Category: English

I was on a reality dating show with the reigning Best Actor of Hollywood. To make sure I didn’t ruin his heavily-PR’d “showmance” with the current It Girl, I actively avoided him like the plague. But I underestimated the contrarian nature of modern netizens. After the show aired, the It Girl and the Best Actor were relentlessly mocked for their “artificial, focus-group-tested romance.” Meanwhile, the Best Actor and I—the “Anti-Showmance Duo”—accidentally went viral and broke the internet. Viewers: “They dodge eye contact but look at that chemistry! If they aren’t real, my entire life is a lie!” 1 I was notoriously known as the most problematic actress in my age group. My reputation was built on aggressively “shipping” myself with male co-stars to leach off their fame. Despite having a face sharp enough to cut glass and a killer, sultry vibe, my agency insisted I play the role of the fragile, innocent girl-next-door. Naturally, the internet despised me. They called me fake, manipulative, and a “green tea bitch.” While filming, the male leads’ PR teams would aggressively push for a fake romance. But once the project wrapped, they’d immediately pivot to playing the victim. I took the hate; they took the engagement. Seeing my reputation circle the drain, my agent threw me a lifeline: a live-streamed reality dating show. The strategy? Use my status as the internet’s punching bag to serve as the ultimate background character, thereby highlighting the sincerity and sweetness of the current It Girl, Chloe Vance. But just days before shooting began, news dropped that Silas Vance, an Oscar-winning Best Actor (and absolutely no relation to Chloe), was joining the cast. During my reckless college years, leaning heavily on my status as an upperclassman, I had a brief, embarrassing… incident with the impossibly beautiful, newly-minted star. We were definitely not meant to cross paths again. Thankfully, the producers had already established the show’s tone. Simply put, the entire show was a vehicle to serve the fabricated romance between Silas and Chloe. The rest of us were just props. Which meant I’d have zero interaction with Silas. My only job was to be a good piece of scenery, stay out of the spotlight, and clear the stage for him and Chloe. It was basically a paid vacation. I was thrilled. Getting paid to do absolutely nothing? Sign me up. On the first day of filming, Chloe arrived looking immaculate in a flowing white dress. The moment she stepped out of the car, the live chat exploded. “So THIS is why our Silas lowered himself to do a reality show! The high school sweetheart trope is real!” “Chloe is stunning. Such elegant goddess vibes.” I followed closely behind, makeup-free, wearing a faded t-shirt and shorts, and gave a lazy wave to the camera. The chat took a hard left. “Why is SHE here? So unlucky. Trailing right behind Chloe, trying to steal her thunder.” “But seriously, what is she wearing?! Nursing home chic?” “Reject female rivalry! Vote April Hayes off the island.” Heh. I was far too lazy to compete with them anyway. That would require a pay bump. Until Silas made his entrance, I diligently played the background character, watching the beautiful men and women vie for screen time. The second Silas appeared, I physically maneuvered myself completely out of the frame. I wasn’t even a background character anymore; I was off-screen. When it came to avoiding suspicion, I was a seasoned professional. Silas was the biggest name among us. He had kept a low profile for years, focusing strictly on acting, with zero scandals and almost no variety show appearances. Rumor had it that when the dating show producers first approached him, he flat-out refused. No one knew why he suddenly changed his mind. An A-list Best Actor dropping down to a reality show instantly sparked intense online debate. Everyone assumed he came specifically for Chloe. After all, when Chloe debuted, it was revealed that she and Silas had attended the same high school and college. There were even rumors that Chloe was the “one who got away,” the unattainable first love Silas had carried a torch for, remaining single to this day just waiting for her to look back. In Hollywood, star power is king. The moment Silas stepped out, the entire cast swarmed him, excitedly introducing themselves. When the camera panned to me, I was zoned out, staring at a bowl of sunflower seeds, trying to figure out if they were real or just props. The live chat was buzzing. “Look at her acting all aloof, ignoring our Silas! Doing anything for attention, she’s so pathetic.” “Okay, but honestly… I’m kind of getting her vibe? Even without makeup, she looks good. Effortlessly cool.” “Girl, are you crazy? You think April the Green Tea is cool? Who knows what toxic schemes she’s plotting.” Chloe seamlessly claimed the seat next to Silas. They were wearing complementary colors, looking very much like a couple. The chat was flooded with “A match made in heaven” and “Destined lovers.” I sat far away, cracking sunflower seeds, quietly observing Silas. It had been years. He was even more handsome now, practically oozing a detached, untouchable aura. He looked cold and distant. None of that soft, puppy-dog cuteness from before. The chat went wild. “The Vance-Thorne ship is sailing! Just one frame together and it’s raining pink bubbles. I’m dying!” Chloe casually flipped her hair and covered her mouth with a delicate laugh, sending the chat into a frenzy. “Chloe has so much class. She’s the only pure jasmine flower in the industry. How does April, that cheap knockoff, even dare to compare?” 2 Right at that moment, Silas suddenly looked over at me. I was mid-bite, a sunflower seed halfway to my mouth, and didn’t have time to look away. Our eyes locked. I immediately shifted my gaze to the nearest guy, a cute indie musician, and shot him a dramatic, exaggerated wink. The light in Silas’s eyes instantly darkened. An eagle-eyed viewer immediately commented: “Am I crazy, or did Silas just look… hurt? What did he just see?” “He was definitely looking at April.” “Girl, spit it out, knock on wood! Do not let Silas’s name be in the same sentence as April the Green Tea!” I wholeheartedly agreed with that hater. I didn’t want even a sliver of a connection to Silas. I just wanted to slack off for three months, collect my massive paycheck, and go home. That evening, before the anonymous “heartbeat letters” segment, the producers introduced a mixer. In a bizarre twist, they blindfolded all of us, put us in a confined room, and told us to walk around randomly. Whoever you grabbed was your date for the night. They even gave this ridiculous game a ridiculous name: “Cupid’s Blind Man’s Bluff.” I felt my sanity actively draining. Some netizens were equally unhappy. “This isn’t fair! April the Clout Chaser is definitely going to use this to grope the guys.” “Exactly! No other man is allowed to touch our Chloe! Chloe belongs to Silas.” Without sight, my other senses went into overdrive. In the small room, the sound of breathing overlapped. The accidental brushes of skin made the atmosphere heat up rapidly. I tensed up, frantically trying to parse through the chaos of various perfumes and colognes to identify Silas’s distinct body wash. And then, I actively walked in the opposite direction. The live chat was losing its mind. “The producers are messy for this! Too spicy!” “Chloe, go right! Silas is on the right! Ahhh, they almost bumped into each other!” “Wait, is anyone else noticing April’s pathing? It’s so weird. Holy crap, did she just kick a guy away?!” “Girl, I see it too. April is literally dodging everyone, especially Silas. It’s like she has a radar. This is wild.” “But what’s even crazier is that Silas keeps moving TOWARD April! Everyone else is stumbling around like headless chickens, but those two look like they have X-ray vision!” “She runs, he chases. There is no escape.” “Help, the comment above me is sending me!” Ten minutes later, the director blew the whistle. The pairings were set. Everyone else had tried their hardest to bump into someone else to manufacture some romantic tension. I, however, stuck to my strict “Don’t Touch Me” policy. One kick here, one dodge there, and I successfully avoided every single guy in the room. Which meant I also avoided Silas. However, when the blindfolds came off… Everyone else was paired up, holding hands. Only Silas and I were left, standing on opposite ends of the room, staring at each other. Chloe’s face dropped instantly. She ripped her hand away from the guy next to her. This had… backfired spectacularly. Chloe forced a sugary-sweet smile. “Director, we didn’t really understand the rules just now. Can we do a do-over?” I immediately stepped forward to support her. The chat scrolled furiously. “Ha, Green Tea April is definitely going to argue with Chloe. Let’s watch her terrible acting.” “She got lucky and ended up with Silas. She’s probably dying of happiness inside.” 3 I sprinted right up to the director. “She’s absolutely right! I agree! Do-over! We MUST do it over!” If I had known this would happen, I would have grabbed a random guy earlier! The rapper from this morning wasn’t bad, or the older action star… Literally anyone was better than Silas. Chloe probably hadn’t expected me to back her up so aggressively. She froze in place. Silas spoke, his tone flat. “It’s getting late. A do-over is a waste of time.” The director wasn’t about to argue with an A-lister like Silas, so that was that. Chloe walked slowly over to Silas, her eyes soft and pleading. “Silas, it’s okay. I’ll wait for you to get back.” The camera zoomed in for a tight close-up on the two of them. Chloe walked away, looking back over her shoulder three times, her eyes red as if she were marching off to war. The live chat erupted. “My heart breaks for Chloe. It’s all April’s fault. That bitch ruins everything. She’s doing this on purpose to mess with our girl.” “Speechless. If you don’t use your eyes, donate them. I’m just a casual viewer, and it’s obvious April didn’t do anything.” “Sisters, Green Tea April is definitely faking this ‘I don’t care’ attitude. Don’t be fooled! She’s going to show her true colors soon and throw herself at Silas. Just watch.” The date roster was locked in. I shot Silas a look of extreme reluctance and maintained a strict three-foot distance from him at all times. The live chat stalled for a moment before someone quietly commented: “Am I going crazy, or does April look like she’s genuinely disgusted by Silas?” “She’s not even trying to get close? Is this still Green Tea April? Did she get a personality transplant?” “LMAO, Silas keeps looking back to check if April is still there. What, is he afraid she’s going to run away?” “I mean, it really looks like April wants to run.” The date was set up on the beach. Dim lighting, candles on the table, rose petals scattered everywhere. It gave me a headache. I took the initiative. “What temperature do you keep your AC at?” Silas: “78.” Me: “I like 62. We’re not compatible.” A long silence. Silas spoke softly, “I can do 62.” What… is his deal? I pressed on. “Do you lick the foil lid on your yogurt cups?” Silas: “No.” Me: “I do. We’re not compatible.” Silas: “I…” I waved my hand. “I go to bed at exactly 8 PM every night, and I fall asleep listening to heavy metal. I’m heading back.” The chat was an avalanche of text. “QUICK, EVERYONE WATCH APRIL’S FEED! I’M LAUGHING MY HEAD OFF!” “Look how pitiful our Best Actor looks! He’s so wounded!” “The vibe between these two is so weird, but I’m kind of… shipping it?” “A ship can be rare, but it shouldn’t be cursed! This is a dangerous path. The Vance-Thorne ship is the only true path.” 4 I had just gotten back to the communal living room and was about to fire up a mobile game to cool down when Chloe walked in. Seeing me, she feigned shock. “April! You’re back so soon? What about your date?” I was leaning lazily against the doorframe, chewing on a piece of toast. “It’s dead.” A flash of triumph crossed Chloe’s eyes. It was fleeting, but I caught it. Given my terrible reputation and my history of aggressive showmances, the male cast members were avoiding me like the plague. Silas was A-list, known for being aloof and unapproachable. Chloe had definitely assumed Silas had kicked me out. She covered her mouth, her big eyes widening innocently, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Please don’t be mad, April. I apologize on Silas’s behalf.” Tsk. Her acting was so amateur. It was like watching someone try to fake an asthma attack. I suddenly felt a little bad for her fans. The chat: “Does April know how to talk? If you can’t speak nicely, keep your mouth shut. She’s just bullying our kind-hearted Chloe. She stole someone else’s date, and she has the nerve to be mad?” “Who started the drama on purpose? And where exactly did April look mad?” “Our girl was just checking in on her! How is that starting drama?” “Did she mention you? Stop catching strays!” The chat was a warzone. Silas pushed the door open and walked in. The camera immediately framed Chloe and Silas together, effectively pushing me out of the shot. I couldn’t help but give the cameraman a mental thumbs-up. Chloe hurried over, looking at Silas with deep, soulful eyes, taking on the tone of a protective girlfriend. “Silas, you shouldn’t have abandoned April like that. She’s a girl, she’s going to be heartbroken.” Silas’s gaze landed on me. It was dark, unreadable, like he had a million things to say but couldn’t. Right at that moment, a loud, cheerful “Victory!” blared from my phone. I frantically muted it and smiled at the two of them. “Sorry! My bad. Don’t mind me. Please, continue.” The chat lost it. “April is a legend.” “Redefining ‘Heartbroken’.” “April is carrying the comedy for this entire episode.” “What do I do? I suddenly feel like the vibe between Chloe and Silas is super awkward when they’re in the same frame. And they’re in the same frame A LOT! It feels forced.” “Sister above me, they’re in the same frame a lot because they like each other! Look at April and Silas—they’re always a mile apart. Of course they’re never in the same shot.” That night, out of the five male cast members, Chloe received four anonymous “heartbeat letters.” She had pre-applied waterproof makeup and cried uncontrollably in front of the camera. She said she was so grateful for their affection and deeply moved. But, she claimed, her heart already belonged to a bright moon, and there was no room for anyone else. The chat spammed: “Vance-Thorne is so sweet!” “Chloe is so poetic!” “Don’t cry, baby, you deserve the world!” Everyone was guessing which of the four letters was from Silas. The camera cut to me. I shuffled out in my slippers. I had only received one letter, and the producers had hidden it. When I asked why, they explained it was probably sent by mistake and didn’t count. Honestly, I understood. The producers needed drama. They were using me as a contrast to Chloe to manufacture conflict and views. Because I received zero letters, ranking dead last, I had to accept a punishment. Not only did I have to move into the worst room, but I also lost the right to choose a male guest for the next activity. Surprisingly, the hate comments died down a bit. A lot of people were actually leaving positive comments, trying to comfort me. Joke’s on them, I wasn’t sad at all. This wasn’t a punishment; it was a reward. Filming is exhausting. God knows how badly I just wanted to pass out in my room. The next day, everyone else picked their dates. Some were being sickeningly sweet, some were baking, some were having deep life chats, and some were stirring up drama. I slept until 9 AM, then sat in the corner farthest from Silas, playing mobile games. It was pure bliss. A little while later, Silas walked over to get water. His tall frame blocked my light. I silently got up and moved to the other side of the room. Soon after, Silas walked over to where I was sitting now to grab a peach. I thought he’d just grab it and leave. Instead, he stood there staring at the peach like it was a museum artifact, not moving an inch. I couldn’t take it anymore and stood up again. When I looked up, I accidentally locked eyes with him. His raven-black eyelashes fluttered slightly. His dark pupils were like bottomless pits. His thin lips were pressed together. Just looking at him made me feel a little flushed. After all these years, Silas was still ridiculously gorgeous. I turned to leave, but a flash of panic crossed his eyes, and he almost instinctively stepped in front of me to block my path. I stared at him calmly, showing no emotion, while my brain was a chaotic mess of question marks. What… does he want? Silas looked down, his voice cool but tinged with an undeniable sweetness: “Want a peach?” The chat exploded. “What the hell does ‘Want a peach’ mean?!” “Why does the usually aloof and arrogant Silas turn into a literal puppy the second he’s near April! I don’t understand, but I am shook.” “Hahahaha, April’s face: Back! Back! Back away!” “These two have the least amount of screentime together, and they’re avoiding each other the hardest, but they’re the ones making my heart flutter! This is insane.” I flat-out refused. “No.” The moment I said it, I remembered this was a livestream. Silas was an A-lister. Rejecting him like that felt like I wasn’t giving him enough face. So I changed my tune. “Give it to me.” The corners of Silas’s mouth twitched upward. “I’ll go wash it for you.” Me: “…” Bro, do you remember I’m supposed to be the background character? The chat peaked. “Holy shit, is this the first time Silas has smiled on this show?! And it’s directed at April?” “Before April paid attention to him, Silas (Aloof mode): I don’t smile. I was born not to smile. After April acknowledged him, Silas: Hehehehehe.” I furrowed my brows. When I took the washed peach from Silas, my hand accidentally brushed against his. His skin was cool, but the brief contact felt like a spark of fire. We both pulled our hands back almost simultaneously. Silas slowly curled his long fingers inward. The tips of his fingers were flushed pink. I coughed twice, grabbed the peach, and walked away without looking back. In less than two minutes of screen time, the chat was a blur of text. “Ahhhh! The way he looks at her! I’m dead.” “I’ve already mentally outlined a 100,000-word angst-filled romance. The whole world thinks we have nothing to do with each other, that we even hate each other. But only I know how badly I crave you in the dead of night. My desire, my obsession, my… (the rest can’t be broadcast).” “Keep going! Write more for your premium subscribers! Don’t leave out any details, movements, expressions, or sounds!” “Damn, they are intoxicating. Just brushing hands makes me want to scream. Is anyone else shipping this? Because if no one else is, I’m going in.” 6 “Hey, wake up! Chloe is right there! Stop shipping them blindly and ruining the Vance-Thorne romance. You ‘fans’ are making the comment section toxic.” “Oh, look who thinks they have a superiority complex over shipping. Newsflash: Chloe and Silas have the most screen time, but has he ever actually looked at her?” “Anyone with eyes can see the show only pushes Vance-Thorne. Why are you guys forcing it? Does April even deserve him?” “Are we really force-feeding couples now? The show’s manufactured romance is so fake it gives me a stomachache. I refuse to eat it. I’m a contrarian ostrich, and I love the Anti-Showmance duo! Stay mad! Stay mad!” “Anti-Showmance? LMAO. That perfectly fits April’s vibe.” After eating Silas’s peach, I lost three games in a row. It was definitely because my teammates sucked. It had absolutely nothing to do with me being flustered. Yep. Definitely. Over the next few weeks, Chloe suddenly became overly friendly with me. When I woke up in the morning, she’d greet me: “Our little sleepyhead April is finally awake!” It’s fine. Even if you didn’t point it out, the internet already knew I was lazy. While I was gaming, Chloe was doing yoga next door, smiling at the camera: “We girls need to cultivate elegant hobbies. I’ve been reading a lot of classic literature lately. I’ll share some with you guys when I have time.” Yeah, I saw it. The Billionaire’s Runaway Bride. I wonder if she ever managed to run away. One time, everyone was gathered around discussing Silas’s movies. When his film premiered, he sent exclusive merch to a lot of people in the industry. Chloe suddenly asked me, “April, which character’s merch did you receive?” Silas and I were notoriously unconnected in the industry; our teams never interacted. I replied flatly, “I didn’t get any.” Chloe looked pitiful. “I’m so sorry, April. I shouldn’t have asked. I wasn’t trying to open an old wound.” I nodded dismissively. “Okay. I forgive you.” Chloe froze. The chat was a wall of “HAHAHAHAHA.” “Guys, I can’t. I’m going to have a six-pack from laughing so hard.” Silas walked past Chloe and stopped beside me, lowering his voice. “I sent you a ton back then, but you rejected all of them. I thought you didn’t like them. Which one do you want? I’ll have them ship it now.” I looked away. “No thanks. I have no space for it.” In a corner off-camera, Chloe glared daggers at me and stormed off. I don’t know what got into her, but she kept making passive-aggressive remarks and treating me like her imaginary rival, which ended up forcing my screentime way up. I wonder if the producers will give me a bonus for this. Probably feeling that things had been too peaceful, the producers decided to stir the pot again. They announced a “Pajama Beach Party.” Everyone was supposed to gather, prepare their own dinner ingredients, and play games designed by the show. The losers would have to draw random cards provided by the producers and complete the punishments listed on them. The contents of the cards were a mystery. The stakes were a mystery. The teaser for the pajama party trended immediately, drawing in a ton of casual viewers. Netizens grabbed their popcorn and waited for the drama. That night, everyone coincidentally chose outfits that perfectly showed off their figures. Men and women gathered together, the waves crashing in the background, voices buzzing, skin flashing everywhere—it was a testosterone-fueled scene. The producers had set up a temporary outdoor kitchen. I was hiding in it, wearing a standard, shapeless blue cotton pajama set, grilling meat. Chat: “Trying to find April on camera is actually difficult. If anyone ever says she’s an attention hog again, I will fight them.” “I’m slowly getting used to April’s bizarre fashion choices. It’s giving ‘I know I’m pretty, so I do what I want’.” “Well, look who it is! That’s the woman who falls asleep listening to heavy metal.” 7 Just as the meat finished grilling, the rapper kid sidled up to me. “Smells amazing. Can I have some?” I replied politely, “Sure, I can’t finish it all by myself.” He wasn’t wearing a shirt, just a pair of floral swim trunks, with a slightly roguish look in his eyes. In the recent voting rounds for “Heartbeat Guests,” he had received the fewest votes, and his screentime had plummeted. He was probably trying to team up with me, a fellow bottom-tier contestant, to create some buzz. Unfortunately for him, he picked the wrong person. I was praying for less screentime. After eating the meat, he leaned in closer, gave me a wink, and forced out a raspy, “vocal fry” voice: “To repay you, let me peel an apple for you, April.” Me: “…” Kid, you’re trying way too hard. I was just about to decline when Silas navigated through the crowd and walked over. The rapper quickly tried to suck up to him. “Hey, Silas. Looking for Chloe? She’s not over here.” Silas completely ignored him, carefully sat down next to me, and said flatly, “I want an apple. I’ll peel it.” The chat went feral. “The Best Actor is being so pouty! I’m laughing so loud!” “Silas looks like a giant dog competing for affection. What do I do? I think I’m shifting from a fan to a protective mom.” “Things are getting spicy! The pressure is on April.” Why wasn’t Silas performing for the cameras properly? What was he doing causing trouble over here? Could he really have held a grudge from high school all the way until now? No way, right? A revered Best Actor couldn’t be that petty. I frowned at the rapper. “He doesn’t know how. You do it.” Silas didn’t say a word. He just grabbed an apple and started peeling. The knife glinted. Silas’s cold gaze swept over the rapper’s bare torso, his hand peeling the apple with aggressive force. The rapper looked dumbfounded. He swallowed hard, looked at me, looked at Silas, dropped his apple, made an excuse, and bolted. The chat exploded with laughter: “In just a few seconds, Silas completely fried that kid’s brain.” “Silas: It doesn’t matter. I will intervene.” “TBH, when I first started shipping the Anti-Showmance duo, my expression was exactly the same as that half-naked guy with the cowlick.” “Luke: Do I not deserve to have my name mentioned?” Once Luke (the rapper) left, I wanted to leave too. “Hss—” The knife in Silas’s hand dropped to the table with a dull thud. I pulled back the leg I had just extended. Silas opened his hand. A bead of blood was blooming on his pale, long finger, like a red rose blooming in the snow. I hesitated for a second, but couldn’t resist grabbing a Band-Aid. I was just being a good Samaritan. I didn’t feel bad for him at all. Yep, definitely not. Silas obediently held his hand out to me, his brow slightly furrowed, the corners of his eyes tinged red. He looked incredibly pitiful. The chat: “And now, please enjoy the blockbuster film starring Best Actor Silas Thorne: So What If I’m Manipulative? Also known as Look How Desperate I Am.” “Silas’s inner monologue: April, look at me. I’m hurt. Comfort me. If you wait any longer, the wound will heal itself.” “Silas, do you remember that you’re the tough guy who broke two ribs during filming and didn’t even make a sound?” “I’m poisoned! I can actually see a hint of fondness in April’s disgusted actions.” After I applied the Band-Aid, the game over there was about to start. They were reading the rules. I got up and walked over. Silas followed silently behind me.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “413017”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

While waiting in line at the hospital for my follow-up appointment, the massive TV screen in the lobby was broadcasting the live feed of an international film festival. During the acceptance speech, he didn’t say a single word. Instead, in front of the entire world, he made a phone call. And then, my phone rang… 1 I clutched my appointment slip, shivering slightly under the blast of the air conditioning. My lower abdomen still ached with a dull throb. It had been three months since I was discharged, and I was back for a check-up. But I didn’t expect to see him everywhere I went. I stared blankly at the large screen. It was broadcasting a prestigious film festival in Europe, and the camera was zoomed in on the young American filmmaker holding the gold trophy. His features were so familiar, yet so foreign. Elias Thorne. The visionary director. He had reached the peak of the industry the moment he debuted. Over the last two years, his masterpiece Spring Awakening had swept every domestic award, and now, he had just taken home Best Director on the international stage. It had been years since someone so young had stood on that stage. Even the hospital’s waiting room TV had been switched to the live broadcast ten minutes ago. The whole country was watching, bursting with pride. Elias was exactly how I remembered him—radiant, blinding, and utterly mesmerizing. “Our movies are finally taking the world by storm! I’m so proud I could die. I don’t even feel my sickness anymore,” a patient nearby whispered. “It’s unfair enough that Elias is a genius, but does he also have to look better than Hollywood’s top leading men?” “Shh, be quiet. He’s about to give his speech.” The people around me were practically vibrating with excitement, holding their breath to hear his acceptance speech. I tilted my head back, looking at the screen. Under the spotlight, Elias didn’t say a word. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and pressed it to his ear. I could hardly believe it. In front of the whole world, he was making a phone call. During his acceptance speech. And then, the phone resting on my lap began to ring. An unknown international number flashed beautifully across the screen. A ridiculous, absurd thought rose in my chest. The people around me turned to look, their expressions a mix of disbelief and weirdness. They muttered, “What a coincidence,” and turned back to the screen. It really was a coincidence. A coincidence so perfect I almost deluded myself into thinking Elias was actually calling me. I picked up my phone, my fingertips trembling. Suddenly, the kid in the seat next to me swung his arm, and smack—my phone went flying across the floor. The ringing had already annoyed a few people, who shot me irritated glares. I bit my lip and hurriedly bent down to pick it up. Just as my fingers brushed the screen, the kid suddenly yanked on my beanie. A cold draft hit my scalp. The ringing stopped at that exact moment. The screen lit up with a missed call. The kid spoke with the cruel innocence only children possess: “Lady, why don’t you have any hair? You look scary.” The polished hospital floor reflected my pale, bald scalp. Yes, I didn’t have any hair. Yes, I looked scary. I looked up again. On the big screen, the young man had already finished his silent “speech,” his expression slightly cold. Starlight, glamour, the center of the world. That was Elias’s life. The intercom finally called my name. “Number eighty-six, April Hayes. Clinic Room Three.” I answered. This was my life. 2 The check-up results were decent, which was the only good news I’d had lately. I lay on my couch, scrolling through social media. Ever since Elias won the award, every platform had been flooded with his name for half a month straight. Reporters ambushed him at the airport, throwing questions at him that he refused to answer. “Director Thorne, who exactly was that highly-anticipated phone call for?” Escorted by bodyguards in black, he finally turned his head and answered the only question he would entertain. He was wearing sunglasses, so I couldn’t see his eyes, but the smile on his lips was dripping with sarcasm. Elias said, “The person I hate the most.” Calling the person you hate the most during your acceptance speech. Anyone could tell there was some serious baggage there. Soon enough, Hollywood insiders started leaking rumors. The person Elias loved and hated so deeply was supposedly the rising B-list starlet, Vivian Vance. The two had known each other since college, and their dramatic history could fill an eighty-episode soap opera. I opened my call log and stared at that missed international call. The day I walked out of the clinic, I tried calling that number back. Over and over again. No one ever answered. It was probably just a spam call. Whatever. 3 “Vivian Vance really hit the jackpot. Tying her name to Elias Thorne? She’s going to have so many scripts thrown at her she won’t be able to carry them.” Maggie, my manager, indignantly yanked the curtains open, letting the sunlight spill right into my eyes. Another trending topic had just hit Twitter: #VivianVanceAprilHayes. Clicking on it revealed a sea of pure hatred directed at me. Vivian had climbed the ladder by stepping on my neck. She debuted in college doing teen dramas, but somehow, her career stalled, and she stumbled her way into becoming a rom-com sidekick. Meanwhile, I used to be “America’s Sweetheart.” The kind of actress people couldn’t help but smile at when they saw my picture. That was until I saved a drugged Vivian at a Hollywood industry mixer. The security footage was leaked and selectively edited to make it look like I was the one offering up a junior actress to a powerful studio executive. People used to call me the Girl Next Door. After that incident, they called me the Hollywood Fixer. Throughout the entire scandal, Vivian didn’t say a single word. Not one word to clear my name. Instead, she played the role of the perfect victim. She booked several major roles out of the sympathy wave and skyrocketed from a nobody to a household name. Right around that time, I was diagnosed with cancer. I quietly stepped away from the industry, only to have people send funeral wreaths to my front door telling me to die. Maggie, my manager, was heartbroken for me. She cursed the netizens for being vile, but I just laughed and joked, “It’s fine, the wreaths will save us money on my funeral.” I genuinely thought I was going to die back then. I never expected to somehow survive until today. My hair fell out, my body wasted away, and I completely forgot how to smile genuinely. But I was still alive. With Vivian’s popularity surging again, her PR team dragged my name out to beat a dead horse. “Does April Hayes think hiding from the industry makes it okay? Come out and apologize!” “April the Fixer bullied our innocent girl. Disgusting.” “Is April Hayes even still alive?” That was the rhetoric in her fan groups. The hashtag with my name was climbing the charts when suddenly, a bright red “BREAKING” tag parachuted into the number one spot: #EliasThorneRealityShow. 4 The Real You was a highly anticipated reality show that had been in the works since last year. It was trending because rumors said Elias Thorne was joining the cast. Elias was notoriously private. Even though his popularity had peaked over the last two days, the press still couldn’t dig up any new information on him. Rumor had it that not only was he joining the show, but he would also be choosing the lead for his next film from among the cast members. Suddenly, getting a spot on that show became a bloodbath. Maggie looked at the rumor mill and sighed wistfully. “If you could just get on this show, I bet you could clear your name and make a comeback.” We both laughed. I was trying to make a comeback now, but I couldn’t even book a commercial, let alone a spot on a premium reality show. Pennies don’t just fall from heaven. And capitalists don’t run charities. 5 But this time, a penny really did fall from heaven. Standing in front of the Malibu beach house where The Real You was filming, I still couldn’t quite believe it. I was wearing a high-quality wig and a full face of makeup. I just looked like a much thinner version of my old self. Before I left, Maggie told me this was my chance to turn things around. Honestly, whether I cleared my name or not wasn’t that important to me. I just wanted to live for one more day, and bring the audience a little joy for one more day. Facing the familiar camera lenses, I pulled out my signature “America’s Sweetheart” smile. Suddenly, the cameraman pivoted, pointing the lens right behind me. I turned around, and the smile froze on my face. Elias and Vivian were walking up together, the ocean breeze catching their clothes. Elias had fully grown into his features—he looked absolutely striking. “Eli…” I managed to get the first syllable out before my throat closed up. He and Vivian brushed right past me. He didn’t spare me a single glance. I kept my head down, staring at my shoes, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief. I was glad he was still shining, still mesmerizing. It made my own gray, fading existence feel a little less pathetic. “You.” Vivian suddenly turned around, pointing at the suitcase behind her, addressing me. “Carry this to my room.” I looked around. Vivian curled her lips into a smirk, pointing straight at me. “Yes, you. April Hayes.” It was incredibly jarring. She had been playing the innocent, sweet girl-next-door for two years, but in front of me, she dropped the act completely. “Vivian, we’re livestreaming,” I said quietly. The color drained from her face. She instantly switched back to her usual sweet smile, her lips turning pale as she frantically tried to think of a way to salvage the situation. I took my time and added, “Just kidding.” The emotional rollercoaster was too much for her. Realizing she’d been played, she choked on her anger. She looked back and saw that Elias hadn’t waited for her at all and was already far ahead. Gritting her teeth, she grabbed her own suitcase and chased after him. The producers had obviously invited me because the bad blood between Vivian and me was guaranteed drama and ratings. Hitting back at her like that was exactly what they wanted. 6 After unpacking in my assigned room, I walked out and bumped right into Elias. His room was directly across from mine. He must have just showered; his bangs were slightly damp. They say fame nourishes a person, and Elias looked more aristocratic than ever. Only the cold distance radiating from him matched the brooding, eccentric boy I once knew. When I tried to call his name earlier, it was pure muscle memory. Now, my rationality had returned. I remembered that he probably didn’t want to talk to me, so I lowered my eyes and waited for him to pass. Instead, a mocking voice floated down from above me. “Did your billionaire boyfriend stop feeding you?” I looked up. Elias’s eyes were cold, his gaze landing on my protruding collarbones. I instinctively pulled my sleeves down to cover my frail wrists and said softly, “I’m on a diet.” He scoffed. “Working hard to marry into money, huh. Dedication.” It was humiliating and incredibly blunt. I opened my mouth to speak. But Elias had already walked downstairs. 7 The Real You had cast some serious heavy hitters. During introductions, everyone rattled off a massive list of blockbuster credits. I had a few hits under my belt too—luckily, the comedies I filmed back in the day had been massive box office successes. But when I finished my introduction, unlike with the others, no one chimed in. The room went dead silent. I was the outlier on this show. Everyone else was either a powerhouse actor or someone with massive backing like Vivian. And then there was me: out of the industry for two years, carrying the weight of a massive, career-ending scandal. No one knew how to handle me, so these industry veterans simply chose silence. A crisp voice broke the tension. Vivian looked at me and said, “Those movies are from years ago. April, what exactly have you been doing for the last two years?” It sounded like genuine curiosity, but her fans had spent two years harassing me, demanding to know why I couldn’t even write an apology letter. Rumors claimed I had vanished to marry a billionaire. A viral Reddit thread had “analyzed” the evidence so convincingly that even I almost believed it. Elias, who hated socializing and had kept his eyes lowered the whole time, suddenly looked up at me. The words I was about to say died in my throat. “I went to experience life and hone my acting skills,” I said, resting my chin on my hand and smiling carelessly. “If someone gives me the role of a dying patient right now, I bet I could go to the Oscars with Director Thorne next time.” It was shameless and arrogant. The room erupted into laughter, easing the awkward tension. Even the tight lines around Elias’s eyes relaxed for a fraction of a second. But only for a fraction of a second. The producers announced a new activity: going out to explore the local town to break the ice. The area had some beautiful scenery. But there was a catch: someone had to stay at the beach house to cook dinner. Compared to going out and exploring, cooking was not only boring but also highly likely to be cut from the final edit. It was a thankless job. The cast members all made excuses about not knowing how to cook, dodging the bullet like the plague. “April knows how.” I looked up in bewilderment, meeting Elias’s dark, heavy eyes. I really didn’t realize he hated me this much—he wouldn’t even give me a chance to get screen time. I actually did know how to cook, and I was pretty good at it. Back in the day, if I made a bowl of noodles, Elias would drink every last drop of the broth. But I couldn’t do it now. My sense of taste was practically gone from the chemo. “I don’t know how—” I instinctively started to refuse, but then I noticed the looks from the other cast members. I swallowed the words, put on a bright smile, and said, “Even if I don’t, I have to learn now. If Director Thorne asks, I must deliver.” A mocking smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Elias was at the top of the world now; his word was law. Even if I really didn’t know how, I’d have to learn on the spot. My mouth tasted bitter. Only now, faced with this reality, did I feel a tiny pang of regret. If only I had never met Elias Thorne. 8 To my surprise, someone volunteered to stay behind and help me. It was Lily, a former child star who had grown into a talented actress, clearly here to vie for the lead in Elias’s new movie. “Don’t take it to heart. He’s just letting Vivian blow off some steam. Director Thorne won’t make things too hard for you,” Lily whispered to me, turning her back to the cameras while washing vegetables. I nodded. Everyone knew Elias and I had no history together (or so they thought). For him to target me out of nowhere, it could only be to avenge Vivian. I stir-fried some greens and asked Lily to taste it. Her face contorted into an expression of pure agony. “April… you really don’t know how to cook, do you?” I gave an awkward laugh and handed the spatula over. I settled for being her sous-chef, washing veggies and carrying plates. Just as dinner was almost ready, a loud, cheerful commotion echoed from the living room. It sounded like they had a great time outside. I poked my head out, ready to call everyone to dinner, only to lock eyes with a pair of incredibly happy ones. Vivian was tugging on Elias’s sleeve, laughing radiantly. The sight burned me. I immediately spun around. Lily looked at me in confusion. I shook my head, signaling I was fine, and silently carried the plates to the dining table. The cast sat down. The food was delicious, and everyone showered Lily with praise. Everyone except Elias. He took one bite, lowered his eyes, and a cold aura settled over him. The moment I saw that look on His Majesty’s face, I had a bad feeling. Sure enough. Elias wiped his mouth with a napkin, his narrow eyes freezing cold. “April Hayes, did you make this?” My face flushed crimson. He was being stubborn, relentless, and deliberately humiliating me. When Elias acted like this, it was just… exhausting. 9 After that incident at the dinner table, everyone got the message loud and clear. In Elias’s eyes, I was blacklisted. The entertainment industry is full of opportunists, and very quickly, I found myself completely isolated. Even Lily, who had kindly lent a hand, was put in an awkward position. I didn’t want to drag her down, so I voluntarily distanced myself from her. That night, after taking a shower, I took off my wig. Fine, dark fuzz had started to grow on my scalp, like new grass in spring. Give it a few more months, and maybe I wouldn’t even need the wig anymore. There were port marks on my collarbone from the treatments, and a surgical scar slashing across my stomach. I looked at myself in the mirror. I was painfully thin, but my eyes were bright. I pulled at my cheeks and forced a smile. “Hey, April.” “Leave them with something better to remember you by.” I took my medication, but I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. I threw on a jacket and went out to the hallway balcony to get some air. The distant ocean shimmered under the moonlight, and the breeze carried the sharp scent of saltwater. My tense nerves finally relaxed. I was just about to head back to my room when I heard voices behind me. “Elias, it’s been so many years. Why can’t you let it go? What did I do wrong?” Vivian was crying. My hand tightened on the railing. I instantly knew who she was begging so pitifully. Eavesdropping was wrong, and I was here first, but I was hidden behind a sheer white curtain, so they hadn’t seen me. If I walked out now, I’d bump right into them, which would be impossible to explain. The person on the other side was silent for a long time before replying with two words: “I’m sorry.” I had no idea what Vivian had done to trigger this dramatic saga of love and hate, but it wasn’t my business anyway. Once I heard the sound of retreating footsteps, I waited a little longer. When everything was quiet, I tiptoed out, ready to leave. I turned around and walked right into Elias’s gaze. He was leaning against the wall, a cigarette pinched between his fingers, the cherry glowing like a tiny spark in the dark. He was looking right at me. He had known I was there the whole time. But the first words that blurted out of my mouth were, “You’re smoking?” He used to hate people who smoked and drank. “People change.” He smirked, though I couldn’t tell who he was mocking. 10 People change. But from the very first time I saw Elias, I believed he would always be pure and uncorrupted. It was an inexplicable, aching intuition. Elias transferred to our high school in sophomore year. The moment he walked through the gates, the news spread like wildfire: a ridiculously gorgeous guy had arrived. Back then, I loved to laugh and got along with everyone. I was perpetually cheerful, and bad luck never seemed to touch me. The teacher randomly pointed a finger and entrusted the new student to my care. “April.” I looked up, crashing right into the new kid’s pitch-black eyes. Monolids, looking tired and lazy. “This is your new desk partner. Take good care of him.” I jumped out of my seat with excitement. The teacher had mentioned Elias was a bit “withdrawn.” Later, I realized the teacher was being extremely generous with her words. It was way more than “a bit.” With a face like that—lean, striking, with pale skin—I figured there was no way people would isolate him. I thought his life would be surrounded by friends and noise. I was wrong. It wasn’t that people isolated Elias; it was that he isolated himself from the rest of the world. But in every world, there’s always someone who takes an inch of sunshine and runs a mile with it. Like me. Back then, Elias was covered in thorns; anyone who got close bled. But I had thick skin. He gave me the cold shoulder for an entire year, but he just couldn’t freeze me out. He probably never expected to meet someone like April Hayes, someone who completely ignored social cues. I didn’t want anything from him, really. I just wanted him to be a little happier. I treated everyone around me like that. I wanted everyone to be happy every day. But Elias… was special. I was too young to understand where that “specialness” came from. Until one day, some classmates made a bet on how many eyelashes Elias had. While he was napping at his desk, I leaned in to count them. They were long and thick, framing the elegant slope of his nose. One, two, three. Four, five, six. I counted slowly, kept losing track, and had to start over. The sleeping Elias suddenly raised a hand and covered my eyes. “Stop counting. Go to sleep.” His voice was husky, his palm burning hot against my skin. Thump, thump, thump. Four, five, six. It took me a delayed moment to realize that was the sound of my own violently pounding heart. From then on, there was no going back.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “413018”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I transmigrated into a redemption novel as the mafia heiress. The male lead was the adopted son I had bullied in every possible way. The illegitimate daughter—the original female lead—stood before me, aggressive and self-righteous: “You bitch, I won’t let you hurt him again!” But in the very next second, she was violently grabbed by the throat by the usually silent, brooding male lead. My eyes curved into a smile, though my expression remained perfectly innocent. “Don’t provoke me. When he goes crazy, he might actually kill you.” 01 The timing of my transmigration into this book was impeccable. The male lead had just been assigned by my father to be “my” bodyguard. Though he agreed in silence, having read the whole book, I knew he was far from submissive. He believed only in the strong. And he despised “me,” a fragile, spoiled mob princess. Moreover, “my” original personality was arrogant and cruel. I took pleasure in tormenting him, making him loathe “me” to the core. But out of a sense of duty to repay his debt to my family, he swallowed all the bitterness, his personality growing increasingly dark and withdrawn. And that was exactly what gave the illegitimate daughter, the female lead, the chance to “redeem” him. Earning his absolute, undivided loyalty in return. But now that I was here, I naturally wouldn’t let her succeed. I went straight to my father and proposed a sparring match between the male lead and me. Whoever landed the first solid hit won, and the winner would be the boss. In the sparring ring, I stared blankly at the handsome boy across from me, speaking loudly: “Show me everything you’ve got. I won’t hold back.” The boy narrowed his eyes slightly and silently dropped into an offensive stance. “Begin!” At the command, the match started. At first, his attitude was dismissive, but as my attacks grew relentless, he had to take it seriously. Eventually, I found an opening and landed a solid punch squarely on his left cheek. He let out a muffled groan, stumbling back a few steps and crashing into the ropes. He stared at me in shock. “You—” I raised an eyebrow, my tone freezing cold: “Declan, you lose.” 02 From then on, I became Declan’s undisputed boss. He challenged me frequently after that, even encouraging other guys in the syndicate to spar with me, but they all ended in failure. After all, in my past life, I was a top-tier martial artist. This result wasn’t a surprise to me. But when Declan got accidentally injured during one of our bouts, he couldn’t help but ask: “Why do you push yourself so hard every time…?” I glanced at him, my expression dead serious. “I know you’ve always looked down on me. Actually, it’s not just you. A lot of people think I’m just a spoiled heiress who only knows how to spend money. I went all out today not just for you, but to prove to everyone that my father’s daughter is not useless.” His expression shifted, a flash of guilt crossing his face. After a moment of silence, he spoke with genuine sincerity: “I’m sorry. I misjudged you before.” I waved it off. “I don’t need your apology. I need your loyalty.” Declan froze. I locked eyes with him, enunciating every word: “Declan, I want you to swear that you will never betray me.” The moment the words left my mouth, Declan didn’t hesitate. He dropped to one knee at my feet, his expression devout: “I, Declan, swear that in this life, I will never betray my Lady, Harper Vance.” Looking at him, the smile on my lips deepened. Declan was a man of his word. Once he made a promise, he would never go back on it. How many steps does it take to conquer a man? First, become a tiger, then become a cat. I subdued him with force first, then moved him with my attitude. Father this, father that—I didn’t care about any of that. I was just really curious. Now that I had taken the upper hand, what was the female lead going to do? 03 In the blink of an eye, five years passed. I was a junior in college today, but I had already taken over parts of my father’s legitimate businesses and moved into an apartment closer to campus. But today, I received a sudden phone call from my father summoning me back home. Sitting in the car heading back to the estate, I curled the corner of my mouth: “Declan, I think something interesting is going to happen today.” Declan’s deep eyes landed on my face, his voice low: “I will keep you safe, Miss.” I raised an eyebrow, a smile as sweet as honey on my face. Male lead, your female lead is about to make her entrance today. I wanted to see if the plot could still force its way back on track. If it couldn’t, I’d just have to kill you. After all, even though my identity was technically stolen, I had worked hard for my achievements these past years. I wasn’t about to hand them over to anyone. Walking into the mansion, I immediately spotted the girl sitting next to my father. She was wearing a pink dress, her eyes watery, clinging to my father’s arm looking timid and helpless. My father held her hand gently, but the look he gave me carried a warning. He said coldly, “Harper, this is your sister, Mia. From now on, she is the second daughter of this house. You need to take good care of her.” Mia. Like a delicate jewel. It seemed my father truly doted on her. I smiled faintly, walked right up to Mia, raised my hand, and slapped her hard across the face. Everyone in the room paled. My father immediately shielded Mia, roaring in fury, “Harper Vance, what the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Mia covered her face, tears sliding down her cheeks like a tragic heroine, making anyone want to pity her. It truly was pathetic. If I hadn’t known the wild ambition hidden inside this woman, I might have been fooled too. I raised my eyes, staring back at my father fearlessly, my voice cold: “Father, it’s one thing to hide a bastard child away, but bringing her into our home? Are you trying to humiliate me?” My father was enraged, slamming his hand on the table. “Harper, are you trying to start a war?! How dare you speak to me like that!” Declan instantly stepped in front of me. Seeing this, my father’s face turned completely livid. I smiled and waved my hand, and only then did Declan carefully step back behind me. I continued, “Besides, if you brought the kid back, how could you just leave the mother out on the streets?” As I spoke, I slowly approached Uncle Arthur, a founding member of the syndicate and my father’s right-hand man. I tossed a stack of photos right into a woman’s face nearby and flashed a brilliant smile. “Aunt Evelyn, you’ve been having an affair with my father for all these years, and the kid is already this old. Tell me, did Uncle Arthur know about this?” 04 The photos scattered across the floor, showing a man and a woman in various intimate positions, leaving everyone dumbfounded. Aunt Evelyn’s face went deathly pale. She stumbled backward, lost her footing, and fell to the floor. In the very next second, Uncle Arthur grabbed her by the hair and slapped her three times across the face. Her face immediately swelled up, but she was still trying to defend herself: “These are fake! It’s not real!” But seeing her get hit, Mia panicked and instinctively screamed, “Mom!” The final nail in the coffin. I burst out laughing, reckless and loud. “Oh my, your daughter just admitted it.” Seeing that the situation was unsalvageable, my father tried to step in to stop the chaos. But Uncle Arthur, consumed by rage, started brawling with my father. The entire grand hall descended into absolute chaos. I watched the scene coldly, but a smile touched my lips. “Declan, it’s time for us to go.” Declan nodded. But just as we reached the door, we were blocked. Mia glared at me, her eyes practically shooting fire. “You crazy bitch, you orchestrated all of this!” Then, she looked at Declan, her eyes shining, a slight blush on her cheeks. “Declan, she’s a terrible woman! I’m here to save you!” But the moment the words left her mouth, Declan grabbed her by the throat and lifted her into the air. She looked shocked, her face draining of color. She stared wide-eyed in terror, completely unable to comprehend what was happening. I looked straight into her eyes, my smile innocent and naive, but my gaze as cold as an ice pick: “Be a good girl and don’t provoke me. When he goes crazy, he might actually kill you.” I never thought Mia would be stupid enough to try and turn him against me right to my face. Did she really think Declan would just leave with her? Besides, I hadn’t abused Declan once in all these years. What was there to “save” him from? Unless she was still operating on the plot of the original timeline. At that thought, a glint of malice flashed in my eyes. This game just got a lot more interesting. 05 In the end, the incident was swept under the rug. I don’t know what my father promised Uncle Arthur, but Arthur actually swallowed the humiliation of being cuckolded. My father even threw a lavish banquet to officially announce Mia’s identity. As for Evelyn, my father obviously wasn’t stupid enough to marry her. He might have liked her, but he loved his reputation more. He wouldn’t let everyone know he was the kind of scum who slept with his subordinate’s wife for years. Furthermore, since Uncle Arthur forgave my father out of self-interest, he could only take all his anger out on Evelyn. Declan handed me a few photos, speaking softly: “The Boss sent her abroad.” In the photos, Evelyn was tearfully saying goodbye to my father. She was bundled up heavily, but you could still see horrifying bruises on her skin. She even needed someone to support her just to walk. “Looks like Uncle Arthur didn’t hold back.” I gently swirled the red wine in my glass, saying nonchalantly, “Those in power tolerate things for profit. Those at the bottom act without consequence.” Tsk, the inherent flaws of men. I took a sip of wine and asked, “Her daughter is now an official Vance, which makes her a legitimate heir. She plotted for years for this exact outcome. Why would she leave so easily? What did my father promise her?” Declan pulled out a tissue and gently wiped a drop of wine from the corner of my mouth before replying, “The Boss promised her he’d bring her back in a few years. But privately, he gave orders that she is never allowed to return.” After making sure I was clean, he didn’t throw the tissue away; instead, he slipped it into his pocket. I looked up at him, but he met my gaze with total composure, looking as innocent as if he hadn’t done anything weird at all. Of course, it would have been more convincing if the tips of his ears weren’t burning red. I smiled faintly. Just then, a soft voice came from behind. “Sister, Declan, what are you two talking about? You look so happy.” I turned to see my father and Mia, dressed in an elaborate evening gown. Her eyes landed on Declan, a blush of awe spreading across her cheeks. Having someone covet what was mine displeased me, but outwardly I smiled and said, “We were just talking about Aunt Evelyn.” Seeing her face stiffen, my gaze bounced between her and my father. My voice carried a hint of mock regret: “Sister, did you know Aunt Evelyn was sent away? And she’s never coming back.” Mia forced a smile, her expression remaining submissive. “That was Father’s decision. I wouldn’t know.” I raised an eyebrow and exchanged a look with Declan. It seemed Mia did know about my father’s order banning Evelyn from returning. The bond between mother and daughter was apparently quite shallow. Mia’s gaze returned to Declan. She said pitifully, “Father, I just got home, and I’m so scared. I’d only feel safe if I had someone as strong as Declan to protect me.” The smile instantly vanished from my face, my expression darkening. 06 My father clearly doted on her, and he probably wanted to dilute my power anyway, so he readily commanded, “Then from now on, Declan will protect you.” Mia was ecstatic. “Really? That’s wonderful—” Saying that, she stepped forward, reaching out to grab Declan’s arm. I caught her wrist, my voice ice-cold: “I don’t agree.” My father froze. “What?” I stared coldly at my father, my voice even colder: “Declan is my man.” My father’s face darkened, his brows furrowing as he barked angrily, “Harper! Declan hasn’t been your personal guard for years. You don’t need him to protect you anymore! Your sister is new here. As her older sister, shouldn’t you be a little more accommodating?” “On this matter, there is no negotiation.” I refused to yield an inch. I spent years training him; I wasn’t about to hand him over to someone else. Besides, after working together for years, Declan was like my right arm. Losing him wouldn’t kill me, but it would hurt, and I didn’t like that. Especially giving him to Mia. Even setting that aside, if I handed Declan over to her now, the outside world would think I was weak and easy to bully. Then everyone would think they could walk all over me. I had no interest in letting that happen. Seeing my father furious, Mia tearfully supported his arm and said, “Sister, I know you can’t accept me, but Father makes the rules in this house. How can you be so unreasonable! Furthermore,” her gaze fell on Declan, and she continued, “even if you look down on Declan, he’s still a person. He’s not your property. We should respect his wishes.” Look down on Declan? I glanced at Declan, who was completely expressionless, and suddenly laughed. “Alright.” Mia didn’t expect me to concede. She shot me a look, then eagerly walked up to Declan, asking softly, “Declan, are you willing to follow me? I will definitely treat you well and won’t let anyone bully you.” She looked at him with eyes full of expectation, as if she were looking at her lover. Unfortunately, Declan took a resistant step back and said in a deep voice, “I only wish to follow the Young Lady.” Mia hadn’t expected to be rejected by Declan either. Her expression instantly froze on her face. Seeing this, my father glared furiously. “Declan! You dare disobey my orders?! Have you forgotten who saved you?!” But Declan didn’t hesitate, repeating his words clearly, syllable by syllable: “I, Declan, only wish to follow the Young Lady!” My father exploded in rage, smashing his wine glass violently onto the floor. “Declan—!” The glass shattered instantly, shards flying everywhere. Declan’s expression changed, and he quickly pulled me into his arms. I was completely unharmed, but Mia got cut, leaving several red lines across her pale arm. She was angry and in pain, but she didn’t dare lash out. I looked at the scratch on Declan’s cheek, my eyes churning with anger. I pushed Declan away, walked up to my father, and seeing his cold face, I was entirely unmoved. “Don’t push it too far.” My father was so angry his face twisted, his trembling finger pointing at me. “You… are you trying to stage a coup?! This is MY family!” I let out a cold laugh. My father really was getting old. He had completely lost the ability to read the room. From the affair being exposed to throwing this ridiculous banquet, he had already caused a lot of dissatisfaction. Furthermore, compared to an aging, confused boss, the syndicate wanted a sharp, capable leader. Otherwise, why would I be so fearless? I smiled faintly. “How could I? I’m your most dutiful daughter.” Saying that, I glanced up at him and sighed lightly. “Unless, of course, you piss me off.” 07 My father looked around, only to realize that my subordinates were just watching them coldly, with no intention of helping him. His face turned a mix of purple and green. Furious and humiliated, he stomped upstairs. Leaving Mia and the others behind at the banquet. I looked at her with a smile. Her eyes shot daggers of hatred and jealousy, looking like she wanted to eat me alive. Declan stepped forward, blocking her line of sight. Mia’s expression twisted slightly, and she eventually turned and left. In the car ride home, Declan frowned slightly, looking down and saying, “Miss, she’s very strange.” I was resting my head on his lap with my eyes closed. Hearing this, I opened my eyes and looked up. “Oh?” Seeing me open my eyes, Declan’s body stiffened for a second before he casually explained, “She’s very certain that you treat me terribly. And she’s approached me privately many times, telling me to leave you.” I smiled sweetly, not surprised by his sharp intuition. “Maybe she really does know something.” I closed my eyes again, enjoying his massage, thinking to myself: How interesting. It seems Mia really is the female lead from the book I read. So, was she reborn? Or did she transmigrate too? That question was answered very quickly. Mia came to find me herself. She looked at me with absolute certainty, her voice cold: “I know you’re not from this world. Let me tell you, I am the real female lead. Declan belongs to me. No matter what you do, it’s useless. And you’re definitely not my match!” “Your match?” I set down my coffee cup and said nonchalantly, “You’re not even qualified to be my opponent.” Mia’s expression shifted, and she said through gritted teeth, “Harper Vance, don’t get too arrogant! You just got here first and took the advantage. But now that I’m here, I will definitely put everything back on track! Do you really think you can change the ending?!” I looked at her coldly, not saying a word. Seeing how little I cared about her, a look of vicious hatred surfaced in Mia’s eyes. “Just you wait! Everything I’ve lost, I will take back!” I blinked and smiled faintly: “I’ll be waiting.” It seemed Mia had transmigrated too. At first, she probably thought she had the ultimate plot armor and didn’t take me seriously. But now, she was rushing over to threaten me. It seemed she realized the plot had changed, and my power wasn’t something she could easily shake. So what was she going to do? I was really looking forward to it. 08 The year I graduated, I successfully entered the corporation and became the General Manager. But in reality, I had been the one pulling the strings for a long time. The underworld. That hadn’t been sustainable in the US for years. I spent years planning the transition, legitimizing the syndicate’s operations and turning it into a publicly traded company. Now, the corporation was booming. The old gang bosses had transformed into shareholders, making a fortune every year, all legally. They didn’t have to live in constant fear like in the old days. Naturally, they supported me. As for my father, although he was still the CEO, he was a spent force. At the general shareholders’ meeting, they proposed a transfer of power for the fifth time. I looked at my father’s ashen face and smirked. As expected, right after the meeting, he came knocking. With Mia following close behind. He said in a low voice, “Harper, I’m willing to step down from the corporation, but I have one condition.” Without even looking up, I said flatly, “If it’s about making arrangements for Mia, the answer is no.” He glared at me, growling, “Do you have to back her into a corner? She’s your sister!” I stopped writing and looked up. The two of them were huddled together, leaning on each other like a pathetic pair. I smiled brilliantly. “You must be joking, Father. I barely acknowledge you, let alone a bastard child.” “Harper Vance—” My father grew even more furious. I slammed my pen onto the desk, cutting him off. “Father, I’m willing to call you Father because I don’t want to make things ugly and ruin the Vance family’s image. But,” I stared at them coldly, a hint of anger flashing in my eyes, “you should know better than anyone that when you sent hitmen to assassinate me multiple times over the past few years, whatever bond we had died.” Both of their faces changed. Mia looked at me in horror. “How did you know…” I ignored her, staring dead at my father, my voice sharp: “Father, the Vance family is no longer your absolute dictatorship. You can choose to leave with dignity, or you can be forcefully kicked out. I’m only giving you this choice once.” My father looked at me with a mix of shock and rage. I stared back without yielding an inch. After a long moment, his face turned grey, and he silently backed out of the office. Mia quickly chased after him. After they left, Declan’s eyes narrowed slightly, flashing with a dangerous, cold light: “I should have killed him! “I should kill them both!” I stood up and gently touched his face. Seeing him blush slightly, my expression softened, completely devoid of the harshness from moments ago. “Death is too easy for them. That’s not what I want.” If people don’t mess with me, I don’t mess with them. Since my father and Mia dared to provoke me repeatedly and tried to have me killed… Then they needed to be prepared to be crushed. 09 After that day, my father didn’t step down from the corporation. And I wasn’t in a hurry. Because something much more interesting was happening. “BREAKING! The Oracle Mia Invests in Shusha Pharmaceuticals! Retail Investors Follow Suit!” “Shusha Pharmaceuticals Stock Skyrockets by Hundreds of Millions in 10 Hours! Experts Warn of Risks, Advise Against Blind Following!” Mia’s name hung high on the Twitter trending page. Over the past six months, Mia had been popping up all over the internet. She frequently placed bets on the stock market, and every single time it was a massive success. The word spread quickly, and she became known as the infallible “Oracle of Wall Street.” She was now the most anticipated stock guru among retail investors. Many financial experts advised against blindly following her, but with little success. I opened the comment sections. As expected, it was full of worship for Mia and insults directed at the experts. “What garbage experts! Last time they said not to follow, and guess what? My friend made tens of millions overnight!” “These trash experts probably secretly bought the stock themselves.” “The Oracle Mia is amazing. 100% win rate. I’d be an idiot to listen to these fake experts.” Many reporters rushed over, fighting to interview Mia. “Ms. Vance, we heard you invested in Shusha Pharmaceuticals this time, and a massive number of investors have followed your lead. Do you have anything to say?” Mia curled her lips, brimming with confidence. “Thank you to the investors for their trust. The outcome this time will definitely make everyone even more satisfied.” Her absolute certainty sparked even more frantic discussion among her rabid fans. I turned off the TV, smiling comfortably. “I like her confidence.” “Shusha Pharmaceuticals does have a lot of room for growth. It’s a guaranteed win this time.” Declan scrolled through the live stock market feed on his tablet, looking up at me. “Miss, should we release the information we’ve gathered?” I waved my hand. “Wait a little longer.” Wait until it gets really fun. 10 Unsurprisingly, after one cycle, Shusha Pharmaceuticals’ stock skyrocketed, becoming a massive dark horse. The investors who followed Mia made a killing, while those who didn’t were beating their chests in regret. The Oracle Mia’s reputation reached its zenith overnight, even surpassing A-list celebrities. Many interviews and reports scrambled to invite her on. On a reality TV show, Mia looked like she was about to cry, whispering pitifully, “My sister asked me before who I was going to invest in next. She looked so scary at the time, I didn’t dare say it. I didn’t expect her to threaten me into only telling her my investment picks. I didn’t want to leave my father…” Overnight, the entire internet was flooded with attacks against the Vance Corporation and me: “SHOCKING! Vance Family Scandal Exposed: Eldest Daughter Usurps CEO For Years!” “Harper Vance Threatens The Oracle, Forcing Her Out Of The Family Unless She Stops Publicly Sharing Stock Tips!” I didn’t have the PR department suppress the information. Instead, I sat back and watched the rumors spread. I even voluntarily accepted an interview with a reporter. “Ms. Vance, do you have anything to say about the situation online? Did you threaten The Oracle into not sharing her investment information?” I nodded. “Yes, I did say that.” “Are you trying to keep the profits all to yourself?” “Keep the profits to myself?” I shot the reporter a sideways glance, sneering disdainfully. “What a joke. Since when has the Vance family ever cared about pocket change?” The reporter froze, his face flushing with embarrassment. The Vance Corporation was a massive publicly traded company. Why would they care about a few million dollars in minor assets? I looked around, my expression serious. “The stock market is unstable. Investments require caution. Once retail investors flood frantically into a single stock, it inevitably destroys the market’s equilibrium. In extreme cases, it can cause the market to crash. Do you all really want to experience another economic bubble?” “This…” The financial reporters present looked at each other, unable to find words to argue back. I continued, “In my opinion, blindly following trends is stupid. Being so certain about winning in the stock market that it causes mass herding is even more stupid. I merely warned her as her older sister and as a participant in the market. You can listen if you want, or don’t. It doesn’t matter to me.” With that, I prepared to leave. But an entertainment reporter blocked me, asking urgently, “What about the rumors of you usurping power? Why doesn’t the second daughter have a position in the corporation? Wasn’t she maliciously driven out by you?” I turned back, facing the camera, and smiled contemptuously. “Does an illegitimate child deserve to enter the corporation?” With one sentence, I completely exposed Mia’s identity. But it enraged Mia’s rabid fans in the crowd. They charged at me, brandishing knives. “Don’t you dare slander our Oracle! Go to hell!” Declan’s eyes flashed. With one kick, he sent the attacker flying several feet away. The bodyguards instantly swarmed in, pinning the attackers to the ground. I didn’t even spare them a glance, turning and leaving with Declan.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “413019”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The day the Seacrest earthquake hit, my husband abandoned me and flew to another city to find his childhood sweetheart. Buried under the crushing weight of the rubble, I sent him a text: “Ethan, there was an earthquake. I’m trapped underground. It’s so dark, I’m so scared…” Hours later, right before the rescue team pulled me out, I sent him two final messages, then tossed my phone deep into the ruins. “Ethan, I can’t hold on anymore. Thank God you were busy with work, or else you would have died down here with me and our baby.” “I’m so glad you’re safe.” —I did it on purpose. I deliberately wanted him to think I died in that darkness. I wanted him to spend the rest of his life repenting for me and the unborn child he left behind. I wanted him to weep bitter tears, choked by a regret he could never undo. And when he could no longer hide from the truth of what he’d done, I would walk right up to him and say: “I want a divorce.” 1 In the second year of my marriage to Ethan, his first love came back from abroad. I was there with him at the airport to pick her up. I watched with my own eyes as the slender, fragile girl in a long white dress threw herself into his arms with tears in her eyes, like a bird finally returning to its nest. “Ethan, I finally get to see you again.” Ethan’s body went rigid for a second before he reached out and gently stroked her hair. “There, there. It’s okay now.” I stood right next to them, feeling as unnecessary as a third wheel. I hesitated for a moment before stepping forward to grab Ethan’s hand, forcing a smile. “Alright, since we’ve found her, let’s go home.” It was as if she had just noticed me. She pulled away from Ethan’s embrace. She smiled, but her face showed a trace of awkward surprise. “Ethan, you’re married?” Ethan gave a low hum of confirmation. The three of us headed home together in a suffocatingly awkward silence. Of course, maybe the only one feeling awkward was me. Chloe was Ethan’s first love, his “one that got away”—and technically, his adopted sister. I always knew Ethan had a girl buried deep in his heart, but it wasn’t until after we got married that I learned the full story. Ethan’s background was complicated. He was an orphan. His biological parents died in a car crash when he was nine. Afterward, his father’s best friend—Chloe’s father—took him in. And so, the story of Ethan and Chloe began. Ethan was a withdrawn, quiet child. His childhood trauma had built a wall of ice around him. But Chloe came from a wealthy, happy family. She was innocent and carefree, a little ray of sunshine that slowly melted Ethan’s icy exterior and gave him the warmth of a home. —Of course, Ethan never explicitly told me about his past with Chloe. I pieced it all together myself. But when I led Chloe into the home Ethan and I had shared for three years, and watched her curiously touching this and tracing that, I knew my guess was dead on. That evening, when I was getting ready to cook, Ethan brought home a bag of walnuts and asked me to make walnut-crusted chicken. He said, “Chloe loves walnut-crusted chicken more than anything.” I lowered my eyes and didn’t speak for a long time. Ethan was never a detail-oriented person. I had known him for eight years. I spent five of those years chasing him, and the last three living with him as his wife. Even so, he would still forget my preferences. He even forgot that I was deathly allergic to walnuts. But he remembered Chloe’s favorite meal perfectly. Even though she had been living in Europe for the past six years. I pressed my lips together and asked, “Ethan, did you forget? I’m allergic to walnuts. If I even touch them, I break out in hives.” He seemed to freeze. Then, he smiled and gently nudged me out of the kitchen. “I’m sorry, Maya. I forgot. We never have walnuts on our dinner table anyway. Why don’t you go sit in the living room? I’ll make dinner tonight.” Actually, I had eaten walnuts with Ethan once. Three years ago, right after I finally managed to win his heart. I was walking on cloud nine that day. During lunch, he randomly ordered a walnut and goat cheese salad, and without even looking, I took a bite. That time, he was the one who rushed me to the ER. But that was a long time ago. He must have forgotten. I nodded silently and didn’t argue. Chloe was sitting in the living room, and I didn’t want to make the atmosphere tense. During dinner, perhaps out of guilt for the kitchen incident, Ethan kept putting food on my plate. “The shrimp is really good today.” I ate it slowly. When I looked up, I saw Chloe place a piece of shrimp on my plate as well. She looked at Ethan, then at me, her smile gentle and her gesture perfectly natural. “He’s right, Maya. Eat some more. Ethan makes the best shrimp.” It felt like I was the guest in my own home. 2 Chloe moved into our guest room. It was Ethan’s idea. Three days ago, Ethan suddenly told me that his sister, who lived abroad, was moving back. He told me she had a really hard time over the years. She was all alone in Paris, cheated on by her ex-boyfriend, and diagnosed with severe depression… When he said these things, his lips were pressed into a tight line, his eyes dark with a heavy sense of frustration and pain. Seeing him like that made my heart ache. So, when he said, “She’s coming back alone. She doesn’t want to go back to her parents’ house and worry them, so she wants to crash with us for a bit,” I agreed without hesitation. At that time, I didn’t know his so-called “sister” was the love he’d been longing for all these years. It wasn’t until I saw Chloe’s face at the airport that it hit me— I had seen her photo before. It was tucked inside a worn copy of The Great Gatsby on Ethan’s bookshelf. He had used her photo as a bookmark on page 68. On that page, he had underlined a quote in black ink. —“If they ask me what my sorrow is, I wouldn’t dare say your name.” —She was the secret he had kept hidden in the depths of his heart. That night, I couldn’t sleep, my mind racing with thoughts of Ethan and Chloe. Ethan hugged me from behind, his warm breath tickling my ear. “Can’t sleep?” I nodded. Then, we heard a sharp crash from the living room. I walked out of the bedroom. Chloe was standing in the middle of the living room, surrounded by shattered ceramic pieces, tears streaming down her face, her slender body trembling. 3 The shattered pieces on the floor were custom clay figurines of me and Ethan. We made them at a pottery class the day we officially started dating. I sculpted him, and he sculpted me. I always treated them as our most precious keepsakes. I even carved “Ethan and Maya, forever and always” on the wooden base. But now, they were smashed into dozens of pieces. I stared at the ruins of our figurines, frowning. Ethan’s eyes, however, immediately fell on Chloe. Chloe looked beautiful when she cried. Her eyes turned a delicate shade of red, tears falling like rain on a spring flower. Anyone who saw her wouldn’t have the heart to scold her. “It’s just a clay doll. It’s nothing. Don’t cry,” Ethan sighed softly, pulling her to sit on the sofa. He furrowed his brows. “Why are you so clumsy? You cut your foot.” He left me standing there alone, cleaning up the shattered pieces of our history like a maid. Chloe sat on the couch, frowning, tears in her eyes, looking entirely helpless and pitiful. “Maya… I didn’t mean to. I… I just… I just…” “I couldn’t sleep, so I came out for a walk. I thought the dolls were cute and wanted to look at them, but my hand slipped…” “Maya, I’m so sorry…” Her hands were shaking as she spoke. Before she could finish, she burst into tears again, as if she had recalled something incredibly painful. Seeing her like this, I said nothing. I walked out to the balcony and pulled out a cigarette. Chloe always called me by my first name in that sickeningly sweet tone. When Ethan was in the kitchen earlier, I sat with her in the living room. She kept asking me about my life with Ethan, calling me “Maya” every other breath. I corrected her: “I’m married to Ethan. You should call me your sister-in-law.” She didn’t reply. Instead, she picked up a cat-shaped throw pillow from the couch and smiled at me with feigned surprise. “Oh wow! Look at this, Maya. I gave this to Ethan before I left for Europe. I can’t believe he still has it.” My stomach churned. I rolled the unlit cigarette between my fingers. I wasn’t actually going to smoke it. I was pregnant. I couldn’t smoke. He just didn’t know yet. I hadn’t found the right time to tell him. Maybe I had been standing on the balcony too long, because Ethan walked over and snatched the cigarette from my hand. “Quit smoking. It’s bad for you.” I hadn’t planned on lighting it anyway. Ethan didn’t like women who smoked. His type had always been girls like Chloe—long black hair, white dresses, clean and fragile. “Where’s your sister?” I asked. He gestured toward the guest room. “She went to sleep.” I gave a flat “Oh” and kept pressing. “Don’t you need to keep her company?” “What?” He froze. I smiled. I asked him how long Chloe was planning to stay here. I looked him in the eye, dropping all pretense. “Ethan, I don’t like your sister.” “Do you know something? Years ago, when I was still chasing you, you got blackout drunk. You held me and kept calling out ‘Chloe.’ I didn’t know who you were talking about back then, but now I do…” “Do you really just see her as a sister?” “Ethan, tell her to move out. She goes, or I go. Pick one.” 4 Ethan stared at me for a long time, his expression conflicted, before letting out a long sigh. “Maya, what happened earlier—Chloe didn’t do it on purpose. She’s just… she has depression. She’s emotionally unstable. Can’t you be a little more understanding?” “I know it’s unfair of me to ask this of you, but her parents, and Chloe herself, were so good to me when I had nothing…” “I didn’t bring her here with any ulterior motives. The past is the past. I really just see her as my sister now.” “I have you, don’t I?” Ethan begged me to believe him. I looked at him, and memories flooded my mind. I met Ethan in high school. He was handsome and had great grades, but he wasn’t popular. Why? Because he was too isolated. He always sat in the back row, leaning against the wall in the darkest corner of the classroom. When he sat there, the corner seemed even darker, like light couldn’t even reach him. But I liked him. I felt like we were the same. Ethan was a transfer student in our senior year. It was rare for anyone to transfer during such a crucial time, but he did. For that entire year, I never saw his parents. Of course, I never saw mine, either. My parents divorced when I was young, and neither of them wanted me. They fought in court, and the judge finally gave me to my dad. Shortly after, they both started their own new families, and I became the disposable leftover. I guessed Ethan’s home life was similar to mine. Or maybe even worse. After all, my dad was generous with his money, even if he didn’t give me his time. But Ethan, even with the intense pressure of senior year, worked part-time at a coffee shop every single day. My heart ached for him. More importantly, I knew Ethan was actually incredibly gentle. He looked cold, but one time, after a huge fight with my dad, I hid behind the school bleachers crying. He walked past me, didn’t say a word, but quietly left a pack of tissues next to me. I still remember it was dusk. The breeze was warm, and the golden sunset hit him perfectly, making even the tips of his hair glow. I think I fell in love with him right in that moment. Later, I followed him to the same college. I started chasing him. I gave him everything I had. For four years of college, Ethan rarely went home. Holidays, winter breaks, summer breaks—he stayed on campus alone. I shamelessly stuck by his side to keep him company. I spent Christmas after Christmas, birthday after birthday with him. He liked girls with long hair in white dresses, so I grew out my short hair and wore the dresses he liked. He liked home-cooked meals, saying they tasted like family, so I learned how to cook just to make him his favorite dishes. I did so many things for him. But as I did them, I realized… someone else had already done all of this for him first. His life was heavily marked by another girl’s presence. But it didn’t matter. I never gave up. If someone else had done it, I would just do it better. I would be so good to him that no one could ever replace me. I had never had anyone treat me well in my entire life. So, I loved him with everything I had. I chased him for five years before the clouds finally cleared and he accepted me. But now, that girl was back. … “Even if you guarantee that you only see her as a sister, what about Chloe?” “Can you guarantee she doesn’t have feelings for you?” This time, he didn’t speak for a long time. After a heavy silence, he said: “She doesn’t. It’s all in the past.” Ethan promised me. He swore that no matter what, he only saw Chloe as a sister. He said he was already looking for an apartment for her. In a few days, once she stabilized, he would move her out. And me… In the end, I couldn’t bear to let him go. I couldn’t let go of our eight years together. I decided to trust him one last time. For the eight years we shared. And for the unborn baby in my womb. I subconsciously touched my stomach, then quickly dropped my hand. “Ethan, you said it yourself. You better not be lying to me.” “If you lie to me, I promise you, you’ll regret it.” “I will make you regret it.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “413020”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Because I forgot to switch to my burner account while tipping my favorite male streamer. I was forced to drop my mask in front of a live audience of millions. When the guy I was crushing on read the donation alert out loud: “Thanks to the actress, Chloe Vance, for gifting 100 Tier 3 subs.” The chat exploded: “HOLY SH*T, REAL OR FAKE??!!” “What kind of Hollywood x Esports crossover is this!!!” “Turns out our girl is a simp for a pretty face too!” “A new weird ship has sailed.” I went numb. Just like that, my cover was blown. Five minutes later, my manager arrived on the battlefield. Thank you all. I passed away peacefully. 1 Shine was the undisputed king of the pro gaming league. He had the skills, the looks, and the attitude. The absolute ceiling for an ADC (Marksman), a five-time champion, and a notoriously handsome guy with a toxic mouth—these were the labels plastered all over him. I was his fan. Well, actually, not just a fan. Because, in my humble reality, I am currently a very famous, A-list actress. Plus, I liked him long before he even became an esports player. But ever since he went pro, I finally had a legitimate excuse to watch him openly. My burner account was his top donator. I had been there since his early streaming days when he barely had an audience. Lately, though, with his tournament schedule packed, he streamed less and less. And he never announced his schedule. Catching a stream was pure luck. Half a month ago, I finally managed to catch one of Shine’s streams. When I clicked in, he was already in the middle of a high-ranked match. Out of pure muscle memory, I blindly gifted a massive string of 100-sub bombs. A whole wall of premium gifts flooded the screen, and he didn’t even flinch. It wasn’t until his teammate sitting next to him nudged him that he slowly looked up at his monitor and casually read the alert: “Thanks to the actress, Chloe Vance, for gifting 100 Tier 3 subs.” Then, he seemed to realize something was off. His character, who was in the middle of fighting the boss monster, completely froze. He spaced out. Caught off guard, the enemy jungler and bot lane immediately ganked and killed him. While waiting to respawn, he looked back at the screen. The chat was moving at the speed of light. “WTF WTF WTF IS THIS REAL??!!” “A few subs literally made Shine AFK, lmao.” “Is this the Chloe Vance I’m thinking of?!” “What kind of Hollywood x Esports crossover is this!!!” “I just checked her profile, IT’S HER VERIFIED ACCOUNT!” “She’s a simp for a pretty face too!” “A new weird ship has sailed.” I realized what I’d done way too late. I was paralyzed. I f*cking forgot to switch to my burner account! I didn’t even get to watch the rest of the stream before my manager’s call blasted through my phone. She proceeded to give me a 45-minute lecture filled with “tough love.” The TL;DR: Stay off the internet and stop touching social media. By the time I snuck back into Shine’s stream, he was already offline. Why was he so short today?! I had to settle for the VOD. I never expected those subs to have such a massive ripple effect. That same day, they launched me straight to the #1 trending spot on Twitter. Thinking back to whenever I had a movie coming out, my PR team had to bleed money just to get me trending. And now? A few gifted subs had Chloe and Shine’s names glued to the top three trending topics. My manager told me not to respond. I buried my head in the sand like an ostrich. I figured once the hype died down, I could just go back to my burner account, donate, and watch him in peace. But barely two weeks later, my manager enthusiastically walked up to me. “Got a gig for you! I booked you on a variety show.” “I’m a movie actress, I don’t do reality TV. No way.” “It’s the Hollywood winter right now. You’re turning down work? Made enough money and want to retire early?” Retire? I wouldn’t dare. I still needed to make money to buy subs for Shine. “You’ll be filming it with Shine. You in? If not, I’ll pass it to one of my other clients.” Oh my god? Was it a dating show? A crossover romance between an A-list actress and an esports star? I admit, my heart skipped a beat. “I’m in! I’m in! I’ll do it!” Only after I arrived did I realize I’d been scammed. My imagined dating show? Didn’t exist. I was there to be a glorified intern for his team. Fine. Even if it wasn’t romantic, it still counted as a crossover. 2 It wasn’t until I stood in the lobby of the YKG gaming house that I realized I was actually here to film at Shine’s base. The show, Star Assistants, was an experiential reality show. The gimmick was taking celebrities and dropping them into ordinary, grueling assistant jobs across different industries to experience life outside the glamorous Hollywood bubble. Other actors went to be paralegals, dental assistants, or farmhands. And me? I just happened to be sent to Shine’s team as an esports team assistant. “The team assistant’s job is very tedious. It includes—but isn’t limited to—packing gear for the players during tournaments, managing their schedules, accompanying them to brand events, monitoring their streams, observing their mental health and reporting to management… oh, and waking them up,” Riley, the actual YKG team assistant, explained as she gave me a tour. “Waking them up?” I was terrible at waking up myself. “Yep. They practice late. You have to wake them up before noon every day for lunch.” Noon. Okay, that wasn’t too bad. “Oh, and some of the guys get really cranky in the morning, so be careful,” Riley added. “They’re in the second-floor training room reviewing a match right now. Let’s go say hi.” In the training room, a group of young guys in team jerseys was watching a replay. The moment I pushed the door open, all eyes locked onto me. Look, I know I’m a gorgeous actress, but being stared at like this made me shy. Right, I forgot. I had a whole camera crew trailing behind me. “Hi everyone, I’m Chloe. I’m the team’s new assistant. Just call me Chloe,” I said, pulling out my signature, approachable red-carpet smile. “Hey, what’s up.” “Hi, nice to meet you.” “Wow, Chloe is even prettier in real life than on screen.” Everyone greeted me warmly. Except Shine. He sat alone in the corner. Even though he was quiet, his aura and looks made him impossible to ignore. After greeting everyone, I walked right up to him. “Hi, I’m Chloe. I’ll be your assistant for a while. Hope we get along!” “Hi, I’m Shine. First time meeting you, nice to work with you.” He stood up and gave me a painfully polite, official greeting. First time meeting me my ass. Did he completely forget me? Then again, back in high school, we barely interacted. It was probably normal that he didn’t remember. He was a lot taller than he was five years ago. The red and white team jersey made his skin look pale and flawless. His short, dyed-black hair made him look sharp and cold. He used to rock this stubborn, ash-grey hair forever; he probably dyed it black just for the TV cameras. I stood there, zoning out as I looked at him, remembering the first time we met. Back then, he wasn’t Shine. He was Asher Hayes. It was after school during my sophomore year. In the alley behind Westbridge High, I ran into Asher for the first time. Even though school had only started two months ago, his reputation preceded him. When I saw him, he was leaning against a brick wall, casually smoking a cigarette and joking around with some punk kids. In the crowd, he stood out entirely. His height made the sloppy school uniform look like a fashion statement. His skin was pale, and his features were aggressively handsome. Who knew the school’s notorious bad boy was this hot? But I always steered clear of guys like him. Being robbed was my biggest fear. I cast a quick glance his way, lowered my head, and tried to speed-walk past them. One of the punks noticed me anyway. He smirked and catcalled, “Hey, check out the body on that one.” My face flushed bright red. I just wanted to escape. Asher took a drag of his cigarette, glanced at me indifferently, and then kicked the punk right in the shin—not too hard, not too soft. “Keep your mouth clean.” That simple rescue made me notice him from that day on. I unconsciously started collecting stories about him around school. Like how he got into a fight today and beat someone up. Like how he skipped class to play games at the internet cafe and got caught. Like how some fearless girl confessed to him, and he rejected her. My entire high school life was basically spent harboring a massive secret crush on him. Of course I thought about confessing, but by the time I finished my acting auditions and came back to school senior year, he was gone. Rumor had it he was expelled for fighting. Then, during my freshman year of college, I found out through a high school group chat that he had become a pro gamer. I remembered he used to skip class to game, and he was insanely good at it. I started following him again, watching him go from a nobody rookie to a superstar on the main stage. But all of that was completely shattered by his polite “First time meeting you.” I suddenly felt the urge to cry. A crush really is just a one-person war. He had caused a hurricane in my world. But in his story, I was just a background character who didn’t even deserve a name. My heart felt like someone had crushed a dozen lemons over it—sour and suffocating. I swallowed my emotions, flashed a bright smile, and forced my slightly raspy voice to sound steady: “For me, it’s not our first time meeting.” 3 Because of that sentence, every single eye and camera lens in the room snapped to us. Asher’s eyes suddenly burned a little hotter. I quickly laughed and explained, “I watch your matches all the time.” Editor, please loop this in the teaser trailer. I wasn’t stupid. I wasn’t going to drop my mask that easily again. I absolutely could not let everyone know we went to high school together. The room let out a collective breath of relief. Asher’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “I watch your movies a lot, too.” No need to be polite, bro. I literally heard you say on stream: I don’t follow celebrities, I don’t watch movies. No time. Assistants didn’t actually have to live in the gaming house. Riley clocked out and went home shortly after. But for the sake of gathering footage, the producers made me stay in the dorms. A single room at the end of the fourth-floor hallway. Right next to Asher’s room. I suspected they wanted to push a romance angle between us. Honestly, I wanted to, too. But I had no opening. He constantly had this “do not approach” aura around him. After dinner, I went back to my room to unpack. The crew then cued me to go downstairs and watch the players stream. It was the end of the month, so grinding out stream hours was their usual post-dinner routine. When I got to the streaming room, the support player, Finn, was already interacting with his chat. I said hi to him and sat quietly in a chair off-camera, watching him play. Suddenly, his chat was flooded. “We want to see Chloe!” “Alright guys, give me a sec. Let me ask if Chloe wants to duo,” Finn said. He was a sweet, soft-spoken guy. He turned to me. “Chloe, want to play a round?” “Sure.” Just as Finn added me and we were about to start our happy duo queue… Asher strolled into the room with a cup of coffee. “Huh? Captain, didn’t you finish your stream hours for the month? Why are you live again?” “You ate lunch today, didn’t you? Didn’t you still eat two bowls of rice for dinner?” … The chat erupted in “LMAOOOO”. He took a sip of his coffee and booted up the PC right next to mine. “Can’t I just miss my fans?” Asher rolled his eyes at Finn. “Captain, wanna trio with us?” Finn, completely ignoring the eye roll, craned his neck to ask. “Sure.” Finn was too stunned that he agreed so fast to realize how rare it was to get the Captain to queue with him. I saw the true power of reality TV right there. I swear, this was the closest I had ever been to Asher. I was sitting right between his and Finn’s setups. A straight-line distance of less than a foot. If he just leaned casually in my direction, my heart skipped a few beats. Since my account rank was low, they both hopped on their smurfs. “What do you play? I’ll grab it for you,” Asher asked, turning his head during the ban phase. “I’ll play Mid.” Honestly, I didn’t have many heroes I was good at. Besides mages, I only played support, and all the good supports were banned. I had to lock in a mage. Who knew that in the first few minutes, I’d get ganked by the enemy Jungler and Mid laner over and over? I burned my flash and still fed two kills. Our Jungler typed in all-chat: “Mid, do you know how to play? Can you just hide under the tower?” Me: “Okay, okay.” I turtled under my tower to clear minion waves. Asher: “Finn, go help Mid.” “Don’t panic Chloe, I’m coming.” I died twice early, my farm was stolen by our Jungler, and I was the poorest player in the game. Even with Finn’s help, it was miserable. Our Jungler was clearly duo-queued with the Top laner and only ganked top. He ignored mid completely, then typed in chat to flame me: “Mid didn’t even help me defend my blue buff. What a waste of space.” … Asher won a 1v2 in his lane, took the first tower, and immediately rotated to Mid to gank. He killed the enemy Mid and pushed down the tier-1 tower. Then his fingers flew across his keyboard, typing in all-chat: “Jungler, stop rotating to help Mid. Are you on maternity leave in the jungle?” Pfft. Hahahaha. The stream chat went wild. The Jungler, currently farming a camp, fell dead silent. Led by Asher, we pushed all the way to the enemy base. They defended hard, and we couldn’t crack the high-ground towers. The boss monster spawned. Our Jungler confidently went to solo it. Halfway through, the enemy Jungler ambushed him. Our Jungler died, and the boss was stolen. While the enemy Jungler was recalling, the four of us shattered their high ground and pushed the core. As we hit the core, Asher dropped another sarcastic bomb in all-chat: “Next time, teach me how to play the game with just your mouth. You farmed so badly I feel sorry for the jungle camps.” The next second, the core exploded. Victory. Flawless execution. Didn’t even leave the guy a chance to reply. If I were that Jungler, I’d be coughing up blood. The Toxic King of Esports. He lived up to the hype. Before the next match started. “Chloe.” “Yeah?” It was the first time Asher had said my name. Why did those two syllables sound so incredibly good coming from him? “Play ADC next game. I’ll support you.” I looked into Asher’s ink-black eyes and couldn’t find a single trace of a joke. Huh? The best Marksman in the league wanted to play Support for me? Finn: Did the sun just rise in the west? 4 Because the show was filmed and aired concurrently, I only stayed at the house for two nights during the first block. Future schedules would adjust based on audience feedback. The next day, Asher streamed for a solid 7 hours. After dinner, he played high-tier ranked games until midnight, then pushed his main account ranking. Fans kept saying he changed; he was suddenly so eager to stream. He just replied flatly, “When am I not eager? I just want to spend more time with you guys.” If I wasn’t sitting right there, I would’ve thought he was whispering sweet nothings to some girl on the phone. The moment he said that, the chat went feral. Gifts flooded the screen. If he wasn’t sleeping, I didn’t dare slack off either. Everyone else went to bed. I just sat by his computer with him, all the way until 2 AM. After he logged off. The crew took off our mics and packed up the cameras. He stood up, cracked his neck, and stretched. I secretly peeked as the hem of his white t-shirt lifted, exposing a razor-sharp V-line. Lord have mercy. “Thanks for the hard work, staying up with me to practice.” “No problem.” Happy to do it again. By the time I showered and got back to my room, it was past 2:30 AM. A knock sounded at the door. “You awake?” ! Asher! In the middle of the night… Coming to my room… Could it be… Stop it. My brain was full of trash. How could that be? “Not yet, what’s up?” I quickly got up and opened the door. A fresh wave of citrus body wash hit me. Asher stood in my doorway in his pajamas. He looked like he just stepped out of the shower, his hair still dripping wet. “My hairdryer broke. Did you bring yours? Can I borrow it?” “I did, let me get it.” Because I was leaving the next day, I had packed all my stuff into my suitcase. I had to open my luggage and dig around to find it. “Want to come in first? It might take me a second.” There was too much stuff in there. “Is it convenient?” “Yeah, come in.” He walked in and sat on the chair opposite my bed, waiting. “Here, finally found it.” “Can I just use it here? Do you mind?” “No, not at all, go ahead.” So, he took the hairdryer and slowly started drying his hair. The whirring filled the room. I sat on the edge of the bed, secretly watching him under the warm light. The way his hand casually ran through his hair was ridiculously attractive. His knuckles were defined, his fingers long and strong, veins popping on the back of his hand. Not too delicate, not too rough. They say hands are a man’s second face, and they aren’t wrong. Looking back at the past two days, it felt surreal yet entirely natural. Was it because I was already so familiar with him in my head? Even though we had only hung out for two days, I felt like I had gotten very close to him. Like an old friend. The next morning at 9 AM, I had to catch a flight. My manager and a driver came to pick me up. A few team members specifically woke up early to see me off. In the group, I didn’t see Asher’s silhouette. “Where’s Captain? Why isn’t he up yet?” Finn asked. “He streamed until the middle of the night. Probably catching up on sleep. Let’s not wait for him,” Caleb, the Top laner, said. “Alright, I’ll get going then. See you guys in a few days,” I said, hiding my slight disappointment with a smile. The driver loaded my suitcase into the van. I stood by the door, looking around one last time. Still no Asher. Just as I turned to get in the car, a voice called out from the distance. “Chloe.” I whipped my head around. Asher came jogging over from down the street, holding a paper bag. “Bought you breakfast. Eat it on the way.” He was slightly out of breath. “Thank you! You shouldn’t have!” “Safe travels. See you in a few days.” “See you.” Once in the car, I opened the bag. A cup of hot soy milk and a warm, loaded breakfast burrito. In a daze, I realized that to maintain my weight for the cameras, it had been a long time since I ate such a high-calorie breakfast. I took my phone out and snapped a picture of it. Today was a day worth remembering. Back in the team lobby. Finn: “Captain, where did you go? Chloe already left, why are you just getting back?” Asher, breaking his usual habit, didn’t roast him. He just smiled and went upstairs to sleep. Finn: Did the sun really just rise in the west? 5 A couple of days after I got home, the rough-cut trailer for the show dropped. Because the concept was so fresh, it got a huge wave of attention. Asher—wait, I mean Shine—trended on Twitter. A bunch of girls who didn’t even watch esports were drooling over his face. Everyone was saying his toxic mouth was the price he paid for those looks. The Toxic King of Esports was brutally funny. The shippers for Shine and Finn started celebrating too. “This toxic top / soft bottom dynamic is PERFECT!” “I’m eating this up!” “I’m dying, I love them!” Both of their personal follower counts spiked along with the official show account. A few days later, the producers contacted my team. Producer: “Chloe, did you see the trailer?” “I did, the reception is pretty good.” “It is, but Chloe, your interactions with Shine in episode one were a bit sparse. We’re hoping you can interact with him more in the upcoming shoots. But it wasn’t really your fault; the first recording didn’t have any structured activities. Everyone was just practicing or streaming. We’ll set up better scenarios next time.” “Okay, got it.” A week later, I was notified it was time to shoot again. This time, we were filming two episodes back-to-back. I had to live at the base for five days. My manager had to compress my schedule to an insane degree. Right before my flight, I was still in a studio shooting a fashion magazine cover. I practically sprinted to the airport rocking heavy smoky makeup and a messy, avant-garde hairstyle. People stared at me like a zoo animal… By the time I arrived at the team base, it was 1 AM. The driver unloaded my luggage and left after my manager gave me a few warnings. As I dragged my massive 32-inch suitcase down the dark path toward the front door, a dark shadow suddenly sprinted past me. !!! I panicked and forced myself to look. It was Asher. He was wearing a black tracksuit and running shoes, basically blending into the night. “Oh, it’s you. Scared me to death,” I sighed in relief. “Why are you so late?” “I had to cram all my work together to clear the next few days. It was a tight squeeze. Why are you out here so late?” “Night run.” “Oh, keeping in shape. Nice.” “Yeah.” He smoothly grabbed my suitcase handle and walked into the base ahead of me. Inside, Finn and the Jungler were chatting in the lobby. They watched Asher walk in dragging my pink suitcase. Finn spoke up. “Captain, you’re finally back? I thought you went to run a marathon. It’s been almost three hours.” Three hours? Insane stamina! “Oh, Chloe, you’re back too?” “Yeah, flight just landed.” “Captain, go shower and sleep. We waited forever for you. We have scrims tomorrow.” “I didn’t ask you to wait.” “Bro, you’re a delicate, beautiful man. Running around in the dark for hours? What if some creep targeted you? You never know.” That comment earned Finn a massive eye roll from Asher. “Chloe, get some rest. We’re going to sleep too, scrims tomorrow.” “Okay, goodnight guys.” Asher dragged my suitcase all the way to my door. “Get some rest.” “I will. Thanks for the help, goodnight.” “Goodnight.” I went to the bathroom to wash up. When I looked in the mirror, I jumped. I thought Asher was a creep in the dark? Looking at my crazy fashion-shoot makeup, I looked like the ghost. I washed up and laid in bed, eager for tomorrow. Thinking about how my path and Asher’s had crossed from parallel lines in our youth to this. My chest filled with a sweet, bubbly emotion. A room I had only slept in twice already felt warmly familiar. Maybe I was just exhausted, but I fell asleep quickly. The next day, I got ready, and the crew mic’d me up. When I got downstairs, I saw the other players waiting for lunch, including Riley, who I hadn’t seen in a while. I quickly went over and said hi. “It’s almost time to eat, where’s Shine?” the Coach asked. “Caleb, go wake him up.” Caleb, the Jungler, had been on the team forever and was the same age as Shine. “Hell no. He has Tier-1 morning crankiness. I’m not getting punched.” The others immediately pretended to take phone calls or ran to the bathroom. Basically, everyone adopted an “I’m just passing through, don’t ask me” attitude. “I’ll go! I’ll go!” Riley volunteered enthusiastically, standing up to head upstairs. But she was stopped. The producer held up a cue card behind the camera: Please have Chloe wake up Shine. Seeing this, the Coach had no choice. “Chloe, you go wake up Shine.” I looked around. Everyone’s face said the exact same thing: May God have mercy on your soul. … Is this the “forced interaction” the producers wanted?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “413021”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I’m a professional at making trouble, and Silas is a professional at cleaning it up. This time, I took his Bentley out for a spin and ended up rear-ending a Porsche. Now, I’m standing in the corner of our penthouse, facing the wall in a classic “time-out.” He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Even if you’re my girl, Piper, every mistake carries a sentence.” My heart hammered against my ribs. I know that when the glasses come off, a “private session” is coming. But when he started unbuckling his watch… I knew I was truly done for. Is it too late to run? 1 Calling my husband when I’m in trouble—it’s our version of foreplay. Silas Miller is Chicago’s most formidable defense attorney. He’s never lost a case. Whenever he appears as a legal analyst on the news, he gains a million female fans overnight. He’s the ultimate “Silver Fox” in training—sharp features, eyes like cold flint, and a presence that demands the room. And yet, this powerful man is completely helpless against me. I’d just gotten my license and decided to sneak his Bentley Continental out for a grocery run. I was craving a proper Maine lobster clambake and wanted to get the ingredients myself. My driving skills, however, were not up to the task. I slammed right into a Porsche 911 that was merging into my lane. The owner of the Porsche hopped out, swearing. He looked at his crumpled bumper and marched over, pointing a finger at me. “Do you even have eyes, lady?” “Get out of the car! We’re going to talk about how you’re paying for this. Do you hear me? Out!” He looked aggressive. Terrifying. With trembling hands, I dialed Silas. “What’s wrong, Piper?” The sound of his deep, resonant voice always made me feel safe. My voice cracked. “Hey… Silas? I got into a wreck.” Silence for two seconds. Then: “Excuse me, everyone. There’s an emergency at home. The meeting is adjourned.” I could hear the rustle of him grabbing his suit jacket. Even in a rush, he didn’t forget to soothe me: “Get out of the car, stand on the sidewalk where it’s safe, and wait for me.” I stood by the curb, looking like a kicked puppy, as the Porsche owner continued his tirade. Soon, a black SUV pulled up. Silas stepped out, wearing a perfectly tailored charcoal-gray suit—straight from the office. He walked to me, draped his jacket over my shoulders, and I immediately tried to burrow into his chest. He frowned, straightening me up. “Stand straight. I’ll deal with you later.” The Porsche owner, recognizing him, suddenly changed his tone to pure flattery. “Mr. Miller! I didn’t realize… I mean, I thought the car looked familiar. No worries, really. My insurance will handle it. Don’t worry about a thing!” There isn’t a mess Silas can’t fix. After handling the scene, he tucked me into the passenger seat. He didn’t say a word the whole way home. The tension was suffocating. I followed him into the penthouse, head down, and went straight to my usual corner for a “time-out.” Usually, I’d play the victim card, call him “too controlling,” and wait for him to apologize. But this time, he was genuinely fuming. He stood behind me, arms crossed. “How many times have I told you not to drive alone? Why didn’t you listen?” “I wanted to make that lobster dinner you mentioned… I wanted to do something nice…” My voice got smaller and smaller. When he didn’t respond, I turned around and grabbed his waist, crying. “I messed up. Do whatever you want to me…” He didn’t yell. He just reached out and gently tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “If you want to cook, let the chef handle the prep. You just need to be happy.” “But I’m happy when I’m doing things for you!” Gosh, I felt so exposed. Even after all these years, his gentle side still made me blush. Finally, a faint smile tugged at his lips. The crisis was over. Or so I thought. I wrapped my arms around his neck, nuzzling him like a cat. If Silas were a cat, he’d be a Maine Coon—imposing and fierce-looking, but incredibly soft inside. “Even so,” he whispered, “you need to learn your lesson.” His long fingers reached up and removed his gold-rimmed glasses. His warm breath was against my lips, his dark eyes glowing with a dangerous intent. My heart skipped a beat. When the glasses come off, it’s a kiss. When the watch comes off… my legs go weak. I turned and bolted for my studio. “Silas!” “Piper!” He called out, sounding both amused and exasperated. I slammed the studio door. “I have… uh… work! Commissions to finish!” Through the door, his voice was smooth as aged whiskey. “Be a good girl. You can finish tomorrow.” “No!” At this moment, I felt like a lamb that had just realized the wolf was hungry. 2 I was huddling under my duvet, refusing to listen to Silas’s coaxing from the other side. I will never admit that I was eventually lured out by the promise of late-night pizza. “You’re a bully, Mr. Miller,” I grumbled. “I should sue you for emotional distress.” Silas chuckled, hugging me from behind. “Go ahead. I’ll even write the brief for you.” I can never win an argument with him. He always has that calm, detached lawyer persona. The more I get riled up, the more he looks at me with that infuriatingly indulgent, doting gaze. “Buy me a bag,” I demanded. “The new leather one.” I needed to make his wallet bleed a little to balance my soul. Plus, after a night of “punishment,” I deserved compensation. “Another bag? The repair bill for the Bentley is coming out of your allowance.” I spun around, tears still fresh on my face. “What? Why? I said I was sorry!” “Yes, you say it every time. And every time, you do it again.” “But you already punished me!” “Clearly, it wasn’t memorable enough. From now on, I’m putting you on a daily budget. Twenty dollars a day. If you’re good, I might take you shopping on the weekend. Twenty is plenty for coffee and lunch.” How can such a sexy mouth say such cold words? “Twenty dollars? I can’t even get brunch with my friends for twenty!” Silas ignored my protest, propping his head on one hand and closing his eyes. I grabbed his leg. “Babe, don’t be like this. Give me a monthly flat rate? Five thousand? Please… just to keep me afloat…” Silas opened one eye, looking shocked. He was clearly holding back a laugh. “…Are you sure?” “Yes! Five thousand! Deal? Don’t forget to wire it!” I was ecstatic. I really am a genius. Sometimes, you have to negotiate for your own interests! Silas pulled me into his arms, letting out a long sigh. “I really worry about you going out alone. You can’t even do basic math. Someone could sell you for parts, and you’d probably help them count the money.” Hey! I’m not that bad. 3 Early the next morning, my mother-in-law, Mrs. Miller, staged a surprise visit. When I heard noise in the living room, I groaned. “…Is that your mom?” Silas threw on a robe. “I’ll go check. Go back to sleep.” Through the cracked door, I heard them talking. “Is Piper still in bed? I brought some bone broth. She needs to drink it while it’s hot.” “She’s exhausted, Mom. Let her sleep.” Mrs. Miller lowered her voice. “You two shouldn’t overwork yourselves. You’re young; you should be focusing on starting a family.” !!! If only she knew why I was exhausted… I hopped out of bed, barefoot, listening at the door to see how Silas would handle the “baby talk.” “She’s still young. There’s no rush.” Young? I’m twenty-two! He’s just using me as a shield. Mrs. Miller wasn’t buying it. “Twenty-two isn’t that young. Besides, you’re almost thirty. If you have a baby now, I can help you look after it.” Silas sounded like he was losing the battle. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I opened the door. “Mom! You should have called, I would have come to pick you up!” I gave her a big hug. She’s a classic “tough exterior, soft heart” woman. She grumbled about us being dramatic, but she was beaming. “Oh, my Piper is finally awake. Drink this broth, honey. It’s for your health.” I caught Silas’s eye; he looked relieved. I downed the entire bowl of heavy-duty wellness broth and showed her the empty bottom. “All gone!” Silas looked at his own bowl of “Super-Recovery Tonic” and grimaced. “Mom, you don’t need to brew this anymore. Last time, I got a nosebleed from all the ‘energy’ it gave me.” “I adjusted the recipe this time. Less ginseng. Just drink it.” Silas hates medicinal-tasting things. I grabbed his bowl and downed it before he could stop me. I let out a loud burp that smelled like herbs. “I actually… hic… love this stuff…” Mrs. Miller patted my hand. “Piper is always the good one.” Under the table, Silas squeezed my hand. I winked at him. I got you. When she left, she left us with a mountain of ingredients and instructions to “build up our strength.” I nodded obediently. But as soon as the door closed, blood started dripping from my nose. Drip. Drip. Silas cursed softly, grabbing tissues and pinching my nose. “I’m telling her to stop the deliveries.” “It’s fine. She’s retired; she just needs to feel needed. We just have to understand.” I looked up at his handsome face. He smiled. “You little dork.” 4 While Silas was at work, I finally met up with my best friend, Chloe. We’d met at an art gallery. She’d married a wealthy tech heir and was living the full socialite life. When I told her Silas had limited my allowance to five thousand a month, she nearly choked on her latte. “No way. Silas Miller is that stingy? Wait, are you a math hater? Twenty dollars a day is six hundred a month. He offered you six hundred, and you ‘negotiated’ him up to five thousand?” She looked at me like I was insane. Silas had laughed for an hour about the same thing last night. I just graduated and haven’t started my career yet, and my book royalties haven’t kicked in. I’m broke. I’d asked a marketing expert to help me find clients for my custom illustrations, but he needed a down payment. If I’d taken the twenty dollars a day, it would have taken me months to start my business. So, losing a few hundred dollars in the long run was worth the “time” I bought. Chloe nodded slowly. “Your love for money is truly a race against time.” I shrugged, continuing my sketch. “A girl’s gotta eat.” I finished the commission and checked my watch. “I have to go home and cook. Silas has been working late; I’m going to drop off some food at the firm.” “Aww, no shopping?” I pinched her cheek. “When I’m a famous illustrator, I’ll buy the first round.” 5 It took half the day, but I finally finished the meal prep and the “special” stew. When I got to Miller & Associates, it was lunch hour. The associates were all eating at their desks. “Hey, guys! I made way too much, come grab some!” Leo, a junior associate, beamed at me. “Piper! Thank God. I’ve missed your cooking.” He reached for a container and stuffed a piece of braised beef into his mouth. “Incredible!” Silas heard the commotion and stepped out of his office. His tired face broke into a smile the moment he saw me. “I knew it was you.” “Whoa! Boss, check this out! This is some high-grade ‘stamina’ stew!” Leo had already opened the container of Silas’s special tonic. Silas’s face went dark. “Is your work done, Leo? Looking for some overtime?” Leo snapped to attention, trying not to laugh as he handed the container back to Silas. “My bad, Boss. Take care of yourself.” “Piper, in my office. Now.” I followed him in. He looked at the “stamina” ingredients in the stew with a flat expression. “You think I need this?” “No! No, no!” I waved my hands. “Your mom said it helps with… fatigue…” My head dropped. “Hmm. And then?” He was clearly enjoying my embarrassment. I sighed. “If you don’t like it, I’ll throw it out.” Silas quirked a smile and downed the whole thing in one go. “Fine. But don’t you dare start crying later tonight.” !!! I did it again. I walked right into my own trap. 6 Silas gets lost in his work. Seeing him so focused, I didn’t want to disturb him. He has a small lounge in his office with a daybed. I laid down and accidentally drifted off. In my sleep, I felt the bed sink. A warm body pressed against me, pulling me into a hug. My dreams shifted into a nightmare. I was opening a door to find blood everywhere. The metallic scent of iron was overwhelming. I ran to the bedroom, tripping over a rug. I looked up to see my parents on the floor, their eyes vacant. “NO!” I woke up screaming, drenched in sweat. “Another nightmare?” Silas immediately pulled me into his chest, his large hand rubbing my back in a soothing rhythm. I was shaking. I buried my face in his chest, inhaling his familiar scent—the only thing that made me feel safe. “I saw that day again…” Silas paused, his hand never stopping its rhythmic patting. “Don’t be afraid. It’s over. Garrett is dead.” Even hearing that name made my skin crawl. Silas and I met because of that man. Because of that man, I fell into an abyss of darkness. It all started five years ago, with the infamous “Vance Family Murders.” 7 Five years ago, I was seventeen, a junior in high school. My school had organized a late-night study session. That session saved my life. A man named Frank Vance had broken into our house. When my parents caught him, he killed them. But he didn’t leave. He saw my photo on the desk and waited in the shadows for me to come home. When I opened the door and saw the blood and the man standing behind the curtain, I ran. I ran until I found a neighbor who called the police. But the trial was a mess. Frank Vance denied everything. He claimed it was a burglary gone wrong, that my parents had attacked him first, and he’d acted in self-defense. “Liar! My parents were the most peaceful people I knew!” It was hopeless. I was wandering the streets of Chicago when I saw a poster of Silas Miller. He looked so young, so sharp, like a wolf in a suit. I used every connection I had just to get a meeting with him. I didn’t expect much. His fees were astronomical, and he was notoriously picky about cases. But he agreed instantly. We won. Frank Vance was sentenced to death. 8 Even though we won, I was an orphan. Silas was only twenty-four then. He stood at my door, backlit by the sun, looking like an angel who had accidentally wandered into the human world. “Come home with me.” I stepped out of my dark corner and took his hand. For the first time, I didn’t feel alone. I moved into his apartment. I took the master bedroom; he took the study. He worked constantly. The trauma had caused my grades to plummet. I was terrified to show him my report card. I stood outside his study, shaking. I expected disappointment. But it never came. He just looked at my mistakes and walked me through them, step by step. “It’s okay. Just do your best. No pressure.” Week after week, my cold, broken heart began to thaw. Every time I saw him, my heart would race—not out of fear, but something much more dangerous. But he seemed to be keeping his distance on purpose. So, I started avoiding him. I refused his tutoring. I tried to kill the feelings I shouldn’t have. Depression hit hard. I messed up my college entrance exams and missed out on my dream school. But that year, I turned eighteen. I didn’t need a guardian anymore. Silas noticed my withdrawal. When I packed my bags to move out, he blocked the door. “Don’t go.” I couldn’t look at him. “I’ve bothered you long enough. You should have your own life.” He grabbed my suitcase. “Don’t be ridiculous.” “I’m serious.” I tried to pull the suitcase away, but he held on tight. I looked up at him, defiant, and was suddenly silenced by a kiss. It was my first kiss. It was his, too. 9 Silas pulled me out of the abyss in his own way. He always said, “You don’t need to do anything. Just be happy.” Slowly, I became the girl I am now—cheerful, a bit of a brat, and very clingy. I love depending on him, even for things I can do myself. Like, I can open a package with my bare teeth, but if he’s there, I “can’t even open a water bottle.” I can dance in five-inch heels, but if he’s there, I “can’t walk another step,” just so he’ll carry me home. Depending on him makes him feel needed. “What would you do without me?” He’d say, his eyes full of pride and satisfaction. I’d hug him and retort, “What would you do without me?” I clean the house until it sparkles. I make the best stew. I wash and iron his shirts perfectly. He never knows where his clothes are without me. I even lay out his socks. I made his life seamless. He finally admitted defeat: “I guess I’m the one who can’t live without you.” Being needed is a wonderful thing. Looking in the mirror now, at my healthy glow, I can barely remember the broken girl crying in the corner of a classroom. When I woke up the next morning, Silas was already awake, dark circles under his eyes. “You were talking in your sleep again. Calling for your parents.” I stroked his cheek. “I’m sorry. I didn’t let you rest.” “Don’t be silly. I’m taking the day off. Let’s go visit them.” He’s always like this—tender and perceptive. We drove to the cemetery. The wild flowers were in bloom. I stood before my parents’ grave, holding Silas’s arm. “Mom, Dad, don’t worry. Silas has kept me well-fed and happy. I’m doing great.” Silas pulled me close and kissed the top of my head. Everything was perfect. 10 Silas dropped me off at home before heading back to the office for a call. “Go ahead, I’m fine. I’ll just rest at home.” He hesitated, so I squeezed his hand. “Really, I’m okay!” “Fine. I’ll drop you at the gate.” I waved goodbye. As I turned, I almost walked into someone. “Sorry! Did I step on you?” The man didn’t answer. He just shook his head. My skin prickled. I tried to walk faster toward the building. But he didn’t stop. He followed me. The faster I walked, the closer he got. Just as I was about to yell for the security guard, he caught up. A cold, hard knife point pressed into my waist. “You know what to do,” he whispered. I looked at the empty security booth and swallowed hard. I walked toward the parking garage. “What… what do you want?” “To the garage. Drive your car.” Silas’s Bentley was parked right there, freshly repaired. The man forced me into the driver’s seat and sat in the passenger side, the knife still against my side. “Who are you? If it’s money, I have cash in my bag…” His eyes narrowed. He looked unstable. “I don’t want money! I want Silas Miller to defend me. I hit someone. I don’t want to go to jail…” I swallowed. “Hit someone? Was it bad?” “They didn’t die from the hit. I had to finish the job with a knife.” “They… they’re dead?” “Duh! Why else would I be here? Call Silas. Tell him to save me! Or I’ll leave him with a corpse!” “Okay, okay, don’t be impulsive. You look like you come from a good family. If you have money, Silas can help…” He seemed to calm down slightly. I continued, “Silas is stubborn, but he listens to me. I’ll talk to him.” “Call him now.” I dialed Silas, but it went to voicemail. He was in a meeting. The man snapped. He told me to drive out of the complex. The roads got more and more deserted. I didn’t know where he was taking me, but I knew I couldn’t wait much longer. Seeing a late-night taco stand ahead, I made a choice. I yanked the steering wheel and slammed the Bentley straight into a utility pole. The world went blurry for a second. I didn’t hesitate; I unbuckled my seatbelt and bolted out of the car. People from the taco stand rushed over. I grabbed a stranger and told them to call 911. When Silas arrived, it was the first time I’d ever seen him look panicked. I looked at him, breathless. “I’m sorry. I crashed the car again…” He pulled me into a hug so tight I thought my ribs would snap. “Piper,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “Nothing is more important than your life.” 11 The man was caught. He begged Silas to defend him, to cover up the crime. But Silas Miller doesn’t work that way. Silas was wracked with guilt. He spent the whole day preparing the prosecution’s files. “I’m going to make sure he rots in prison.” I rubbed his palm. “Hey, look at me. I’m okay.” “If something had happened… I would never have forgiven myself.” Silas is that kind of man. He can tease me, but if anyone else touches me, he’ll make them pay tenfold. Since I had some minor injuries, Silas dragged me to the hospital for a full checkup. Mrs. Miller arrived and smacked Silas’s arm. “I told you to be more flexible, but you keep making enemies! Don’t drag my Piper into this!” Silas stood there and took it. I felt bad for him. “Mom, he’s not being inflexible. He’s being a man of principle. That’s why I love him.” She laughed, giving Silas a look. “Only Piper would spoil you like this.” Well, he’s my husband. Of course I’m going to spoil him. In a world full of corruption, Silas’s integrity is his brightest light. As his wife, I wasn’t going to let him down. I’ve been getting a lot of illustration commissions lately. Looking at my bank balance, I felt the thrill of making my own money. Naturally, this was a secret account. My “mad money.” But I decided to use my first big paycheck to treat Silas to a fancy dinner.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “413022”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Just because Ethan said he was tired of eating out, I quit my job to become a stay-at-home wife, pouring my heart into making him three square meals a day. I started filming the process and posting it online, slowly building a decent following as a food vlogger. But today, scrolling through the sea of glowing compliments, one comment stopped my heart: Stop fooling yourself, honey. He looks like he’s about to puke every time he takes a bite. I checked her IP address. She’s in the same city. My stomach dropped. 1 In the second year of my marriage to Ethan, I got pregnant. Looking at the two pink lines on the test, it was hard to imagine a tiny new life was already inside me. I planned to film a short video to capture the blissful moment he found out he was going to be a dad. As a food influencer, naturally, I had to use food to break the news. I had just finished preparing the meal when I heard Ethan open the front door. I rushed over, setting his slippers down for him. “Welcome home! Come see what delicious things I made you.” Ethan rubbed the top of my head fondly, handing me a fresh bouquet of flowers. “Thanks, babe. You shouldn’t have.” In the two years we’d been married, he was consistent. Every single day on his way home from work, he brought me flowers. My followers always called him “husband goals.” Handsome, talented, devoted, and an absolute romantic. Ethan took off his suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and stared at the setting on the table. It was a kids’ meal—chicken nuggets shaped like stars and smiley-face fries. He looked confused. “Why the happy meal today?” I couldn’t hide the smile in my eyes as I rested my chin on my hands, sitting across from him. “Guess.” Ethan paused. A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes. “…I’m going to be a dad?” “Yes!” I handed him the pregnancy test. Tears immediately welled up in my eyes. Ethan got up excitedly, scooped me into his arms, and spun me around. “This is amazing! I’m going to be a dad!” He cupped my face and kissed me several times, his joy uncontained. I uploaded the video later, and the congratulations from fans poured in instantly. ——So sweet! Seeing Lily and her husband so happy makes me believe in love again! ——Lily White! You just cured my fear of commitment! ——Ugh, Ethan is so hot, Lily is so beautiful, that baby is going to be genetically blessed! Scrolling through the thousands of congratulatory comments, my face muscles ached from smiling so much. Until I hit that one comment in the middle of the crowd: Stop fooling yourself, honey. He looks like he’s about to puke every time he takes a bite. In my years as a food vlogger, I’ve had haters. At worst, they’d say my plating looked better than it tasted. But this comment was distinctly malicious. I clicked on her profile. It was just human interest stuff, mostly humanizing inexpensive makeup brands. Looks like a college student. Since she was just a kid, I decided she didn’t know any better and wasn’t going to obsess over it. I was about to exit when I saw a photo of Ethan lecturing. The caption read: Professor Ethan is looking hot again today! Praying I don’t fail his finals this time! My heart stuttered. I looked up at Ethan, who was sitting at his desk, reading. Focused and calm. I brushed the intrusive, filthy thought out of my mind. What was wrong with me? 2 Ethan worked at a university not far from our house. He usually ate every meal at home. I would time it perfectly so that hot food was ready the moment he walked through the door. Around lunchtime, he texted me saying something came up at school and he wouldn’t be able to make it home for lunch. This happened occasionally, but after seeing that student’s comment, a strange anxiety began to gnaw at me. I prepared dinner and uploaded the video I had just edited. Then, compelled by something dark, I clicked back into that college student’s profile. She had just posted a new video. In the video, she was spinning under the cherry blossom trees on campus, looking back at the camera and smiling—playful and vibrant. It was a normal, sharing-style video, but right before it ended, I heard Ethan’s voice. With trembling hands, I replayed the video, dragging it to the very end. “Okay, got it.” Ha. It was really him. At that moment, the only person I could think of was Joanna. She’s been my best friend for over a decade—the typical “boss babe” type. She thinks far more rationally than I do. Not long after I called, Joanna was at my door, immediately pulling me into a hug. “Don’t panic. I’m here.” Joanna scrolled through the girl’s profile and had someone run a quick background check. Natasha. Freshman. Barely eighteen. English major. Ethan’s student. Eighteen. So young. When I was eighteen, Ethan had declared, right in front of our teachers, that our love was free. Back then, I really thought eighteen was forever. 3 When Ethan got home, dinner was already cold. He walked in, changed his shoes, and handed me a spray of cherry blossoms. “Sorry, Lily. Traffic was a nightmare. Look, the cherry blossoms on campus are blooming. I snagged a few for you. Pretty, right?” I smiled as I took the branches. “Beautiful. Natasha likes cherry blossoms too, doesn’t she?” Ethan paused while taking off his coat, but quickly recovered. He smiled faintly at me. “Who?” I played Natasha’s video for him. He looked perfectly calm through the first part, right until he heard his own voice. “Oh, she’s one of my students. I was just passing through the campus garden today, and she asked me to help her film this short clip.” Good. I had anticipated that answer. I pointed to Natasha’s comment. “If it’s just a teacher-student relationship, does she need to have this much malice toward me?” “She’s always been a bit theatrical and crazy. Just ignore her.” Still not admitting it. I smiled, looking up at this man who was both familiar and strange. My heart slowly sank. “I called your Dean today. He said there was no lunchtime meeting. You lied to me.” Ethan froze, then stepped forward to hug me. “I know you’ve been anxious and paranoid lately because of the pregnancy, and I understand…” I pushed him away. “Don’t give me that crap!” Ethan’s expression instantly changed. His eyes turned red as he stared at me. “I’ve been with you for ten years, Lily. You’d rather believe a total stranger over me?” Looking at his red eyes, I got confused. My voice softened subconsciously. “The Dean had no reason to lie to me, though…” “He wasn’t on campus today. The meeting was called last minute and he wasn’t notified. He wasn’t lying to you, he just didn’t know.” Seeing me calm down, Ethan walked over and hugged me. “Lily, you are the only person I have ever loved in my life. You have to believe that.” I hugged Ethan and cried. For a moment, I really thought I was going to lose him. Just as I was finally calming down, the algorithm pushed another update from Natasha. Ten minutes ago, she posted a photo of her fresh manicure. The key detail was the bracelet on her wrist. Ethan had the exact same one. Motherf**ker. I was going to lose my mind. 4 Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones making me irritable and paranoid, but my emotions were spinning out of control. While Ethan was in the shower, I tore through the house looking for that bracelet. I found the handwritten card it came with in a box. ——Thank you for caring, Professor Ethan. I promise to work hard! ~ Your student, Natasha. Back then, he had said it was a gift from a student. At the time, I was actually happy for him. Thinking he had just become a full professor and already had students giving him gifts, meant he had to be a great teacher. I took a photo of the bracelet and searched for it online. It was part of a couples’ set. Great. So, how long had this been going on? Ethan came out of the shower, hugged me from behind, and kissed my neck. “What are you looking at? Time for bed…” Forcing back my immediate disgust, I turned around and slammed the bracelet against his chest. “Natasha sent this couples’ bracelet, didn’t she? Why aren’t you wearing it?” Ethan’s face darkened. “Lily, I thought we were past this? There is nothing between Natasha and me.” I grabbed his phone. “Fine. Then call her right now.” “Will you stop making a scene?” This was Ethan. We had been together for ten years, and he had never raised his voice at me. But now, the irritation on his face froze me. Without a word, I walked into the bedroom and grabbed my purse. I couldn’t stand to be in this house for another minute. He grabbed me. “Lily, listen to me…” I didn’t know if it was the hormones or if my heart was just completely broken, but I was gasping for air, unable to catch my breath. Ethan panicked, immediately pulling me into his arms. “Lily, calm down…” I fought with everything I had to break free, but suddenly, I felt a sharp pain followed by a warm rush down my legs. I looked down. Crimson blood was tracing a path down my legs and pooling on the hardwood floor. Terrified, I grabbed Ethan’s arm, my mind a blank slate of panic. “Baby… the baby…” My legs went weak, and the world went black. 5 When I woke up, the smell of antiseptic filled my nose. Ethan was sitting by the hospital bed, his face covered in fresh stubble, his eyes bloodshot. Seeing me wake up, he excitedly grabbed my hand. “You’re awake. I’ll go get the nurse.” I yanked my hand away. “The baby?” The light in his eyes vanished. “We… we can have another one. Just focus on getting better. I’ll take care of everything.” I bit my lower lip, the tears streaming down my face without warning. The hospital door burst open, and Joanna stormed in, infuriated. She walked straight up to Ethan and slapped him hard across the face. “You son of a bitch! How dare you show your face here? You don’t deserve her!” Ethan didn’t fight back. “I’m sorry. I failed to protect Lily.” Joanna crossed her arms. “Nice deflection. If it wasn’t for your affair with that student, Lily wouldn’t be lying here!” “I am saying this one last time. I did not have an affair.” Ethan looked at me. “Lily, yes, Natasha had feelings for me, but it was entirely one-sided. I never responded to it.” When I didn’t say anything, Ethan knelt by the bed, his expression sincere. “Lily, her class with me is over. I will never have anything to do with her again.” “Just get out. I don’t want to see you right now.” Ethan frowned slightly, picking up the pitcher from the nightstand. “I’ll go get you some water.” Joanna tucked the blankets around me, her heart breaking. “Look at yourself. I’m dying inside seeing you like this. You and Ethan? It’s over. You have to divorce him!” “Joanna, thank you.” I grabbed her hand. “I just lost a child. If I have to deal with a divorce right now, I don’t think I can handle it.” “Babe, you have me. I’ll be right here with you.” I shook my head. “We’ll see. There’s no concrete proof of an affair. I just need time.” Joanna sighed. “You are too naive.” 6 After I was discharged, Ethan insisted I stop cooking. He even hired a home health aide to take care of me while I recovered. “Lily, Maria is a certified aide. Whatever you need, just ask her.” Maria was only a few years older than me, but she looked very mature. She smiled and came over to touch my hand. “Oh honey, your hands are freezing. I’m going to make you some chicken soup to warm you up.” Ethan nodded, satisfied, and checked his watch. “I have to head to campus. Call me if you need anything.” I don’t know why, but I didn’t like Maria from the first moment I saw her. I figured it was just my depression from the miscarriage talking, so I didn’t think too much of it. But I soon realized something was off. Maria’s clothing around the house was getting increasingly revealing. At first, it was just short shorts and tank tops. Then off-the-shoulder dresses. Now, she was practically wearing lingerie. “Maria, is it hard to do house chores in that outfit?” “Not at all. You have no idea how hot it gets in the kitchen. I’m sweating every time I cook for you.” If it was just around me, I wouldn’t have said anything. But I noticed she was always lingering around Ethan’s study, wearing tiny dresses and bending over to “mop” the floor, or bending over his desk to wipe it down right in front of him. The straw that broke the camel’s back was when I got up in the middle of the night to get some water and saw Maria, wrapped only in a towel, walking out of the study. And Ethan didn’t seem to think anything was wrong. “Maria just finished her shower and saw I was still in the study, so she brought me a glass of milk. That’s it.” “She couldn’t put clothes on before bringing you milk? Or is she trying to audition for the role of the new wife?” Ethan put his book down. “Okay, Lily. I’ll remind her tomorrow. I need to prepare my lesson. Go back to bed.” After that, things seemed calm for a while. The final explosion came when I caught her smelling Ethan’s underwear. My entire worldview shattered. I rushed forward and grabbed her. “What are you doing? Are you sick in the head?!” Maria quickly dropped Ethan’s boxers, a look of panic crossing her face. Ethan heard the commotion and came out. “What’s wrong?” “She was just! Smelling your underwear!” Ethan looked confused, but Maria immediately put on a performance of a wronged victim. “Mr. Ethan, I didn’t. I was just checking which clothes needed washing. I didn’t expect Mrs. Lily to grab your… boxers… and say…” Wow. Somehow, she managed to make it sound like I was the bully. I couldn’t help but let out a cold laugh. “Do you not fear God with those lies?” Ethan frowned and pulled me aside. “Lily White, I know you don’t like Maria, but you don’t have to slander her like this.” It had been a long time since he called me by my full name. That only happened when he was genuinely furious. I stared at Ethan. He felt like a complete stranger. “Ethan, do you even know what you’re saying?” I locked eyes with him, emphasizing every word. “Tell her to get out right now. Either she goes, or I do.” “It’s the middle of the night. Where is she supposed to go?” “Fine. I’m leaving.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “413023”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Five years into his career, Ashton Miller was an untouchable A-lister, the undeniable king of the industry. Everyone knew he had a secret love, a woman locked away in his heart. Through his rise from nothing to the dazzling heights of Hollywood, he had never forgotten her. I was the one who walked with him through his darkest days. And I was the one who finally realized I was only ever cast as the Supporting Actress. In the perfectly scripted romance of life, the Supporting Actress exists only to make the main couple’s love story shine brighter. But Ashton had once told me, “If the script says I can’t have you, then I’ll use every ounce of my power to tear up that script.” I had believed him. 1 Ashton was trending on social media again. Normally, for a superstar like him, dominating the headlines wasn’t news. But this time was different. He was trending alongside Seraphina Vance, a rising starlet from the same agency. Five years since his debut, he was like a once-in-a-generation comet. On the concert stage, he was pure blinding energy; on screen, he possessed an innate brilliance that had already won him an Academy Award at his young age. Despite the fame, he had never been touched by scandal. His most viral photo was one taken right after he stepped off a massive concert stage. His silhouette was tall and lean. The crowd was a roar of screams. The spotlights hit only half his face, catching the gleam of sweat sliding down his jawline. His eyes were vibrant with raw energy, possessing a charm that could steal a person’s soul. Yet, the other half of his face was steeped in shadow—cold, distant, and enigmatic as a chaste god, suggesting nothing could tempt him from his pedestal. Half vivid splendor, half silent stoicism. He was the center of attention in any arena. They said Ashton was the brightest star in the northern sky: untouchable, uncatchable. You could only feel his presence from a distance—overwhelmingly beautiful, yet bone-chillingly cold. The hashtag #AshtonSeraphina had a bright red “VIRAL” tag next to it. It was a video from a press conference. Ashton had just abandoned his usual blockbuster rotation to sign onto an epic period romance script called The Queen’s Champion, playing opposite Seraphina, who was new to the acting world. In the video, a reporter asked, “What is your favorite line from the script, Ashton?” He chuckled softly. In the film, he plays the loyal general who commits his life to conquering territories for the Queen. He turned his head, casting his eyes down at Seraphina beside him. She only came up to his shoulder, but Ashton deliberately leaned down, assuming a posture of deep reverence, much like the young general half-kneeling before his sovereign in the script. His eyes were soft, and when he smiled slightly, they were breathtakingly affectionate. He said: “I am content to be the brightest gem in your crown. I desire only to conquer worlds so that your name echoes through history. I pledge to be your most loyal soldier, to circle you like the stars around the moon, remaining forever by your side. I offer everything I am, my young Sovereign.” The entire hall fell silent. Seraphina raised her eyes to meet Ashton’s, her gaze soft and rippling with emotion. Screams erupted an instant later. Camera flashes strobed like lightning, and countless microphones were thrust forward by frenzied reporters. The video froze in that moment. The comments section was in overdrive. Even Ashton’s die-hard fans were beginning to celebrate. “If this isn’t love, I don’t know what is!” “The young Queen and her devoted General… who isn’t shipping this?” “That look in Ashton’s eyes… that’s pure, sweet devotion.” “After all these years, my boy finally found someone who makes him melt!” … I mindlessly traced my finger over the screen. It was frozen right where Ashton looked down, his eyes holding a galaxy of stars—a expression I had never seen before. I let out a helpless sigh, but tears escaped. It had finally happened. I had “stepped into this story” long ago, when I was fifteen, a sophomore in high school. To me, it felt like being trapped in a cheesy romance novel. Ashton was the male lead—the undisputed, incredibly talented young superstar. He was typically lazy and detached, but he would pour a lifetime of warmth solely onto the female lead, Seraphina. It was a story of reconnecting. They knew each other from high school. Ashton was practically Hollywood royalty, a true blue blood. Seraphina was the transfer student, a delicate ballet dancer. According to the pattern I knew, in their senior year, Ashton’s family would suffer a massive tragedy. The young lord on his pedestal would be dragged down into the dirt. In his despair, he would be saved by Seraphina, preventing him from going dark. After various separations due to her career and studies, they would meet again years later, and Ashton would protect her as she blossomed in the entertainment industry. Their love story was destined to be celebrated by the whole world. But when I came into the picture, Seraphina’s family moved her away much earlier than the plot dictated. She missed the entire downfall of the Miller family, leaving before Ashton could even confess his budding feelings. I was the one who held that eighteen-year-old boy when he lost both his parents in a single night. I was the one who touched his thin spine and accompanied him slowly through that abyss of darkness. He had never been so helpless, weeping silently against my shoulder with red, swollen eyes, clinging to me like I was his last lifeline. I saw him return to the spotlight. He was born for greatness, after all, and Hollywood quickly rediscovered him. I went to the premiere of his first film. I watched on the big screen as he turned in the rain, covered in blood and mud, his gaze as sharp as a knife. The audience around me gasped in collective shock at the raw power of it. I called him while he was walking the red carpet at an awards show. I said, “Ash, I saw it.” During his first major concert, I was right there in the front row. The entire arena was chanting his name, screaming for him. Countless LEDs lit up, declaring their love for “Ashton.” I knew, right then, that he had never really been “my” boy. I was swallowed up by the crowd, smiling as I watched him blaze brilliantly center stage, while hot tears poured down my face before I could stop them. I walked with him through the hardest times, but I knew his brilliant future didn’t belong to me. Ash. Ashton probably didn’t know that the novel The Queen’s Champion was actually based on something I wrote. I wrote of generals, of sovereigns, of strategy, and of love. But I had to watch him recite those declarations of devotion to Seraphina. “I am your sharpest sword.” “Your Majesty, my heart’s devotion lies across this vast empire. Look and see for yourself.” There had been countless moments when I realized that no matter how long I stayed by Ashton’s side, that dazzling boy would never be mine. But I hadn’t asked for much. I only wanted him to be happy and safe. Ding. Cinderella’s time was up. It was time to strip away the glory that didn’t belong to me. I slowly ate a bowl of porridge, staring blankly at the small pot of freesia on the windowsill for a long time. I returned to my room and packed everything I owned. It wasn’t much; it fit perfectly into a single small suitcase. I called Ashton’s cell. I called several times. On the third try, someone finally picked up. It was his assistant. “Elara! Look, Ash is just changing into costume, he can’t—” The call was abruptly cut off, then I heard Ashton’s voice as he walked away from the noise, the sounds of the set fading into the distance. “Hello?” I hadn’t wanted to cry. But the moment his deep, smooth voice came through the line, a tear suddenly fell. I tilted my head back, thinking about the ten years we had walked together. Scenes receded only to rush back like a tide. I thought of that line about circled stars and a destined path that couldn’t be changed. I composed myself and said, “Ash, I’m done. I’m leaving.” He froze. After a long pause, he spoke in his usual casual, detached tone. “Need to get away for a bit? Domestic or international? Leaving in a few days? Let Nick know, he’ll book your flight. Can you wait two days? I’ll have my manager reschedule my shoots, I’ll clear some time to go with you. I heard there’s a place with great scenery—” The background noise around him started to swell again. Someone shouted, “Mr. Miller, we’re ready to shoot!” He ignored them. I interrupted his rambling. I said, “No, Ash. I mean I’m leaving you.” I wiped the single tear from my cheek and whispered, “Goodbye, Ashton.” Silence for a heartbeat. Then I hung up. I have always been a coward. I was afraid he would hear the sob I couldn’t hold back, and even more afraid he would let out a sigh of relief and say, “Okay.” 2 Ashton had bought this little apartment before he struck it rich. I had saved up a decent chunk of change from my writing royalties, and together with Ashton’s savings, we scraped together a down payment. Two bedrooms, one bath. We each had our own little space. Later, when he exploded in popularity, living here wasn’t feasible anymore. The area was too busy, and it was too easy for paparazzi to follow him. His manager strictly forbade any talk of him “cohabitating” with anyone during his rising career. I helped him explain over and over that we were just family, but I knew there was no way around it. For a very brief moment, I had held a burning star in my hands. But I was painfully aware that he never belonged to me. He moved into a highly secure luxury complex. His schedule became fuller by the day. He still called me, telling me about new scripts, new choreography he was learning, but he was just too busy. Eventually, when I called him, he was always at an event, filming, or preparing for a show. He’d call back exhausted when it was all over. I couldn’t stand seeing him so tired, so I stopped calling. I didn’t have many friends here. After working at the publishing house, I’d come home and write. When I wrote The Queen’s Champion, I had written a specific line for the young general. He would ride back through a massive snowstorm, the great Royal City and thousands of soldiers behind him. He would leap from his horse, dropping to one knee in the deep snow before the young Queen: “I am your sharpest sword. For my Sovereign, I conquer worlds.” I was thinking of Ashton when I wrote that. I, too, wanted to be his sword and his shield. But I could do nothing. All I could ever offer him was a hug. According to the patterns of these stories, Ashton and Seraphina were supposed to meet during an audition at his agency. Reconnection. The descriptions in my head were vivid: “They met, but he remained outwardly composed. Tall and straight, he brushed past the delicate Seraphina, appearing like strangers. But secretly, he secured the best contract terms for her and personally ensured this destined-to-be-blockbuster script was placed in her hands. The usually arrogant man was so cautious, letting Seraphina believe her achievements were solely due to her own hard work, letting her be happy and proud.” The press conference was just the beginning of their slow-burn romance. I had stayed with him all those years, waiting for her to finally appear. I finished making all the necessary handovers for my work from the little apartment. Then I dragged my suitcase to the door. Just as I opened it, I realized it was raining. A heavy downpour, beating against my heart with a dull ache. As I was about to close the door to grab an umbrella, a force shoved against it. A pale, long-fingered hand gripped the doorframe, a knuckle adorned with a stylish silver ring. I opened the door fully, my heart pounding rapidly. Ashton was leaning against the doorframe. It was pouring outside, and he was soaked. Wet hair fell across his beautiful brow, dampening the brilliance that usually radiated from his eyes. There was a faint trace of red in them now. He was still wearing his ancient, elaborate costume from the set, the wide sleeves hurriedly tied up. Rain dripped down the high bridge of his nose, looking almost like tears. He must have rushed here; he was still slightly out of breath, his thin lips pressed tight and pale, wearing a look of sheer panic that was entirely different from his usual cold detachment. He looked like a child terrified of being abandoned. He looked down, his voice slightly raw. He said my name. “Elara. “Where could you possibly go?” Water rolled down his jawline and neck, disappearing into the half-wet collar of his costume. I paused before asking, “Did you run off from the set?” He interrupted me, leaning slightly closer to look me in the eye. “Where could you possibly go?” “I’m going back to Monterey. It’s too loud here; I’m not cut out for this life. I want to watch fireworks on the beach at night in Monterey, and eat the old-school cherry pie from the diner down the street.” His knuckles whitened as he gripped the doorframe. He asked softly, “What about me?” I noticed people moving around in the hallway. Given how incredibly famous he was, I worried about him being recognized by paparazzi or neighbors. Letting out a sigh, I stepped aside and signaled him to come in. Even though he hadn’t lived here in a long, long time, his room and closet were untouched. I urged him to go take a hot shower. He looked back at me several times, hesitating. I was both amused and annoyed. I said, “I’m not going to run away while you’re in the shower.” Only then did he let out a faint, “Oh.” He had left his phone on silent, but missed calls and texts were blowing it up. Ashton clicked his tongue in annoyance, flipped the phone facedown on the coffee table, grabbed some dry clothes, and shut himself in the bathroom. I answered a call from his assistant. The poor guy was in a panic, asking if Ashton was with me. I gave a quiet “mm-hmm,” and told him not to worry, that Ashton would be back later. The assistant breathed a sigh of relief. Then I called his manager, telling her to handle any potential leaks about him being seen on the road. Handling all this only took a moment. I found myself in a rare daze. Ashton was actually incredibly hardworking; stories of stars being divas on set never applied to him. He never did that. I inadvertently clicked on one of Ashton’s new songs. His voice from the phone was uncharacteristically gentle, like a confession from across the stars: “You’re at the center of my world / Yet I never felt anything was different.” “My full glory is for your coronation / Who could know this love that asks for nothing in return?” My heart burned as I listened. But the comment ticker rolled across the screen: “Seraphina is going to win awards with this kind of backing. Ashton definitely pulled strings.” “This kind of hidden, patient love is the most heartbreaking!” I thought about my brief moment of self-importance and felt incredibly embarrassed. But according to the original narrative, this is how it was supposed to go. He wrote songs for her, paved the way for her, placing the best things in her hands without her ever knowing. If his high school love was as scorching as the midday sun, then now, having weathered tragedies, that love was heavier, hidden, like moonlight reflecting on a rippling ocean. But anyone falling for Ashton was just inevitable, because he was truly a wonderful person. The song was slow and gentle, like him singing right into my ear. I was lost in it. Hearing the bathroom door open, I snapped out of it and hurriedly paused the song, like I was trying to hide a guilty secret. Ashton had changed into a white T-shirt, his collarbone slightly visible. His hair was towel-dried. The hot shower had seemingly eased his tension; his innate nonchalance was back. Hearing the familiar melody, he paused, a smile playing at the corner of his eye. “Listening to my new song?” I nodded. “It’s very good.” He didn’t reply, but a trace of red climbed onto his ears as he gave an indifferent “mm-hmm.” The atmosphere suddenly plunged into a heavy silence. Neither of us knew what to say. There were only a few hours left before I had to catch the cross-country train. I had to say goodbye. “Next time, don’t just run off without a word. You had them all worried.” Ashton hated being lectured, but now he just sat there quietly, listening. “My ticket is bought. It’s raining, so you can’t walk me out. If… if you ever think of me, come find me for a beer when you’re near Monterey.” As it turned out, parting wasn’t about drama and crying. It was about very restrainedly maintaining the politeness of friends. He was silent for a long time. I sighed, getting up to head for the door. But as I passed him, he grabbed my wrist. “I won’t come find you for a beer. I won’t just happen to be near Monterey.” He raised his eyes, looking at me with absolute stubbornness, the corners faintly red. For an instant, I truly thought he was going to cry. Through all these years, through so much suffering, he had only ever cried like that once, the afternoon his parents died, holding me without a sound. I patiently leaned down slightly. “Ashton, have you ever considered that you’re just used to having me around? “Back then, anyone who held you, you would have accepted them.” He froze, his face going pale as if he had been insulted. He looked straight at me, practically spitting the words through clenched teeth. “Elara, do you have a heart? It could only be you. It was only ever you.” Just as things were at a standoff, my phone rang. Somehow, the ringtone had changed to Ashton’s new song, hitting right at the climax: “My full glory is for your coronation / Who could know this love that asks for nothing in return.” It was incredibly awkward. Ashton was still gripping my wrist, so I used my other hand to answer. It was the production team for The Queen’s Champion. They had recently finalized the casting and held the press conference, and were now about a portion of the way into filming. They wanted me to join the crew on set to oversee the script, working with the screenwriters to refine the story and dialogue. I hesitated. If I joined the crew, I’d be seeing a lot of Ashton and Seraphina. I was literally just about to leave. The person on the phone was very polite. “We truly hope to present your work to the audience in its best possible form, so we would be honored if you could join us.” Ultimately, I nodded. Suddenly, I remembered that Ashton didn’t know I wrote the novel. I looked down, only to see the thin lips that had been pressed tight a moment ago now quirked up in a smile. He leaned back slightly, relaxing completely, his beautiful eyes sparkling. He showed no surprise whatsoever. I raised my voice. “You knew I wrote The Queen’s Champion?” He was outwardly calm, lounging on the sofa, his long legs propped up on the coffee table. He said lazily, “Elara, I look forward to working with you.” Just like that summer years ago, when he sat by the window, the trees full of cicadas, his classic bad-boy profile turning towards me. He had quirked his lips then, too, saying, “You’re Elara, right? Nice to meet you.” He was always like this, pretending he didn’t need my help when he clearly did. 3 I told Ashton to keep his distance on set, that we should act like strangers. He raised his eyes and gave a knowing, slightly mocking “Oh.” The Queen’s Champion follows the journey of a young royal from a lowly princess to an Empress. Seraphina played the lead, Aurora. The male lead was her childhood friend, the scholarly Prime Minister. The second lead was a prince from an enemy nation held as a hostage. The third lead was the loyal general, played by Ashton. He didn’t have many scenes; it seemed like a role he had taken just to support Seraphina. The production crew had arranged a room for me at the hotel. Just as I finished unpacking and stepped out of my room, I ran into Caleb Sterling, who was playing the male lead. He had entered the industry in college, and after graduation, he had become quite a respected method actor, now a popular leading man. Coincidentally, he was also from the same department as me in college. Our names, when put together, were a well-known quote about courtship from classic literature, which had caused quite a stir back in our university days. Caleb was wearing a mask, revealing only black, expressive eyes. He was tall, and possessed a calm, refined aura. He stopped when he saw me, seemingly stunned. His manager must have mentioned something to him, because he quickly recovered and smiled with his eyes over the mask. “It really is you. Long time no see, Elara.” I said, “Yeah, it has been.” It just so happened to be afternoon, and the crew was holding a table read. Before filming began, the leads would read through the script together to test the emotional beats. He looked down at me. “Since we bumped into each other, let’s go together.” I had no reason to refuse, so I nodded. Caleb and I had been polite acquaintances in college, not close but friendly. His conversation was perfectly pleasant, so reconnecting now wasn’t too awkward. When we arrived at the room, most people were already there. But my eyes went straight to Ashton, lounging in a corner. He was wearing a black hoodie, his hand resting on his script. He raised his gaze, landing on me first, then glancing at Caleb beside me. The corner of his mouth drooped in visible annoyance, looking coldly displeased. Once everyone arrived, introductions were made. I hadn’t seen Seraphina in a long time. She was even more ethereal in person than in her photos. When our eyes met, she offered a polite, unsurprising smile, revealng shallow dimples. We started running through lines. This scene was the first meeting between Ashton’s character, General Ares, and the heroine, Aurora. Ares wasn’t born into nobility. He had a tragic childhood, surviving as a street urchin, fighting with beggars for scraps. Until the heroine appeared, a sliver of light illuminating his hopeless life. Feeling inferior due to their status difference, he joined the army, fought with everything he had, and eventually became her most trusted champion. This scene was Ares as a teenager, beaten severely, lying in the rain-slicked mud, watching the golden-belled carriage of the wealthy heroine pass by. Ashton stepped into character instantly. He was still in his black hoodie, sitting up straight with his script, but his expression was unmistakably that of a hopeless urchin dying in the rain. He was shivering with cold, yet forcing his eyes open with stubborn refusal, terrified that if he closed them, he would become just another forgotten corpse by the roadside. Seraphina read her lines, calling out to her maid. She was leaning lazily back in her chair, perfectly portraying the pampered, high-born princess. “Maya, why has the carriage stopped?” The young Ares, lying in the road, had blocked the noble carriage. The driver’s whip was about to fall on Ares. Aurora lifted the royal purple curtain, looking down from on high, and casually stopped the driver. Seraphina read with the princess’s condescending tone: “Forget it. He’s just a beggar. Find someone to take him to a healer and leave some money.” The Ares in the scene was blinded by rain, barely able to open his eyes. All he could see was a corner of the grand, opulent carriage curtain being lifted. Inside was luxurious and warm, the pouring rain unable to touch it. A beautiful noble girl poked her head out slightly, effortlessly giving him a chance to live. Ashton spoke, softly. The Ares in the script, lying broken in the mud, barely able to see through the rain, yet asked with immense audacity, as if terrified his dream would shatter in the storm: “Who… are you?” The girl chuckled softly, a sound that could have been disdain or disbelief. She said nothing, and the purple curtain fell back into place. That was their first encounter. It became a dream Ares would never forget. Ashton leaned back, instantly transforming back into the cold, detached young man. “I have a problem with this scene,” Ashton spoke up. “Even if Aurora showed mercy in his direst moment and gave him a few coins, Ares might be grateful, he might repay her with his life, but he would never fall for her so completely and desperately.” I looked at him. Our eyes met for a second. Ashton leaned forward, his voice calm. “Not unless she gave him a hug in the middle of that pouring rain. A warm hug that could protect him from all the cold.” Ashton was absolutely certain, as if in that moment he was Ares, and he knew it to be true. I was stunned. Memories started to flood back. I composed myself and spoke. “But that is logically impossible. At this point, Aurora is a noble princess. She might have pity for the common people, but she would never, ever hug a mud-covered, dying stranger on the street.” Ashton’s eyes were dark, a hidden light shimmering in them, like a starry sky. Seraphina suddenly spoke up. “But if it was a maid, it wouldn’t matter, right? If Aurora’s maid gave him the hug instead, that would make sense.” “But why would a maid hug a dying beggar?” Ashton leaned back, his expression unreadable as he quirked his lips in a smirk. “Who knows. Maybe it’s just pity.” I stared at him. I suddenly remembered the year the Miller family fell. The high lord had suddenly been dragged down into the dirt. He had lost his family overnight. His orange blossoms were thrown to the wind. I had slowly approached him and gently hugged that despairing, suffering boy. Did he think it was pity? I had never gotten an answer. But this scene was slightly modified. In this rain-drenched first encounter, Ashton’s character, Ares, was given a substitute hug. After the reading, I returned to the hotel. Passing by the fire exit, I was grabbed by the wrist and dragged into the darkness. The door was half-ajar, letting in a sliver of light. I was about to scream, my palms sweating. I was pinned against the wall. Ashton was tall, making the space feel incredibly cramped. I could feel the scent of cold snow coming from him. I raised my eyes, unable to believe his audacity, and whispered a curse. “What are you doing?” He leaned down slightly, a ghost of a smile in his eyes. “You said to act like strangers in front of people. I can only talk to you here, right?” I shifted uncomfortably against the wall, tilting my head back to appear confident, but my forehead brushed against his jaw, the warm contact lasting only an instant. Silence fell. I asked, “What is it?” Someone walked down the hallway. It sounded like his assistant looking for him, muttering, “Ashton was just here. Where did he go?” I turned back, meeting his black eyes. Every trace of a smile had been tucked away. The sliver of light from the fire door landed faintly on his face, making this man, who was considered the pinnacle of the industry, look even deeper and more mesmerizing. He licked his lips. He propped one hand against the wall, leaning down to eye level with me. He pursed his lips several times before he could speak. I truly felt he was as nervous as I was. No matter how big the arena, no matter how grand the stage, Ashton never had stage fright. Yet in this silent, tiny space, in this small fire exit without an audience, he had to rethink his words many times before he dared to speak. He softly asked, “Who would be willing to hug someone falling into the abyss?” I looked at his lowered eyes, unable to tell if he was asking about Ares in the script or himself in reality. The year Ashton was eighteen, what awaited him wasn’t a lavish, high-profile birthday party. First, Seraphina had left the country without a word, leaving the flowers he intended to use for his confession utterly useless. Then, the Miller family went bankrupt. His father committed suicide in prison, and his mother couldn’t take the shock and passed away from illness. Overnight, the adored young lord had been reduced to an orphaned, homeless beggar. I had searched all of Seattle then. I found him in a gritty alleyway, leaning against a crumbling concrete wall. The setting sun was casting long shadows, and those freshly picked flowers were rolling in the dirt. Even though I found him, I didn’t dare approach. I wasn’t Seraphina. In his eyes, I was probably just an acquaintance who knew his name. Who would want their most vulnerable, broken self exposed to someone insignificant? What was I thinking back then? I was just so heartbroken watching him. I thought, he probably… maybe… needs a hug. I had nothing, but I had a hug to give. I slowly walked over. He was leaning against the wall, his narrow eyes looking at me fiercely, yet they were clearly red. I was in so much pain. I thought he would tell me to get lost, but he just clenched his teeth, his jawline hard. He turned his face away, covering his eyes with his palm. I saw tears leak from between his fingers. The always proud boy was as fragile as snow in the setting sun. In that moment, the setting sun fell into my heart. I have never been that brave, but I took a step forward and gently hugged him. “Don’t be sad. I will always be with you. “I will be with you forever and ever.” Now, the twenty-five-year-old Ashton was asking me who would hug someone falling into the abyss. My sweat dampened my palms. I lowered my eyes and said, “I don’t know.” Ashton took another step closer, a cold, self-deprecating smile on his lips. “You don’t know? Then let me ask you: Do you know what pity is, Elara? “Seeing Ares covered in mud, unable to survive, some people would offer money to show their pity. Someone else offered a hug. What were you thinking back then?” I was stunned. He gently approached me, like a sigh, like a plea, light and shadow dancing in his eyes. “Tomorrow, that first encounter scene in the rain. The revised script. We haven’t found a suitable extra to hug Ares yet. It’s just a few seconds of footage. Come act it with me. Don’t be afraid, I’ll guide you. It can’t be anyone but you.” I seriously studied his features. There was a trace of madness in his beauty. He pleaded, “Just count it as doing it with me one last time.” Then this stretch of the road, I would walk with him one last time. The final time. I softly said, “Okay.” He was too close. His scent was everywhere. My heart was like something buried in snow; though it was freezing cold, it couldn’t help but pound for him. I tried to push past him, and he didn’t stop me. Just as I touched the door handle, he suddenly called my name. I turned back. Ashton had one hand in his pocket, his face steeped in shadow. He looked at me with a calm, steady gaze and said: “Goodnight.” When I slipped out of the fire exit, I was tiptoeing and looking around, as if I had actually done something scandalous. I heard Ashton let out a soft laugh from behind the door. The next day, for the scene where Ares meets Aurora, because I had this unexpected substitute role, the director had Seraphina’s makeup artist do my makeup as well, while she was getting hers done. Seraphina had a private dressing room. I was just about to knock on the door when I faintly heard my name through it. My raised finger froze. Inside the dressing room, Seraphina’s assistant asked, “Seraphina, why did you agree to let her take some of your screentime? This character’s appearance is totally random.” Seraphina gave an unreadable chuckle. “Do you really think I was the one who suggested it? It was him—” She suddenly cut herself off, then spoke again. “Whatever. She’s just a small role, not even a supporting actress. It doesn’t matter. It won’t change anything. It just lets her experience more clearly what it means to be a supporting role.” I withdrew my hand, my expression unchanged. As I turned, I saw Caleb Sterling standing right behind me. He must have heard the whole thing. It was awkward. I pointed to the door and mouthed, “I’ll come back later.” Caleb couldn’t help but smile with his eyes. He softly said, “You’re remarkably calm after being talked about like that, Elara.” I looked up at him and said quietly, “I’m not.” Not calm at all. Everything she said was true. In this story, whether on screen or off, I was a character who wasn’t even important enough to be called a supporting actress.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “413024”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

His mom smiled and said, “You two haven’t met yet, have you?” Met? In private, we used to make out until our lips were bruised. 1 I didn’t want to move a muscle over winter break, but my mom dragged me out for a walk in my thick sweatpants. We hadn’t walked far when my mom started waving at someone in the distance. She nudged me. “That’s my new coworker, Mrs. Davis.” I squinted. Standing next to Mrs. Davis was a guy with an incredible build and killer fashion sense. Probably her son. Was my romance-novel-loving heart finally getting its meet-cute? I poked my mom. “Is her son single? If he is, hook a girl up.” My mom flashed me an “OK” sign and pulled me forward to greet them. Mrs. Davis was beaming. “Out for a walk too? And this must be your mom?” I looked left and right, finally realizing the “mom” Mrs. Davis was referring to was me. My mom’s smile froze. “Oh, this is my daughter. She just got back for winter break, so she’s a bit dressed down. Haha.” The guy standing in the shadows wearing a black face mask let out a low chuckle. I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. Mrs. Davis, looking equally mortified, quickly changed the subject. “I remember you saying your daughter is at the same college as my son. What year did she graduate?” “Oh, she graduated last year,” my mom replied. Mrs. Davis pushed the guy behind her forward. “What a coincidence! My son graduated last year too. Do you two know each other?” I finally looked up. The streetlight illuminated his sharp, deep-set eyes, the strong bridge of his nose, and the familiar little red mole on his neck… Holy crap. Is this my ex-boyfriend? Seeing us lock eyes, Mrs. Davis asked again, “So, do you know each other?” We answered in unison: “No.” And, as if perfectly choreographed, we both turned our heads away. But actually, Mrs. Davis, we didn’t just know each other. During our junior year of high school, we practically conducted our own anatomy classes together whenever we found an empty classroom. We were probably the two people who knew each other best in the world. Inside and out. While our moms chatted enthusiastically, he and I stood off to the side, the atmosphere so cold it could freeze over. Finally, Liam broke the silence. “Nice outfit. Very… avant-garde.” I stomped on his foot. He let out a muffled groan. Mrs. Davis turned around. “What’s wrong?” Liam gave a faint smile. “Nothing. A little stray dog walking by just stepped on my foot.” “Oh, as long as you’re okay,” she said, returning to her conversation. Liam called out to her, “Mom, we should get a dog. I’ll train it. I’ll teach it exactly how to be a good, obedient girl.” He was talking to his mom, but his dark eyes were fixed dead on me. “I barely have the energy to deal with you, let alone a dog,” his mom scoffed. She turned to me, beaming. “Chloe, you two should exchange numbers! You live in the same city now; you can look out for each other.” Liam, with a half-smile, pulled out his phone and opened his contact-sharing screen. Under the eager gazes of our mothers, I pulled out my phone and reluctantly scanned his screen. The guy I had blocked years ago reappeared in my messages. The last texts from our blowout fight were still sitting there. He had said: “Fine. Walk away then. See if I care.” I had replied: “Watch me. I’ll find someone ten times better than you. Go to hell.” A stark contrast to the good-girl image I was currently portraying. Seeing my mom lean over, I quickly locked my screen and played sweet. “Got it! If I ever need anything, I’ll be sure to bother Liam.” He repeated it under his breath. “Bother Liam.” He actually laughed, a deep, pleasant sound. “Anytime… Chloe.” The way he said my name—low and clear—was exactly how he used to say it when he pinned me against the back door of our high school classroom, keeping an eye on the broken security camera while he kissed me. My heart skipped a dangerous beat. 2 My mom told me to keep an open mind about Liam. She said our parents knew each other, so it was a safe bet. I rolled my eyes internally. Open mind? I know every inch of that guy. I’m sick of him. I said, “Sure, sure,” while secretly opening my phone to send Liam right back to the blocked list. The next day, however, I got a call from an unknown number. It wasn’t Liam. Heavy bass thumped in the background. “Hey, Chloe? Liam is trashed. You need to come pick him up from the Neon Lounge. VIP Room 19. Hurry.” Click. I tried calling back, but no one answered. They didn’t even give me a chance to say no. Liam, you absolute bastard. I cursed under my breath, threw on my puffer jacket, and drove to the lounge. Liam was completely wasted. Empty beer bottles and shot glasses littered the table in front of him. When I pushed the door open, I recognized a bunch of the guys. They were Liam’s high school frat-bro buddies. Back when we were secretly dating, they were our cover story. Seeing me, the guys erupted in cheers. “Hey, sister-in-law!” I glared at them. “We broke up years ago. I’m nobody’s sister-in-law.” They just snickered. The guy leading the pack shoved a plastic hotel key card into my hand. “Look, we’re a bunch of clumsy idiots. We booked him a room upstairs. We’re leaving him in your capable hands!” “I’m not taking him,” I said, kicking Liam’s shoe. He didn’t even flinch. Wow, he really is gone. I paused for a two seconds, an evil prank forming in my mind. “Fine. Help me carry him upstairs.” The guys laughed like hyenas. As they closed the hotel room door behind us, one of them actually poked his head back in. “Hey, you need us to run to the pharmacy for some… protection?” I cursed him out in my head but smiled sweetly. “No thanks. Get lost.” The room fell quiet. Liam was sprawled on the bed, his collar unbuttoned, looking incredibly peaceful. I turned on every single light in the room. I pinched his cheeks. Hard. He still didn’t wake up. Perfect. Time for revenge. I pulled a bright red lip tint from my purse and lifted his shirt. I was going to draw a giant, ugly turtle right across his abs, post it to my story, and let the world admire the former homecoming king. I leaned down, uncapped the tint, and started drawing. Okay, there’s the shell… there are the legs… wait, abs? Why were his abs this defined? Shouldn’t a guy’s stomach be relaxed when he’s blackout drunk? I slowly looked up. Liam’s eyes were wide open, looking at me with a lazy smirk. “Chloe, this position is giving me some very inappropriate ideas.” My mind went blank. He continued, his voice rough. “You like the view? I sculpted them just for you.” I tried to play it cool and stand up. “They’re alright. My current boyfriend puts you to shame, honestly.” I didn’t have a boyfriend. Liam didn’t argue. His long arm suddenly shot out. Before I knew what was happening, my face was pressed flat against his bare stomach. Warm, firm, and entirely too familiar. “If they aren’t that great, why were you staring so long?” His voice was light. “Chloe, you’re just as stubborn as ever.” Crap. The red lip tint was now smeared all over my cheek. I pushed against his chest, but everywhere my hands landed felt electric. He let out a low groan. “Don’t move.” I froze. Liam sat up, grabbing my collar. I don’t know how he did it, but suddenly our positions were reversed. I was flat on my back. He was leaning over me. He used his thumb to wipe the red smudge off my cheek, chuckling. “Chloe, the only tough thing about you is your mouth.” I turned my head away, humiliated. “You faked being drunk!” Liam buried his face in the crook of my neck. I could feel the heat radiating off him. He laughed softly. “Feel that? If a guy is truly blackout drunk, certain things wouldn’t be waking up right now.” I shoved at his shoulders. “Get off me!” He effortlessly pinned both my wrists above my head with one hand. He looked down at me, his dark eyes shimmering, his smile dangerously gentle. “I drank a lot tonight, Chloe. You know I’m capable of doing crazy things when I’m drunk, right?” I knew exactly what he was like. His parents were workaholics who were never home. During high school, I was the one who took care of him. We never crossed the final line, but the memories of what we did do when he was half-drunk still made my legs weak. I struggled harder. Liam let out a low laugh. “Relax, Chloe. I’m not going to do anything. Just stay with me for a bit.” He kept his word. He let go of my wrists, pulled the duvet over us, and laid down next to me. He threw an arm over my waist. His breathing slowed until it was deep and even. He really fell asleep. I finally relaxed, turning my head to look at him. Even after all this time, looking at his face made my heart race. He was so incredibly handsome. But you absolute jerk, I thought bitterly. Why did you have to cheat on me? 3 On Friday, my mom called me in a panic from work. One of her junior associates was getting married the next day, and the maid of honor had just tested positive for COVID. I had a bad feeling. “And?” “And they need you to step in!” I didn’t even know the bride! My mom was just being a people-pleaser again. After my mom bribed me with the promise of paying my rent for the month, I caved. “Fine, I’m heading over for the dress fitting.” When I got to the bride’s house, she looked at me like I was her savior and shoved a dress into my arms. The original bridesmaid must have been a size smaller than me. I squeezed into the strapless chiffon dress, but I couldn’t reach the zipper in the back. I cracked the bedroom door open. “Can someone help me zip this up?” The hallway was chaotic with wedding prep. No one heard me. I went back into the room to try again. The door suddenly opened and closed. Click. The lock turned. I spun around. Liam walked in, wearing a sharp black tuxedo. He looked breathtaking. I stared at him. “What are you doing here?” “I heard you were filling in as a bridesmaid. So, I volunteered as a groomsman.” He paused. “Didn’t you need help?” I shifted awkwardly. “Yeah. The zipper is stuck.” Ziiiiip. He pulled the zipper all the way down instead of up. The cool air hit my bare back. I crossed my arms over my chest, jumping. “Pull it UP!” Liam offered a completely insincere apology. “My bad. Didn’t know.” He slowly pulled the zipper up, his knuckles grazing the sensitive skin of my spine. A shiver ran through me, hitting right at my heart. By the time it was zipped, a thin layer of sweat coated my forehead. Liam kept his hands on my shoulders. We stared at our reflection in the vanity mirror. The mirror had an ornate, vintage frame. He stood behind me in a tailored tux, and I stood in front of him in a white chiffon dress. For a dizzying second, it looked exactly like a wedding photo. Through the mirror, he met my eyes. “The wedding I dreamt about for us… it looked just like this.” Before I could answer, the bride knocked on the door. “Chloe? You got the dress on? Come out so we can run through the schedule!” I brushed his hands off and walked out without a word. The wedding the next day went smoothly. Until the reception. The groomsmen were passing around a tray of tequila shots. The groom, for some idiotic reason, gestured for me to take a shot on behalf of the bride to “protect” her. A massive shot glass was shoved in my face. I couldn’t refuse without making a scene. Just as I reached for it, a long, elegant hand reached over my shoulder and took the glass. Liam smiled, but his eyes were pure ice. “I’ll take it for her.” He threw it back in one gulp. Anyone with eyes could see he was pissed. The groom looked awkward; the bride glared at her new husband. Liam looked at the bride. “I’m borrowing your bridesmaid.” Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed my wrist and dragged me away. Both of our parents watched in shock, but we were already out in the hotel corridor. Liam’s voice was tight with anger. “Why are you such a pushover around everyone else? Why can’t you be as stubborn with them as you are with me?” I tried to yank my hand back, but his grip was iron. He backed me against the mirror in the hallway restroom, tilting my chin up. His tone was fierce. “Look at your face! You’re already flushed. Your stomach is a mess, and you were about to down a shot of tequila? Are you crazy?” It was true. He never let me drink back in the day. There were times when I wanted to take things further, but he always held back. He cared about my body more than he cared about his own desires. But… I looked at him. “Who are you to lecture me? We broke up years ago. Did you forget?” He frowned. “I never agreed to it. Besides, your mom said you were single.” The memory of the text message I received during our cold war flashed in my mind. A photo of Liam sleeping, with a perfectly manicured girl’s hand stroking his cheek. Suddenly, I was just exhausted. “Stop bothering me, okay?” I pushed past him and walked out. Liam pressed his lips together, following right behind me. “I’m going to win you back, Chloe. I’m not letting you go that easily.” 4 My younger cousins dragged me to a car camping spot in the mountains. “It’s going to be a clear night!” my little cousin squealed. “We’re going to see so many stars! Maybe even a meteor shower!” The campsite was beautiful. Cars and SUVs were parked around a large central fire pit where everyone was mingling. We grabbed some folding chairs and joined a group playing “The Dare Card.” It was a random draw game. Whoever drew the King got to command two other numbers to do a dare. “Number 1 hug Number 2,” things like that. The college kids playing were wilder than my friends used to be. The current King ordered two guys to hold water in their mouths and stare into each other’s eyes. They broke character in two seconds and spit water everywhere. I was laughing so hard I had to lean on my cousin. Suddenly, a group from across the fire walked over and asked to join. I froze. The guy in the black North Face jacket and grey beanie… Liam? How is he everywhere? He saw me, but acted completely indifferent, taking a seat casually across the circle. He shuffled the deck, his long, nimble fingers moving flawlessly. It brought back far too many memories. My heart hammered. I decided to escape. Just as I stood up, the new King shouted, “I command the Jack of Diamonds and the Ace of Hearts! Do push-ups together! Face to face!” Everyone checked their cards. A feeling of impending doom washed over me as I flipped my card. Crap. Jack of Diamonds. “Who is it? Who is it?” the crowd chanted. I raised my hand stiffly. “I’m the Jack.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Liam whisper something to the guy next to him. Then, Liam stood up, holding up a card. “I’m the Ace.” I obviously wasn’t going to expose him for swapping cards. Honestly, doing a dare with Liam felt slightly less terrifying than doing it with a total stranger. When he stood up, the crowd went absolutely feral. My little cousin poked my ribs. “Oh my god, Chloe! He is SO hot! Look at him, he definitely has the stamina for this! You scored!” Watching Liam walk toward me step by step, my legs turned to jelly. “How many push-ups?” Liam asked the King. His tone was classic Liam. Arrogant, confident, bordering on cocky. The King, a fratty-looking guy, took the bait. “Fifty. Can you handle that?” Liam scoffed lightly. “Easily.” I wanted to cry. I can’t handle that! If Liam was doing push-ups over me, I’d probably start shaking by number five. But there was no backing out. I was pushed to the center of the circle. Just as I was about to lie down on the dirt, Liam spoke up. “Hold on.” He took off his thick jacket and laid it flat on the ground for me to lie on. The crowd erupted in a chorus of “Awwwwws.” I lay down. Liam positioned himself over me. He started his push-ups. Every time he lowered himself, our faces were inches apart. I could smell the faint scent of campfire and cedar. Liam’s scent. The crowd chanted loudly. “One! Two! Three! Four!” His arms were planted on either side of my shoulders, his shadow completely engulfing me. I couldn’t see the starry sky anymore; I could only see the intensity in his eyes. When they shouted “Nine!” he whispered, “Stop looking at me like that.” My brain was buffering. “Huh?” He shifted his weight to one arm, used his free hand to pull off his beanie, and dropped it right onto my face. The hat completely covered my eyes. I heard a low, raspy chuckle. “I’m going to lose my self-control.” With my vision gone, my other senses heightened. I could feel the heat radiating off him. Every time he lowered himself, his lips would just graze the side of my neck or the corner of my mouth. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it would burst. Thank God the crowd was screaming and cheering, drowning out the sound of my ragged breathing. By thirty-seven, Liam hadn’t slowed down at all. He wasn’t even out of breath. My cousin’s voice echoed in my head: He definitely has the stamina. Yeah. No kidding. Forty-seven. Almost over. I let out a breath of relief. Suddenly, the whistling boom of fireworks echoed across the valley. The counting stopped. Bright flashes of light bled through the fabric of the beanie. The hat was suddenly pulled off my face. I saw the sky exploding in colors, and then I saw Liam’s eyes, brighter than any firework. Then, my world went dark again as Liam crashed his lips onto mine. The vibrant colors faded into the background. The wind swept through the dry grass. Everyone else had run toward the edge of the campsite to watch the display. In the shadows, completely unobserved, the boy I used to love wasn’t watching the sky, and he certainly wasn’t finishing his penalty. He was leaning over me, using the beanie to block our faces, kissing me over and over again. 5 The fireworks ended. The push-ups were done. The heat of his lips still lingered on mine. Suddenly, an overwhelming wave of resentment washed over me. I shoved Liam off and stormed away. The crowd looked confused. Liam didn’t even grab his jacket; he just chased after me. One of his buddies yelled, “Liam, where are you going?” Liam didn’t miss a beat. “Chasing a girl. Mind your business.” I heard my cousin go, “Ooooh!” and then actually yell, “Good luck, future brother-in-law!” Traitor. I finally found a quiet, secluded spot by the edge of the woods and sat down heavily on a log. Liam was right behind me, staring at me silently. I covered my face with my hands, not wanting him to see my tear-filled eyes. “Stop looking at me. Just leave.” He dropped to his knees, pulling me into a fierce hug, pressing my face into his chest. “Call me shameless, but I don’t care,” he whispered. “Chloe, I can’t let you go.” The familiar embrace, the warmth I had missed for so long… but it didn’t belong to me anymore. The suppressed anger finally exploded. I pushed him away with all my strength. “If you couldn’t let me go, why did you cheat on me?!” Liam froze, completely bewildered. “Me? Cheat? You were the one who walked away!” I pulled out my phone, scrolled to the screenshot I had saved for years, and shoved it in his face. Seeing that delicate, manicured hand resting on his sleeping face sent a fresh stab of pain through my chest. Liam stared at the photo. “What the f*ck is this?” “You were always popular,” I choked out. “I knew guys were unpredictable. But I never thought you’d actually betray me…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. Liam looked at me intensely. “Why didn’t you come to me with this?” Back then? We were in the middle of a massive fight. I was too proud to beg for an explanation. Whoever panics first loses. I texted him that we were over, and true to form, he didn’t try to stop me. Wasn’t that proof enough? In the adult world, you don’t need a screaming match to know it’s time to move on. Liam slammed his fist into the trunk of a nearby tree. His voice trembled with rage. “You blocked me on everything! I went to your best friend, Madison, to check on you, and she told me you were already hooking up with some older guy from your college. I had no idea this photo even existed. I thought you had just moved on.” “Madison said that?” I asked, stunned. “Who is the girl in the picture then?” Liam pulled out his phone in frustrated panic and dialed a number. “Stella, get your ass to the Grand Point campsite right now. I don’t care what you’re doing. Now!” Thirty minutes later, a gorgeous girl who looked striking similar to Liam hopped out of an Uber. It was Stella, Liam’s older sister. She was loud, overly affectionate, and impossible to hate. Stella explained that she had come home from a party completely trashed years ago. She grabbed someone’s phone from the counter—she thought it was hers—and mass-texted all her friends to brag about how cute her little brother looked sleeping. She had no idea she had sent it to me from Liam’s phone. She held out her hands. The Cartier ring on her index finger and the tiny red mole on the back of her hand were identical to the photo. Stella sighed dramatically, wrapping an arm around my waist. “My sweet, beautiful Chloe. You aren’t going to let me suffer my brother’s wrath, are you? Forgive me?” She was too good at pleading. I nodded helplessly. Stella flitted away like a social butterfly, but before she left, she gave me a meaningful look. “Babe, woman’s intuition: your ‘best friend’ Madison is a snake.” Once Stella was gone, Liam and I stood alone in the dark. I hesitated. “So, this past year… have you…” Have you been with anyone else? Have you treated anyone the way you treated me? He answered immediately. “Dealing with you was exhausting enough for one lifetime. I didn’t have the energy for anyone else.” 6 I climbed back up into the rooftop tent. My cousin was on the phone with her boyfriend, being incredibly disgustingly sweet. When she hung up, she looked guilty. “Chloe… my boyfriend drove all the way up here to surprise me…” I knew that clingy phase well. She was a carbon copy of my past self. “Go on,” I sighed. “Don’t keep him waiting.” She scrambled to put her jacket on, pausing at the ladder. “The campsite is pretty safe, and there’s a panic button on your right. If you get scared, just hit the button!” Gee, thanks for reminding me I’m terrified. Once she left, I looked out the small mesh window at the night sky, listening to the wind howl through the trees. My hands went ice-cold. It was pitch black. Every horror movie I had ever seen about girls alone in the woods suddenly played on a loop in my brain. I tossed and turned, completely unable to sleep. My phone buzzed. Having forced me to unblock him, Liam sent his first text: “Are you alone in that tent?” How did he know? Was he watching my car? I typed back slowly: “Yeah.” He just called me directly. “Chloe.” He just said my name, nothing else. It reminded me of the time I went to a month-long summer academic camp in high school. He hadn’t seen me for weeks. He’d call me late at night, sounding pathetic, just whispering, “Chloe, Chloe.” He never said he missed me; he just said my name like a prayer. Just like tonight. It was nice. Having someone on the line made the darkness feel less suffocating. I heard the wind whipping against his phone. “Are you still here? Did you not go home?” Liam said, “Unzip the tent window.” I peeked out. He was standing right by my car, hands shoved in his pockets, looking up at me. The moonlight washed over him. He looked tall, broad, and devastatingly handsome. He spoke with a lazy drawl. “I’m terrified of the dark and I think this place is haunted. Can I crash with you?” …I’m the one afraid of the dark. The moment Liam climbed in, the tent felt incredibly small. I wrapped myself tightly in a sleeping bag and shoved myself into the corner. He casually started taking off his layers. Jacket, sweater, shirt… Wait, shirt?! He caught me staring and slowly grabbed the hem of his undershirt. Good lord… I swallowed hard and lunged forward to grab his hands. “What are you doing?! It’s freezing in here.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m hot.” When I didn’t respond, Liam grabbed my wrists and pulled me flush against his chest, sliding his fingers against the fabric of my collar. “You’re sleeping in a turtleneck? Aren’t you suffocating?” His knuckles brushed my neck, sending a violent shiver down my spine. I begged softly, “We just cleared up years of misunderstandings. Can’t you give me a minute to process?” Liam said quietly, “Do you know what ‘rekindling an old flame’ means? Do you know what ‘making up for lost time’ means?” His tone was dark, like a predator cornering its prey. I tried to scramble backward, but he locked his arms around me. “Stop moving,” he commanded softly. “I’m just going to hold you.” Realizing the physical tension radiating off him, I froze completely. He let out a shaky exhale. “Chloe, when you left… all I could think about was the idea of another guy holding you like this.” “There wasn’t anyone else,” I whispered. After having a diamond, how could I settle for glass? He held me tighter. “I was so jealous of a guy who didn’t even exist. I went insane.” Liam didn’t push any further. Once his breathing returned to normal, he just held me. Even though I had been paralyzed with fear ten minutes ago, lying next to him made me feel incredibly safe. Exhaustion washed over me, and I drifted off to sleep. I dreamt of my seventeenth birthday. I was at that strict academic summer camp, studying late into the night. I got a text from Liam. He had jumped the campus fence in the middle of the night just to bring me a slice of cake. Just as he lit the candle, a security guard spotted the light. I panicked and tried to blow it out, but Liam refused. He made me make a wish first. I squeezed my eyes shut, made a wish, and blew out the candle just as the guard burst into the courtyard. Liam grabbed me, and we dove into the bushes, watching the guard’s flashlight sweep over our heads. The guard cursed, confiscated the cake, and walked away. I let out a sigh of relief, my heart pounding. As I tried to stand up, Liam pulled me back down into his arms. “I took a bite of the frosting before I got here,” he whispered. “Want to taste?” Before I could answer, he kissed me. It was sweet. Strawberry. … I woke up to the sound of cheering from the campsite. Disoriented, my brain was still stuck in that 17-year-old dream. Without thinking, I reached out and wrapped my arms around Liam’s neck. He went completely rigid. Reality crashed back in. I yanked my arms away. But Liam wasn’t letting me retreat. He backed me into the corner of the tent, his eyes dark and dangerous. “You don’t just grab me like that and not leave a tip,” he murmured. Outside, people were screaming, “A shooting star!” But inside, the small window of our tent was violently zipped shut. I didn’t see any shooting stars that night, but I definitely saw stars. I forgot how completely exhausting even his “restrained” affection could be.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “413025”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I married my childhood friend, but everyone says his “white moonlight”—his ultimate, unattainable crush—isn’t me. On our wedding night, I tactfully moved to the living room. He ripped off his towel. “What’s wrong with me? Why won’t you even look at me?” 1 [First night of marriage, what do I do if my husband, who has a ‘white moonlight’ ex, tries to seduce me? Waiting online, it’s pretty urgent.] I nervously typed these words on my screen. We had laid everything out clearly before the wedding: this was a business merger. We just needed to play the part of a loving couple in front of our parents. In private, we’d live our separate lives. Neither of us would interfere with the other. Besides, wasn’t there a rumor going around at the reception that his white moonlight was about to return? Please don’t have an episode now. I was still waiting to inherit double the family fortune! I begged him silently. [Shocking! Billionaire Secrets Revealed! Real-Life Succession Drama! Heiress Sacrifices Herself for the Company?] [Let’s go live to the scene. Our reporter brings you this exclusive scoop.] Pfft. Just one misstep from Carter tonight, and I’d already written tomorrow’s headlines for him. “Knock, knock, knock!” The sound interrupted my thoughts. “What is it?” “Come out for a second. I need to talk to you.” His cool, detached voice was exactly my type. Honestly, I was a little tempted. I have to admit, Carter had both the looks and the brains, and his voice was incredibly unique. At the very least, when he read me bedtime stories, that steady baritone could knock me out in five minutes flat. Being able to put me to sleep that fast—from childhood to adulthood, only Carter could manage it. And his body… it was pretty tempting too. But as a premium SVIP member of the “Observer’s Club,” I was quite satisfied with the unexpected scene I had just witnessed. Yielding to his tyrannical aura, but worried about any further “accidents,” I tremblingly hid behind the door, opened it just a crack, and peeked my head out. “What’s up? Spit it out.” Carter laughed out of sheer frustration. The seductive charm from earlier was gone. It seemed the cold shower had been very effective. “Chloe, do I really have zero appeal to you?” 2 Of course not. It was just that I had been through too much, and the temptation of a fifty-billion-dollar fortune was just too great. I was immune for now. Since I was little, my greatest defense against him was simply ignoring him. It wasn’t like he dared to do anything to me anyway. “Get to the point. Don’t make me lose my perfect attendance bonus.” I rolled my eyes at him ungracefully, picking at my fingernails out of boredom, leaning lazily against the doorframe, waiting for him to continue. “I have something going on tomorrow, so I’ll be back late. Next week, I’m taking you to meet someone.” Whether you come back or not is none of my business. You’re acting like no one else has things to do tomorrow. Wait? Next week? Rumor has it that’s when his white moonlight is coming back. The new flame meeting the old flame? Are we just skipping straight to the catfight? Wow~ What a classic trope: the white moonlight returns, and the official wife steps down in heartbreak. I’d love to watch that drama unfold. The premise being, it doesn’t involve me. Even though he and I had years of experience as childhood friends… But… damn it, I had no idea what this guy was planning. One second it’s a midnight seduction, the next he’s taking me to meet his white moonlight. You could never guess what kind of crazy stunts went on inside his head. I was completely bewildered. What to do? Just agree with whatever the guy says, of course. “Sounds good! Mission accepted! I’ll be there right on time.” I agreed first to placate Carter, then quickly spun around, exited the room, and locked the door in one smooth motion. “Chloe, go to sleep. I’m checking your screen time tomorrow.” “Alright, alright, I know!” 3 Carter and I grew up together. We weren’t incredibly close, but we weren’t enemies either. It was nothing like those cliché childhood-friends-to-lovers tropes you read about. He didn’t like me. He had a white moonlight he’d been pining over for years. The ironic part? I had liked him, but sadly, I didn’t have a white moonlight of my own. If you were given a choice: marry someone you used to like, and if either of you cheats or gets caught acting inappropriately with someone else, the other party has the right to take action and inherit all of their shares. Would you be willing? I certainly would. After all, this was a high-stakes gamble I was guaranteed to win. The reward was beyond imagination, and the ending was already written. Actually, I had heard from people in our circle that his white moonlight was coming back to him. Exactly one week after our wedding. So, inexplicably, we got married. It just so happened that we ran in the same circles, were the same age, and had known each other since childhood. No need to worry about bad habits or hidden diseases. It was just a pity that no one seemed to have asked Carter if there was someone he actually liked. We were naturally paired up, skipping the dating phase and heading straight for the graveyard of marriage. Childhood friends. It felt like a bond, but more like a ball and chain. Fortunately, my dear mother was very understanding. To protect my interests, the parents had a sit-down. The resulting agreement stated that if either of us cheated or filed for divorce after marriage, the other would automatically inherit their shares. Damn, manipulated again. But my heart fluttered. Inheriting billions for free? Only an idiot would say no. Carter had a white moonlight, and a heavyweight one at that, ready to return. And me, a confirmed bachelorette? Victory was practically waving at me. For the sake of financial freedom, charge! 4 At the grand and lavish wedding banquet Carter threw for me, I shamefully felt a flutter in my heart once again. The boy I played house with when we were kids was now my husband. But before I could even immerse myself in the warmth of the moment, whispers drifted over from a corner. “Hey, didn’t they say the young Mr. Crawford had an unforgettable white moonlight? Is this the wife? They actually look pretty good together.” “Shh, don’t talk nonsense. Isn’t this just a business merger? I heard he always just treated her like a sister.” “Hey, hey, hey, about that white moonlight… I heard she was the girl who lived next door to him when they were kids.” “Later, her family’s business had some issues, and they emigrated overseas, but apparently she’s coming back soon.” “Then… what about the wife?” “It’s a business marriage. That’s how things work in our circle, you know how it is.” My gaze froze. I really wanted to rip the mouths off those gossiping women. Even outsiders knew. It was a successful reminder of my actual place in all this. So, on the first day of our marriage, I very sensibly moved my things out of the master bedroom. 5 This apartment was the one under my name that was closest to my company. Unfortunately, it was a bit small—a three-bedroom place. Just enough for one person and one cat. I had planned it all out: one room for my beloved cat, one for me to sleep in, and one for storage. But Mrs. Crawford—Carter’s mom—efficiently packed up all of Carter’s things and dumped them here. I didn’t even need to ask to know it was her best friend, my dear mother, who tipped her off. Seriously, it wasn’t a big apartment to begin with. Where was he supposed to sleep? But Mrs. Crawford just smiled, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re newlyweds! Of course you should live together. Who lives apart right after getting married? “Didn’t we agree? Unless one party violates the agreement, isn’t fulfilling marital duties and living together a basic requirement?” I could only feel a twinge of resentment and silently pray that the white moonlight would return soon to save my life. I was just about to go make do in the guest room, but I found it stuffed full of junk by our two mothers. There wasn’t even room to stand. I have to admit, Mrs. Crawford and my mom were truly best friends. Their minds worked in perfect sync. What teamwork. What synergy. But it was useless against me. After all, what man smells as sweet as money? Only a fool turns down money, especially when you can inherit a double fortune. I definitely wouldn’t. Before my mom left, before her foot even crossed the threshold, she turned back and pulled me close, speaking earnestly. “Be a good girl. Go to bed early tonight. Less screen time, your eyes haven’t fully recovered yet! “I already told Carter to keep an eye on you. Be a good girl, okay?” It was true. I had just gotten LASIK surgery less than a week ago. 6 I usually nod along and then do whatever I want, but Carter was one step ahead. He set a rule for me: the next day, my screen time couldn’t exceed two hours. If I didn’t listen, he would call my mom. Seriously, the fact that he loves tattling is just… great. I was completely at his mercy. Time for bed. Posting on forums wasn’t urgent; staying alive was. I pulled the covers up, ready to sleep, but the moment I closed my eyes, all I could see was the scene from earlier. I had taken the initiative to move out of the master bedroom and settle for the living room. I never imagined Carter would go even further. Of all the things to do, why did he decide to try and seduce me? Why did he come to the living room, dripping wet, without drying off after his shower? With just a casual glance, I caught sight of crystal-clear water droplets tracing the deep V of his torso, sliding all the way down his waist and abdomen, disappearing into darker territory. He was like a Siren, unconsciously luring a lost traveler. I have to admit, the guy had some serious assets. It was just a pity they were hidden by the towel… Carter didn’t say a word. He made a beeline for me, grabbed my blanket, and started walking toward the master bedroom. I didn’t know what was going on, but I knew it was serious. I quickly stepped forward to stop him, accidentally knocking his hand away from the blanket. The blanket slipped from his grasp, but I didn’t care. Carter looked a bit shocked. He stared blankly at the blanket on the floor, but what happened next caught me completely off guard. He yanked open the towel, which was already tied loosely around his waist. For the first time, I heard a whiny, aggrieved, puppy-dog tone from him. “What’s wrong with me? Why won’t you even look at me?” His eyes were completely different from usual. The cold, distant look had vanished. All that remained was the steam from his shower, slowly spreading through his eyes. They were misty, as if the moment I rejected him, tears would start falling the next second. I was dazed for a half-second, but I couldn’t help obediently taking a few more looks. His abs were defined and tense, his chest wet, water dripping continuously from the ends of his hair. As the water droplets fell, a palpable aura of lust surged. Coupled with the dim night sky outside the window and the ambiguous atmosphere in the room, the seductive tension was dialed up to the max. What kind of person is this generous? Carter, wow… you really can’t judge a book by its cover. The ancients didn’t lie. 7 “Pretty good.” I looked at him, my expression playful but with a hint of sincerity. I swear, I had never been more sincere in my life. “It would be even better if I could touch it.” I blurted out. His hand reached for mine, leading it all the way down. An indescribable ambiguity spread through the air. Stop. We can’t go any further. I had a premonition that if I reacted even a second too slow tonight… the family fortune would float away. “J… just joking.” I was genuinely scared of him. I quickly broke free, stepped forward, and pulled his towel back up tightly. I also grabbed the blanket from the floor and wrapped him up securely in it. Only then did I let out a deep breath. Saved it. I will protect Carter’s chastity! Endless piles of cash were waving at me! I patted Carter, using both hands and feet to push him back toward the bedroom, my expression complex. “Go sober up, take a shower, and get some sleep.” “Slam!” That heavy sound was me almost getting hit in the face by the door, and Carter storming off and slamming it behind him. “Scheming man.” I snorted disdainfully and turned to tidy up the second bedroom. I couldn’t guarantee that Carter wouldn’t have another episode tonight. My dream life—sleeping until I naturally woke up every day, shopping with the girls during the day, hitting the clubs and checking out hot guys at night. Taking it a step further? Forget about it. 8 “Chloe, time to get up and go to the office.” The voice, devoid of much inflection, filled me with confidence for my upcoming plans. After all, feelings were nothing compared to this. A perfectly good mood was ruined the moment I heard Carter’s voice. It was morning again. Completely ignoring whether I was tired or not, the sun just decided to shine. Why are my eyes always filled with tears? Because I’m dead tired. When I arrived at the company, the first person I saw was my executive assistant, Liam, with his handsome face. It was easy on the eyes, but the moment he opened his mouth, he became the source of my misery. “Ms. Vance, here are the documents that need your signature today. Over here are the projects Mr. Vance instructed you to take over. Mr. Vance also asked me to remind you that there’s an auction this afternoon you need to attend on his behalf. “Mr. Crawford will also be there. Tomorrow… there’s also a…” Today was another day of my dad dumping his work on me. Looking sympathetically at my assistant, who was as hardworking as a little bee, I thought, Truly, a great value. I mentally gave a thumbs-up to my own excellent eye for talent back in the day. Liam pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up his nose. As his thin lips parted to continue, I quickly stopped him. “Liam, the usual rules. I’ll leave these to you.” I smiled slightly. A successful leader must learn to delegate power. After all, if there was too much, I wouldn’t be able to handle it anyway. I turned around gracefully, ready to get my outfit together for the auction. “Chloe, I just got off the plane. Guess who I saw at the airport?” My best friend sent me a text. Just as I was about to reply, she called me. “No way. You came back so early this time. Did your dad not give you extra work?” The words slipped out of my mouth. Every man for himself. It can’t just be me suffering. “Chloe, what’s that supposed to mean? I wanted to come see you as soon as I got back!” Mia’s voice was full of resentment, tinged with a little grievance. I felt a bit guilty and quickly spoke softly to her for a while until she let it go. Mia returned to normal, sounding mysterious. “Whatever, I’ll settle the score with you when I see you.” “Let’s ignore that for now. I’m telling you, I saw Carter at the airport!” “That’s normal. He has business trips lined up every month.” “He was there to pick someone up! And it was a woman! Ahhhhhh, did you hear me, girl? There’s definitely something going on with that guy!” 9 Picking someone up? I flipped through my calendar, double-checking. No way. I had specifically marked next week as—Inherit the Fortune (just kidding)—White Moonlight Returns. Could it be that God took pity on my miserable situation and decided to directly help me get rich and start my easy life? Who cares. My eyes lit up, and I held my phone like it was a precious treasure. “Baby, kisses! Thank you, my wonderful bestie, for helping me find a new direction in life.” “Babe, do you want me to come over and keep you company for a bit? I’ll go ask around…” Mia and I were both stunned for a moment. Damn it, interrupting my deep, affectionate performance that I’d been building up for so long. Before I could finish my act, she cut in, speaking quickly, “No way, are you okay?” I elegantly rolled my eyes and gave a wicked smile. “Stay right there, babe. I’ll send someone to pick you up.” After successfully picking her up, I asked Liam to take us to the auction venue. We walked in together, arm in arm, avoiding the people trying to come up and network, and headed straight for my private VIP box. “Spill it. You rich people… what’s going on with you and Carter? Didn’t you like him a lot when we were kids?” I have to admit, this private box was very well designed. It didn’t obstruct the view of the auction, but it also ensured privacy. Once the door was closed, it was an extremely private space. Not bad. I could learn from this design. I looked around the room, ignoring her question for the moment. I called Liam over and asked him who owned this venue. I learned a name that sounded vaguely familiar. The only daughter of the Montgomery family, who had just returned from abroad. Stella Montgomery.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “413026”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel