room door closed, shutting out the outside world. Victor Reed eagerly moved closer. The pungent smell of cheap cologne mixed with alcohol, making me nauseous. “Aurora, don’t be so cold. Mr. Owens has given you to me. Follow me, and I’ll guarantee you a good life.” He said, picking up a glass of wine and handing it to me. “Come, have a drink, let’s be friends.” I coldly pushed his hand away. “I don’t drink. Mr. Reed, Eric is being crazy; you don’t have to follow suit.” Victor Reed’s face darkened, then he smirked again. “I like feisty women like you. Today, you’ll drink this wine whether you want to or not!” He lunged forward, grabbing my chin and forcing the glass of wine towards my mouth. I struggled desperately; wine spilled all over me, but a small gulp still went down my throat. Victor Reed released me, looking at me triumphantly. “That’s right. This wine has some ‘good stuff’ in it. You’ll soon see how amazing I am.” My heart sank. The drug acted fast. Within minutes, I felt my body burning, my limbs weak and powerless, and my vision began to blur. Victor Reed grinned, unbuckling his belt, and lunged at me. “Get off me!” I bit my tongue, using the sharp pain to regain a sliver of consciousness. The moment Victor Reed lunged, I grabbed the heavy crystal ashtray from the coffee table and, with all my might, smashed it hard onto his head. “Ah!” Victor Reed screamed, clutching his bleeding head, and collapsed onto the sofa. I seized the opportunity, stumbled out of the private room, and ran out desperately. The drug’s effects intensified. My steps were unsteady, and I nearly fell several times. The wound on my left shoulder reopened from the violent movements; blood stained the bandages, but I couldn’t care less about the pain. I don’t know how I escaped the club, how I hailed a cab, or how I got back to the Owens mansion. When I pushed open the Owens family’s front door, I was met not with my mother’s concern, but with an interrogation. The living room was brightly lit. Eric sat in the center of the sofa, his face iron-grey. Serena Miller stood beside him, a smug look of schadenfreude on her face. And opposite them, Victor Reed’s parents were pointing their fingers at me, cursing me. “Mr. Owens, our Reed family came to discuss this partnership *solely* out of respect for you! But this little slut actually caused my son a concussion! Today, your Owens family must give us an explanation, or we’ll call the police and have her thrown in jail!” I lay on the floor, gasping for breath, my whole body burning with discomfort. “He… he drugged me…” I weakly argued. “Drugged you?” Victor Reed’s mother shrieked. “What kind of women does my son not have that he’d need to drug you? Clearly, you, this little slut, seduced him and then attacked him viciously!” Serena Miller also spoke up opportunely. “Yes, Aurora, Mr. Reed is so wealthy, why would he do such a thing? You must have just been too hot-headed. Why don’t you apologize to them?” I looked up, staring intently at Eric. “Eric, do you believe me?” A complex emotion flickered in Eric’s eyes. But in the end, he spoke coldly. “Aurora, you’ve disappointed me greatly. I gave you a chance to do something for the Owens family, but you repaid my kindness with malice, almost causing a death.” He stood up, looking down at me, like he was looking at an incorrigible piece of trash. “Since you’re so disobedient, don’t blame me for not cherishing old ties. I can only punish you according to family rules!” Family rules. Owens family rules for punishment involved a whip with barbed tips. I looked at him in disbelief, my heart completely dead in an instant. “Eric, I still have a knife wound…” My voice was hoarse. “That’s what you get for bringing it on yourself!” Eric coldly interrupted me. “Kneel!” Two bodyguards walked over, forcibly pressing me to the ground. Eric took the whip and, without hesitation, savagely struck my back. Skin ripped open, flesh exposed. I bit my lip hard, not uttering a single scream. Each lash drew beads of blood. After ten lashes, my back was a bloody mess, compounded by the reopened knife wound on my left shoulder, staining a large patch of the carpet. I lay on the floor like a dead dog, even breathing felt painful. “Lock her in the basement.” Eric threw down the blood-stained whip, his voice devoid of any warmth. “No one is to give her water or food without my permission. Let her reflect properly!” The basement door was heavily slammed shut. Darkness completely swallowed me. I curled up in the cold, damp corner, feeling my life draining away, yet my heart was filled with relief. Eric, in this life, I have finally repaid what I owed you, principal and interest. Only three more days until the Vance family comes for me.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “384605”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

“Your mom was a mistress, so what does that make you?” Liam Vance asked, as he slid a custom-made wedding ring onto my finger. I stared at him, bewildered. “Liam, what are you talking about?” “It makes you a mistress too, baby.” I was speechless, but he looked completely serious. “Be my secret lover.” “There’s a new secretary at the company. She’s very capable and beautiful. She’s more suited to be my wife.” “Then what am I?” I asked, my eyes wide. He put on a fake apologetic face. “If your mom could be someone’s mistress, why can’t you?” It took a moment before I finally said, “My mom is my mom, I am me. I’m not going to be a mistress.” “Oh really?” He sneered. “Then we break up.” “Fine, we break up.” I’d sworn to myself that I would never be a mistress in this life. But Liam didn’t know that. He gently stroked my head. “Don’t be childish, you fool. How would you survive without me?” “Your mom was cyberbullied until she took her own life, and your dad disowned you. Only with me will no one dare to mock you.” I let out a bitter laugh. Who said only with him would no one dare to mock me? I had an Aunt Vivienne. Her business was huge now, and she was incredibly powerful overseas. Last week, she found me and asked if I’d be willing to go abroad with her. I hadn’t gone because I couldn’t bear to leave Liam. Now… I sent Vivienne a message. [Vivienne, I’ve thought it through. I’m coming with you.] Vivienne replied instantly: [Fantastic! I’ll send a private jet to pick you up in three days.] It should have been happy news, but tears streamed down my face without my control. My chest ached, like I’d been bitten by a poisonous insect. I had originally planned to tell Liam about Vivienne as a surprise. Now, it seemed unnecessary. Liam saw me crying and thought I couldn’t bear to break up with him. He reached out to wipe away my tears. “See? You cry at the mere mention of breaking up. If I ever truly left you, wouldn’t you just fall apart?” “Don’t play games with me; it won’t end well. Just continue to be good and listen to me, and you won’t be alone and helpless again.” I sniffled but didn’t speak. Liam thought he’d convinced me. He started the engine, but halfway through, he suddenly stopped. “Oh, right. From today on, you’ll sit in the back seat when you ride with me. Scarlett said that only she can sit in the passenger seat from now on, and I promised her. I can’t go back on my word.” He turned to look at me. “You know, I’ve always been a man of my word. I promised to take care of you for life, and even if I marry someone else, I’ll still look after you.” He smiled. “You don’t know yet, do you? In three days, I’m getting married to her. I had to practically beg and plead for ages before she finally gave in. I can’t risk making her angry again. She’s not as easy to appease as you are. She says she’s a red rose; if you love the flower, you have to accept its thorns.” Liam was lost in his sweet thoughts of her, but I felt truly pricked by a rose’s thorn. A sharp pain shot through my palm. I looked down. Turns out I’d hit an earring when unbuckling my seatbelt, and its sharp point had cut me. I opened my palm, and blood immediately welled up. Liam saw it too, and exclaimed, “How could you be so careless?” I thought he was worried about me. I was about to say it was nothing, that this pain was less than a thousandth of the pain in my heart. But Liam’s next words plunged me back into despair. “That’s her earring. She’s a germaphobe. If she knew her precious earring got dirtied by your blood, she’d be furious.” So, my blood was dirty in his eyes. My head spun with pain. I stared at him blankly for a long time before he finally seemed to register a flicker of apology. He lowered his gaze. “I’ll cover for you this time. Just don’t touch her things in the future.” Then, I watched him pull out a disinfectant wipe and carefully clean the earring. My palm was still bleeding. I could faintly feel it dripping onto my leg, but I was numb, like an idiot. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t move to tend to it. I just sat there, motionless. After he finished wiping it and carefully wrapped it in a clean tissue, placing it in the car’s front drawer, he finally turned to me. “What are you still doing sitting there? Didn’t you hear me tell you to move to the back seat?” My mind finally cleared a little. “No need. I’ll just take a taxi!” “Alright,” Liam said. “There’s a company banquet tonight, and I need to go help her pick out a dress. You can just head home.” With that, he let me out of the car, slammed on the gas, and sped past me. He didn’t care that it was pouring rain outside. He didn’t even throw me an umbrella.

I walked to the bus stop, completely soaked. Everyone looked at me like I was an idiot. And I was. Even at this moment, my mind was replaying all the good things Liam used to do for me. The news about my mom being a mistress broke when I was eighteen. She drove his wife, and the baby in her womb, to their deaths, thinking she could take her place. But after his wife and child died, that man had a complete change of heart and cut off all ties with my mom. Even when my mom tried to use me to threaten him, he remained unmoved. In the end, my mom was forced to give birth to me. The reason the story resurfaced eighteen years later was because the man posted a letter of repentance online. While condemning him, netizens also dug up my mom’s past. After my mom was exposed, I was dragged into it too. Even after my mom was cyberbullied to the point of jumping to her death, those women who had suffered because of mistresses didn’t let me off the hook. It happened both inside and outside school. The classmates in school were milder; they’d just point at me and say “mistresses deserve to die” to my face. But some of the middle-aged women outside school were much more violent. Every day, a group of them would wait by the school gate to throw rotten eggs and vegetable leaves at me. They’d say, “A mistress’s daughter will definitely turn out to be a mistress too!” “Look at her, with that seductive air, even more brazen than her mother!” I knew my mother was guilty, and I wasn’t innocent, so I never resisted. I let them vent their anger on me. This went on for half a year, until Liam stepped in and saved me. “Who says a mistress’s daughter has to become a mistress?” He grabbed one of the middle-aged women and asked, “What does your daughter do?” The woman proudly replied, “My daughter is an accountant at a big company.” Liam then asked, “And what about you?” The woman stammered, unable to answer, so another woman answered for her. “Oh, she sells burgers at a construction site.” Liam said, “See? Your daughter is different from you.” After that, fewer and fewer people came to harass me. My life gradually returned to normal, and then Liam began his intense pursuit of me. He held an umbrella for me when it rained and shaded me when it was sunny. Every evening after study hall, he would quietly walk me to my dorm building. When we ate in the cafeteria, sometimes I’d see a few classmates indignantly splash leftover food and drinks onto my seat. He would also step up and lecture them, “Which of you chose your parents before you were born?” The students were silenced. Liam continued, “And let me ask again, can you guarantee that all your parents and ancestors were upstanding individuals?” The students bowed their heads in shame, and I, too, was captivated by his twisted, yet incredibly persuasive, way of looking at things and his eloquent speech. I agreed to start dating him. To be honest, before meeting him, I hadn’t even thought about dating. My mother’s situation had left me with severe psychological trauma. He was like a light, gradually shining on that shadow, making it completely disappear. And now, standing in the pouring rain, I was utterly confused. How could someone who used to be so, so good, turn into this? Suddenly, my vision went black, and I collapsed.

When I woke up, it was already night. I was lying in a hospital bed with an IV drip in my hand. The doctor said, “You were too emotional. You need to calm down and get some good rest.” I said, “Okay.” Just then, my phone rang. It was Liam. After much hesitation, I answered. “Scarlett’s dress got dirty. Go get that ‘Starry Night’ dress I ordered for you and bring it over. I need it for Scarlett.” So, her name was Scarlett. I silently repeated it to myself. The ‘Starry Night’ dress was custom-made for me by a designer, commissioned by Liam. He intended for me to wear it at our wedding reception. Before, he wouldn’t even let anyone touch it, saying it would defile our love. Now, he casually told me to give it to someone else. Actually, it didn’t matter anymore. It was just that… “Liam, I’m on an IV drip right now.” “You’re perfectly fine, why are you on an IV? Don’t you dare throw a tantrum now, or you’ll regret it.” Fine, I’ll do one last thing for you, consider it repaying the kindness you showed me back then, when you saved me. Without waiting for the IV to finish, I asked the nurse to remove the needle. Once again, I braved the downpour, got into a taxi, went home to get the dress, and rushed to deliver it to him without delay. Liam said, “Scarlett’s waiting for you by the entrance. She wants to thank you. Be respectful.” I mumbled “Mmm” and hung up. But the woman named Scarlett didn’t give me thanks; she gave me a slap. Caught off guard, I was stunned. I spun half a circle, and the dress fell to the ground. Scarlett immediately started to cry, feigning distress. “Scarlett, if you didn’t want to, you could have just said so. Why ruin the dress?” I’m a straightforward person, so I didn’t understand her game at all. But Liam seemed to understand perfectly and immediately walked out of the hotel. Scarlett immediately confronted him, “Liam, is this what you meant by her being obedient and understanding, that she wouldn’t make things difficult for me?” Liam glanced at the dress on the floor, thinking he understood everything. Another slap landed on my face. “It seems I’ve really spoiled you. Apologize to Scarlett immediately.” I was so angry I laughed. “Liam, you’re being so judgmental! Do you know how I got the slap mark on my left cheek?” Scarlett didn’t hide it either. She tugged at Liam’s sleeve. “I hit her, Liam. You’re not mad at me, are you? I was so angry that she threw the dress on the ground, I couldn’t help but hit her.” “You know how bad my temper can be.” Liam instinctively put his arm around her waist. “No, I’m not mad. Good for you.” Scarlett shot me a triumphant smile. Tears welled in my eyes as I smiled back bitterly. I was so stupid. But no matter how stupid I am, you two only have three days left to humiliate me. Once those three days are up, I’ll be gone from your world forever. Liam, I hope you don’t end up like that man my mother had an affair with. Repenting online eighteen years later.

“I’m sorry, Miss Hayes, I shouldn’t have thrown your dress on the ground.” But Scarlett wasn’t about to let me off the hook. “An apology needs to look like an apology, otherwise I’ll think you’re insincere.” “Then how should I show my sincerity?” “Say, in front of everyone, that you want to be Liam Vance’s mistress, that you’re as brazen as your mother… Oh, no, that you’re even more brazen than your mother.” “I don’t want to be a mistress. I’ve already broken up with Liam.” I even took off the ring, the one meant for our wedding, right in front of her. “Here, take it back. We’re completely done.” Liam froze, not reaching for it, and the ring fell to the floor. “I said you want to, so you want to!” Scarlett grabbed my hair and dragged me into the hotel. “Everyone, come look! Here’s a woman practically begging to be someone’s mistress!” Someone asked, “Isn’t that Mr. Vance’s girlfriend?” “Not anymore,” Liam said. “My girlfriend now is Scarlett Hayes, the new secretary at the company.” “I see.” Everyone exchanged knowing smiles. A woman stepped forward and said, “I told you a mistress’s daughter would inherit the same tendency. And here I thought Mr. Vance used to defend her.” Scarlett chimed in, “Exactly! She even slapped herself twice to gain sympathy.” “But our Liam is an upright gentleman; he’s not fooled by her seductive tricks.” As Scarlett said this, she leaned closer into Liam’s arms. I saw Liam’s expression falter, but he still echoed Scarlett, “Baby’s right.” I felt another pang. Just as I was about to explain, someone splashed a drink on me. “You’re an embarrassment to women. Are there no other men left, that you have to chase after someone else’s?” The drink was aimed almost directly at my open mouth. I choked, unable to utter a single word, and started coughing violently. Then others followed suit, splashing another drink directly on my face. “Die, mistress!” Then countless more drinks came, some hitting my chest, some my head. Someone even grabbed my jaw, forcing my mouth open, and continuously poured alcohol down my throat. I was being openly tormented as a ‘mistress,’ while Scarlett Hayes, the real mistress, laughed gleefully in Liam’s arms. I couldn’t even cry out that it was a setup before I was pushed to the ground. After the drinks, they started kicking and punching me. It was happening. The thing I feared most was happening. My mom went through something similar before she died. In the end, unable to bear the humiliation, she climbed to the hotel rooftop and jumped. The reason I broke up with Liam so decisively was because I was afraid of this day. But it still came, framed as my fault. The shadows that Liam had once dispelled gathered again, engulfing me in darkness. My world had no more sunlight. The light that once shone on me was now shining on someone else. I saw Liam smiling at Scarlett, tears in his eyes. How happy must he be? Liam, why were you the one who saved me from the depths, and also the one who threw me back into them? Suddenly, like a madwoman, I broke free from the crowd, got into the elevator, just like my mom, and went straight to the hotel rooftop. Perhaps also reminded of my mom, Liam, who had followed me, suddenly looked panicked and shouted, “Rose, no…” But I didn’t imitate my mom and jump. Instead, I went up, climbing step by step onto the rope ladder lowered by a helicopter.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “384604”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

The day I went into labor, I was wheeled into the delivery room, only to find my husband, Liam Hayes’s childhood friend, Chloe Miller, was there to deliver my baby. She was wearing a tight, suggestive nurse uniform, holding a toy syringe, and posing for the camera. I was drenched in cold sweat from the pain. I forced myself to sit up and looked around. The entire delivery room was rigged with cameras, but there wasn’t a single professional obstetrician. My husband, Liam Hayes, stood by the operating table, reassuring me, “Chloe is an actress. She’s been working hard to land a role as a midwife in a film. Just let her practice on you one more time.” My lips trembled in shock. I shook my head desperately, pleading, as blood drenched the bedsheets beneath me. But he ignored me, pointing his camera at Chloe. “Go ahead, no one will come in to disturb your performance.” Chloe couldn’t even tell the surgical instruments apart, constantly simpering for the camera. “Scarlett, don’t be scared, I’m here. I won’t cause you to miscarry like the last two times.” Excruciating pain ripped through my body. I struggled to grab Chloe’s hand. “Get, get a doctor…” She shrieked and threw herself into Liam’s arms. “Ew, Liam, my hands are all bloody! It’s disgusting, I’m so scared!” He shielded Chloe, glaring at me with a look of disgust. “Scarlett, are you doing this on purpose? Can’t you just cooperate with Chloe to finish this performance?” Performance? I was enduring a woman’s most painful moment, yet they blamed me for not cooperating. The next second, Chloe walked towards me with a syringe. “An injection of this will keep you from moving around.” I widened my eyes in terror. They ignored my desperate pleas, injecting the anesthetic into my body. When I woke up again, the baby in my belly was gone. I cried until I couldn’t breathe… I made up my mind to call the police. I would personally make sure they rotted in prison.

I woke up in the hospital bed, the vast room empty. A nurse pushed the door open to change my dressing, and that’s when I learned I’d been unconscious for two days. My third child was gone too. I touched my flat stomach, and tears streamed from my eyes like a bursting dam. Suddenly, Chloe’s voice came from the doorway. “Liam, Scarlett lost another baby. She won’t blame me, will she?” Liam Hayes’s tone was cold. “It doesn’t matter. She’s healthy, so if the baby’s gone, it’s gone.” “You, on the other hand, need to be careful. You’ve just conceived, and the pregnancy is unstable. This is *our* first child, and it’s very precious.” Just on the other side of the wall, I suddenly overheard their conversation, right outside the morgue corridor. Every word was like a knife blade, deeply piercing my heart, and the pain made me feel like I was suffocating. Liam’s eyes were filled with deep affection as he gazed at her pregnant belly, his tenderness evident. Chloe Miller was Liam Hayes’s childhood friend, and her acting skills were terrible. But Liam, in an attempt to get her a role, had used me to practice delivering a baby three times. The first two times, I lost my babies without even realizing it. I thought it was my fault, that I hadn’t protected them well enough. I never imagined the truth would be this. My heart ached as if it were being pricked by a thousand needles. Now, she was carrying my husband’s child, while my children were cold bodies. Chloe blamed herself. “Liam, the doctor said she can’t have any more children after this. She won’t hate us when she finds out the truth, will she?” “It’s all my fault. All to get a tiny role with less than three minutes of screen time, I caused Scarlett to lose three children…” Liam gently stroked her forehead, pulling her into his embrace. “Don’t worry, she won’t find out. What you need to do now is rest and take care of your pregnancy.” “I’ve already invested twenty million in the film, making me the biggest investor. You can choose any role you want.” “I promised I’d make you a star, and I’ll make sure your child is born. As for Scarlett, I’ll find a way to compensate her properly…” It felt like I’d been struck by lightning. I leaned against the wall, numb and utterly disbelieving. I tightly covered my mouth to keep from crying out loud, but the pain threatened to drown me.

The next second, Liam Hayes pushed open the door, his face etched with sorrow. “Scarlett, you’re awake.” “I brought you pizza from that place we used to love. Let me feed you.” My face was pale. I didn’t eat the pizza he held to my mouth. Instead, I asked, “Where’s the baby?” Liam lowered his gaze. “This, this was an accident. I gave Chloe pre-op training, but she might have been too nervous…” “Anyway, we can still have more children later.” At his words, all the strength drained from me. I lay down and pulled the covers over myself. “Just go.” Tears streamed down my cheeks, and I cried uncontrollably. It felt like my insides had been hollowed out, leaving only a weak shell of a body. Liam was the one who said he loved children, that he wanted us to have our own baby. Back then, we had just gotten engaged, and I was reveling in the joy of our child’s impending arrival. But then Chloe Miller appeared, and the man who once loved me with all his heart suddenly had her presence woven into every part of his life. During my second delivery, I suffered an amniotic fluid embolism. Liam frantically had the entire hospital working through the night to save me. They both stayed by my bedside, not moving an inch, overjoyed when I finally woke up. My face was pale. I weakly whispered that I wanted to see the baby. Liam’s expression instantly turned cold. He just flatly said the baby couldn’t be saved. “Couldn’t be saved? I don’t believe it! It was a girl, her nose and eyes were just like yours! How could she not be saved?!” I practically knelt before Liam Hayes. Tears streamed down my face, but he remained unmoved. I cried hysterically, clutching the tiny clothes I’d already prepared for her. For several days, I locked myself in my room, refusing to eat or drink. Later, I found out that Chloe had injected an excessive amount of anesthetic directly into the fetus. She watched the fetus die on the spot, never once calling for any professional medical staff to intervene. Only when there was no movement left did she feign panic and call out to Liam Hayes for help. I gazed at their ultrasound photos; every fetal movement had filled me with joy. I had hoped this child would fill the void left by the previous losses, but reality dealt me another crushing blow. Pain racked my entire body, and my heart was twisted with agony. I was so weak I could barely stand. I immediately checked out of the hospital and hailed a cab to leave. In March, the city was still seeing flurries of snow. The cold wind cut across my face like a knife. I wandered aimlessly through the city in my hospital gown. I passed the downtown high-rise; that was where Liam Hayes had proposed to me eight years ago. He had once rented out the entire top floor for a lavish proposal that everyone in the city talked about. Giant screens projected my name, displaying our six years together, from our school days to our wedding day. Every single moment, meticulously documented in over eight thousand photos. Our memories alone would fill more than 20 gigabytes. Later, we chose a stunning cliffside castle in Bali for our wedding. I accepted his ring and said “I do.” He cried with excitement, holding me tightly. Everyone in the entire college knew Liam was madly in love with me; our romance was a campus legend. He not only tattooed my name over his heart, but he’d also picked out names for our children long ago. Before, I thought they loved me. But after Chloe Miller appeared, everything changed.

I walked into the bridal shop where we had picked out my wedding dress. A shop assistant was packaging up a six-figure, diamond-encrusted wedding gown. “I’m so jealous of this Chloe Miller woman; she’s so lucky. Her fiancé must adore her. I heard they’re having a wedding of the century next week…” Tears welled up as I lowered my head. My wedding dress had long since been burned. That was the first time I discovered his affair with Chloe. I stormed into his office, ready to make a scene. When I opened the door, they were tangled on a sofa, their clothes disheveled. He shielded Chloe behind him, angrily yelling at me, “Get out, you shrew! Get out!” “Chloe is innocent. Whatever you want to do, do it to me! If I had met Chloe earlier, I probably never would have fallen in love with you…” His words were like poison, and in an instant, bitterness spread through my entire body. Later, he burned all our wedding mementos, every single token of our love. At one point, I had given up all hope and thought of leaving, but then he cried and told me he was wrong. I never imagined his apology was just a ploy to make me keep having his children. Suddenly, Chloe Miller walked into the bridal shop to pick up her dress and saw me in my hospital gown. She was about to greet me when I slowly spoke. “Are you even human? For a minor role, you caused me to lose three children!” Chloe’s face darkened, and she smirked. “Yes, I did. So what? You can’t have any more kids anyway!” “Oh, Liam just adores me! When he saw I couldn’t get this role for three years, he just paid to get me into the cast!” “And I’m about to become Liam Hayes’s wife. You’re just a home-wrecker, the mistress in someone else’s marriage. Tsk tsk tsk, how pathetic…” I clenched my fists in anger. Seeing this, Chloe just laughed harder. “Hahaha, furious, aren’t you? What if I told you that the whole ‘fighting for a role’ thing was a complete lie? I just wanted your children to die…” “Not only will I make you experience the pain of losing a child, but I’ll also ruin your reputation!” I lunged forward and slapped her hard. “You wicked bitch! How can someone be so evil?!” The next second, I was kicked away, falling heavily to the ground. Blood instantly soaked through my hospital gown. “You wicked woman! How dare you lay a hand on Chloe?” “Why don’t you just die with your children? You’re nothing but bad luck!” It was Liam Hayes. He quickly pulled Chloe into his arms, utterly distraught. His eyes burned with rage, as if he wanted to tear me to shreds. “Even if the baby is gone, you shouldn’t have laid a hand on Chloe! Don’t you know she’s pregnant? If anything happens to her or the baby, I swear I’ll never forgive you!” Liam Hayes left with Chloe, completely ignoring me as I lay bleeding profusely. The shop assistant shrieked and called for an ambulance. In that moment, my heart died completely. I lay in a pool of blood, gradually losing consciousness. As I was rushed to the operating room, I thought of my lost children. I had already picked out names for each of them, but each time, they left me forever… “Dr. Hayes, Ms. Thompson has a severe laceration and massive hemorrhage. We might not be able to save her uterus.” Liam didn’t hesitate. He instructed the doctors to perform a hysterectomy on me while simultaneously setting up equipment to continuously draw my blood.

I opened my eyes two days later, staring blankly at the ceiling. There was no one by my bedside. The nurse changed my dressing, remarking how lucky I was to be alive, a true survivor. I gently touched my abdomen, and tears streamed from my eyes. I knew I would never have children again. And the devils who killed my children, I sighed. I downloaded the bridal shop’s surveillance footage and, along with all the evidence I’d collected of Liam Hayes’s affair and their causing my three miscarriages, sent it to the hospital. I’d make them both pay! Suddenly, Liam Hayes pushed open the hospital room door, holding a gift. “Scarlett, you’re awake. I bought you a gift to apologize. I was wrong before.” “Next week, the college has its promotion review. You know I’ve always wanted to become Dean. To have Chloe accompany me, would you be willing to admit that *you* were the one who broke up our relationship, that *you* were the mistress?” “Look, I bought you a new necklace, from your favorite brand.” My face was pale. I looked at the cold necklace and gave a self-deprecating laugh. That brand was Chloe’s favorite, not mine. He had long forgotten everything I loved. I refused, reaching out to put the necklace aside, ignoring it completely. In that instant, Liam Hayes suddenly felt like a complete stranger. How could he have tried to kill me? “No way! I’ll make sure the entire faculty knows you cheated. I’ll ruin both your and Chloe’s reputations!” I gritted my teeth as I said this. At my words, Liam Hayes froze. He had never imagined I would resist. He slapped me hard, and half my face instantly swelled up. After all, I had once said I wouldn’t have any more children, yet he repeatedly tricked and coerced me into getting pregnant. Until I fully saw the true face of the man before me, his phone dropped to the floor. His screensaver was Chloe. I remembered his private photo album, every single picture in it was of her. Every date, every kiss, every hug—all meticulously recorded. It was like a diary of all his deepest thoughts and longing for her. Three thousand pictures, all carefully preserved, but he didn’t know these would be the best evidence to destroy him! I clutched my swollen face, looking at him, an uncontrollable agony sweeping through my body, piercing me to the bone. Fury surged in my chest, and my whole body felt like it was on fire. Liam Hayes still wanted to hit me, but the next second, blood suddenly gushed out from below again. With my last ounce of strength, I tearfully grabbed him. “Liam Hayes, this is the second time you’ve hit me. Do you even remember our children who died?” “Help me, please, call a doctor! I’m dying…” Seeing my condition, Liam Hayes walked away without hesitation, locking the hospital room door from the outside. I knew I was hemorrhaging badly. My vision blurred. I desperately pounded on the door. “Let me out! Liam, please, let me out! I don’t want to die…” Liam Hayes lit a cigarette outside, his voice cold. “Just admit you were the mistress, and I’ll let you out immediately.” “I’m not, I’m not…” Darkness consumed my vision, and I couldn’t hold on any longer, falling unconscious. The next second, my mother, Eleanor, arrived with the police and representatives from the Hospital’s Internal Affairs Department. “Liam Hayes, as the Dean, having an affair with a student, ruining the school’s reputation, and causing my daughter to miscarry three times — they should both be arrested!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “384601”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

My husband, Elias, was the Alpha of the Dubois pack and the CEO of a major company. Two months into my pregnancy, I saw his Beta, Vivian, post an update on Ins. The photo showed Elias with his arms around her, holding up a red lace bra. “My boyfriend is too passionate, he ripped my bra! Good thing he bought me a new lace one!” I quietly liked the post, then destroyed all the baby items I’d bought. Elias called just as I finished burning the last one. He hurriedly explained: “The company designed new lingerie that needs promotion. Vivian and I were just acting… if you like it…” “No need,” I said, touching my still-flat belly. “Advertising and marketing, I get it.” After hanging up, I called my father, Arthur, the Alpha of the Ashclaw pack. “Dad, I agree to come back as the Ashclaw pack’s Alpha heir and take over your company.” Elias, this time, I’m truly done with you. Outside, the snow fell thick and fast. By the time Elias came home, I had already decided to divorce him. Seeing that I didn’t greet him as usual, he immediately looked annoyed. “Why didn’t you come to meet me?” “It’s snowing so heavily, weren’t you worried I wouldn’t make it back?!” He complained as he kicked off his shoes. Snowmelt mixed with mud stained the carpet. In the past, I would have carefully wiped his shoes with a towel, then handed him a cup of coffee I’d brewed myself. But now, “I don’t feel like moving!” Elias’s expression froze instantly. His Adam’s apple bobbed twice. “Then where’s my coffee?” “Forgot.” “Forgot?!” After a deathly silence, “Clara, what’s gotten into you now?” “Is it just because of those pictures?…” He excitedly reached for my hand, but I deliberately avoided him, still holding my coffee cup. “New products need promotion, I told you about it.” “Don’t always use your pregnant-woman tantrums to pressure me. I can’t handle it…” “You’re overthinking it,” I calmly interrupted, my legs tucked under the blanket, shrinking back involuntarily. Pea-sized snow pellets rattled against the window, reminding me of the blizzard night half a month ago, when he’d frowned just like this. “The company’s new products are launching. You don’t have to drag me along for a prenatal check-up.” Then, he’d spoken softly to Vivian on the other end of the phone, “I remember every one of your efforts. Don’t worry, no matter what the future holds, I’ll do my best to be with you.” But that day, I walked home alone through the blizzard. Elias’s fingertips pressed a red mark between his brows. Finally, he pulled out a cheaply packaged item from his briefcase. “La Perla!” “Same color, same style!” He tossed the lingerie in front of me with a “don’t be ungrateful” look. “Satisfied now?” I stared at the lingerie lying in the most ordinary plastic bag from a convenience store. The gold-embossed logo was crooked and half-missing. It was completely different from the one he’d given Vivian. But I still calmly said “thank you,” then continued scrolling on my phone without looking up. Elias’s brows suddenly furrowed. He grabbed my arm. “I satisfied your vanity, so why are you still giving me attitude?” “Vivian wore this exact collection. Everyone online is talking about it. So many people are fighting to get their hands on it! And this is your attitude?” What else did he expect? “What else should I do?” “Kneel for you? Or transfer money to you?” The flowing air instantly fell into a deadly silence. I didn’t want to argue anymore. I threw off the blanket and walked straight to the bedroom. Behind me, I heard the crash of Elias kicking over the coffee table. But I truly couldn’t think of a way to express gratitude to him—for using a fake to excuse his betrayal under the guise of “promotional needs.” And then, under the name of “vanity,” reducing all my grievances and disappointment to irrational pregnancy hormones. It was utterly pointless. I changed into clean clothes and walked to the front door. Elias’s furious roar followed me to the entryway, “Where are you going in this blizzard? You’re pregnant, what if something happens?!” I fastened the last button on my coat, unable to help but curl my lips into a smile. “So you do remember I’m pregnant, Elias…” I put on my shoes. “Do you remember the last time you left me at the hospital?” “I was thinking the same thing!” “In a blizzard, while pregnant, what if something happens?!” “And what happened?” I spread my hands, then walked out the door without looking back. Just before the security door closed, I heard the sound of a cup shattering on the floor. But I didn’t panic and rush back like before, to clean up the mess and appease him with a forced smile. Instead, I straightened my back and stepped into the waiting cab outside. The swirling snow hit the car windows, and a long-forgotten lightness washed over my heart. My father, Arthur, is the Alpha of the Ashclaw pack. He always hoped I would inherit his company. Before I met Elias, I worked at my father’s company. Everyone there recognized my abilities, and my father wanted me to be the Ashclaw pack’s Alpha heir. Then, I met Elias, my fated mate. We fell in love quickly, married quickly. Because he said “I need you,” I gave up my chance to become the Ashclaw pack’s Alpha heir and became a homemaker instead. I put away company documents, and my ink-stained fountain pen was tucked into a drawer. And now, I could finally pursue my career without any reservations.

The scent of coffee and paper filled the office. The employees buzzed around me, and first among them was my father’s Beta, Joe. He handed me a thick stack of documents. “I knew you wouldn’t be trapped in a gilded cage forever.” I took the documents and said a sincere “thank you!” In the three years I’d been married to Elias, I truly made him my entire world. From taking care of every household chore to being his unwavering support, and finally giving up the most brilliant career of my life. Thankfully, I finally realized that love couldn’t be everything in life. I finished processing the last email, and it was late when I got home. The dim yellow light stretched Elias’s desolate figure. I didn’t pay attention to his expression, only seeing the mess in the living room. He was drinking. This was the first time in three years, outside of company dinners, that he was drinking alone at home. I suppressed my shock and placed my briefcase in the entryway. He rushed over and grabbed me. “Where were you?” I didn’t speak, taking off my shoes. “I asked where you were!” His voice unconsciously rose. He saw the company documents still in my hand and suddenly looked enlightened. “Clara, are you serious? So upset with me that you run away from home? You know how much I hate you meddling in company affairs, but you deliberately went to your Dad’s just to spite me. When are you going to grow up?” I stared at his pale face, speechless for a moment, finally dismissing all his questions with a cold scoff. “What do you mean…” He grabbed me from behind. “It’s not still about that lingerie, is it?” “I already explained, it was for new product promotion, and besides, I bought you the same one. What more do you want?” Dried coffee stains pricked under my fingernails. I coolly pulled my hand away. “Yes, what more do I want?” “Are you done talking? If so, I’m going to sleep.” He suddenly kicked over the shoe rack. Shoes clattered against the wall, dislodging plaster dust that mingled with the smell of paper and ink. “Every time, you put on that deadpan face!” “You’re throwing away a perfectly good life, just to get involved with those disreputable people. Clara, what do you even consider our marriage to be?!” His hysterical accusations were as grating as the howling winter wind outside. But I still said nothing. Before any black-and-white argument, I always believed silence could pierce through all stubborn rationalizations. That night, the sharp pop of an aluminum can being opened sliced through the entire night sky. I sat on the edge of the bed, studying my phone, and heard Elias’s deliberately lowered voice from the living room. “When will she ever be like you?” The next day, I opened my bedroom door. I saw Elias slumped in front of the empty cans, a pile of cigarette butts still askew in last night’s spilled drink. In the past, I would have silently cleaned up the mess and carefully found a way for us to reconcile. Even if my heart ached with injustice, I would have used the gentlest smile and actions to gloss over the argument as a minor bump in life. But now, I walked straight past the cans and out the door. Before closing it, I heard Elias growl, “If you’re so capable, then never come back!” That was exactly what I was planning. Since resigning from the company three years ago, I hadn’t touched those business documents again. Now that I had the chance, I wouldn’t squander this freedom. Following Joe’s arrangements, I signed up for the Alpha heir assessment at my father’s company, three days from now. “It’s a long journey, and you might be gone for a year or more. Are you really not going to discuss it with him?” Joe’s voice crackled with static. I traced the unfinished “Company’s Three-Year Plan” on my phone’s screen. It was a draft I’d worked on three years ago, when I was the executive director at my father’s company, a path I’d stopped for Elias. But now, “No need to discuss it. We’re getting divorced soon.”

Back home, Elias stood in front of the mirror, dressed in a custom-tailored suit. His fingertips combed through his sideburns with an Italian handmade comb. His slicked-back hair highlighted his increasingly handsome and sharp features. “I have a client dinner tonight,” he said without looking up. Then he pulled out his phone, a smile playing on his lips, and walked out the door. That smile was identical to the one Vivian posted on her social media. A laugh so free, so gentle, with an indulgent warmth that lingered in the corners of his eyes and brows. I remembered three years ago, he used to smile at me like that. On a snowy street, he’d wrapped my shivering shoulders in a thick coat, then wound a scarf around my neck layer by layer, saying with a smile, “See, this way my little heir won’t turn into a snowman.” But now, he warmed someone else’s winter with that same smile. The starlight in his eyes no longer belonged to me. I knew he was with Vivian again. Since I got pregnant, he often came home late. Every time I tried to FaceTime him, I could always see Vivian nearby. I became anxious, trying every way to hold onto him. But in the end, all I got was his, “Can you just stop being so annoying?” That evening, I clicked on Instagram on a whim. I saw Vivian’s new photos. Elias stood beside her. Both held the same bottle of champagne, smiling brightly in front of a giant champagne tower. The caption read: “Wherever you are, it’s always radiant.” Below it was a heart emoji from Elias. “Wherever you are, I’m never alone.” In the past, I would have cried hysterically, then screamed and questioned him like a madwoman, “Who exactly is your wife? Did you ever consider my feelings?” But at that moment, I quietly closed my phone and slept through the night. In the early morning, I was startled awake by a violent banging on the door. Elias, reeking of alcohol, threw back my blanket. “I said I had a client dinner, but I didn’t say I wouldn’t eat, did I?” “Clara, are you too lazy to even prepare a late-night snack for me now? How can you be so cold and heartless!” His chest heaved violently, leaving me momentarily stunned. In the past, whenever he had client dinners, no matter how late, I would meticulously prepare a table of late-night snacks. But each time, he would push them away with a frown, then turn around and post exquisite late-night meals shared with others on social media. I rubbed my sleepy eyes and said in as calm a tone as possible, “You didn’t say you were coming back to eat. You always eat out for client dinners. I can’t exactly chase after you asking if you’ve eaten, can I? Wouldn’t that make you look like you’re henpecked? Besides, Vivian was still there.” Before, every time I questioned him, it would provoke his impatience. He hated every text and question from me, especially when he was with Vivian. So, hearing what I said, his tightly furrowed brows instantly relaxed. “That’s not what I meant. Isn’t preparing late-night snacks part of your duty? The only reason I’m with Vivian is for new product launches. Don’t make a big deal out of nothing, or stir up trouble.” I nodded, looking like I understood. “I’m not making a big deal, and I’m not stirring up trouble. I just want to sleep now.” With that, I pulled the blanket over my head, no longer paying attention to his expression as I used to. But that burning gaze didn’t leave me for a long time. That night, the living room light stayed on. The next day, I woke up early, washed up, and walked straight to the entryway to change my shoes. Elias sat at the dining table with his arms crossed. I knew he was waiting for breakfast, but I didn’t give him a chance to speak. I closed the door without looking back. The cold wind bit, and I pulled my coat tighter. In that moment, I felt no sadness, no grief. Only a kind of numb calm. As they say, a heart doesn’t die in a sudden storm, but slowly with countless small disappointments, eroding what was once burning passion. On my way back, Elias sent a text message. He said the new product had successfully launched, and he was planning a celebration party at home. He asked me, for the sake of our marriage, not to make things awkward. It was the first time he’d spoken to me in such a pleading tone, and the first time his voice had an almost imperceptible tremor at the end. The ridiculous thing was, it wasn’t because of me. But I still agreed. Not for Elias, or for anyone else, but to use this opportunity to bring a conclusion to this broken relationship. Just my luck, as I opened the door, I saw Vivian sitting in my spot, holding my wine glass, laughing and drinking with Elias.

The room full of laughter stopped abruptly the moment I pushed open the door. Elias, even more flustered, quickly pulled his hand away from Vivian’s. “The new product sales hit ten thousand, so I invited everyone to celebrate.” His pale explanation couldn’t hide the panic in his eyes. He feigned composure and stepped back, gesturing for me to sit in the empty seat next to him. But I didn’t even glance at it, walking straight to the sofa. Vivian’s gaze swept over me, a triumphant smile on her lips. As she raised her glass and approached, her expression shifted to one of reluctant apology. “Oh, Luna Clara, we got a bit carried away and rudely showed up without your permission. This is the wine I brought, please have a taste.” At that moment, all eyes were on me. Curiosity, scrutiny, speculation – I saw it all. Only Elias stood frozen in place. In the past, he was the most opposed to me drinking. At every gathering, he would rush to snatch my glass, saying in an almost scolding tone, “She can’t handle alcohol, she shouldn’t drink.” Then he would tip his head back and down it himself. But now, the white glare of the chandelier fell on his bewildered face. His Adam’s apple bobbed, yet he said nothing. I took the glass and, under everyone’s gaze, drank the wine. The hot, fiery liquid burned down my throat, much like the burning warmth in his palm three years ago at our wedding, when he lovingly held my hand and swore to give me a home. I thought I had held eternity. I set the glass down. Elias’s phone on the table flashed glaringly. It was him. “How could you just drink wine?” “You’re still pregnant…” “Even if you didn’t drink, no one was forcing you. Can you stop being so angry with me and tormenting yourself like this?” “Please, think about our child, okay?” I stared at the messages scrolling like a barrage of texts, every word packed with “sincere emotion.” Yet not a single one came from the bottom of his heart. I put my phone face down on the table and quietly ate the food in my bowl. Someone at the table looked enviously at Elias. “Alpha Elias’s company is growing stronger, he has a beautiful wife, and soon a new baby – truly a winner in life!” A chorus of agreement followed. Elias couldn’t hide the smile on his face. He uncharacteristically cut a steak and pushed it towards me, but I refused and pushed it back. In that moment, I ignored all his subtle expressions, ignored the constantly vibrating phone, and focused on eating my own meal. Someone suddenly said, “I’ve heard Luna Clara is especially beautiful and virtuous. She and Alpha Elias are truly a perfect match!” Everyone echoed the sentiment. Only I, with a darkened expression, pulled out the medical report for my unexpected miscarriage. “Elias, let’s get a divorce.” “I want to break our mate bond.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “384602”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

My dad had been single since my mom passed away. But recently, I heard he was seeing a young woman. I rushed home to check. The moment I pushed open the master bedroom door, I saw Jennifer, my gold-digging friend, lying on my dad’s bed in a camisole, taking selfies with her phone. She saw me, casually ran a hand through her hair, and smirked. “Truth is, your dad has already agreed to marry me.” I couldn’t help but let out a scoff. “Oh really?” She seemed surprised by my calmness, freezing for a moment before looking even more smug. “From now on, I’m your stepmom! As long as you don’t cause trouble, we can still be besties. And I won’t shortchange you on your allowance.” Watching her smug face, I laughed even harder. Had my dad not told her that my mom left all of our family’s assets for me to inherit? My dad was just a broke parasite living in my house! I watched Jennifer’s self-satisfied expression, swallowing the sarcastic retort that was on the tip of my tongue. Spoiling the fun now would be pointless. Since she wanted to play the clown, I’d give her a stage. “So, you and my dad already signed the marriage certificate?” I raised an eyebrow. Jennifer immediately pulled a marriage certificate from the drawer and slapped it onto the nightstand. “See?” She lifted her chin, her eyes full of provocation. “Musa went to Dubai to finalize that multi-billion dollar oil field project. He made sure to marry me before he left.” “He said he didn’t want me to feel slighted, so he didn’t even make me sign a prenup.” I almost lost my composure. Musa went to Dubai? He was clearly hiding from creditors in another city. His marketing company had imploded last week, leaving him with an eighty-million-dollar debt. The creditors were practically at our doorstep. That old scammer actually managed to con an ignorant young woman into marriage before skipping town. He probably just wanted to use Jennifer as a shield. I nodded, pretending to be convinced. “So, what’s the proper way to address you now?” Jennifer giggled, covering her mouth. “Don’t blame me. It’s not my fault your dad is loaded, is it? You used to treat me like a sidekick, throwing a few designer bags my way and thinking you were superior. Well, now I’m your stepmom.” The words had barely left her mouth when a thunderous banging erupted downstairs. Followed by the shouts of several rough voices. “Careful with those! If you scratch this imported flooring, you won’t be able to afford the repairs!” I frowned, got up, and walked to the corridor to look down. A dozen burly men in moving company uniforms were streaming into the living room, carrying large bags and boxes. Leading them, barking orders, were a flamboyant middle-aged couple. They were Jennifer’s parents, Laura and Kevin. Kevin strolled around with his hands behind his back, like a petty king surveying his domain, touching everything. “This couch leather is no good. The color’s too dark. Have someone replace it with real leather tomorrow, and change the color too!” Laura nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly. Jennifer’s a wealthy socialite now. This house needs to be redecorated to our taste.” I turned to look at Jennifer, who had followed me out. She met my gaze defiantly. “My parents worked hard to raise me. Now that I’ve married into money, of course, I’m bringing them here to enjoy it.” “This villa has five floors, it’s practically empty anyway.” I watched the farce downstairs with a cold gaze, saying nothing. Jennifer mistook my silence for submission, and her arrogance grew. She walked to the guest bedroom door, pushing it wide open. That was my art studio, filled with many antique pieces my mom had left behind. “This room gets great light, perfect for my parents.” She pointed to the portrait of my mom on the wall. “Get rid of all this junk. It’s bad luck to look at.” My hands, hanging at my sides, instantly clenched. “Those are my things,” I said softly. Jennifer sneered, taking two steps closer. “Victoria, do you even understand what’s happening? “Your dad personally said I’m in charge of this house from now on.” “Don’t think just because you’re Musa’s ex-wife’s daughter that you don’t have to listen to me. I’m the lady of the house now!” She turned and yelled downstairs, “Dad! Mom! Come up and pick your rooms!” Her parents heard the commotion and clomped upstairs. Laura’s eyes immediately lit up at the sight of the bed in my art studio. “Oh, this bed looks so grand!” She plopped down on it, bouncing twice with exaggerated force. “This room is ours now,” Laura declared, pointing at me. “You, hurry up and clear your stuff out.” Kevin chimed in. “Victoria, I’m not trying to be mean. But you’re old enough. Why don’t you hurry up and find someone to marry and move out?” “What kind of sense does it make to just cling to your father’s house all day?” I looked at this family of brazen intruders. These idiots were truly audacious. I pulled out my phone and started recording. “Fine, move whatever you want.” “But I’ll warn you, if you damage even one item in this room, you won’t be able to afford to replace it.” Jennifer rolled her eyes. “Who are you trying to scare? This is Musa’s house! If I break something, I’m only breaking my own stuff!” With that, she picked up an expensive vase from the table, let go, and with a crisp “CRASH!” sound, porcelain fragments scattered across the floor. Jennifer looked at me defiantly. “I broke it. What are you going to do about it?”

The sound of the shattering vase echoed in the hallway. I looked at the pink porcelain fragments on the floor, my heart giving a sudden wrench. That was my mom’s favorite piece. I suppressed the urge to slap her, aiming my phone’s camera at the mess and Jennifer’s triumphant face. Video saved, cloud synced. It was all done in one smooth motion. Jennifer didn’t take my actions seriously at all. She thought I was just having a fit of impotent rage. “What? Heartbroken?” She kicked a piece of the broken vase. “From now on, I don’t want to see any of these old-fashioned things around here.” Laura clapped her hands in approval. “Exactly! Jennifer’s the lady of the house now, what’s wrong with smashing a stupid vase?” Kevin was even more outrageous, walking directly to my jewelry cabinet and violently yanking at the drawers. “What’s the password? Let’s see if there’s anything valuable.” I watched them coldly. “The drawers have fingerprint locks. Forcibly prying them open will trigger the alarm automatically.” Kevin jumped in surprise, quickly pulling his hand back. Jennifer glared at me, then turned to soothe her dad. “Dad, what’s the rush? When Musa gets back, I’ll have him give you the whole cabinet.” I was tired of watching these clowns, so I turned and went back to my bedroom, planning to settle accounts with them when my dad returned. That afternoon, the villa completely became Jennifer’s family playground. Laura invited all her friends over, playing music loudly and without restraint in the living room. Kevin gathered his usual crew of shady friends, having a barbecue and drinking competition by the heated pool. The place reeked of smoke and alcohol, a chaotic circus. I put on my noise-canceling headphones and sat in my study, going through company documents. I had always been the actual controlling shareholder of Victoria Group. Musa was nothing more than a figurehead CEO, drawing a fixed salary every month. Now that he’d stirred up trouble and run off, there was a pile of messes at the company waiting for me to clean up. As I was reviewing documents, my door was suddenly pounded on with earth-shattering force. I took off my headphones and walked over to open the door. Jennifer, wearing a high-end designer nightgown and holding a stack of blueprints, stood aggressively outside. Behind her was a man in a suit, wearing a badge identifying him as the director of a well-known renovation company. “Victoria, you need to clear out those guest rooms on the first floor, immediately.” She slapped the blueprints against my chest. “I hired a top designer. We’re knocking out the walls on the first floor to build a private cinema and a wine cellar.” I didn’t take the blueprints, letting them fall to the floor. “You’re renovating?” “Duh! This old house has such a bad layout, it doesn’t match my status.” The designer stepped forward at the opportune moment, a professional smile on his face. “Ms. Victoria, I presume? Mrs. Musa has chosen our most premium full-home custom design package.” “The initial budget is around eight million dollars.” I almost burst out laughing. Eight million dollars? Musa couldn’t even scrape together eighty thousand right now. I looked at Jennifer with amusement. “Eight million is no small sum. Do you have enough money?” Jennifer looked as if she’d heard the funniest joke. She pulled a black card from her bag, held it between two fingers, and waved it in front of my face. “Open your eyes and look closely. This is a supplementary card Musa gave me before he left.” “Forget eight million, I can swipe eighty million with this!” I was all too familiar with that card. Musa had specifically gotten it from the bank to curry favor with me when I graduated college. The main card was with me; he had always kept the supplementary card to maintain appearances. Last month, after his investment failed, I directly set the supplementary card’s limit to zero. I took a step back and gestured. “Since Mrs. Musa is so well-off, then go ahead and swipe it.” The designer immediately pulled out a portable POS machine and presented it to Jennifer with both hands. “Mrs. Musa, please pay the thirty percent deposit first, which is two point four million dollars.” Jennifer confidently tapped the card against the machine. “Beep—Transaction failed.”

Jennifer’s smile froze. She snatched the POS machine. “How is that possible! Is the machine broken?” The designer’s expression shifted slightly, but he maintained his politeness. “Mrs. Musa, our equipment is checked daily. Perhaps you’d like to try a different card?” Jennifer grew frantic, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. “Why would I try another card! This is an unlimited black card!” She tapped the card again. “Beep—Transaction failed. Insufficient funds.” This time, the machine’s voice was exceptionally loud and clear. I watched her performance. “It seems Mr. Musa’s assets aren’t as substantial as you imagined.” Jennifer spun around abruptly, glaring at me fiercely. “Shut up! This must be your doing!” “Musa is in Dubai negotiating a multi-billion dollar project, how could he be out of money!” She fumbled for her phone and called Musa. “I’m sorry, the number you have dialed is currently switched off.” The mechanical female voice became the final straw that broke her. The designer’s gaze had already shifted from respectful to suspicious. “Mrs. Musa, if there are financial difficulties, our cooperation can be put on hold for now…” “Who says I don’t have money!” Jennifer shrieked. She would never allow herself to be humiliated in front of her rival. She yelled downstairs, “Mom! Come up here!” Laura, who had been swaying to the music, rushed upstairs. “What’s wrong?” Jennifer pulled her into a corner and whispered a few words. Laura’s face changed drastically, and she waved her hands repeatedly. “No, no, absolutely not! That’s the money for your brother Gerald’s house!” Jennifer stomped her foot in exasperation. “Mom! Think long-term! When Musa comes back, this whole villa will be mine!” “I’ll pay you back tenfold, a hundredfold!” Under her relentless badgering, Laura gritted her teeth and pulled out a passbook. A full two point four million dollars was transferred directly into the renovation company’s account. Watching the designer leave, satisfied with the receipt, Jennifer finally regained her composure. She walked up to me, chin held high. “See? That’s what you call leverage.” “Tomorrow night, I’m hosting a housewarming party here, and celebrating my marriage, of course.” “I’ve invited all the socialites and our university classmates.” She reached out and poked my shoulder. “You’d better behave yourself. If you dare to ruin my party, I’ll cut off your allowance immediately!” I patted the spot where she’d poked me. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to prepare a grand gift for you.” The next evening, the villa was brightly lit. Jennifer, wearing a rented designer gown bought with the few thousand dollars Musa had left her, mingled through the crowd. Most of the guests were our university classmates. These people, who used to flock around me, were now all gathered around Jennifer, fawning over her. “Jennifer, you’re so low-key! I can’t believe you became Mrs. Musa without a word.” “This villa must be worth hundreds of millions! I’m so jealous.” Norris, our class monitor, raised his glass, his face dripping with sycophancy. Jennifer covered her mouth, giggling, shaking all over. “Musa just spoils me too much. He insisted on transferring this house to my name.” As she spoke, her gaze dismissively swept towards me, sitting in the corner. “Victoria, you don’t need to be too sad.” “Even though your dad remarried, as your stepmother, I definitely won’t treat you badly.” All eyes in the room instantly focused on me. There was pity, schadenfreude, and most of all, the greedy anticipation of a good show. Norris immediately jumped out to side with Jennifer. “Victoria, what are you waiting for? Why aren’t you coming over to toast Jennifer?” “Exactly, it’s a happy occasion, who are you sulking for?” A few other girls chimed in. Jennifer walked up to me, holding out a glass of red wine. “Victoria, call me ‘Mom,’ and this drink can be our truce.” She lowered her voice, speaking only loud enough for the two of us to hear. “If you don’t, tomorrow I’ll dig up your mom’s urn and throw it into the artificial lake for the fish.” My eyes instantly turned cold. “Jennifer, do you really think that just because Musa married you, this house is your kingdom?” Jennifer was unnerved by my glare but forced herself to maintain her aggressive demeanor. “Isn’t it? Musa is the CEO of Victoria Group!” She pulled a document from her bag and held it high. “Open your eyes and look! This is the prenuptial agreement Musa gave me!” “Half of the shares under his name have all been transferred to me!” A gasp erupted from the crowd. I looked at the flawed agreement and finally couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

Jennifer was infuriated by my laughter. “What are you laughing at! You’re at your wit’s end and still playing dumb!” She violently threw the agreement at my face. I tilted my head slightly, the paper grazing my ear as it flew past and scattered on the floor. “I’m laughing at how pathetically foolish you are.” I took a step closer to her. “Didn’t Musa tell you?” “I am the legal representative of Victoria Group, and I am also the 100% controlling shareholder.” “He doesn’t own a single cent of shares. What could he possibly transfer to you?” At these words, the entire room erupted in an uproar. Jennifer froze, then reacted as if she’d heard the most ridiculous joke. “Impossible! You’re lying!” Laura became frantic, rushing over and pointing a finger at me, screaming obscenities: “Bitch, you think you can swallow our family’s wealth? Over my dead body! Get her out of here!” Kevin immediately rallied a few relatives, who aggressively surrounded me. They pushed and shoved, and I, outnumbered, was directly dragged downstairs and unceremoniously thrown into the front yard. I stood in the yard, looking at these brazen squatters, took a deep breath, and pulled out my phone to call the property manager. “Bring your people over. Someone is attacking the owner at the Victoria residence.” In less than three minutes, several patrol cars pulled up to the villa. A dozen security personnel quickly got out, encircling the entire yard. I looked coldly at Jennifer on the steps. “Get out now, while you still can.” When the property manager walked forward, I froze — it was a completely unfamiliar face. He glanced at us, frowning. “I’m the new property manager, Johnson. Who called the police just now?” Jennifer, initially startled, then became ecstatic. She scurried over on her high heels, shoving the two documents in Johnson’s face. “Mr. Johnson, is it? Open your eyes and see, I am Musa’s legal wife, the owner of this villa! Here’s our marriage certificate!” She pointed at me, her face contorted with rage: “This crazy woman is not only refusing to leave my house but is also trying to seize Musa’s assets! Hurry up and have your security guards throw her out!” Johnson carefully examined the names on the marriage certificate, immediately adopting a fawning smile. “Ah, Mrs. Musa, my apologies. Don’t worry, we will absolutely not let any unauthorized persons disturb your life.” He turned and commanded the security guards behind him: “What are you waiting for? Grab this troublemaking woman and get her out of here!” I laughed in exasperation, pulling out my phone to call Musa, wanting him to get back here immediately and clear things up. However, only the cold, mechanical voice came through the receiver: “I’m sorry, the number you have dialed is currently switched off.” “Still trying to call Musa to complain?” Jennifer walked over, looking smug. “Victoria, you’re a pathetic stray now!” She gave a signal, and Jennifer’s aggressive relatives and the security guards immediately stepped forward, pinning my shoulders down. Norris and his opportunistic classmates also joined in the jeering, surrounding me. During my struggle, my arm was roughly twisted behind my back, and my knee was brutally kicked. A wave of humiliation instantly washed over me. “Let go of me!” I gritted my teeth, glaring at her. “Still daring to glare at me?” Jennifer sneered, turning and running into the house. When she came back out, she was holding the portrait of my mom. “Jennifer, I dare you to touch her!” My eyes blazed with fury, desperately trying to break free, but I was pinned down by several burly men, unable to move. “What do I have to be afraid of?” Jennifer held the portrait high above her head. “Victoria, aren’t you so tough?” “Now, kneel down and call me ‘Mom’! Otherwise, I’ll smash your mother’s portrait to pieces right now and throw it into the grimy ditch outside!” “Kneel! Hurry up and kneel!” The relatives and classmates around us burst into loud laughter. Humiliation and rage surged wildly in my chest, my eyes stung with unshed tears, but I bit my lip hard, refusing to shed a single tear. “Kneel! Not going to kneel, huh?” Jennifer exerted force with both hands, about to violently smash the portrait to the ground— Just at my most desperate, most humiliated moment. “Screech—BANG!” Brake sounds ripped through the air, and a black sedan skidded, slamming into the ornate iron gate outside the yard. The car door opened, and a disheveled man was kicked out from inside. He looked like a pathetic stray. Jennifer recognized the person, excitedly putting the portrait aside, stumbling and rushing towards him. “Musa, you’re finally back!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “384603”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

At two in the morning, my water broke, and I was staring blankly at Ethan’s latest Snapchat message. “Vanessa’s bathroom pipe burst, and her kid was so scared he got a fever. I’m going to help out. Won’t be back tonight.” Immediately after, an Instagram notification popped up, a red dot. From Vanessa. The photo showed a man’s hand holding a wrench, fixing a pipe, sleeves rolled up, revealing a long, firm forearm. The watch I’d scrimped and saved to buy him gleamed under the light, a painful stab in my eyes. The caption: “So grateful to have you in this city. Leo’s fever is down, and that back-view fixing the pipe? Hottest ever.” The baby in my belly seemed to sense my emotions and kicked me hard. Sharp pain, accompanied by warm liquid, instantly gushed out, soaking the bedsheet. I panicked, my hands shaking violently as I dialed Ethan’s number. The first call, hung up. The second call, still hung up. I wouldn’t give up, desperately dialing a third time. Finally, it connected. What came through the earpiece wasn’t an anxious inquiry, but a low growl, brimming with anger. “Chloe, are you done yet? Didn’t I tell you? Vanessa is a single mom, it’s not easy for her and her kid. Her house is flooded in the middle of the night. If I don’t go help, should I just watch them drown?” The heavy ache in my abdomen made it almost impossible to breathe. I pleaded with him, my voice cracking. “Ethan, my water broke… I’m in so much pain. Where are you? Can you come back and take me to the hospital…” The other end of the line was silent for a second. Then Vanessa’s panicked voice came through: “Ethan, Leo just threw up again! Is he having a seizure? Please come quickly!” Ethan’s slight hesitation vanished instantly. His tone became extremely impatient. “Are you jealous because of my Instagram post? Chloe, when did you become so manipulative? To trick me into coming back, you’d even lie about your water breaking? Your due date is still three days away. Stay home by yourself. Don’t be unreasonable.” “Beep—” The call was ruthlessly cut off. When I tried to call again, his phone was off. Outside, thunder boomed. Lightning tore through the night sky, illuminating my ghastly pale face. Despair washed over me like a tide. This old apartment building had no elevator. Ethan, in his eagerness to provide “on-call support” for Vanessa and her kid, had bought our marital home in a run-down building just two streets away from her place. Now those six flights of stairs became my gate to hell. I bit my lip until it bled, grabbed my hospital bag, and leaning against the wall, started to inch my way out, step by agonizing step. With each step, my lower body felt like it was tearing apart. Sweat mingled with tears, flowing into my mouth, bitter and salty. When I finally made it downstairs, the rain was pouring down. Soaked to the bone, I stood in the heavy rain for a full twenty minutes before finally flagging down a taxi willing to stop. The driver looked at me, his face turning pale with fright, and he ran two red lights to get me to the nearest hospital. Inside the emergency room, a nurse pushed a wheelchair toward me, shouting, “Family? Where’s the patient’s family? We need to get her checked in!” People came and went in the hall, but I lay alone on the gurney, feeling like trash abandoned by the world. Trembling, I pulled a card from my soaked bag, handed it to the nurse, and forced a smile uglier than a cry. “No family… I’ll sign for myself.”

The labor process felt like a trip through hell. Due to excessive amniotic fluid loss and extreme emotional fluctuations, my cervix dilated agonizingly slowly. The delivery room was filled with heartbreaking screams. The woman on the next bed cursed her husband in pain, and he was wiping sweat, forcing a smile, holding a Red Bull, ready to serve her. Only I lay there, all alone. The midwife looked at me with a hint of pity and asked softly, “Do you want to try contacting the baby’s father again? In situations like this, having family present helps a lot.” I stared at the glaring fluorescent light on the ceiling and shook my head. He wouldn’t answer. Just before I entered the delivery room, I’d seen Vanessa’s second Instagram update. “Leo finally fell asleep. Thank you, best godfather, for staying up all night. With you, we always have someone to lean on.” In the photo, Ethan was asleep by the bedside, his hand tightly holding the boy named Leo. Heartwarming, touching, a picture of fatherly love. And my child was fighting for her life. In that moment, the last shred of my love for Ethan, along with the pain in my body, shattered into dust. “Push! I see the head!” the doctor shouted sharply. I bit down hard on the towel in my mouth, turning all my hatred into strength. Ten hours. After ten grueling hours of torment, with a loud cry, my daughter was born. The nurse held the wrinkled baby for me to see. “It’s a beautiful little princess, six pounds, four ounces.” I weakly glanced at her, tears silently streaming down my face. Back in the hospital room, the anesthetic wore off, and the wound burned. My phone vibrated. It was a message from Ethan: “Are you awake? I just woke up. Leo was a handful last night. You said your stomach hurt yesterday? Try to relax, don’t always overreact. I’ll bring you breakfast later.” Every line was pure perfunctory nonsense. He didn’t even consider that my desperate call for help last night was real. I didn’t reply, tossing my phone aside. It wasn’t until noon that the hospital room door was suddenly pushed open. Ethan rushed in, looking disheveled, carrying a bag of cold sandwiches. When he saw me in a hospital gown, lying in bed, with a baby sleeping in the bassinet beside me, he froze. His expression went from impatience to shock, then to panic. “Chloe… you, you really gave birth?” He rushed to the bedside, trying to take my hand, but I coldly pulled away. “Don’t touch me.” My voice was hoarse, like sandpaper scraping a table. A flicker of embarrassment crossed Ethan’s face, quickly replaced by angry self-justification. “Why didn’t you call me? Giving birth is such a big deal, and you just came to the hospital by yourself without a word? Do you know how worried I was?” I laughed, a bitter sound that pulled at my wound, making me gasp in pain. “Ethan, did a dog eat your memory? At two in the morning, I called you and told you my water broke. You told me to stop acting, and you hung up on me.” Ethan froze, seemingly recalling last night’s events. A moment later, his eyes darted away, and his tone softened. “I thought… I thought you were just jealous of Vanessa, deliberately trying to trick me. You know, after hearing the story of The Boy Who Cried Wolf too many times, who would’ve thought this time it was real…” “So in your mind, I’m someone who would joke about our child’s life just to create drama?” I looked at him calmly, my eyes hollow. Ethan looked a little guilty, placing the sandwiches on the table. “All right, I was wrong, I apologize, okay? Vanessa’s situation was an emergency too, she’s a woman…” “Is she more important, or is our unborn child more important?” Ethan frowned, lowering his voice. “Chloe, can you stop being so aggressive? The baby was born safely, wasn’t she? Vanessa’s kid was sick, it was an emergency! We’re all friends. What’s wrong with helping each other? Can’t you be a little more open-minded?” Friends. Helping each other. I looked at his self-righteous face, and suddenly the man I’d shared a bed with for three years seemed terrifyingly unfamiliar. Just then, his phone rang. A custom ringtone—it was Vanessa. Ethan instinctively glanced at me, then took his phone into the hallway to answer. Through the glass panel of the door, I saw his expression soften, even showing a hint of tenderness, as he nodded repeatedly into the phone. Five minutes later, he pushed the door open, looking troubled. “Chloe, um… Vanessa said she left in a hurry and forgot her keys, and Leo needs a follow-up checkup at the hospital. I need to take her a spare set of keys. Anyway, you’re at the hospital with nurses taking care of you, and your parents will be here this afternoon. I’ll be back soon.” With that, he turned and left without waiting for my reply. From beginning to end, he didn’t even glance down at his newborn daughter sleeping in the bassinet.

Ethan was gone for three days. During those three days, my parents rushed over from back home. Seeing my pale face and the empty bedside, my mother’s eyes instantly welled up, and she turned away to wipe her tears. My father was so angry he smoked an entire pack of cigarettes in the hallway; if I hadn’t stopped him, he would’ve gone straight to confront Ethan. Ethan’s Snapchat messages, however, never stopped. One moment it was, “Vanessa’s car broke down, I’m helping her fix it,” the next it was, “Leo needs an IV at the hospital, Vanessa can’t handle it alone.” Every excuse was righteous, and every one felt like a knife twisting in my heart. My daughter hadn’t been given a formal name yet, so looking at her sleeping face, I gave her the nickname Annie. I only wished for her to live a life of peace and safety, unlike her mother, who had been so blind. On the day of discharge, Ethan finally appeared. He drove up, but Vanessa and Leo were in the passenger seat. The car stopped downstairs from the inpatient ward. Ethan rolled down the window and waved to me. “Chloe, over here! Vanessa needs to bring Leo for a follow-up too, so I just gave them a ride home since it was on the way, saves her a taxi.” My mother was shaking with anger, pointing at Ethan and about to unleash a torrent of curses. I stopped her, and with a blank expression, I held Annie and opened the back door. “Mom, Dad, get in.” The atmosphere in the car was incredibly strange. Vanessa turned around, a perpetually soft and harmless smile on her face, but her eyes held blatant provocation. “Chloe, I’m so sorry to trouble Ethan again. Leo insisted on riding in Ethan’s car, saying his godfather’s car is the safest. Chloe, you’re so generous, I’m sure you don’t mind, right?” I looked at her coldly. “I do mind.” Vanessa’s smile froze. Ethan frowned at me in the rearview mirror. “Chloe, what kind of talk is that? Don’t be so harsh in front of your parents.” “Harsh?” I let out a soft laugh, pulling at my still-healing wound. “Ethan, I just got discharged, my wound hasn’t fully healed, and you make me and our newborn sit in the back, while another woman and her child sit in the passenger seat. Who’s being harsh?” Ethan choked, speechless. Before he could say anything, Leo suddenly shrieked, “Godfather! This bad woman is bullying Mommy! I want her to get out!” With that, he picked up his Transformers toy and violently threw it at me. The hard, sharp edges of the toy grazed my forehead, a sharp pain, instantly swelling red. Annie was startled and cried loudly. “Leo!” Vanessa feigned a scolding, but her eyes were full of amusement. Ethan wasn’t angry; instead, he reached out to pat the brat’s head. “Good boy, Leo, don’t fuss. I’ll take you to KFC.” My mother finally couldn’t take it anymore and slapped the back of the driver’s seat. “Ethan! Are you even a human being?! Your own daughter is crying her eyes out, your wife just got hit, and you’re still planning to take this brat for KFC?” “Mom—” Ethan stopped, then corrected himself. “Susan, why are you talking so nastily?” He slammed on the brakes, his face ashen. “Leo is just a kid. What does he understand?” “If a child doesn’t understand, do adults not understand either?” my father, Thomas, roared. The car descended into chaos. I took a deep breath and pushed open the car door. “Mom, Dad, let’s get out. We’ll take a taxi.” Ethan panicked. “Chloe, what are you trying to do now? Your parents are here. Do you want people to laugh at us?” I ignored him, got out of the car with Annie in my arms, hailed a taxi, and left without looking back. Behind me, I vaguely heard Vanessa’s insincere pleas and Ethan’s frantic honking. On the way home, watching the scenery flash by outside the window, I made a decision. This marriage was rotten to the core. Like a festering wound, it had to be cut out for me to survive.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “384599”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

Every time I finished a night shift, all I wanted was to sleep. But my mom, Sarah, always insisted I eat three meals a day, on schedule. If I didn’t get up, she’d yank off my covers, throw open the curtains, and slam doors, making as much noise as possible. This constant disruption often left me with chest pains, foggy-headed at work, and prone to mistakes. I absolutely hated it. Still, I knew that for her generation, the fear was starving, not collapsing from sleep deprivation. My mom genuinely thought she was looking out for me. So that day, the moment I heard her knock, I got up. I walked out just in time to hear Sarah complaining to my younger sister, Chloe. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I made big portions of everything.” “I figured, with Audrey here, nothing would go to waste.” “But Audrey either doesn’t get up, or just picks at her food. Honestly, she just annoys me.” My heart sank. So I was just Chloe’s leftover trash can. Then, Sarah started complaining about me living off them. “If this keeps up, I’m going to charge her rent!” Had she forgotten? I was the one paying this house’s mortgage! Chloe, on the other hand, had been sponging off us since she graduated. She was the real freeloader. 1 Hearing Sarah’s words, all sleepiness vanished. A gust of wind swept through the apartment. My bedroom door slammed shut. Sarah and Chloe quickly quieted down, turning to stare at me. Sarah fake-glanced out the window, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Well, look at that. The sun must be coming up in the west.” “Some people get up on their own after just one call.” Chloe giggled, patting the chair next to her. “Audrey, what are you standing there for? Come eat!” I slowly walked over, studying the dishes. Every single one was Chloe’s favorite. And whichever dish Chloe ate more of, Sarah would immediately push it closer to her. My heart pounded, just like it did every time Sarah forced me awake. Eventually, it twisted into a sharp ache. I wasn’t a picky eater. Most of the time, I was so tired my eyes could barely stay open. I’d truly never noticed. Sarah’s favoritism was so incredibly obvious. I deliberately reached for the fried chicken in front of Chloe. Sarah couldn’t help but snap. “Can’t you see Chloe finally found something she likes? “Can’t you just let her have it? You always have to snatch things!” I couldn’t eat another bite. “Right, I should just wait until Chloe’s done, then come out.” “Eat her leftovers, be her leftover trash can!” Tears of frustration streamed down my face, unstoppable. Sarah’s face showed no trace of panic or guilt. “You clearly heard us, and now you’re just putting on a show to annoy me.” “Besides, what’s wrong with what I said?” “Chloe is delicate; it’s hard for her to find things she likes. What’s wrong with letting her have it?” “And you, you eat like you’re always starving, what difference does it make what you eat anyway!” My eyes widened in shock. For a moment, I couldn’t speak. Chloe pushed the plate of fried chicken toward me. “It’s okay, I don’t have to eat it.” She said it, but her eyes were glued to the fried chicken. Since childhood, Chloe and I had almost identical clothes, food, and everything else. Sarah bought us the same things. But every single item was something Chloe liked. For instance, during blueberry season. Sarah would buy a box for each of us. But only Chloe liked them. I hated them! Or when our relatives bought us two backpacks, Sarah always let Chloe pick first, whichever one she liked. I’d always get the one Chloe didn’t want. I used to deceive myself, telling myself it was only right for me to make allowances for her. But now, I had to admit. My mom was undeniably biased. A surge of anger rushed through me. I grabbed the fried chicken and dumped it into the trash can. “This is where trash belongs!” Chloe’s mouth turned down, and her eyes immediately welled up. Sarah exploded in a fit of rage, roaring. “Chloe even gave you her favorite food, why are you being so aggressive?” “I think I’ve been too nice to you!” “From today onwards, if you want to stay in this house, you must pay me $2,500 for rent and $2,000 for household expenses!” I let out a cold laugh. My monthly salary was only $8,000, and the house mortgage was $3,500. To avoid going broke every month, I’d given up renting near my office, commuting three hours each way every day. Now Sarah wanted to completely drain me dry. She was playing a truly brilliant game. I had nothing more to say. I turned and went back to my room. “I won’t pay rent, and I definitely won’t pay household expenses!” “And from now on, don’t wake me up for meals after my night shifts. And keep your noise down!” Otherwise, I’d move out immediately and let the house go into foreclosure! But I couldn’t bring myself to say that last part. This house was in a good school district, bought by my parents so Chloe and I could attend high school in the city. When my dad was alive, we managed to get by. My dad passed away unexpectedly a few years ago. Sarah only had a modest retirement pension, about a thousand dollars a month. The two of them had been living off my dad’s compensation money for the past few years. As far as I knew, my dad’s compensation was almost gone. If I really washed my hands of it, their lives would become incredibly difficult. So, I went to sleep, fuming. I slept until 8 PM, then groggily got up to use the restroom. But I couldn’t open the bathroom door. Sarah sashayed over, handing me a QR code. “Five dollars for a pee, ten dollars for a poop, one dollar per sheet of toilet paper.” “Scan to open the door!” 2 I frowned, staring at Sarah. She explained with a fake smile. “If you don’t pay rent, you’re not entitled to use anything in this house.” “Either pay up now, or you’ll pay me $4,500 every month from now on.” That’s when I realized Sarah was serious. I said coldly, “I’m not entitled? Don’t forget, I’m the one paying the $3,500 mortgage every month.” “Many things in this house, I bought them!” “And Chloe? She’s been living off you since she graduated, sponging off us.” “You want rent and household expenses from me, why don’t you ask her?” Sarah instantly bristled. “So what if you’re paying the mortgage? “The deed is in *my* name. This house has nothing to do with you.” “Besides, you paying the mortgage? That’s just you repaying me for raising you, it’s what you’re supposed to do!” “And what I’m asking for is wear-and-tear fees for the house, and my labor costs for cleaning your room, cooking for you, and doing your dishes.” “These are separate issues, don’t you dare conflate them!” “As for Chloe,” Sarah suddenly stammered, fumbling for a while before finally saying, “Chloe is different from you!” Faced with Sarah’s twisted logic, my heart felt like it had been stuffed with broken glass, searing with pain. “How is she different?” “Aside from being two years younger than me, how is she different?” I took a deep breath, suppressing the bitter turmoil in my chest. Finally, I made my decision. “Fine, let’s keep matters separate.” “Then I’ll just move out. You won’t have any excuse to ask me for money then, right?” “And… figure out the mortgage on your own from now on.” With that, I immediately turned and went back to my room to pack my things. I didn’t want to stay in that house for another minute! Sarah, furious, tried to grab my arm. “You think you can just move in and out whenever you please? It doesn’t work that way.” “If you insist on leaving, you’ll pay me ten years of back rent and household expenses!” I didn’t want to argue needlessly with Sarah. I pushed her away, turned my back, and started looking for my ID and passport in the bedside drawer. Suddenly, Chloe screamed and rushed in, yelling. “Sarah, what’s wrong with you!” I spun around. Sarah was clutching her chest, groaning in pain in Chloe’s arms. 3 I didn’t have time to think. I immediately called 91

Even if a stranger collapsed in front of me, I couldn’t just ignore them. Especially not my own mother. The ambulance arrived quickly. Chloe followed me to the hospital. She wasn’t worried about Sarah’s condition; she just stared at me intently. I knew why. She was afraid I’d leave and no one would pay the medical bills. Soon, Sarah was wheeled out of the room by a nurse. The nurse told me. Sarah had collapsed due to acute myocardial infarction. She needed bypass surgery within three days, or her life would be in danger. But the surgery would cost $100,000. For five years, I’d scrimped and saved, doing odd jobs occasionally. My entire savings amounted to just $50,000. I was just about to completely break free from Sarah and start my own life. If I borrowed money to cover this sum now, my future would be incredibly difficult. As I hesitated, Chloe loudly declared. “Audrey, Sarah used her entire pension to buy a house in the city so you could go to school!” “For all these years you lived at home, Sarah never made you lift a finger.” “Now Sarah is like this, and you have money but won’t pay for her medical expenses? Are you just going to watch her die?” Chloe’s voice wasn’t quiet. People around us all looked over, their eyes filled with scorn. I wasn’t in the mood to argue about her half-truths. But one thing she said was right. No matter how much I resented Sarah, I couldn’t just watch her die. Fine. This $100,000 would be my repayment for giving birth to me. From now on, I owed her nothing. It took me a full day to gather the $100,000. The next morning, I went to the hospital cashier’s office, ready to pre-pay the medical expenses. Just as the money was about to be transferred, the cashier, Nurse Davis, suddenly whispered. “The nurse who told you your mother needed immediate surgery… she seems to be related to your mom.” 4 I was utterly confused. But I could tell something fishy was going on. So, I pulled back my phone. “I won’t pay for now, thank you.” I first found Sarah’s attending physician and asked. “Doctor, what are the chances of success for my mom’s bypass surgery?” The doctor looked confused. “Bypass surgery? Your mom is just having a stent procedure, you must have misheard?” My heart gave a sudden jolt. I tried to sound calm. “I apologize, I might have been too anxious and misheard. So, what’s the approximate cost for this stent procedure?” The doctor rubbed his temples, looking extremely tired. “Didn’t I have Nurse Davis tell you? The surgery cost isn’t high. If your mother has insurance, it’ll be around ten thousand dollars after reimbursement.” After leaving the doctor’s office, I went back to Nurse Davis. I got straight to the point. “If you don’t want me to report you and cost you your job, tell me the truth!” Nurse Davis sighed reluctantly, then spilled everything. It turned out Nurse Davis was Sarah’s distant cousin, Carol. Chloe, who had met Carol once with Sarah, had contacted her on the way to the hospital. The two of them had conspired to stage this scam. Anger consumed my reason. I dragged Carol to the hospital room, ready for a face-to-face confrontation! In the hospital room, Sarah was already awake. Chloe sat in front of her, beaming. “Audrey has already gone to pay.” “After your surgery, Carol will help us get the remaining money back.” “As long as Audrey doesn’t see the surgery report, that money will magically end up in our pockets.” Sarah chuckled with glee. “My daughter is so smart. After we get the extra medical money back, I’ll add a little more and buy you that car you like.” Chloe snuggled into Sarah’s arm, cooing. “Thank you, Sarah! You’re the best!” Sarah dotingly ruffled Chloe’s hair. A loud bang went off in my ears. My mind went blank. After a long moment, I regained my composure. Since she was so heartless, I didn’t need to consider any ‘debt of upbringing’ anymore. From this day forward, whether she lived or died was no longer my concern. I walked into the hospital room openly. The mother and daughter quickly clamped their mouths shut in a panic. Chloe put on an act, squeezing out a few tears. “Sarah, why did your heart condition suddenly worsen?” “But Audrey has already gone to pay, you can have the surgery tomorrow, you’ll be fine.” Then, she pretended to just notice me entering the room, asking excitedly. “Audrey, did you pay the medical bill?” Sarah glanced at me, snorting coldly. “This is all because of certain people making me angry. She wouldn’t dare not pay!” At that moment, I spoke with incredible calm. “Why should I pay for you? You’re going to charge me rent, so we’re just landlord and tenant.” “You don’t ask your own biological daughter for money, but you expect me to pay your medical bills? Don’t you think that’s funny?” Sarah was so angry she couldn’t speak a complete sentence. I suddenly remembered how she’d blocked me from the restroom earlier. I pulled out my PayPal QR code and held it in front of Sarah. “Oh, and I took care of you here last night. According to caretaker rates, you owe me $500.” “Please pay!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “384600”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

The clock struck midnight, the chimes echoing through the hollow silence of the house. Finally, the sound of a key turning in the lock drifted from the foyer. I stayed curled on the velvet sofa, my eyes fixed on the black void of the television screen until his shadow—broad and smelling of the biting night air—filtered into the room. “Here.” He slid his phone onto the coffee table, face up. His thumb brushed the edge of the device in a restless, unconscious rhythm. “The passcode is the same as always.” Without another word, he headed for the master bath. The aggressive hiss of the shower soon filled the void left in the living room. I stared at the glowing lock screen, a bitter laugh bubbling up in my throat. What was I even looking for? The chat logs would be scrubbed clean, as if by a surgical eraser. The bank statements would show nothing but the usual—coffee shops near his office, gas stations, dry cleaning. His call history was probably as precise and sterile as a punch-clock. He emerged through a cloud of steam, a towel slung low around his hips. He draped himself over the back of the sofa, smelling of sandalwood and damp heat, and pulled me into a half-embrace. “See? I told you there was nothing,” he murmured, his chin tucking into the crook of my neck. His voice held that practiced, soothing lilt. “Stop living in your head, Natalie.” I pulled away, dodging his kiss, but my eyes caught our reflection in the darkened window. There, on the side of his neck, was a faint, jagged red mark—a blooming hickey that stood out like a fresh wound against his damp skin. My nails dug into the palms of my hands. I slowly reached up and unpeeled his arms from my waist. My voice felt eerily steady, as if I were merely commenting on the weather. “Colby, I want a divorce.” This one-sided war of shadows, this game of digital espionage—I was done playing. 1 The air in the room seemed to freeze. A moment later, a sharp, crystalline sound shattered the silence. Colby had knocked the vase off the side table. It was a simple ceramic piece we’d bought at IKEA during our first year of marriage when we were living in a cramped one-bedroom apartment. We’d carried it with us as we moved to the penthouse, and eventually, to this sprawling estate. We used to call it our lucky charm, a witness to every stumble and triumph we’d shared over the last seven years. Now, it lay in a hundred jagged white teeth across the hardwood. It was a perfect metaphor for us. Shattered. Beyond repair. No amount of glue could ever make it what it was before. I pulled my gaze away from the wreckage and looked directly at Colby. “I’ve already had a lawyer draft the papers. You just need to sign—” “I cut my hand, Natalie.” He cut me off, his voice tight. I blinked, looking down. A shard of the vase had sliced across his palm. Thick, crimson drops were already beginning to splatter onto the floor, staining the rug. “Nat, help me with this,” he rasped. He rarely showed weakness. But I knew this move. This was his favorite tactic for a ceasefire. If I followed the script, I would get the first-aid kit, clean the wound, and by the time the bandage was set, we would be “fine” again. We would be back to the status quo of his lies and my silence. This time, I didn’t move. I looked at the blood with total indifference. “It’s just a scratch,” I said. “There are Band-Aids in the kitchen. You can manage.” I paused, steering the conversation back to the cliff’s edge. “Once you’ve cleaned yourself up, sign the papers.” Colby’s expression darkened instantly. “Natalie, for God’s sake, I’m bleeding. How long are you going to keep up this tantrum?” He sounded genuinely baffled. In his world, his infidelity wasn’t a crime; my reaction to it was the inconvenience. He’d deleted the incriminating texts. He’d changed his passcodes to my birthday. In his mind, he had done the work. He had “fixed” it. He couldn’t understand why I was still holding the grudge. I instinctively rubbed the jagged scar on my own wrist, saying nothing. Right then, his phone chimed. That specific ringtone—the one that had haunted my nights for the past year. He used to tell me it was the emergency line for the firm. I’d believed him, right up until the day of his birthday. I had been at the grocery store, standing in front of the seafood counter, debating between the sea bass he loved or the ribeye he craved. I’d looked up and seen him in the next aisle, his arm draped possessively around another woman as they picked out snacks together. The realization had been a slow-motion car crash. The woman was Gillian. His “childhood best friend.” The girl he grew up with, the one he’d always mentioned in passing as being “like a sister.” Maybe because we’d already had the screaming matches and the tearful confessions, Colby didn’t even try to hide it this time. He answered the phone right in front of me. “I’m on my way. Wait for me.” He hung up, grabbed his keys, and didn’t even glance at his bleeding hand. As he reached the foyer, he turned back, his eyes swimming with a strange, heavy disappointment. “You used to be different, Natalie,” he said. Different? You mean I used to give you my heart on a silver platter just so you could carve it up? I had stayed for ten years because I couldn’t imagine a life without him. And more importantly, because at the time of the discovery, I was pregnant. I had choked down the pain and chosen to forgive him. He had promised me distance. He had promised me a fresh start. And the result? I touched the scar on my wrist again—the physical proof of my own stupidity. It felt like an open wound, oozing with a pain that made it hard to draw a full breath. The front door slammed shut. Bang. He was going to her. Again. I stared at the closed door and felt my lips curl into a ghost of a smile. “Goodbye, Colby.” 2 Thirty minutes later, Gillian posted to her private Instagram story—the one she knew I could see through a burner account. “He told me I’m the only one who actually cares about him. He told me never to leave.” The photo showed the back of Colby’s head as he rested it in her lap, their fingers tightly interlaced. Less than an hour ago, he had told me I could trust him. I suppose “trust” in his vocabulary meant believing that his late nights with Gillian were just “supporting a friend.” It meant believing that when they spent the night in a hotel together, they were just “reminiscing about the old days.” A few minutes later, the post vanished. She always did that—deleting the evidence to make me feel like a paranoid lunatic, like I was hallucinating my own betrayal. Then came the text message. “Nat, I’m so sorry. Colby is just in a really bad place tonight and needed a drink. Please don’t overthink this. It’s not worth ruining your marriage over someone like me.” Don’t overthink it. I looked at those words and felt a cold, hysterical laugh rise up. I remembered being eight months pregnant, showing Colby a screenshot of Gillian’s posts, and he had used the exact same line. “We grew up together, Nat! She moved back to the States after years abroad and she has no one. Am I supposed to just abandon my oldest friend? You’re just bored sitting at home with the pregnancy. You’re overthinking things.” When he saw how pale I’d turned, how I had to grip the table to keep from collapsing under the weight of my belly, his tone had softened. He’d pulled me into his arms, stroking my stomach. “Do it for the baby, okay? Trust me. Stop stressing yourself out.” He’d wiped my tears, acting the part of the long-suffering husband. To prove his “devotion,” he had deleted her number in front of me. He had changed all his passwords to my birthday. Ten years of history. Seven years of marriage. A child on the way. I had been desperate to save us. I had gritted my teeth and decided to believe his lies one more time. But then… Less than a month later, I went into premature labor. I was alone in the hospital, drowning in the news that our daughter hadn’t survived the birth. I needed him. I needed him to hold me while the world ended. But Gillian had called. She had a “stomach ache.” And Colby had left. I had snapped. I remember grabbing a paring knife from the fruit basket by my bed, my voice a ragged, broken whisper. “If you walk out that door, Colby, we are done. I mean it. If you choose her now, there is no coming back.” He had looked at me with pure disgust, as if I were a monster. “Stop being dramatic, Natalie. You’re in a hospital. The doctors said you’re stable. Gillian is alone and her health has always been fragile. I have to go. Don’t make this about you.” He hadn’t looked back. As the door clicked shut, the knife slipped. It sliced deep into my wrist, leaving a jagged, ugly reminder of the moment I realized I was truly alone. A vibration from my phone pulled me back to the present. A voice memo from Colby. He sounded drunk. “Nat… stop being mad. Let’s just… let’s try again. Let’s have another baby, okay?” A baby? I touched my stomach. The phantom pain of the loss was so sharp I nearly doubled over. Even after all the numbness, the mention of a child felt like a hand squeezing my heart until it stopped. I waited until the shaking stopped. I wiped the last tear from my cheek and blocked both of them—Colby and Gillian. Then, I dialed a long-distance number I hadn’t called in years. “Mom? I’m coming home. I’ll see you at the airport in three days.” 3 Colby didn’t come home for the next few days. I didn’t ask where he was. I just started packing. It was harder than I expected; seven years leaves deep roots. Every object seemed to hold a ghost of him. There was the white cashmere scarf he’d given me on our first date. I’d kept it for years, even after it started to fray, because he’d told me he worked overtime for a month just to afford it. There were the little handmade trinkets from our early years, the things he’d stayed up late to make because we couldn’t afford “real” gifts. I had kept them in the safe like they were diamonds. As his career took off, the gifts got more expensive. I’d cherished those too, seeing them as milestones of our shared success. But everything changed two years ago, when Gillian moved back. The vanity became crowded with designer jewelry I never asked for. The closet filled up with haute couture from every season. Million-dollar necklaces, custom gowns—they weren’t gifts of love anymore. They were “hush jewelry.” Bribes to compensate for the nights I spent dining alone. I walked past them all. I didn’t want the bribes. I only packed what was truly mine. The day I finished, Colby finally showed up. He saw the suitcase by the door and his brow furrowed. “Where are you going this time?” He still thought this was a game. He thought I was just “running away” to stay at a hotel for a night to make him grovel. “I just need some air,” I said, keeping my eyes down. He didn’t notice the finality in my voice. Instead, he stepped close and wrapped his arms around me. “Nat, I’ve been waiting to hear from you for days.” Waiting? I remembered the hundreds of texts I’d sent in the past, begging him to come home, only to be met with cold silence or a dismissive “I’m busy.” He took my face in his hands, looking at me with an intensity that felt like a lie. “If you had just asked me to come home, I would have. But you didn’t.” He sounded almost accusatory. As if I were the one who had spent the week in another woman’s bed. I didn’t argue. I just let a small, tight smile touch my lips. He took it as a sign of forgiveness and kissed my forehead. “I knew it. You’re not like your mother, Natalie.” The words hit me like a physical blow. He knew my history. He knew my father was a cheating, abusive shadow of a man who nearly destroyed us. He knew that if my mother hadn’t been incredibly brave and incredibly tough, she wouldn’t have survived. She had to flee the country just to build a life worth living. And here he was, using her struggle as a weapon to praise my “compliance.” He saw the flash of pain in my eyes and tried to backtrack. “Sorry, Nat. I just meant… you don’t have to make things hard on yourself like she did. You have me. You’re safe here.” “Am I?” I looked him dead in the eye. He seemed to flinch for a split second, but he brushed it off. “Of course. Just trust me like you used to.” I felt a cold sneer forming in my soul, but I kept my face neutral. My phone buzzed. “My car is here,” I said quietly. “Go do whatever it is you do, Colby.” “Fine.” He actually looked relieved. He walked me to the door like a doting husband. Before I stepped out, I turned back. “Colby?” “Yeah?” “Goodbye.” It was a finality he wasn’t equipped to understand. He just reached out and ruffled my hair, grinning. “Go get some sun. Relax. I’ll stay here, work hard, and keep making the money that keeps you in this beautiful life.” I didn’t say another word. I took one last look at the man I had loved for a decade and got into the car. I was halfway to the airport when my phone began to vibrate violently. It was an unknown number. I ignored it, assuming it was a telemarketer, but as I went to clear the notification, an anonymous text popped up. “Natalie, your baby didn’t die. Colby lied to you.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “419172”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I am a woman who treats separating ridiculously wealthy men from their money not as a hustle, but as a calling. Through a bizarre twist of fate, I found myself trapped in a world that operated exactly like a trashy romance novel, cast in the role of the tragic, disposable understudy for a ruthless billionaire’s untouchable first love. But I didn’t weep over my lot in life. In barely a year, I had managed to siphon fifty million dollars from his accounts. I was literally grinning at the staggering balance on my banking app when the hallucination started. Strings of bizarre, glowing text suddenly materialized in the air, scrolling furiously across my field of vision like a live chat feed on a screen only I could see: [The Golden Girl is flying back to the States! The understudy’s days are numbered!] [In a billionaire redemption arc, the body double never survives past chapter three.] [Girl, you better fake your own death and run, or he’s going to break your legs and lock you in a basement!] [It’s the plot! You can’t outrun the plot!] Staring at those floating neon words, the fifty million in my bank account suddenly lost its luster. Before I could even draft a blueprint for my grand disappearing act, I was dragged to the welcome-home gala for the mythic first love herself, Cathy Astor. At the center of the ballroom, Cathy flashed a saccharine, camera-ready smile. She picked up a heavy, diamond-encrusted choker from a velvet cushion and unceremoniously clasped it around my neck. “I hear you have quite the appetite for expensive things, Brooke,” she purred, her voice dripping with venom masked as grace. “My dog just got a new collar, so I thought I’d pass his old one down to you.” The cold metal had barely settled against my collarbone when the floating text exploded in front of my eyes again: [TAKE IT OFF! That thing is laced with radioactive isotopes! You wear that, you die!] [Don’t touch it! The author literally kills her off with radiation poisoning next chapter!] Oh? A slow, genuine smile spread across my face. Now I knew exactly how I was going to pull off my vanishing act. 1. A smattering of cruel laughter rippled through the crowd. I kept my chin level, letting the smile linger on the corners of my mouth. “If you feel the need to humiliate me this desperately, Cathy—” I paused, letting my gaze cut straight through her flawless veneer, right into the insecure marrow of her bones. “Is it because you still can’t let go of Tristan?” [LMAO! She went straight for the jugular!] [This girl knows exactly how to play the game!] Cathy’s manufactured smile froze. The air in the ballroom snapped tight. The mocking, dismissive silence of the crowd instantly morphed into the hungry, breathless silence of high-society vultures waiting for blood. I watched the color drain from Cathy’s face, leaving it chalky white, before it flushed a furious, mottled red. “What the hell are you talking about?” she hissed. I didn’t answer. I merely let out a soft, dismissive breath of a laugh and shifted my gaze over her shoulder. Tristan Crawford was leaning against a velvet banquette, the lazy swirling of his scotch suddenly stilled. There was a flicker of something in his icy eyes—almost like anticipation. The whispers began to swell around us like a rising tide. “Is Cathy really still hung up on Tristan?” “If she wasn’t, why would she target Brooke? Brooke is literally just her carbon copy.” “She probably wants her old life back but is too proud to admit it.” The murmured gossip hit Cathy like physical blows. Her eyes began to glisten with strategic, brimming tears. Right on cue, Tristan’s protective instincts flared. His voice sliced through the room, cold and authoritative: “Brooke. Remember your place.” I lowered my eyes in a portrait of utter obedience. “Of course, Mr. Crawford.” Without missing a beat, I reached up, unclasped the diamond choker, and held it up to the chandelier light, smiling directly at Cathy. “Thank you for the gift, Cathy. The motive might be trash, but the diamonds are flawless. I’ll gladly keep it.” Cathy was shaking now, her carefully curated composure entirely shattered. She spun toward Tristan, her voice turning shrill. “Keep your pet on a leash, Tristan. She’s dragging down the entire room.” Tristan’s jaw tightened. I looked at him, timing my next move perfectly, letting my eyes go wide and innocent. “Should I leave?” The room fell dead silent again. Every eye was pinned on Tristan. He let the silence stretch for two agonizing seconds before he suddenly reached out and wrapped his hand around my wrist. “Since we clearly aren’t welcome here, we’ll be taking our leave,” he said smoothly. [HOLY SHIT? The billionaire is defending the understudy?] [Wait, this is off-script! Isn’t he supposed to be obsessed with the Golden Girl?] I was stunned. Cathy looked like she’d been struck by lightning. She opened her mouth, but before a sound could escape, Tristan was already pulling me toward the grand double doors. We were inches from the exit when Cathy’s voice finally cracked like a whip behind us: “Tristan! Are you really going to ruin my night over her?” Tristan didn’t even bother to turn around. His tone was absolute frost. “She came with me. When you humiliate her, you humiliate me.” Cathy choked on a sob. Her face went from flushed to ashen, her chest heaving. The sycophants immediately swarmed, trying to patch the sinking ship. “Come on, Tristan, don’t be rash. Cathy was just joking around.” “Yeah, it’s her welcome-home party! Don’t ruin the vibe.” “Say something, Cathy. Apologize.” Cathy just bit her lip, stubbornly silent. I stared at the hard, unforgiving line of Tristan’s jaw. There was a tempest of emotion in his eyes, none of it decipherable. But beneath the surface, the truth was startlingly clear. He wasn’t protecting me. He had never been protecting me. This was a game of chicken. He was using me as a pawn to see if Cathy would beg him to stay. I was utterly exhausted by their toxic little pantomime. Gently, I tugged my wrist against his iron grip. “Tristan, please don’t fight with Cathy because of me. I can take a cab back to the estate.” He didn’t let go. But the whispers around him grew louder, more insistent. “Tristan, she just got back to the States. Don’t do this to her.” “Brooke is giving you an out, man. Take it. Don’t make it awkward.” Tristan stood frozen in the doorway. He was quiet for a long, heavy moment. So long, I actually thought he might defy them all and drag me into the night. And then, his fingers uncurled. He let me go. [And there it is. He folded.] [Once a lapdog for the first love, always a lapdog.] A quiet, self-deprecating smile touched my lips. I knew my cue. I turned my back on the glittering room and started walking. “Stop right there.” Cathy’s voice echoed through the marble foyer. I paused and glanced back over my shoulder. She was staring at me, the arrogant smirk finally returning to her glossy lips. “You ruined my welcome-home gala, Brooke. If I just let you walk out that door—” She paused, relishing the power. “It would make me look terribly weak, wouldn’t it?” I furrowed my brow. “What exactly do you want?” She swirled her champagne, taking her time. “I want you to—” She raised her eyes, pinning me to the floor. “Crawl out.” 2. I looked at Tristan. His brow was furrowed, his eyes darting between us as if calculating the optics of the situation. “One million dollars,” he said, his voice flat. “Do as she says.” The tiny, pathetic flame of hope that had somehow survived in the darkest corner of my chest extinguished with a quiet hiss. I pulled my gaze away from him, a bitter, mocking smile curving my lips. “Sorry,” I said, my voice echoing clearly off the high ceilings. “I have zero interest in participating in your sick little foreplay.” I walked out, not looking back. I was almost to the street when a violent, shattering crash erupted from inside the ballroom—the sound of crystal glasses being swept off a table. Then came Cathy’s piercing scream, laced with a trembling, hysterical sob: “Tristan! You’re just going to let her walk away?!” I didn’t turn around. But my footsteps, against my own will, faltered for just a fraction of a second in the cool night air. Back at the sprawling glass-and-steel mansion, I stood in the foyer, staring at the space I had occupied for over a year. I had lived here like a well-kept canary in a gilded cage. Tristan worked constantly, leaving early and coming home late. Most of the time, it was just me, the echoing silence, and closets full of haute couture I never asked for. I walked upstairs and shoved only the absolute necessities into a single duffel bag. Before I left, I hesitated by his mahogany desk. I grabbed a pen, tore off a sticky note, and scrawled a single line: Tristan: I’m leaving. A body double should know when her scene is over. Me staying will only cause more friction between you and Cathy. Take care of yourself. —Brooke I slapped the note onto the cover of the Forbes magazine he had been reading that morning, turned my back on the opulent prison, and walked out the door. To say I didn’t feel a pang of nostalgia would be a lie. But the overwhelming emotion that washed over me was relief. A profound, bone-deep relief that I had always known exactly what I was. I was a placeholder. I had never, not even for a second, allowed myself to actually fall in love with him. [Oh, honey, you are way too naive…] [If you could dodge a plot-mandated death this easily, it wouldn’t be a thriller.] [My heart breaks for her. She has no idea what’s coming.] I knew I wouldn’t get off that easy. I just needed a few days—a brief window while Tristan was too distracted by his reunited first love to care about me—to set my disappearance in motion. I rented a grim, cramped studio in a gritty neighborhood deep in Queens. It was chaotic, loud, and entirely devoid of security cameras. If Tristan wanted to find me here, he’d have to get his handmade Italian shoes very dirty. Once the deadbolts were thrown, I cracked open my laptop and started searching. High-end replica jewelry artisans NYC Early stage radiation poisoning symptoms List of corrupt radiologists/oncologists tri-state area [??? Wait, what is she doing?] [Is she getting a replica made? To fake the illness?] [Genius! Turn the white moonlight’s “gift” into a murder weapon! Let’s see Cathy play the victim now!] [But a real doctor won’t fake a medical report. She needs someone dirty.] I scrolled through page after page, my fingers flying across the keyboard into the early hours of the morning. By sunrise, wearing oversized sunglasses and a medical mask, I walked into a dingy jewelry repair shop wedged between a failing auto mechanic and a dive bar on the outskirts of the borough. The owner was a grizzled man in his fifties, chewing on an unlit cigar, looking at me with absolute apathy. I slapped a printed photograph of the choker onto the scratched glass counter. “I need an exact replica. Real diamonds, identical craftsmanship.” He picked up the photo, squinted at it, and then looked me up and down. “Lady, this ain’t a mall kiosk job. Real stones, this kind of setting? You’re looking at a couple hundred grand, minimum.” I unzipped my bag, pulled out two thick stacks of hundred-dollar bills, and slid them across the glass. “This is the deposit. Name your final price. I don’t care what it costs.” He flicked the cigar to the side of his mouth and grinned. “You got it. Give me three days.” For the next forty-eight hours, I did a deep dive on every chief radiologist and oncologist in the city’s private and public hospitals. The doctor I needed had to meet three exact criteria: One: Extensive experience with radiation patients, to forge an airtight medical file. Two: Desperate for cash, or harboring a massive, career-ending secret. Three: Good at keeping their mouth shut. I narrowed it down to three targets. Dr. Harris: 45, deputy head of radiology at a public hospital. Wife in hospice, drowning in medical debt. Dr. Evans: 38, oncologist at an elite private clinic. Rumored to take massive kickbacks from pharmaceutical reps to push experimental drugs. Dr. Miller: 52, came out of retirement to pay off his son’s staggering gambling debts to a local syndicate. I planned to make contact in the morning. I was just closing my laptop, eyes burning with exhaustion, when the space in front of me erupted in frantic, flashing red text. [ALARM! ALARM! ALARM!] [WAKE UP! YOU NEED TO RUN!] [Spoiler alert: Cathy just stabbed herself! Half an hour ago!] [She’s in the ER right now telling everyone YOU did it!] [Tristan is already on his way to your apartment! He bought it!] [HE BELIEVES HER!!!] [RUN, BROOKE, RUN!!!] The blood in my veins turned to ice. I didn’t move. I couldn’t. Because I knew, with sickening clarity, that I couldn’t outrun the author’s pen. 3. I chose to surrender in the cramped, airless studio. Even if I was trapped in the narrative of a twisted novel, it was still a society with laws. Let Cathy play the victim. Let them investigate. I hadn’t stabbed anyone. The flimsy door was finally kicked off its hinges. Tristan stood in the threshold, his face as dark and volatile as a hurricane over the Atlantic. Between his fingers, he was tightly crushing the sticky note I had left him. “Brooke.” His voice was a terrifyingly soft whisper that made the hairs on my arms stand up. “Cathy is lying in a hospital bed right now. She says you stabbed her.” I met his dead gaze. “I didn’t do it.” “She has a defensive knife wound. Her blood soaked through the mattress.” He took a slow, deliberate step into the room. “And you… you miraculously vanish from my house, leaving a note about bowing out.” His eyes were a storm of agony, rage, and profound disappointment. But there was one thing entirely missing from his gaze: doubt. He believed her completely. A sharp, hollow laugh tore from my throat. “Why are you even here, Tristan? Did you come to hear my side of the story, or did you just come to read me my sentence?” He fell silent for one single second. And in that quiet space, I got my answer. “Take her,” he commanded. I fully expected to be dragged into the back of a squad car. I was wrong. The black SUV drove for two hours into the desolate, wooded upstate mountains, finally stopping in front of a towering, rusted iron gate. Pinecrest Behavioral Health. A private, isolated psychiatric facility. “Tristan…” My voice finally broke, trembling violently. “What are you doing?” He looked down at me, his eyes as murky and stagnant as dead water. “Cathy told me you’ve been unraveling. She said you’re suffering from violent delusions. She doesn’t want to press charges and ruin your life. She just wants you to get the help you need.” “I didn’t touch her!” I screamed, lunging forward to grab the sleeve of his bespoke suit. “Tristan, please, for God’s sake, just believe me this once—” He physically recoiled, yanking his arm away from my grasp. “Get well soon, Brooke.” The heavy car door slammed shut in my face. [HOLY SHIT! An asylum?!] [This is worse than prison! A sane person will literally go crazy in there!] [Cathy is a sociopath! She eliminated the rival AND gets to play the merciful saint!] [TRISTAN YOU ABSOLUTE BLIND IDIOT!!!] Two massive orderlies grabbed me by the arms, dragging me through those rusted iron gates. Behind me, the red taillights of Tristan’s SUV bled into the thick, consuming darkness of the forest. The corridors of Pinecrest were impossibly long, stretching out like a fluorescent-lit purgatory. The blinding white lights, the sharp, metallic stench of bleach, and the distant, echoing sounds of people—sounds that hovered terrifyingly between weeping and maniacal laughter. I was shoved into an isolation room. An iron bed bolted to the floor. A barred window. A solid steel door. When the deadbolt slid into place with a deafening clack, I closed my eyes. Was I really going to be tortured to death by the plot? I wasn’t left alone for long. I was marched down the hall into a claustrophobic, windowless treatment room. Sitting behind a metal desk, casually flipping through a blank medical file, was Dr. Evans. The corrupt oncologist I had researched. Apparently, his side hustle involved private psychiatric “care.” “Brooke,” Dr. Evans said smoothly, not making eye contact. “According to the party who committed you, you are exhibiting severe violent tendencies and paranoid delusions.” “I am perfectly sane.” He smiled, a thin, patronizing stretch of lips, and gave a slight nod to the orderlies. They slammed me down into a heavy chair, immediately buckling thick leather straps over my wrists and ankles. Cold, sticky electrode pads were pressed against my temples. The second the electrical current surged into my skull, my entire universe went blinding, screaming white. It felt like a thousand needles driving straight into my brain. My body seized, violently convulsing against the restraints, entirely out of my control. I don’t know how long it lasted. Time ceased to exist. When the current finally snapped off, I collapsed back into the chair, my clothes soaked through with cold sweat, gasping for air as if I were drowning. “That was session one,” Dr. Evans’s voice drifted down to me, sounding like it was coming from underwater. “You have nine more scheduled.” I forced my eyes open, staring at him through a blur of involuntary tears. “How much… how much did Cathy Astor pay you?” He paused, clearly surprised I had named his benefactor. Then he chuckled, leaning in close so I could smell the stale coffee on his breath. “Miss Astor was generous enough to ensure you have a permanent residence here.” [ANIMAL!!!] [This is psychological murder!] [Someone spoil the ending for me! Does she escape?! Tell me she doesn’t die in this hellhole!] I was dragged back to my cell and tossed onto the thin mattress like a sack of garbage. My body wouldn’t stop violently trembling. The skin at my temples felt like it was on fire. I curled myself into a tight ball, staring blankly at the peeling paint on the concrete wall, tears spilling silently onto the rough pillowcase. It wasn’t fear. It was pure, unadulterated hatred. Cathy. The name etched itself into the inside of my skull like a brand. A few days later, Cathy appeared at the narrow window of my door. She was dressed in a pristine white designer dress, looking like an angel completely untouched by the filth of the world. Dr. Evans shadowed her, nodding obsequiously at her every word. She stepped into the cell, towering over my crumpled form. “How’s the electroconvulsive therapy treating you, Brooke?” I stared at her, my jaw locked. She smiled, crouching down so her face was inches from mine. “Tristan asked me to pass along a message. He said to focus on your treatment. Once you’re ‘cured,’ he’ll come pick you up.” Her eyes went dead, the smile turning razor-sharp. “But I am never going to let you leave this place.” She stood up, dusting off her immaculate dress, and turned to leave. At the door, she paused, glancing back over her shoulder. “Oh, by the way, I’ll be back tomorrow. I heard one round of therapy isn’t quite doing the trick? I’ve personally instructed Dr. Evans to add two more courses to your chart.” The steel door slammed shut. I stared at the heavy metal, the tears I had fought so hard to hold back finally breaking free. Tristan. He really trusted her that much. He wouldn’t even come to look me in the eye himself. I learned the hardest truth in the world in that room: the only person coming to save you, is you. The relentless electroshock sessions were beginning to fracture my mind. I couldn’t remember what day it was. Every hour stretched into a lifetime of agony. But I fought, with every ounce of my fading willpower, to stay lucid. Through the fog of pain, I noticed something crucial. They were so confident in my absolute helplessness that they only focused on breaking me; they didn’t bother heightening security. They viewed me as a bug pinned to a board. A plan began to form in the shattered pieces of my mind. The next day, I was strapped into the chair again. When the torturous current finally ended, I slumped forward, drenched in sweat, completely spent. Dr. Evans stepped close to check my vitals, leaning over me. He was close. Close enough that I could see the glow of the smartphone slipping out of his breast pocket. My fingers twitched against the leather restraints. I couldn’t reach it. But as he turned to adjust a dial on the machine, the phone slid up just an inch more. The screen was awake. I saw it. A text notification banner. Sender: Cathy Astor. The preview text read: “Kill her. I’ll double the payout.” 4. Cathy wanted me dead. And Dr. Evans was the gun she had hired. But a gun held by a man is only as loyal as the man’s greed. And every man has a price. “I saw the text,” I rasped, my throat raw and bleeding. He froze. “‘Kill her. I’ll double the payout.’” I locked my eyes onto his, refusing to blink. “That’s Cathy, isn’t it?” The color drained from Dr. Evans’s face. He straightened up immediately, taking a panicked half-step back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—” “I don’t have the energy to play games with you,” I interrupted, my voice weak but laced with steel. “Just listen.” I took a rattling breath, forcing every word out through sheer force of will: “You kill me, you get your money. But do you really understand who Tristan Crawford is? He might not love me, but if I end up in a body bag, do you really think a billionaire isn’t going to order an autopsy?” Dr. Evans’s Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. “Cathy is the golden girl. When the feds come knocking, Tristan will protect her with his army of lawyers. But what about you?” I let the reality sink into him. “Who are you to them? A dirty doctor who took a bribe. When the murder charge comes down, you’re the one taking the fall. Think you can outrun Crawford’s security apparatus?” He remained silent. But his breathing had grown shallow and erratic. I struck the final blow. “I’ll give you ten million dollars.” His head snapped up, his eyes wide. “Where the hell would a stand-in get ten million—” I let out a weak, bloody laugh. “Why do you think I tolerated being his stand-in for a year?” Dr. Evans stood rooted to the floor. I watched the frantic calculations flashing across his face. Greed. Terror. Hesitation. The agonizing pull of self-preservation. I knew he was doing the math. Ten million was enough to buy a new identity in a country with no extradition treaty. It was ‘fuck you’ money. And the price of killing me… He looked at me, his gaze sharpening into something dangerous. “Why should I believe you?” A knot of tension in my chest loosened. It didn’t matter if he fully believed me yet. What mattered was that he was negotiating. “You’re going to fake my death,” I said, holding his stare. “You declare me dead from cardiac arrest, induced by the therapy. You give Cathy the death certificate. She pays you. Then, you let me walk out the back door, and I wire the ten million to whatever offshore account you want.” “And if she demands to see the body?” “That’s your problem to solve.” You think ten million dollars comes without a little heavy lifting? Dr. Evans stared at the concrete floor for an eternity. Just as I thought he was going to walk away and turn the machine back on, he spoke. “Deal.” Three days later. 2:00 AM. The rusted service entrance at the back of Pinecrest Asylum. Dr. Evans handed me a black duffel bag. Inside was a stack of untraceable cash and a burner phone. “Tomorrow morning at 6 AM, I’m logging a fatal cardiac event. Resuscitation failed.” I took the bag, the weight of it grounding me. “The wire transfer will be processed by dawn. If it’s short a single cent, you can call the cops and have them drag me back.” He nodded stiffly and turned to walk back inside. After two steps, he paused. He didn’t look back. “Brooke. Don’t ever come back here. You don’t belong in a place like this.” I offered a dark, silent smile to his back. I pushed the heavy iron door open, the biting wind of the early morning rushing over my face. It was pitch black outside. No streetlights. I couldn’t even see the road ahead. But I took my first step into the dark anyway. [OH MY GOD SHE ACTUALLY ESCAPED!!!] [BROOKE IS A SURVIVOR!!! Phase one of the revenge arc is a GO!] [Cathy better sleep with one eye open. The reaper is coming to collect!] [Wait, wait, wait—what if Dr. Evans double-crosses her?!] [Shut up! Don’t jinx it!] I walked down the desolate mountain highway, pulling the burner phone from the bag. I booted it up, bypassed the standard towers, and logged into an encrypted dark-web server. I pulled up the contact for a data broker I had vetted months ago. [Look into Cathy Astor.] [I want the skeletons. Every dirty, buried, illegal thing she’s ever done.] [Name your price. Money is not an object.] Send. I slid the phone into my pocket and looked up at the starless sky. Plot-mandated death. Who said the plot was only allowed to kill me?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “419157”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

We were browsing the racks at a high-end department store when my mother fell in love with a camel cashmere coat. I had just pulled out my phone to double-tap Apple Pay when she suddenly stopped, staring at me with a narrowed gaze. “You’ve always been so calculated, ever since you were a little girl.” My hand froze in mid-air. The soft jazz playing over the store’s speakers seemed to evaporate. “Mom, what are you talking about?” She grabbed my arm, pulling me toward the shadowy corner by the fitting rooms. The unfamiliar, assessing look in her eyes made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “Your sister is so genuine. But you? You were always walking around like a little adult, trying to make her look like an idiot, weren’t you?” It hit me like a physical blow. In her mind, every moment of my childhood where I had tried so desperately to be good, to be mature, to be enough—was nothing more than evidence of my manipulation. 1 I gripped my phone tightly, my mind blanking for several long seconds. “Mom, what are you even saying?” She met my gaze in the three-way mirror, her eyes ice-cold. “Am I wrong? Camille is only a year older than you. Have you ever seen her act the way you do? You smile at the right people, say the exact right things. Every aunt and uncle we have praises you for being so put-together.” She began unbuttoning the coat, the fabric slipping from her shoulders. Her voice dripped with a resentment I couldn’t comprehend. “But don’t forget, I’m your mother. I raised you for twenty-something years. You think I can’t see right through you? Camille is pure. She says whatever is on her mind. She never hides anything.” She shoved the coat toward me. “But you? I have never been able to guess what’s going on in that head of yours.” The sales associate stood awkwardly a few feet away, her hands hovering, unsure if she should take the wooden hanger back. Just minutes ago, the atmosphere had been entirely different. When my mother first tried on the coat, she had spun around in front of the mirror three or four times. The young salesgirl had been sweet, laying it on thick: “Ma’am, the cut looks absolutely elegant on you.” My mother had beamed, turning left and right, murmuring that it was too expensive, far too expensive, but her eyes had betrayed pure adoration for the garment. Then the associate had added: “You have such a wonderful daughter, buying a piece like this for you without a second thought.” The second those words left the girl’s mouth, my mother’s expression had frosted over. She had turned away from the mirror and started aggressively checking the price tag. At the time, I’d been naive. I thought she was just experiencing sticker shock. Now, I finally understood. She just couldn’t stomach hearing someone praise me. Even though I was just standing there, card ready, having said nothing, having done nothing—in her eyes, it was all a meticulously choreographed performance. I took a deep breath, fighting to keep my voice steady. “Mom, do you want the coat or not? If not, let’s just go somewhere else.” “Want it? It’s over a thousand dollars. Do you think I don’t know what game you’re playing?” Her voice suddenly spiked in volume. “You picked something this expensive on purpose. You just want me to owe you! That way, you can go around telling everyone how you bought your mother a designer coat, showing off how devoted you are, and making Camille look like a failure.” Shoppers were already turning their heads in the aisles. I stood rooted to the spot, feeling as though I had just been hit square in the chest with a sledgehammer. The chill seeped into my bones, freezing me from the inside out. But the most tragic part? This baseless, paranoid accusation wasn’t the first time. 2 My sister, Camille, is a year older than me. She was always the “sweet, simple” child. She was quiet, introverted, and at every holiday gathering, she could be found curled up in a corner scrolling through her phone. I, on the other hand, learned to read the room before I learned to ride a bike. Not because I wanted to, but because I had to. When we were little, Camille was constantly sick. My mother essentially moved into her bedroom to nurse her, packing me off to live with my grandmother. That temporary arrangement lasted seven years. “Camille has a weak constitution,” my mother had justified it. “I need to keep a close eye on her. You’re tough, Madeline. You’ll be fine at your grandma’s.” My grandmother loved me, but I still ached for my mother. Every weekend I was allowed to visit, I performed like a circus animal. I sang the songs I learned in kindergarten; I saved up all the gold star stickers my teachers gave me and presented them to her like treasure. Her reaction was always the same: “Look at your sister. She’s so calm. She never does all these flashy things for attention.” It took me years to understand that favoritism is a chronic illness; there is no cure. No matter what I did, it was aggressively misinterpreted. When I brought home a perfect report card in fifth grade, she glanced at it and sighed. “Your sister gets B’s, so you just had to get straight A’s, didn’t you? Always having to show off.” When I came home from boarding school in junior high, I spent my weekends scrubbing the floors, washing dishes, and wiping down the windows to ease her burden. She watched me from the sofa, entirely unbothered. “Look at you, always trying to win points. Camille doesn’t have all these hidden motives.” When it was time for college applications, I wanted to apply to out-of-state schools. She shut it down immediately. “Why run so far away? Camille is going to a local college, and you need to stay local too, so you can look out for each other.” Camille went to an expensive, mediocre private college that cost my parents forty grand a year. I got a full-ride scholarship to the state flagship university. My mother’s verdict? “Look at how calculating you are. Trying to save us money just so we’ll be indebted to you? It just makes your sister look bad for spending our money.” After graduation, Camille landed a basic admin job making forty thousand a year. Three years went by with no raise. I went into corporate tech. My starting salary was six figures, and it had doubled since then. “Your sister is too honest for the corporate world,” my mother lectured me. “She doesn’t know how to play the game. Since you’re so capable, you need to help her.” So, I helped. I pulled strings and got Camille a much better-paying role at a friend’s company. My mother scoffed. “Throwing her a little bone just so you can hold it over her head forever?” “Mom, no, I didn’t—” I had tried to defend myself. “Enough, I don’t want to hear it,” she snapped, waving me off. When Camille got married, I wrote her a check for two thousand dollars as a wedding gift. My mother pulled me aside. “You give her this much now, what happens when you get married and she can’t afford to match it? You’re just trying to humiliate her.” But I had only written that check because my mother had dropped endless hints that I needed to be “generous.” When Camille had her first baby, I learned my lesson. I bought a two-hundred-dollar stroller off her registry. My mother was furious. “She just bought a house, money is tight, and you only spend two hundred bucks? Are you trying to watch your sister drown?” I had stood there, speechless, my chest hollowed out by a profound, exhausting sorrow. Eventually, the reality settled in. No matter what I did, or how I did it, she only had eyes for one daughter. I was always scheming. I was always competing. I was always trying to prove my superiority. And Camille? She didn’t have to lift a finger to win all the love my mother had to give. 3 After the disastrous mall trip, I didn’t go back to their house. I didn’t buy the cashmere coat, and I didn’t bring it up again. I thought the incident would just fade away. After all, I had endured over twenty years of her twisted logic; I was used to it. But I underestimated her. That night, in our family group chat of four, my mother sent a TikTok link. The text on the video read: Modern kids are so selfish—how they scheme against their own parents. Ten minutes later, another one: Think your kids will take care of you? The richer they get, the cheaper they are. Camille replied with a laughing emoji: Mom, why are you sending this? My mother replied instantly: No reason. Just thinking out loud. Some people make a lot of money, but their hearts just turn to stone. They won’t even buy their own mother a piece of clothing. They put on a big show of taking you shopping, but you leave empty-handed. I don’t know who they’re trying to sicken with that kind of behavior. I stared at the screen, my thumb hovering over the glass. So that was the narrative. I was the villain who dragged her to a luxury store, forced her to try on expensive things, and maliciously refused to buy them. I didn’t type a single word. I just left the group chat and put my phone face down. A few days later, it was my mother’s birthday. My father called me, his voice heavy with fatigue. “Maddie, it’s your mom’s birthday. Come home for dinner. She won’t admit it, but she misses you.” I thought of the videos in the group chat and wanted to say absolutely not. But my dad pressed on. “We’re family. What can’t we get past?” “You know how your mother is. Sharp tongue, soft heart. You know that.” Sharp tongue, soft heart. I had been fed that lie for over two decades. But I had yet to see a single glimpse of this supposed soft heart. In the end, I caved. But I didn’t agonize over the perfect gift like I usually did. I picked up a simple bakery cake and put five hundred dollars in a generic card. I hadn’t even opened the front door when I heard her voice drifting through the living room window, dripping with venom. “Oh, please. Madeline is all talk.” “The other day, she said she was taking me coat shopping. I actually thought she was going to spend a dime on me. We spent an hour picking one out, and then she stood at the register, pretending to mess with her phone, refusing to tap her card. Honestly, it was so pathetic I didn’t even want it anymore.” Someone mumbled a response, and she cut them off. “Right? A thousand dollars. Like I can’t afford it myself. It’s not about the money, it’s about the intention.” One of my aunts chimed in, “But doesn’t Maddie make a really good living now? Why would she be so…” “Good living? What does that matter when she’s got such a manipulative streak?” My mother lowered her voice, though it still carried perfectly. “Since she was a kid, she’s been working angles. She knows exactly what to say to play people.” “Not like my Camille. She’s sweet. She says what she means. No hidden agendas.” I stood on the porch, my fingers tightening around the cake box until the cardboard buckled. Then, my face completely blank, I opened the door. The living room was packed. My mother sat dead center on the sofa, wearing a brand-new, charcoal-gray puffer jacket, beaming. When she saw me walk in, her smile faltered for a fraction of a second, before she smoothly looked away. “Oh. Madeline is here.” My Aunt Joanne waved me over. “Come sit, come sit! We were just talking about you.” I stayed rooted in the entryway, the cake and envelope heavy in my hands. I suddenly wasn’t sure I should step any further into the house. “Talking about me?” “Just saying how good you are to your folks,” my cousin Lauren smiled brightly. “Saying how busy you are at work, but you still made the drive out for your mom’s birthday.” Before I could politely deflect, my mother spoke up. “Good to us?” She held her teacup, not even bothering to look in my direction. “I wouldn’t go that far. She’s a very important, busy person now. I certainly don’t expect anything from her.” The room went dead silent. Aunt Joanne tried to smooth it over. “Oh, Diane, come on. Maddie is right here. It’s the thought that counts.” “The thought?” My mother slammed her teacup down onto the saucer. “If she had any thoughts for me, she wouldn’t have thrown a tantrum in the middle of Nordstrom last week.” Camille, sitting beside her, murmured, “Mom, don’t do this right now.” “Am I lying?” My mother brushed Camille off, patting the sleeve of her gray puffer jacket. “Look at this. You bought this for me. It’s warm, it’s comfortable.” “And her? Makes all that money, and all she has to offer is hot air.” Camille looked down at her lap, silent. But the cheap gray puffer jacket she bought had just become the dazzling centerpiece of the room. Aunt Joanne reached over to feel the nylon. “Oh, this really is nice. Camille is always so thoughtful.” My cousin’s wife, Bethany, nodded vigorously. “Absolutely. Nowadays, it’s not about how much you spend. It’s about whether the love is genuine.” I stood by the door, feeling like a criminal awaiting sentencing. My fingernails dug crescent moons into my palms. “Camille, how much did that jacket cost?” I heard my own voice slice through the room. It was terrifyingly calm. Camille blinked, startled. “Like, sixty dollars? Why?” “Oh.” I nodded slowly. I walked over to the entryway console table and set the cake down. I placed the envelope right next to it. “Mom, I’ll wire you a thousand dollars right now. Go back and buy that cashmere coat.” The living room fell into a suffocating silence. My mother’s face flushed a deep, ugly red. “What is that supposed to mean? Are you trying to throw money in my face?” “No,” I said, looking right into her eyes. “I just want everyone here to know that I didn’t refuse to buy you that coat. Yourefused to let me.” “I refused?” She practically leapt off the sofa, her voice hitting a shrill pitch. “You picked something outrageously expensive because you knew I’d say no! You got to play the perfect daughter without spending a dime!” My composure snapped. My voice rose to match hers. “Enough, Mom! No matter what I do, I’m the villain, right?” “You—” “It’s been like this my whole life.” The words I had choked down for twenty years finally tore their way out of my throat. “Everything I do is wrong. Everything I do is a scheme. And Camille doesn’t have to do a damn thing, and she’s just ‘simple’ and ‘sweet’ and ‘perfect.’” “Why?” 4 My mother was visibly stunned by my shouting, but then her eyes narrowed, filling with venomous tears. “Look at her! Look! I told you she was full of spite! She just can’t stand to see her sister praised!” “I don’t care about the praise.” I pointed a shaking finger at Camille, who shrank back into the cushions. “I just want to know why, when we are both your daughters, she gets all of your love for simply existing, while I rip my own heart out for you, and all you see is a manipulator?” “Rip your heart out?” My mother let out a harsh, mocking laugh, pointing at the console table. “Is that what you call ripping your heart out? A cheap grocery store cake and a little envelope of cash? Are you tossing scraps to a beggar?” “Then what do you want from me?” My voice broke. “Last year, I paid for a spa weekend for your birthday. You said I was showing off. The year before, I bought you a David Yurman bracelet. You said I was showing off. Clothes, appliances, vacations—when have you ever just said ‘thank you’?” She puffed up her chest. “You only buy those things to prove you’re better than your sister!” I stared at her. A hollow, hysterical feeling bubbled up in my chest. It was absurd. Why was I still standing here, pleading for fairness from a rigged jury? Aunt Joanne decided it was her time to shine. “Maddie, sweetie, your mom is just a little blunt. She means well. We’re family, there’s no need to be so dramatic.” “Blunt? Means well?” I slowly turned to look at my aunt. “Aunt Joanne, do you have any idea how my ‘blunt’ mother talks about you behind your back?” Aunt Joanne’s polite smile froze. “What?” “She says you’re—” “Madeline!” My mother shrieked, lunging forward. “Don’t you dare!” I sidestepped her easily and kept my eyes locked on Joanne. “She says you’re a shameless grifter. She says every time you come over, you treat her pantry like a free grocery store, and you have zero concept of boundaries.” All the color drained from Aunt Joanne’s face. “And Bethany.” I pivoted to my cousin’s wife before anyone could interrupt. “My mother says you trapped my cousin. She says your family is white-trash, you brought nothing to the marriage, and if you hadn’t gotten pregnant, he never would have settled for you.” Bethany’s mouth dropped open. She looked at my mother in absolute horror. “And Lauren—” “Stop it!” My mother lunged at me again, trying to physically cover my mouth with her hands. But Lauren stood up, her face tight. “Aunt Diane, let her speak! I’d love to hear exactly what I am to you.” I was breathing hard now, my adrenaline spiking. “Don’t worry, Lauren. She thinks you’re great.” Lauren blinked, slightly mollified. “She thinks you’re great because you’re an idiot,” I continued ruthlessly. “She says your mother-in-law walks all over you and you don’t have the spine to say a word. She says you’re just lucky you married a boring guy, because with your brain, anyone else would have ruined you by now.” Lauren’s face went white, then flushed a mottled, furious red. The living room was as silent as a graveyard. My mother was violently trembling, pointing a shaky finger at me. “You… you lying bitch! What are you talking about? I never said any of those things!” “Didn’t you?” I swept my gaze over the paralyzed room of relatives. “Does anyone else want to know what my mother really thinks of them? I can keep going. Direct quotes.” Nobody moved. Nobody looked at me. Every single pair of eyes was glued to my mother, who was hyperventilating, her face pale and panicked. She opened her mouth, but couldn’t force a single word out. “Madeline!” Camille finally jumped up, putting herself between me and our mother. Her eyes were red, her voice trembling. “That’s enough! How far are you going to push Mom?” “I’m pushing her?” I laughed, but hot tears were finally spilling down my cheeks, completely out of my control. “Camille, look me in the eye and tell me—who has been pushing who for the last twenty-five years?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “419173”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel