Category: English

I’ve always been a petty man. In my world, if you throw mud at me, I don’t just throw it back-I burn your entire house down with you inside it. When I was ten, our neighbor Mrs. Henderson accused me of stealing a package from her doorstep. I didn’t do it, but she told the whole street I was a thief. That night, I snuck into her backyard and blasted death metal through her garden speakers at three in the morning. She never said a bad word about me again. After I started my career, a colleague whispered that I only got promoted because I was sleeping with the female lead. At the annual gala, I played the hidden camera footage of him and that same boss moaning in the supply closet on a 50-foot loop. After that, people learned to keep my name out of their mouths. They called me crazy. Unhinged. A psycho. I didn’t give a damn. Then my family found me a fianc閑. Charlotte Ashford. Old money. Manhattan elite. The night before our wedding, she threw a pre-wedding party at some overpriced rooftop bar in Tribeca. I showed up because my father insisted. “The Ashfords are critical business partners, Vincent. Play nice.” Play nice. Right. I was nursing a whiskey when her “best friend” Ethan Lawrence-some trust fund brat who’d been orbiting Charlotte since prep school-decided to run his mouth. He leaned against Charlotte’s shoulder, smirking at me like we were sharing some inside joke. “Vincent, I heard your dad married into money. A real boy-toy situation, you know? And word is you’re just like him-living off women. Got dumped by some rich cougar before you latched onto our Charlie, right?” Charlotte’s friends erupted into laughter. Champagne glasses clinked. Eyes gleamed with malicious amusement, waiting to see if I’d crumble. I set down my glass. Picked up the empty bottle next to it. Then I smashed it against the edge of the bar. The sound cut through the music like a gunshot. Glass shards scattered across the marble floor. I pressed the jagged edge against Ethan’s cheek, close enough that he went pale. “Charlotte,” I said, not breaking eye contact with him. “You’ve got so many friends here. You won’t miss this one, right?” …… Charlotte’s face went ice-cold. She slapped my hand away hard enough that the bottle neck clattered to the floor. “Vincent, what the hell is wrong with you?” “It was a joke! Ethan was joking. Are you seriously this fragile?” Her friends piled on immediately. “Vincent, Charlotte’s doing you a favor by marrying you. Your family legacy would be nothing without the Ashfords. You should be grateful, not throwing tantrums.” “Ethan’s known Charlie since they were kids. They’re like family. You threatening him? That’s insane.” “You should learn how to tolerate your future wife-and her friends, Vincent. ” I laughed. Genuinely laughed. I bent down, picked up a shard of glass, and twirled it between my fingers. “Here’s the thing,” I said, my voice calm. “I’ve never had a sense of humor. Never learned to take a joke. So when people joke about me, I take them as the joke.” I locked eyes with Ethan, whose face had gone from smug to terrified. “For example, if someone says my father’s a gold digger, I’d be justified in assuming theirs was too. That they’re just a bastard child from an affair, swept under the rug to avoid scandal. Isn’t that right , Ethan?” Ethan’s body went rigid. Tears welled in his eyes instantly. Charlotte grabbed my wrist, her nails digging into my skin. “Vincent, you apologize to Ethan. Right now.” “Where do you get off saying something like that? Ethan’s father died saving my dad in a construction accident. My family took him in out of gratitude!” “Say one more word, and I’ll throw you out of here myself.” Ethan cowered behind her, playing the victim perfectly. “Charlie, don’t be mad at Vincent. Maybe I said the wrong thing… I’m sorry, Vincent. I shouldn’t have joked like that.” Her friends immediately turned on me. “Ethan apologized. What more do you want, Vincent? Besides, Ethan’s not wrong-we’ve all seen you getting out of different women’s cars. Who knows what you were doing in there?” “You’re marrying Charlotte tomorrow. Maybe tone down the psycho act? If you can’t handle some friendly banter, maybe don’t show up.” I was genuinely amused by these idiots. Before I came tonight, my father had given me his usual lecture: “The Ashfords are crucial partners, Vincent. This alliance benefits both families.” I tried to follow his advice, but honestly, they don’t treat me like a partner. This is truly regrettable,for them. I learned early on that backing down only makes you a target. The only way to survive is to be crazier, meaner, and more vicious than anyone else. If someone bites you, you don’t just bite back. You shatter their teeth and make them choke on the fragments. I slowly released the glass shard from my palm, letting it fall. “You’re right. Getting upset over something so trivial-that’s immature of me.” Their faces lit up with smug satisfaction. Charlotte’s expression softened slightly. She opened her mouth to say something conciliatory. I cut her off. “But if we’re talking about playing games…” I smiled. “I’m the best there is.” “You want to play? Let’s play. Come on. Let’s continue.”

I scanned the crowd of vultures circling for entertainment. Grabbed a glass and started pouring every liquor I could find into it. Whiskey, vodka, tequila, gin, rum-seven or eight different kinds, creating a toxic cocktail that looked like it could strip paint. “Here’s the game. Loser drinks this. Then answers one question from the winner-total honesty required.” “If you lie or refuse to answer, you drink three more.” One of Charlotte’s friends sneered. “Games need stakes, Vincent. What are you putting up? Or are you broke as well as boring?” I swirled the toxic mixture, my smile widening. Then I pulled out my black AmEx card and slammed it on the table. “Anyone who gets me to drink, even just one sip, will get my card with unlimited credit.” The room went dead silent. Charlotte’s face flushed with anger. “Vincent, enough. You think you can humiliate people just because you have money?” I ignored her. Kept my eyes locked on Ethan. “What’s wrong? Scared to play? You were so chatty a minute ago.” “Ethan. You’re up first.” Ethan’s eyes were glued to that black card like a starving man staring at a steak. He rolled the dice. I didn’t even look before I opened the cup. Six sixes. Ethan’s face went ghost-white. “Truth or dare,” I said. “Did your mother marry your father before or after you were born?” His body started trembling. “I… I choose dare!” I nodded slowly, sliding the toxic cocktail toward him. “Fair enough. Drink this. Then call your dad and tell him, on speaker, that Ethan’s father was the real gold digger.” Ethan broke instantly. “Charlie! I don’t want to! I don’t want to play anymore!” Pathetic. Two moves and I’d already peeled back his skin. Charlotte exploded. She shoved me hard. “Vincent, enough! Ethan’s young, he doesn’t know better. How can you be so cruel?” I actually laughed. Charlotte was too stupid to see manipulation even when it slapped her in the face. “When he was slandering my father and calling me a parasite, you didn’t say he was ‘young.’ Interesting double standard.” I stepped closer, voice dropping. “Charlotte, you’re protecting him so hard, people might think he’s your fianc?instead of me.” “Your ‘best friend’-is that code for fuck buddy?” Charlotte’s hand flew up to slap me. I didn’t dodge. Just stared at her. “Go ahead. Hit me.” “Let everyone see how the great Charlotte Ashford assaults her fianc?to defend some other man’s illegitimate son.” “Should I call your father? Let him know tomorrow’s wedding is off?” I pulled out my phone, thumb hovering over the contact. Charlotte panicked. She grabbed my phone and hurled it to the ground, shattering the screen. “Vincent, you’re being unreasonable!” “The wedding’s tomorrow. Go home and think about what you did. Don’t embarrass yourself-and me-at the ceremony.” She wrapped a protective arm around the still-whimpering Ethan and marched out. Her friends followed, throwing sneers and insults my way. I stood there, surrounded by broken glass and spilled liquor, and smiled. Perfect. Tomorrow, we’d see who the real joke was.

I got home and immediately grabbed my burner phone. Dialed a number I’d kept for emergencies. “I need everything on Ethan Lawrence. And I mean everything. His father’s death, his mother’s history, the Ashford connection-all of it.” “The dirtier, the better.” The voice on the other end chuckled. “Mr. Sterling, it’s your wedding eve. You sure you want to go nuclear?” “Less talking. Have it in my email by morning.” I hung up and stared at my reflection in the window. Charlotte. Ethan. You think this is over? You threw mud at me. Now I’m going to make you eat it-mixed with broken glass and blood. The next day was the so-called “wedding of the century.” Sterling and Ashford families united. Manhattan’s elite packed into the Plaza ballroom. My father cornered me in the groom’s suite. “Vincent, keep your temper in check today. This is your wedding.” “If you don’t want Charlotte, fine. You can live separately after. She’ll have the Sterling name, Just a nominal Mrs.Sterling.but you’ll have the real power. That’s what matters.” I gave him a tight smile. Said nothing. My temper wasn’t something I could turn on and off. It was a wildfire, and once lit, it consumed everything. As I stepped into the ballroom, my phone buzzed. It was a number I didn’t recognize I answered, and immediately, I knew something was wrong. And then I realized-maybe this is a good opportunity. Without hesitation, I synced my phone to the ballroom’s wireless speakers. Every guest in the room went silent as Ethan’s voice flooded the space. “Charlie… this is all my fault. If I hadn’t been so upset because you’re getting married tomorrow, we wouldn’t have… God, we shouldn’t have slept together.” “You’re getting married today. I gave you my virginity. What if Vincent finds out? What if he makes a scene?” Charlotte’s voice came through, soft and reassuring. “This isn’t your fault, Ethan. Vincent pushed you. It just… happened. We got carried away.” “If there’s a baby, I’ll keep it. I’ll raise it. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” I walked calmly to the stage, picked up the microphone. “Sorry to interrupt, everyone.” “Looks like my bride has some unfinished business with her best friend.” Charlotte’s parents looked like they’d been struck by lightning. Her father roared toward the back rooms. “Charlotte! Get out here right now!” She emerged seconds later, still in her wedding gown, face pale with shock. When she realized what had happened, her eyes found mine across the room. Pure, venomous hatred. But with hundreds of witnesses staring at her, she had no choice. Her father slapped her. Hard. “Apologize to Vincent. Now. Or you’re no daughter of mine.” Charlotte’s voice was barely a whisper, choked with rage. “I’m sorry, Vincent. Ethan and I… it was a mistake. I swear I’ll never see him again.” She glared at me with such intensity I could feel it burning. I gave her my most charming smile. This alliance was dead anyway. I wasn’t marrying damaged goods. I opened my mouth to officially end this charade- When my phone buzzed. A photo. My mother. Bound with rope. Dangling from the edge of a rooftop. Every drop of blood drained from my face.

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619Q7yjk9XCeg 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni237525”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

The day my Harvard acceptance letter arrived, everyone expected me to frame it. Mount it on the wall like a trophy. Proof that Liam Vance had finally made it. Instead, I declined the offer and enrolled at MIT. It wasn’t impulse. It wasn’t rebellion. It was survival. Because I reborn. In last life, accepting Harvard meant becoming the perfect husband for Seraphina. It meant watching her, six months pregnant with my child, stand over me with a smile. “If you hadn’t gone to Harvard,” she’d whispered, rope cutting into my wrists as I hung from the ceiling beam, “my family never would have chosen you. And my love wouldn’t have drowned his heartbreak at that club. They wouldn’t have found him dead in some backroom, servicing strangers for pills.” Her voice had been so calm. So rational. “You stole his place. So you’ll pay with your life. Piece. By. Piece.” She deliberately had a miscarriage that night. The reason was that she didn’t want to have a child with me. She felt disgusted. I died at the same night… And then I woke up. Eighteen years old. Acceptance letters scattered across my desk. The same day. My phone buzzed. Mr. Kowalski, my guidance counselor. “Liam, the deadline’s tonight. Harvard’s waiting. You’re really going to make them sweat?” I ended the call and stared at the MIT enrollment form on my laptop screen. Different path. Different future. No Seraphina. The door flew open. “Liam.” My mother swept in. Her hands fluttered. “Tell me you’ve confirmed Harvard. Please. I need to hear you say it.” Seeing mom now—alive, whole, not beaten to death by Hawthorne security—made my throat close. In that other life, she’d found my body. Seen what Seraphina had done. And she’d lunged at the woman who’d butchered her son. The Hawthorne guards hadn’t hesitated. I reached for her hand. “I’m going to MIT, Mom. The research programs align better with my focus. Cybersecurity architecture, AI ethics, systems integrity—” “No.” She yanked her hand back. “You’re going to Harvard. Do you understand me? When you fall, you get back up where you fell. I taught you that.” My blood went cold. She remembers. She reborn too? “Mom—” The front door slammed. My father’s voice boomed through the house, followed by a second set of footsteps. Lighter. Deliberate. “Julian! Come on in, son. Let me grab you something to drink.” Julian Vance. Not my brother by blood. Not really. But my father—decorated veteran and self-made businessman—had adopted him at thirteen after his father, Dad’s Army buddy, died in combat. Except Julian’s father hadn’t died in combat. He’d died of a heart attack in a motel with his mistress, but my father had needed a redemption arc more than he’d needed the truth. I watched Julian glide into my room, all easy smiles. “Liam.” He clasped my shoulder. “Dad wants to talk to you about Harvard. He’s really proud, man.” My father appeared behind him, already talking. “Two spots. Harvard only takes two from Riverside Prep, and this year it’s a miracle we got that many. Liam—” He looked at me the way you’d look at a stain. “You’re going to withdraw your acceptance.” My mother stiffened. “Excuse me?”

“Julian needs this.” Dad’s voice carried the weight of absolute authority. “His father gave his life for this country. For me. The least we can do is make sure his son has every advantage. Liam’s smart—he’ll land on his feet. MIT, Stanford, whatever. But Harvard?” He put his arm around Julian. “That’s Julian’s spot. And the Hawthorne family is looking for a Harvard man to marry their daughter. That’s his future. Not Liam’s.” “He earned his acceptance—” “And Julian earned our loyalty!” My father’s face flushed. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to owe someone your life? His father took a bullet meant for me. So yes, Elena. Julian gets the girl, the school, and the life. That’s not negotiable.” My mother looked at me, and I saw it again—that flash of something ruthless beneath her beauty queen mask. She remembered Julian sitting outside while I bled out. She was trying to weaponize me against him. I pulled out my phone and opened the photo album. Found last night’s graduation party. There. Julian and Seraphina Hawthorne, tucked into a corner booth at The Dorset Club. Her hand on his thigh under the table. His mouth at her ear. The angle of the shot made it clear—this wasn’t friendly. This was ownership. I held up the phone. “They’ve been together for months.” My voice came out flat. Clinical. “So it doesn’t matter where I go. I’m not in the running.” Julian’s smile never wavered. “Liam.” He sighed, wounded. “I know you had feelings for Sera. But she sees you as a friend. A brother, even. You need to let her go.” He checked his watch. “Actually, I’m late. We’re catching a movie. Dad, you coming?” My father was already grabbing his keys. “I’ll drive you.” The door slammed. Silence. Then my mother’s hand cracked across my face. “You coward.” I tasted blood. “I thought getting a second chance meant you’d be smarter. Faster. But you’re still the same pathetic boy who let them walk all over him.” Her voice shook. “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me in this house? Your father worships Julian. Your grandmother thinks I’m worthless because I can’t control you. My entire future depends on you marrying into the Hawthorne family, and you’re just going to—what? Run away to MIT and play with computers?” The same script as before. Always the same. In last life, I’d internalized it. Believed I owed her my success. My sacrifice. My life. I’d studied until I couldn’t see straight. Married a woman I didn’t love. Let myself be reshaped into the perfect Hawthorne son-in-law because I thought it would finally be enough. It never was. “I’m going to MIT,” I said quietly. “And this time, I’m living for myself.” She opened her mouth, but I was already walking out.

I should’ve known it wouldn’t be that simple. That night, I woke to the sound of my bedroom door clicking open. My father stood silhouetted in the hallway light. Behind him—Seraphina. I lunged out of bed. “What the hell—” But they were already at my desk. My laptop glowed, enrollment page still open. Seraphina’s finger hovered over the keyboard. “Don’t you dare—” My father caught me in a bear hug, pinning my arms. “She’s doing you a favor, son. Trust me.” “That’s my MIT enrollment—” Seraphina clicked DELETE. The page refreshed. Application Withdrawn. I went numb. “Seraphina—why?” She didn’t even look at me. Just reached down and unplugged the laptop, lifting it by the screen. “What are you—” “If I leave the computer intact, you’ll find a way to re-enroll.” Her voice was ice. “I won’t make that mistake.” She raised the laptop above her head. “No no no—please—” It shattered against the hardwood. Glass and circuitry exploded across the floor. I stopped fighting. My father released me, and I collapsed to my knees, staring at the wreckage. “You knew I picked MIT,” I whispered. “I told you this morning.” Seraphina crouched in front of me, and for the first time, I saw her eyes. Empty. Flat. She’d reborn too. “You said a lot of things last time,” she murmured. “You said you didn’t want me. You said you weren’t interested. But the first night we were together, you were in my bed before I’d even finished unpacking.” My stomach lurched. “That wasn’t—Sera, your roommate drugged me. You know that. She wanted to humiliate me at the party, and I came to you because I trusted—” “Liar.” The word landed like a slap. She stood, smoothing her skirt. “You manipulated me from day one. Played hard to get so I’d chase you. And the moment you had me, you ruined everything.” She turned to Julian, who’d appeared in the doorway. Her voice went soft. Tender. “It’s done, baby. He can’t threaten you anymore.” Julian’s smile was small. Satisfied. “Wait—” My mind raced. “Sera, I’m not trying to come between you two. I want you to be together. Just let me go. I’ll transfer schools, move across the country, whatever you need—” “You really think it’s that simple?” She leaned close, her breath cold against my ear. “Did you think I’d forget what you did to Julian in last life? How you let him die?” “I already paid for that. I died—” “Not enough.” Her whisper was a blade. “I’m going to make you watch Julian and me build the life you stole from him. And you—” Her lips curved. “You’re going to spend every day in hell.” She straightened. “Oh, and before I deleted your enrollment? I submitted a formal withdrawal letter to MIT on your behalf. Citing personal reasons and a commitment to Harvard.” She tilted her head. “Congrats, Liam. You’re going to be a Hawthorne after all.”

They locked me in my room after that. Took my phone. My laptop. Even the old iPad I kept in my desk drawer. For three days, I was a prisoner in my own house. But they didn’t know about the backup phone taped under my bed frame. The one I’d bought with cash the day I woke up reborn, because some paranoid part of me knew they’d try this. I powered it on and opened my email. One unread message. From: MIT Admissions Subject: Enrollment Confirmed Dear Liam Vance, Welcome to MIT. Your enrollment in the Computer Science and Engineering program has been finalized. We look forward to seeing you at orientation on September 1st. I closed my eyes, exhaling for what felt like the first time in days. The system Seraphina had accessed wasn’t real. I’d built a dummy server the day I got the acceptance letter—a perfect replica of MIT’s enrollment portal, hosted locally on my laptop. If anyone tried to tamper with my decision, they’d be deleting a ghost. The real enrollment had gone through the morning I woke up in this timeline. I texted my best friend Marcus: Need you to grab my dorm stuff and meet me at South Station. Day before move-in. I’ll explain later. His reply came in seconds: Dude. What did you DO? Escaped. — Move-in day. I waited until my mother left for her book club and my father took Julian shopping for his dorm at Langford College—the private liberal arts school Seraphina’s family had paid to accept him after his 140 SAT score. Picked the bedroom lock in twenty minutes. Walked out the front door. Took the subway to South Station and didn’t look back. The train to Boston pulled away from the platform, and I watched my childhood disappear through the window. For the first time since I’d woken up in this nightmare, I let myself breathe. — I dozed off somewhere around Providence. When I woke up, something felt wrong. The train had stopped. But we weren’t at South Station. I looked out the window—and my blood turned to ice. We were at a private rail platform. Sleek. Modern. The kind of place you only accessed with a keycard and a seven-figure bank account. And standing on the platform, arms crossed, was my mother. She smiled when she saw me. “Liam. You’re awake. Perfect timing.” The train doors hissed open, and two men in black suits stepped aboard. “Mrs. Vance.” The taller one nodded. “We’ll take him from here.” “Wait—Mom—what is this?” She leaned into the train, her smile bright and terrible. “The Hawthornes are very excited to meet their future son-in-law, sweetheart. Seraphina’s been asking about you.” “I’m not—I don’t want—” “You’re eighteen. You’re brilliant. And you’re exactly what the Hawthorne family looks for in a match.” She stepped back as the men hauled me to my feet. “Oh, and I have wonderful news. They’ve agreed to let you and Seraphina get engaged today. Isn’t that romantic? The wedding will be right after her graduation.” “You can’t do this—” “I can. And I am.” She waved as they dragged me onto the platform. “The Hawthorne estate is lovely this time of year. You’ll see.”

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619Den9Z1KrEJ 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni044754”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

I’m a research scientist at Ares Biotech, one of the most prestigious defense contractors in the country. When the Principal Scientist promotion committee convened, my wife Lydia-a voting member-struck my name from the candidate list. Again. After five consecutive rejections, I was forced out under the company’s “up or out” policy. I refused to quit science. I leased a private lab and continued my work independently. Six months later, the lab caught fire. I was trapped inside with a young intern named Parker Stone. Through the smoke, I saw Lydia burst through the door. For one desperate second, I thought she’d come for me. She ran straight past me. She grabbed Parker by the arm and dragged him toward the exit. I reached out, my hand closing on empty air as flames licked closer. She looked back once. Her eyes were cold, clinical. “Parker’s a Principal Scientist. His work is classified. He’s more valuable than you.” The ceiling collapsed. Fire swallowed everything. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing in our apartment. Lydia was leaning against me, pouting prettily, her fingers playing with my collar. “Arthur, baby, just withdraw from the promotion round this year. Do it for us.” I recognized this moment. This exact conversation. Three years ago. The first time she’d asked me to step aside. I shoved her away so hard she stumbled. “You want me to withdraw? So you can take my spot?” I looked at her like she was a stranger. “Not a chance in hell.”

Lydia froze, shocked and confused. “Arthur Vance, is waiting one more year really so hard? Why are you competing against your own wife?” I stared at the candidate roster on her tablet. Arthur Vance. Marcus Smith. Lydia Sterling. Only three spots available for Principal Scientist this cycle. “There are only three openings,” she continued, her voice with that insufferable self-righteous edge. “We can’t both make it. If you wait a year, you can focus on your research instead of this political nonsense. Why are you being so selfish?” “You claim to love science, but all you care about is climbing the ladder. I’m disappointed in you.” Her words yanked me back to reality. The same script. Word for word. In my first life, I’d believed her. I withdrew my application. She got promoted. She’d promised it was temporary. “You’re young, talented, respected. You’ll get your turn next year.” But ten years later, she was still saying: “You’re aging out, Arthur. Science needs fresh blood. It’s time to make room for the next generation.” Past and present overlapped. I saw both versions of her face-the manipulative wife and the woman who’d left me to burn. Lydia grabbed my arm, her voice rising. “I don’t care what you think. We’re going to the committee right now, and you’re withdrawing your application!” I jerked away from her touch. “My qualifications exceed every requirement. My publication record is flawless. Why the hell would I withdraw?” “You talk about ambition like it’s a disease. What’s your excuse for wanting the promotion, Lydia?” She hesitated, then her voice went shrill. “Because of you!” “You publish constantly, but you never add my name to your papers. Do you know how that makes me look? People whisper that I’m riding your coattails. If I get this promotion, no one will dare question my credentials again!” “So are you withdrawing or not?” I looked at her face, twisted by jealousy and ambition, and shook my head firmly. “No. I’m staying in the race.”

Lydia slammed the door on her way out. Watching her leave, I saw another image superimposed-her walking away from the fire, leaving me to die. In my previous life, we’d been married for twenty years. The only real fight we ever had came in my final year of eligibility-my last chance before mandatory retirement from research roles. By then, she’d clawed her way onto the promotion committee. For nine consecutive years, she struck my name from the finalist list. She called it integrity. “I’m on the committee. I have to avoid any appearance of favoritism.” But when I asked the other committee members, they all said the same thing: my publication record and project impact scores were the highest in the cohort. I should have been promoted years ago. By that point, Lydia had become Committee Chair. She wielded veto power. I tried reasoning with her one last time. “This isn’t about prestige. If I don’t get promoted this cycle, I’m out. Forced retirement. I won’t be able to do research anymore, Lydia. This is my life’s work.” She threw her coffee mug at the wall. “So you’re asking me to pull strings for you? Is that it, Arthur?” “No. I’m asking you to recuse yourself from the vote. Let the decision stand on its merits.” She ignored that completely. “Principal Scientist is just a pay bump and a better pension. You don’t care about money. Why are you so obsessed with a title?” “Besides, these positions are limited. We’re married. It would look bad if we monopolized two spots. I won’t let you guilt me into approving your promotion!” My last opportunity died with her veto. I was forced out of Ares Biotech. Twenty years of research, gone. But I couldn’t just stop. I rented a small lab downtown and continued working independently. Lydia opposed it viciously at first, accusing me of “stealing proprietary research for personal gain.” She came by twice to trash the equipment. Eventually I agreed to mentor a junior researcher. She backed off. The junior researcher was Parker Stone. Lazy attitude. Mediocre skills. Constant attitude problems. One afternoon, I asked him to sterilize the workbench with ethanol. He “accidentally” knocked over an open flame. The entire lab went up in minutes. We were both trapped. Lydia arrived with the fire department. I heard her shouting orders outside. “Prioritize Dr. Stone! He’s a Principal Scientist working on classified defense contracts! He cannot be lost!” “Ma’am, your husband-” “He’s just a family member. He knew the risks when he married into this field.” I gripped my lab notebook, my knuckles white. When she kicked down the door, I felt hope flare in my chest. We’d been together for twenty years. Surely- She kicked my outstretched hand away. She grabbed Parker by the shoulders and hauled him toward the exit. She didn’t look back. Her voice was flat, mechanical. “You’re expendable. He’s not.” That was Lydia Sterling. The woman who’d stolen my promotion. The woman who’d let me burn. This time, I’d make sure she never got the chance.

I knew Lydia would fight dirty. I didn’t realize how low she’d sink. Within two days, rumors spread through every department at Ares Biotech. Even members of my own research team started looking at me with contempt. “Dr. Smith, this data point looks off. Can you double-check the calculation?” I held out the report. My junior researcher, Sarah Smith, just stared at me, arms crossed. “Sorry, Dr. Vance. I’m not qualified for such important work. You should do it yourself.” “Excuse me?” She sneered. “Don’t play dumb. We all know what kind of person you are.” My jaw tightened. “If you have an accusation, take it to HR. But while you’re on my team, you’ll do your job.” Sarah threw her tablet down. “Who wants to be on your team? I heard you steal research from your wife and force her to commit academic fraud. Then you beat her when she refuses. You’re a fraud and an abuser. Why should we respect you?” The lab erupted in whispers. “I saw them arguing once,” someone said. “Lydia was begging him to credit her on a paper. Now it makes sense-she did all the work, and he took the glory.” “I heard he tells people women can’t do real science. That’s why he never collaborates with female researchers.” Every woman on my team was glaring at me now. So this was Lydia’s play. Before I could respond, the lab door opened. Lydia walked in. I moved toward her. “Lydia, we need to-” “No! Don’t hit me! I’ll do whatever you want!” She screamed and cowered, throwing her arms over her head. Every eye in the room locked onto me. One of the female researchers rushed over. “Oh my God, Lydia, your arms-what are those bruises?” “And your lip is split!” Instantly, the entire room turned on me. Lydia threw herself at my feet, the perfect picture of a battered wife. “Arthur, please, I’ll be good. I’ll listen. Just don’t hurt me anymore.” “I’ll do anything you ask. Please don’t be angry.” She started sobbing, angling her face so everyone could see the injuries clearly. “Please… don’t misunderstand. This isn’t his fault. I… I fell. That’s all.” The more she defended me, the more guilty I looked. “I always thought Dr. Vance seemed so professional,” someone muttered. “I can’t believe he’s a wife-beater.” “God, I actually found him attractive. Turns out he’s a monster.” In my first life, I thought her obstruction was about ethics. About maintaining her impartiality. I never imagined she’d stoop to character assassination. “We should report this to the Ethics Committee,” someone said loudly. “Or Security. Get this abuser fired.” Lydia immediately threw herself into my arms, shaking her head. “No, no. I love him. He only hits me sometimes. The rest of the time, he’s… he’s fine.” Everyone looked at her with pity. Several male researchers glared at me with obvious jealousy. Lydia pressed against me and whispered, so quietly only I could hear. “Everyone believes I’m the victim. No one cares if it’s true.” I tried to push her away. She let out a theatrical scream and collapsed. Immediately, two male colleagues grabbed me and slammed me face-first against the lab bench. “You’re attacking her in front of witnesses?” My cheek pressed against cold steel. Through the corner of my eye, I saw Lydia smirking. An hour later, I was sitting across from the Division Chief. “Dr. Vance, effective immediately, you’re suspended from all active projects pending investigation.” I looked him in the eye. “So I’m out of the promotion cycle.” “Your file won’t be reviewed during the suspension period. After the investigation concludes… we’ll see.” It didn’t matter that my research record was stronger than Lydia’s. With domestic violence allegations hanging over me, the committee would never approve my promotion. In a high-security defense contractor, even a hint of scandal was disqualifying. I left his office and walked straight to the Academic Integrity Committee. “I’m filing a formal complaint against Dr. Lydia Sterling for academic misconduct, falsification of research, and plagiarism.”

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619HGhFcGhW9a 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni811879”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

My parents foster daughter said I called her bitch, but I was mute since birth. I was the true heir, the one the Sterlings had hunted for eighteen years. But the second I stepped into the house, Evelyn screamed and buried herself in my mother’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably. “Dad. Mom.” Her voice broke. “Please don’t make me call her sister. I can’t.” “She’s the girl from the Academy! The one who started the rumors. She’s the reason I’m like this! The reason for my depression!” Mom held Evelyn tight, stroking her hair. Dad stared at me. His face was pure disappointment. “We lost you for 18 years and this is what you grew up to be?” “Jennings — get her out. No daughter of ours bullies people. The Sterlings don’t raise that kind of girl.” I stood there frozen, my hands flying through signs so fast they barely looked like language. Me? Spread rumors? I’m mute. I literally cannot make a sound. I stood still in the entryway, fingertips cold from outside. Evelyn sobbed into Mom’s neck, her whole body shaking. When she finally lifted her head, her eyes were red-rimmed and raw. “You don’t know what she did.” Her voice dropped to barely a whisper. “Last month, when I made it into the Dean’s list, she told everyone I cheated. That Dad paid off the teachers. That I slept with the department head to protect my scholarship record—” Every sentence landed. Mom’s hand on Evelyn’s back pressed down harder with each one. Dad’s jaw locked tighter. I opened my mouth. Only air came out. I’ve never been able to speak. Damaged vocal cords — doctors said it at birth. I’ve spent my whole life talking with my hands and a notebook. I raised my hands. My fingers had just started to form No when my brother, Julian, shot up from the couch. He crossed the room in three strides and stood over me. “Clara.” His voice was flat. “Stop performing. You drove her to a breakdown. There’s nothing to explain.” I held still, hands frozen mid-sign. Julian was the only son. From the moment I walked in, he’d barely looked away from Evelyn. When he looked at her, he was soft. When he looked at me, he acted as if he saw something filthy. “Julian, don’t.” Evelyn reached for his sleeve. Her voice was small. “Maybe she just wanted attention. She didn’t know how else to reach out. I don’t blame her. I really don’t.” “You’re always too kind.” Mom pulled Evelyn closer and turned to me, her eyes cold. “Clara. We brought you home to be part of this family. Not to torture the girl who’s been living in it. Whatever habits you picked up out there — leave it at the door.” Dad knocked his knuckles against the side table. Once. Hard. “A Sterling girl, raised anywhere on earth, should know how to conduct herself. You’ve been inside five minutes and already embarrassed this family.” The staff had clustered near the hallway. They weren’t even pretending not to stare. “She grew up with the street boys. What did you expect?” “Poor Evelyn. Who could go after someone that sweet?” “Look at her, signing like that. She’s faking it. Milking it for sympathy.” I breathed through it. I reached into my bag for my notebook. I can write it done, I will explain everything to them. My fingers touched the zipper. Julian grabbed my wrist. “What are you pulling out now?” I twisted free and got the notebook out anyway. He snatched it from my hand and tore it in half. Then kept tearing. The pages came apart in the air and drifted down around my feet. I stood there and watched them fall. Evelyn let out a soft sob and turned her face away. “Julian, please. She’s just confused—”Evelyn’s voice was barely audible. Julian cut her off. His eyes were burning. “She drove you to a breakdown and you’re still defending her? Someone this twisted doesn’t belong in this family.” Dad’s face went stone cold. He turned to the door and gestured once. “Jennings. Throw her out. The Sterlings don’t have a daughter like this.”

I spent the night on a motel cot, the mattress hard as a board. Morning came. Before first period even started, the Headmaster called me to his office. When I pushed open the door, Evelyn was already sitting across from Mr. Harrison’s desk. Her shoulders were heaving. She had a handkerchief twisted in both hands. Her eyes were swollen almost shut. The second she saw me walk in, she shrank back toward Mr. Harrison’s chair. Just enough. Just the right amount of fear. “Clara.” Mr. Harrison’s voice was flat. “Come in and tell me what you did to Evelyn yesterday.” I stayed in the doorway. Evelyn drew a breath and started talking. “Sir, please don’t be too hard on her.” Her voice was soft. Careful. “Yesterday she cornered me in the hallway. She told me I was an interloper who stole what didn’t belong to me. That she’d make sure I had no place left at this school.” She paused. “I was scared. I’m still scared.” Her voice was soft. But every word landed clean, like a blade finding its mark. Mr. Harrison’s expression darkened. He reached for the phone. “I’ve already called your parents. They’re on their way.” The door opened a few moments later. Mom and Dad walked in together. Mom went straight to Evelyn and took her hand. Dad’s face was iron. “Mr. Harrison. What did she do this time?” Mr. Harrison pushed his glasses up. “According to Evelyn, Clara has repeatedly targeted her — verbal harassment, false accusations, threats to her enrollment. This kind of behavior has no place at St. Jude’s.” Dad turned to look at me. “What kind of person did you turn into out there? Are you determined to drag this family’s name through the dirt?” I tried to explain, but silence was all I had. I raised my hands. My fingers had just started to form ‘No’ when Dad stepped forward and slapped my hands down roughly. I looked at him. Tears came before I could stop them. “Now you’re going to cry?” His voice was quiet. That made it worse. “You do all of this and then you cry? You’re performing again. Playing the victim.” Evelyn made a small sound across the room and pressed herself into Mom’s side. “Dad. Mom. Please stop. I don’t blame her.” Mom looked at me once. Cold. Done. “Some people are just born rotten.” The office door had drifted open. A cluster of students stood in the hallway, not even pretending to walk past. Their voices carried. “So she really has been going after Evelyn this whole time.” “She seemed so quiet. You never know.” “I heard her own parents didn’t want her. That explains it.” I breathed through it. I raised my hands again. Three words: I didn’t do it. Mr. Harrison frowned, his voice filled with impatience. “Clara. Stop using these gestures to deflect. If you have something to say, say it out loud. This isn’t the place for theatrics.” My hands went still in the air. So even this — the only language I have — was just a trick to them. A performance. Then the door opened again quietly, a girl appeared in the gap. She was gripping the hem of her blazer with both hands. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. “Sir. She’s not performing. That’s ASL.” Everyone turned. The girl kept her eyes down but held her ground. The girl, Sarah, swallowed. “My brother is deaf. I know what I saw. She signed ‘I didn’t do it.’ And she’s never spoken. Not once. Everyone here knows that.”

The room went silent. “You’re certain about this?” Mr. Harrison asked. “I wouldn’t confuse those shapes, sir. And Clara has never said a single word in class.” The room went quiet. Dad and Mom’s expressions changed. Mom looked at me. Her lips parted. A flicker of guilt crossed her face, so faint it was almost nothing. Then Evelyn let out a sob. She wiped her eyes and spoke softly. “Clara. Even if you don’t want to admit what you did, you don’t have to recruit someone to pretend to be mute.” That single sentence cut straight through whatever guilt Mom had left. Dad’s face hardened. He turned to me, eyes burning. “Clara. You’ve got nerve. You couldn’t just lie, you had to bring someone in to back you up? You are completely beyond help.” My hands were shaking. I reached into my blazer pocket and pulled out the document I always kept there. I unfolded it carefully. The paper was old, the creases worn pale. But the words were clear. Organic damage to the laryngeal structure. Permanent impairment. I held it out. Dad snatched it from my hand and tore it in two without reading a single word. Then in four. Then into pieces too small to put back together. He let them fall. I looked at him. The tears came before I could stop them. “Keep performing.” His voice was raw with disgust. “Go ahead. Since you love it so much, I’ll have you sent to a reform ranch. Let’s see if you keep playing mute when there’s real work in front of you.” Mom’s face had already closed off. She pulled Evelyn close. “We thought we could trust you. We thought you were worth bringing home. We were wrong. You are a disappointment.” Evelyn rested her head against Mom’s shoulder. Against the curve of her cheek — just for a second — her lips arranged themselves into something that was not grief. “Mom, Dad, please.” Her voice was soft. “Maybe she just lost her head for a moment. She didn’t mean it.” “Lost her head?” Dad let out a cold laugh. “This is who she is. Someone like this has no place in this family. I’m calling Miller right now. He’ll come take her away.” Mr. Harrison stood at the edge of the room, his expression unreadable. He glanced at me once, then at Dad and Mom. Then he sighed and turned to Sarah. “Go back to class. We’ll handle this.” Sarah opened her mouth. Mr. Harrison’s look closed it. She held my gaze for a moment, her eyes full of sympathy. Then she turned and walked away. I stood there and looked at the pieces of paper on the floor. Then I almost smiled. Every last thing I had fought to prove — in their eyes, it was nothing but a performance. In this family, I had never existed at all. I crouched down and started picking them up. One fragment at a time. An edge caught my fingertip and opened a thin cut. I didn’t feel it. Compared to everything else that hurt, what was a paper cut?

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619XkFixhN4Kr 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni076786”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

I was Mafia Don’s most beloved little princess. However, a glass of orange juice got me sold to an underground strip club. Vincent Rosario is the most powerful mafia don in New York. My parents, the Colombos, died in a car crash. Vincent raised me for fifteen years, spoiled me rotten. When I was twelve, I fought a senator’s daughter over a limited-edition diamond necklace. Vincent bought the entire jewelry company and reopened the production line just for me. At a charity gala, someone called me Vincent’s caged canary. The next day, he and his father’s company vanished from New York. Once, a boy tried to hold my hand at the school dance. The next morning, his right hand was delivered to his family in a box. Vincent would also kneel by my bed after nights of dancing, removing my heels and massaging my calves. Then Serena Moretti arrived. She walked into the Long Island estate in a crimson gown. Her eyes were cold. I heard her on the phone in the garden. “I want the full Cartier ruby set. Vincent owes me. So what if he’s doting on that little brat right now? His money will all be mine eventually.” She hung up. A tortoiseshell cat trotted over. It had wandered into the estate months ago. I called her Pudding. Pudding brushed past Serena’s feet and dirtied her satin heels. “That filthy thing,” Serena said to the bodyguard. “Kill it.” The bodyguard hesitated. “Miss Moretti, this is—” “I said kill it.” He drew his gun. Attached a silencer. One muffled shot. Pudding collapsed in a pool of blood. Serena stepped out of her heels and walked away barefoot. That night, I knocked on Serena’s door. “Leave Vincent.” “Why?” “Because you don’t love him. You just love his money and power.” “Little girl, what do you know? You just a spoiled child. You could never understand.” “I saw what you did. You killed that cat.” “Jenna, you’re not Vincent lover. But I am. You think he’d give me up for you?” “He would.” “Alright. I’ll leave.” The next morning, a helicopter roared overhead. Black SUVs poured through the estate gates. The butler, Antonio, told me Serena had slipped away without telling anyone. Vincent was looking for her. Vincent growled into his phone. “Find her! ” “Maybe Serena just needed some air—” “Jenna. Go to your room.” He was gone. For three full days, he didn’t come back.

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619HBkUah0nf8 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni224853”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

I caught my wife cheating on Christmas Eve. The proof? One million people watched her do it on TikTok. Christmas was three days away. After five years of marriage, my wife Chloe finally agreed to take me home to meet her parents. I wanted to bring the two bottles of 1945 Romanée-Conti wine. My father left for me—worth five million dollars. But when I went to the cellar, the bottles were gone. Chloe flew into a rage, accusing me of being broke and pretending to be rich. That night, she took our daughter Lily and left for her parents’ house without me. On Christmas Day, a video exploded across TikTok. On the dining table sat two identical bottles of wine. The caption: [Generous Son-in-Law Brings Million-Dollar Wine to Christmas Dinner] Just as I thought it was an impossible coincidence, Chloe’s face appeared in the video. My hands trembled with rage. I left a comment under the video: [Does stolen wine taste good?] Later, I slapped the divorce papers down in front of Chloe Morrison and immediately withdrew all my investments from her company. She stared at me. “You want a divorce? Because of two bottles of wine?” I nodded, my voice steady. “Yes.” … My comment was quickly buried, but not before catching some attention. Less than five minutes later, Chloe’s call came through, her voice exploding through the phone. I thought she’d apologize. Instead, the moment I answered, she started screaming. “Ethan Carter! Are you out of your mind? Who told you to leave comments under Jared’s video?” “Do you know Jared has one million followers? His image is everything! If your comment starts a hate campaign, it’ll destroy his career! Can you take responsibility for that?” I forced down my anger, my voice ice-cold. “Destroy his career? He stole my wine to show off. Tell him to return it, or I’m calling the police.” “You dare!” Chloe’s voice shot up even higher. “Ethan, can you act like a man for once and be more generous? The wine was going to my dad anyway. What’s the difference if you give it or he gives it?” “Jared is a public figure. He needs this persona! And those wines—how much can they even be worth? I’ll Venmo you two hundred dollars, okay?” First she accused me of being broke and faking wealth. Now she accused me of being petty. Some people have a talent for twisting black into white. “Chloe, I’m telling you one last time—” “Enough!” She cut me off brutally. “Delete the comment now, and post an apology pinned to the top! Or we’re done!” She hung up. Listening to the dial tone, my heart turned cold. Years ago, I hid my true identity as the sole heir to Carter Group just to win her heart with sincerity, not money. For five years, I gave her every resource to fulfill her entrepreneurial dreams, helping her rise from a junior employee to CEO of a public company. It was time to end this. Just then, the regional director from Porsche called. “Mr. Carter, the Porsche Panamera you ordered for Mrs. Carter has arrived. When would you like to pick it up?” I froze. I’d ordered this car two weeks ago. To make it up to her, and to give her face when visiting her parents, I’d custom-ordered this fully-loaded luxury car as a surprise. I took a deep breath, about to say I’d postpone the pickup. But the director hurriedly added. “Oh, sorry Mr. Carter. Mrs. Carter just picked up the car with another man. My colleague just told me. Apologies for disturbing you.” “What did you say?” I sat bolt upright. My head buzzed. I hung up immediately, opened TikTok, and clicked into Jared’s profile. Two minutes ago, he’d posted a new video. The background was the dealership entrance. Jared leaned against a brand-new burgundy Porsche Panamera, dangling the keys, his face lit up with smug satisfaction. Chloe stood beside him, intimately adjusting his collar. The caption read: [Christmas Gift!!! Is This What Being Loved Feels Like? Obsessed with New Ride! #NewCar #Porsche #Blessed] The comments section exploded. [Wow! She spoils you so much!] [He gives million-dollar wine, she gives a fully-loaded Panamera!] [Tears of envy streaming from my mouth—is this what power couple love looks like?] Chloe replied with a blushing emoji. [As long as you’re happy, this car is worth it! ] My fingers tightened around the phone. At that moment, I finally gave up hope. I opened the company group chat and dropped the screenshot. Caption: [How generous of CEO Morrison—stealing her husband’s money to her assistant, wine and cars for Christmas.]

The message went out. Within a minute, the group chat exploded. But the response was completely opposite of what I expected. I thought the employees would be shocked. But I forgot—though I was the one who invested in this company, nobody knew, even Chloe. Chloe’s message immediately popped up. [Ethan Carter, what’s your problem? Why are you talking nonsense in the company chat?] [Do you have any idea how much profit Jared’s livestream sales brought the company this past six months? This car is his year-end bonus. What’s the issue?] [You, on the other hand, as a grown man, you’re petty and vindictive.] What a masterclass in gaslighting! That car was bought with MY money! Before I could type a response, the employees started kissing up. [Exactly, Mr. Carter. Jared is the company’s backbone now. It’s just a car. CEO Morrison’s decision was right.] [Some men are just insecure. When they can’t succeed themselves, they get jealous of those who can.] [Mr. Carter, I heard you can’t even afford decent gifts for CEO Morrison. Now she’s rewarding a top performer and you’re bitter about it?] Watching message after message attacking me and praising Jared, watching Chloe’s blatant favoritism, my anger strangely dissipated. The greatest sorrow is a dead heart. Chloe continued, tagging me in the chat. [Ethan Carter, delete that message NOW and post an apology to Jared! Or face the consequences!] [Don’t force me to humiliate you during Christmas!] Jared chimed in with a fake, pathetic voice message. “Miss Morrison, please don’t fight with your husband over me. I’ll return the car. As long as he’s not mad and doesn’t misunderstand us, I’m fine taking this hit.” Chloe’s response came instantly. [Don’t you DARE return it! You earned this car! Let’s see who dares say otherwise!] Watching this pair of bitches playing their little theater, I let out a cold laugh. [The wine is worth five million dollars. The car is worth five hundred thousand dollars. Transfer the money by tomorrow, or I’ll see you in court.] After sending that message, I didn’t hesitate. I left the group chat. Instant silence. My marriage had been stable until Jared returned from abroad. He was Chloe’s college junior—her “innocent little boy,” as she called him. When Chloe was pregnant and craved sour food, I drove all night across the city to find it. She complained it tasted terrible. Jared casually shipped her a box of lemon. She called it heaven-sent. Gradually, she came home later and later. She mentioned Jared more and more. Now I understood. Chloe’s heart had left home long ago. I sat in the empty living room and texted my lawyer. [Draft divorce papers. Also, withdraw all investments from Chloe’s company.] After finishing, I stood up to leave. The moment I opened the door, I came face to face with my wife and daughter. Chloe’s expression darkened when she saw me. “Ethan Carter, how long are you going to keep this up? My parents just called asking what the hell is wrong with you! Do you know how embarrassing this is?” I ignored her, my eyes falling on our five-year-old daughter Lily. I wanted to carry her to her room, to spare her from adult problems. But suddenly she screamed. “Get away! Bad Daddy!” The toy in Lily’s hand came flying at my face. The sharp edge hit my brow bone. Searing pain. Warm liquid trickled down my temple. I covered my forehead, staring in disbelief at the daughter I’d cherished since birth. Lily hid behind Chloe, glaring at me like I was her mortal enemy. “You’re a bad person! You bullied Jared! Mommy said Jared is a hero and you’re demon!” “I don’t want you as my daddy anymore! I want Jared to be my daddy!” Chloe didn’t scold her. Instead, she stared coldly at my bleeding forehead. “See? Even your own daughter is disgusted by you. Ethan Carter, you’ve failed as a human being.” “By the way, Dad’s hosting his wine tasting dinner tonight. Jared’s livestreaming the whole thing. If you don’t show up and apologize, we’re getting divorced!” In that instant, I heard something inside me shatter completely. I turned to my briefcase, pulled out freshly printed documents, and slammed them down in front of Chloe. “You don’t need to threaten me. We’re getting divorced.”

Chloe froze. She looked down at the divorce papers, then let out a scoff. “Ethan, you’re serious? Over a few bottles of wine and a car, you want a divorce?” I nodded, my gaze steady. “Yes.” “Fine! Don’t regret this!” Chloe grabbed the papers and signed her name without hesitation. “Let’s divorce!” “Lily, we’re leaving! Let’s go find Jared!” My daughter stuck her tongue out at me. “Blehhh! I’m going to ride in the sports car!” The door slammed. The house returned to deathly silence. I touched the dried blood on my forehead and dialed a number. “Marcus, it’s me. Ethan Carter.” An excited voice came through the phone. “Mr. Carter? You’re finally contacting me! After your father passed, the company has been waiting for you to take charge!” “I’m coming back.” My voice was flat. “Also, notify the group. Cut off all funding to Morrison Enterprises and Chloe Morrison personally.” “Yes, Mr. Carter! I’ll handle it immediately!” “One more thing.” I glanced at the wall clock. Six hours until their dinner party. “Run a paternity test between me and my daughter, Lily Carter. I need results in two hours.” My assistant agreed repeatedly. After hanging up, I made another call. Watching Jared’s preview video for the wine tasting, I smiled. I hope your party goes smoothly tonight. I sat in the back of the Rolls-Royce, watching the livestream on my iPad. The stream was packed—over two hundred thousand viewers online. Jared wore a custom-tailored suit, sitting beside the head of the table like the man of the house. My daughter Lily sat in his lap. The two looked strikingly similar. Chloe sat beside him, smiling tenderly. Chloe’s parents held my two bottles of vintage wine, showing off to the camera. “Everyone, look at this wine! My wonderful son-in-law Jared gave us this! I heard it’s worth tens of millions!” The comments flooded in with praise. [Jared’s amazing! Even the bottles look extraordinary!] [This wine looks like the legendary reserve collection? I heard it was owned by top elites in elite circles.] Jared basked in the flattery, humbly telling the camera. “Thank you, everyone. This wine is indeed rare. I pulled a lot of strings and bid on it at an auction, all to make my future father-in-law happy! As long as they’re happy, it’s worth it!” Chloe looked at him adoringly. “Jared, you’re so thoughtful.” Just then, my assistant sent the paternity test results in electronic version. Looking at the results, I laughed bitterly. The last trace of warmth in my eyes vanished completely. “Stop the car.” The Rolls-Royce came to a smooth stop at the hotel entrance. I pushed open the door and strode toward the banquet hall. Since they wanted to play this game of wealth and status, I’d give them a performance they’d never forget. I kicked the banquet hall doors open. The loud crash interrupted the celebration. Every eye instantly locked onto me. Chloe saw me, her face turning black with rage. She shot to her feet. “Ethan Carter, I told you to come apologize, not crash the party.” I stared coldly at this family of clowns, pointing at the wine on the table and the car keys in Jared’s hand. “Jared, stealing my wine, driving my car, flaunting wealth online—aren’t you afraid it’ll shorten your life?” The livestream exploded. Comments flew past in a blur. But Jared didn’t panic. He gave the camera a helpless, bitter smile. “Everyone, this is the gold-digging loser I’ve mentioned before. He has no skills himself, so when he sees his ex-wife doing well, he gets jealous.” My mother-in-law spat on the ground. “Pfft! What do you mean YOUR wine? Have you ever even SEEN wine this expensive? This is from my wonderful son-in-law Jared, who spent big money to honor us!” I turned to Chloe. “Chloe Morrison, we haven’t finalized the divorce yet. Are you that eager to acknowledge your new husband?” Chloe looked at me with pure disgust. In front of all the relatives and the livestream camera, she wrapped her arm around Jared’s. “Ethan Carter, stop flattering yourself. In my heart, only Jared deserves to be my husband.” My father-in-law stood up, announcing loudly to the camera. “Listen up everyone, from now on, the Morrison family only recognizes Jared Robinson as our son-in-law. This Carter guy has nothing to do with us—he’s just a shameless leech!” “Security! Get this lunatic out of here!” Following his shout, four burly men surrounded me. “I’d like to see who dares touch me!” My sharp command, backed by years of authority, made the guards hesitate. But then a wine glass came flying, smashing against my leg. Red wine splashed all over my pants. I looked down. It was Lily. She still had a piece of cream cake in her hand, which she hurled at my face. “Bad man! I’ll hit you! Don’t bully my daddy!” Cream covered my eyes. I was a mess. But Lily clapped and laughed, throwing herself into Jared’s arms. “Daddy, I chased away the bad guy! Take me to Disneyland!” Jared stroked her head lovingly, looking at me with provocation. “Good girl, you’re amazing.” In that moment, my heart twisted like a knife. Turns out I didn’t even need to read that paternity test. Just looking at this identical cruelty, I knew whose child she was. “Beat him! I’ll take responsibility!” Chloe ordered. The guards stopped hesitating and rushed forward. Four against one. I was forced to the ground, fists landing on my face. Blood seeped from the corner of my mouth. Jared walked over, looking down at me. His shoe pressed onto my hand, grinding hard. “Ethan, do you see reality now?” Before I could respond, the doors burst open again. The livestream comments went insane. [Holy shit! Isn’t that—isn’t that the billionaire who’s always on the news?!] [Oh my god! Jared’s connections are insane! Even a billionaire came to toast him?] A man with a powerful aura walked in, surrounded by an entourage. Jared clearly hadn’t expected such a big influence. After a moment of shock, he became ecstatic. Thinking his fame had attracted this important person, he quickly straightened his clothes and approached with a wine glass, his smile obsequious. “Mr. Sterling! What brings you here! This is such an honor!” However, Mr. Sterling didn’t even glance at him, completely ignoring his outstretched hand. After scanning the room, his brow furrowed slightly. Suddenly, his gaze locked onto the two bottles of opened wine on the table. Mr. Sterling’s face instantly turned to shock. He pushed past Jared and rushed to the table, his hands trembling as he picked up the bottle to examine it closely. My father-in-law, thinking the VIP liked the wine, said proudly. “Sir! This wine is from my son-in-law Jared—worth tens of millions dollars! If you like it, I can pour you a glass?” “Your son-in-law gave this?” Mr. Sterling whipped around, staring daggers at Jared, his voice carrying a hint of killing intent. “You’re saying this wine—you gave it, you bought it?” Jared was startled by the intensity, but thinking of the hundreds of thousands watching the livestream, he raised his head confidently. “Yes! I got this at an auction—” “BULLSHIT!” Mr. Sterling’s hand cracked across Jared’s face, spinning him in place. Half his face instantly swelled up. “How DARE you steal from the Carter family!” “I personally gave this wine to Old Mr. Carter years ago. There are only two bottles like this in the world. What gives YOU the right to touch them!”

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/202606191MRDYHU6jS 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni642246”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

“I have an announcement. Ivy and I got married.” My husband said it at Thanksgiving dinner, with my sister’s hand held gently in his. For a few seconds, I thought I had misheard him. Last night, he kissed me and promised that today he would tell everyone we had been secretly married for five years. Now he was holding Ivy’s hand at my mother’s table, letting everyone believe she was his wife. My mother froze with her fork halfway to her plate. Then her face lit up. “Oh, Declan. Ivy. That’s wonderful.” “Well, now you’re married to Ivy, so we really need to find someone for Olivia. If you know any decent single men, you should introduce them to Olivia.” After dinner, Declan motioned for me to follow him to the balcony. He lit a cigarette, his voice flat and detached. “Remember the papers you signed last week while you were drunk? I lied to you.” “Those weren’t for home purchase. Those were divorce papers.” My body went cold as I forced the words out. “Why would you do this?” Declan let out a heavy sigh and ruffled my hair. “Ivy is just an adopted daughter in your family.” “What if your mother forces her to marry a disgusting old man for business? I had to protect her.” From inside, I heard Ivy calling for him to come home, her voice soft and needy. I watched them walk away together, then turned to my mother with tears streaming down my face. “Mom, I want to go with you. Let’s relocate to Switzerland like you’ve been asking.” My mother froze mid-step, caught off guard. She rushed over and pressed her palm against my forehead, genuinely confused. “You’re not running a fever. I’ve been begging you for months and you kept refusing. What changed your mind so suddenly?” I’d refused before because I couldn’t leave Declan behind. He had severe chronic stomach issues. Without me, he was completely helpless at taking care of himself. And besides, our five-year agreement was almost up. Once we went public with our marriage, I could move into the penthouse with him and we’d have the life I’d been dreaming of all these years. But now he’d kicked me to the curb with some pathetic excuse, choosing Ivy over me instead. My vision blurred as tears threatened to spill over. I ducked away from my mother’s concerned gaze and quickly wiped my eyes, fighting to keep my voice steady. “I just need a change of scenery. I heard Switzerland is full of attractive men anyway. Maybe I’ll even find you a European son-in-law.” My mother stared at my red-rimmed eyes and let out the softest sigh. “Oh, sweetheart. You’re heartbroken because Declan married Ivy, aren’t you?” “I’ve known since you were children that you had feelings for him. He always took such good care of you. I never imagined he’d marry Ivy.” Mom’s words finally broke the dam holding back all my hurt. I collapsed into my mother’s arms and let myself fall apart. She didn’t know that just last night, Declan had kissed me so tenderly. She didn’t know that the simple silver band on my finger, the one I never let anyone touch, was slipped by Declan. Back in my room, my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. Ivy had sent a series of photos, each one designed to twist the knife. The first showed her and Declan having an intimate candlelit dinner at the exact restaurant where he’d proposed to me. The second was them tangled together, completely naked, in the bed I’d spent weeks picking out. I checked the timestamp on the photo. Two years ago. My blood turned to ice. He’d been cheating on me for that long. The third photo was a group shot from years back. When I recognized the man standing beside Declan, my mind went completely blank. My hands started shaking uncontrollably and my phone clattered to the floor. A new message from Ivy popped up on the screen. “Don’t you want to know why Declan was so desperate to marry you five years ago?”

Five years ago, right before graduation, Ivy suggested we go camping in the Adirondacks for one last adventure. She even brought along some guy none of us knew, called Trent. The entire hike, Trent wouldn’t leave me alone. “Are you thirsty? Want me to carry your bag?” His hand kept brushing against my ass, supposedly by accident. I was terrified and kept trying to catch Declan’s attention, but he completely ignored me. He was too busy crouching down to tie Ivy’s shoelaces. When we were kids, a campus security guard once groped me. I didn’t even understand it was sexual assault at the time, but Declan saw it happen and completely lost it. He punched the guy so hard his nose bled everywhere. Then dragged his uncle who worked on the school board to make sure the creep got fired. But now? He couldn’t even be bothered to look at me. I had no choice but to stick close to our trail guide to escape Trent’s wandering hands. That night, I woke up to freezing air on my chest. I opened my eyes to find Trent unbuttoning my shirt. I screamed. The guide and Declan came running. Declan immediately pulled me into his arms, whispering soothing words. I was sobbing, begging him to call the police. But Declan frowned and stopped me. “Olivia, if we report this, everyone will know. Your reputation will be destroyed.” “Do you want tabloids and paparazzi turning this into a scandal for your family?” I broke down completely. Declan squeezed my hand, his voice gentle. “Don’t be scared. I brought you here, so I’ll take responsibility for you.” Right after graduation, Declan proposed and took me to Vegas to get married. My phone buzzed, snapping me back to the present. I could practically see Ivy’s smug face through the screen. “He married you because he was afraid Mom would blame me for not protecting you. And calling the police would’ve exposed that I was the one who hired Trent to harass you.” “Declan had to shut you up somehow, and he knew you love him, so he sacrificed himself.” It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my head. Tears splashed down onto the silver ring on my finger. The night we got married, Declan set off the most beautiful fireworks display for me. Under that cascade of sparks, he’d kissed me and made a promise. “Olivia, I’m going to love you for the rest of my life.” We’d kissed so passionately that night, then checked into a hotel suite. Declan had been so gentle taking my virginity. I wanted so badly to laugh at Ivy’s lies, to prove her wrong. But I couldn’t find a single piece of evidence that Declan had ever truly loved me. My phone buzzed again. This time Ivy sent an audio file. My hands were shaking as I pressed play. Declan’s voice came through the speaker. “Ivy, Olivia is pregnant, but don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.” My heart felt like it was being crushed in someone’s fist. Three years into our secret marriage, I found out I was pregnant. Declan had been so excited he stayed up all night with his ear pressed against my stomach. The next morning, he insisted on driving me to my checkup himself. Halfway there, the brakes failed and we slammed into a guardrail. I started bleeding immediately, soaking through my dress and onto the seat. Declan was knocked unconscious and the engine started smoking. My first instinct wasn’t to call an ambulance but to smash through the window with my bare hands, and drag him out before the car exploded. By the time I regained consciousness in the hospital, our baby was already gone. Declan had knelt beside my bed, sobbing uncontrollably. I’d swallowed all my own grief just to comfort him, terrified he’d blame himself. It had all been a setup. I started laughing through my tears, then pulled out the crumpled ultrasound print. Then tore it into pieces.

The next morning, Declan showed up at our door carrying expensive supplements. When he saw the moving boxes in the living room, his brow furrowed. “Eleanor, are you moving?” I answered before my mother could. “No, just clearing out some old junk.” Declan glanced at me, then walked straight to the fridge like he owned the place and stored the supplements inside. “Eleanor, Ivy asked me to bring these tonics for you. She’s been dealing with morning sickness and couldn’t come.” The words hit me like a physical blow. I knew Declan had been cheating for years, but my heart still twisted painfully in my chest. Just last month, I’d casually mentioned wanting to see the Northern Lights in Norway, and he’d cancelled a ten-million-dollar deal without hesitation. Last week when someone at work gave me a hard time, he had bought into the company just to threaten the executives. Declan’s love was apparently infinite enough for two women. After tucking me into bed each night, he still had energy left over to go see Ivy. My mother shot me a quick glance before responding. “Tell Ivy to rest and not worry about me.” Declan nodded, then pulled out a thick stack of files from his briefcase. “By the way, Eleanor, these are profiles of quality single men from my company.” “Take a look and see if any of them might be good for Olivia. ” My eyes landed on the first profile. Trent Lawson. Nausea surged through me and I bolted for the bathroom. My mother rushed after me, panicked, patting my back. “Is your stomach acting up again? You’ve been throwing up for days now.” Declan’s gaze burned into me, his eyes narrowing slightly. While my mother went to get stomach medicine, he walked over and grabbed my wrist hard. “You’re pregnant.” I jerked my hand away in disgust. “No, I’m not.” But he stared at my stomach with cold certainty. “You haven’t had your period in two months.” My heart felt like it was being ripped apart. I screamed at him and shoved him hard. “That’s none of your business! You’re Ivy’s husband now. She’s the one you should be worried about!” Before Ivy showed up, Declan used to follow me around everywhere. He knew I loved spicy food but hated sweets, knew I never wanted cream on bagels. He even tracked my irregular periods better than I did. Every time I got cramps so bad I couldn’t get out of bed, Declan would skip hanging out with his friends after school. Instead, he’d go home and take care of me. His mother used to tease me about it, saying she’d never seen Declan care so much about any other girl. She’d even jokingly asked my mother if we should arrange an engagement. But then my mother adopted Ivy from the orphanage. She was so tiny and fragile that a strong wind could knock her over. During morning track practice one day, Ivy collapsed and fell into me. We both got hurt, but Declan didn’t hesitate for a second before picking her up and running to the nurse’s office. After that, I stopped being the one Declan protected. I cried about it. I even told him we weren’t friends anymore. He just patted my head and said Ivy was an orphan and needed more help. Strong people should take care of weak people. So Declan forced me to take care of Ivy too. When my mother sent new clothes to school, Declan made Ivy pick first. When my mother packed identical lunches for both of us, Declan would take all the meat from mine and give it to Ivy. He could protect Ivy all he wanted, but why did he have to use me as a stepping stone for their love? Footsteps approached and I frantically wiped away my tears. For just a split second, I thought I saw something like pain flash in Declan’s eyes. But it vanished instantly. Right before my mother walked back in, he leaned close to my ear. “Get an abortion.” “Ivy has always been sensitive. If she knows about this, she’ll think there’s still something between us.” I’d said those exact same words to him once. When we were camping and setting up tents, I’d told Declan I felt insecure and wanted to sleep near him. He’d refused, saying he needed to stay with Ivy. After my miscarriage, I’d begged him to stay with me at the hospital. He said it was Ivy’s birthday and she’d be hurt if he missed it. When I got jealous and demanded to know what his relationship with Ivy really was, he’d looked at me like I was insane. “Olivia, you’re being ridiculous. I only see Ivy as a sister.” I wasn’t being ridiculous. He was just covering his cheating tracks. He has no right to demand that I abort my child. I laughed coldly and pushed him away. “This is my business. It has nothing to do with you.”

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619ZRWcHFNdxh 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni263832”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

A year after the car accident stole my memories, I got married. On my way to my prenatal checkup, a kid blocked my path. He scowled at me, voice ice-cold: “Dad sent me to bring you home. Are you done throwing your tantrum?” I almost laughed. I crouched down, reaching to pat his head. “Hey sweetie, I think you’ve got the wrong person.” He jerked away from my hand, irritated. “Stop pretending. Fine—I’ll let you tuck me in from now on.” I felt bad for him, but for safety’s sake, I walked him back to his house. Outside a massive mansion stood a man—tall, sharp-featured, radiating cold authority. When he saw me, something flickered in his expression. But his voice dripped with contempt: “Chloe. So you finally decided to come back.” He grabbed my hand, trying to drag me inside. I yanked free and dialed my husband: “Babe, I think I just ran into a family of psychos!” … Before he could respond, my phone was slapped from my hand. It shattered against the stone driveway. The man’s jaw clenched with barely controlled rage: “Chloe, quit the act.” “So what if you took the fall for Evelyn and did three years? You weren’t exactly suffering.” “But no—you had to jump out of the car on your way home from prison. Made Evelyn feel guilty for a whole year!” “When you see her, you’re going to apologize.” My chest tightened with sudden, inexplicable pain. My hands trembled as I reached for my broken phone. “You’ve got the wrong person. I don’t know you!” I turned to run. He caught my wrist and pulled me against his chest. Close enough to feel his breath, I could see the impatience in his eyes: “Chloe, how many years in prison does it take for you to learn? Nobody’s watching your little performance!” My heart felt like it was being ripped apart. I couldn’t breathe. Nameless terror wrapped around me. I opened my mouth but couldn’t speak. Then a strange woman emerged from the house. She wore a fitted lace nightgown, peeking out from behind the man: “Chloe! You’re back!” “Where have you been this whole year? You abandoned your husband and your son!” “What Julian did back then was wrong, I already punished him for you…” Julian. The name was familiar. But I couldn’t remember who he was. “Don’t touch me!” I instinctively shoved her hand away. She cried out and fell. “I don’t know any of you! I need to go home, I need to find my—” Pain exploded across my forehead. Blood dripped down my face. The kid had thrown a rock at me. “Bad woman! Don’t bully my mommy!” Julian glanced at me with something like concern, but he scooped Evelyn into his arms first. She struggled free, eyes red as she grabbed my hand: “Chloe, don’t blame Leo. He’s been raised by me these past few years—he forgot you’re his real mother.” She pulled me inside, grabbing iodine and bandages to patch me up. “You have no idea how hard Julian searched for you…” I realized I was trapped. I stopped resisting. Silent, I scanned the photos covering the walls. A happy family of three. Holding hands through spring, summer, fall, winter. The dates ranged from last January through December. I smiled bitterly, pointing at the glaring kid. “You say I’m his mother. So who are you?” “I…” Evelyn flushed, glancing at Julian. The man frowned, his voice sharp: “Evelyn is your sister-in-law. Why are you playing dumb?” “All those years you were locked up, she took care of me and our son. You should be thanking her.” I almost laughed. I turned to Julian. “You say I’m your wife. Then answer me this.” “Why would I go to prison in her place?” He froze. His voice rose: “Evelyn’s delicate. She can’t handle suffering. How could you compare to her?” I stood, pressing him: “Then what do I like? What’s my favorite flower? What size do I wear?” He retreated, step by step, his face draining of color. His lips moved. No words came out. I asked my final question, each word deliberate: “When is my birthday?” Julian went silent. His fists clenched. Then he exploded: “Enough! Stop this!” I laughed coldly, raising my left hand to show the massive diamond on my ring finger. “I’m sorry, Mr. whatever-your-name-is. I don’t know what kind of delusion you’re all having, but I really don’t know you.” “And I’m already married. My husband is waiting for me at home.” “As for my injuries and damages—my lawyer will be in touch.”

Evelyn dropped the ointment in her hand. She stood in disbelief: “Chloe, what did you say? Husband?” “No wonder you wouldn’t come home—you did something to betray Julian!” Julian’s eyes went dark. He gripped my wrist so hard his knuckles turned white. “Chloe, who’s the bastard?” “Is that why you’re pretending not to know me?!” Like a madman, he dragged me upstairs by my arm and threw me onto a bed. “Let’s see if that bastard left any marks on your body.” “Get off me!” I screamed, slapping him across the face. “If you touch me, my husband will make you pay—” Before I could finish, he covered my mouth with his. Julian ripped at my clothes with one hand, shoving the other inside my body. He kissed and bit my neck, voice hoarse: “Chloe, you’ve got some nerve.” “If I can’t touch you, who can?” I sobbed and struggled. Then he suddenly froze. His hand found not smooth skin, but layer after layer of crisscrossing scars. Julian’s hand trembled. He reached for the nightstand lamp. Someone pounded on the bedroom door. Evelyn’s soft crying filtered through: “Julian, I dreamed about your brother again! I dreamed he was hitting me, coming for my life!” The man immediately released me and rushed out to hold her, soothing her. “Sweet Evelyn, it wasn’t your fault.” “If he hadn’t abused you, you wouldn’t have killed him in self-defense.” “It’s over now. Don’t be afraid. I’m here.” His gentle words drifted to my ears. I trembled as I buttoned my clothes. When I touched my face, I felt wetness. I crawled to the door, pounding desperately. Even when my fingers bled, no one came. I curled up in the corner, whispering his name over and over. Silas, when will you find me? I sat alone in that room all night. The next morning, a maid finally let me out. When she saw the dead snake, she wasn’t even surprised—just tossed it in the trash like routine. Julian sat downstairs reading the financial paper. When he saw me, he ordered: “Evelyn wants the chicken soup you make. Go cook it.” “And Leo’s milk needs to be room temperature.” “I’m putting you in charge of ironing my shirts too. The staff don’t have your touch.” The words felt coded into my DNA. I actually started walking toward the kitchen. Only when my hand touched an apron did I snap out of it. I stormed out, shaking with rage: “You’re holding me against my will. I’m calling the cops!” Julian looked up, tossing the paper aside with a cold laugh: “Chloe, what game are you playing now?” I was about to answer when I caught sight of the newspaper. There was a photo of Silas at last week’s charity gala. My voice burst out, excited: “That’s my husband! If you don’t believe me, call him!”

Julian narrowed his eyes, about to speak. Evelyn stood on the spiral staircase, eyes full of contempt. “Chloe, what kind of joke is this?” “Everyone knows Silas Thorne doesn’t do women. Hell, he won’t even get a female dog—only males.” “Plus, our companies have been collaborating. We’d know if he got married.” I clenched my fists to argue back when a sharp pain hit my abdomen. My baby… I saw the unguarded front door and bolted. “Chloe, where are you going?” Evelyn rushed down and grabbed me. I’d had enough. I bit down on her hand, hard enough to taste blood. She fell screaming, clutching her hand: “Julian, my hand—it hurts so much…” The tenderness in his eyes as he looked at her turned to ice when he looked at me. “Chloe, have you lost your mind?!” CRACK. A vicious slap across my face. My vision went black. My ears rang. When I came to, Julian had dragged me in front of Evelyn and kicked my knees out from under me. “Apologize to Evelyn. On your knees.” “You hurt my mommy! I’ll kill you!” The kid swung his toy car at my head over and over. The wound split open. Blood poured out. I swallowed blood and struggled to my feet, trying to run. Someone shoved me hard. My stomach slammed into the steps. Sharp, brutal pain engulfed me. Blood ran down my thighs. Feeling the blood beneath me, tears streamed down my face: “My baby—please, get me to a hospital…” I shakily tried to stand. The world spun. Everything went black. When I woke up, the smell of disinfectant filled my nose. Muffled voices nearby: “Pregnant? Amnesia? What the hell does that mean!” “Mr. Montgomery, it’s dissociative amnesia—the patient’s defense mechanism against trauma.” Julian’s voice was barely controlled fury: “She was pampered and spoiled. How could she have this?!” The doctor sighed. “The patient has lacerations from sharp objects, contusions and fractures from blunt force trauma—clear signs of long-term, sustained violent abuse.” “Her body has endured unimaginable torture. When her mind finally broke, it activated self-protection and selectively erased all painful memories.” Silence. Then Julian’s voice, hoarse and raw: “I’ll investigate…” “But the baby goes. I’m not raising another man’s kid.” Terror seized me. I forced my eyes open but couldn’t move. They want to hurt my baby! Medical staff approached. A needle slid into my arm. Julian stood beside me, eyes red-rimmed, jaw tight. I used my last strength to grab his collar. “Don’t…” He covered my desperate eyes with his hand. I lost consciousness. When I woke again, I was back at the Montgomery house. Strapped to a metal chair. Electrodes clamped to my head. “Chloe, you’re awake.” Evelyn crouched in front of me, smiling with cruel satisfaction: “I just heard from Julian about your amnesia.” “Don’t worry. We’ll help you remember real soon.” I touched my empty, aching stomach and broke down sobbing. Julian knelt, kissing my tears, his eyes red: “The doctor said 99 shocks and you’ll remember everything.” “Then everyone who hurt you will pay. Every single one.” “As for the baby—I won’t hold it against you anymore.” I shook uncontrollably, shaking my head: “No, I really don’t know you, please—” “Do it.” Julian stood and gave the order. The button was pressed. Electricity—like molten wire—shot through my veins, from fingertips to organs. Every jolt brought bone-shattering agony. I screamed until my throat was raw. Blood poured from my lips. My vision went black. Only endless, tearing pain remained. The dam of memory finally broke. Numb tears fell one after another as I whispered: “I remember…” I remembered eight years of soul-crushing pain.

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/2026061994HsyhXU0y 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni821166”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

Jerome had gone out of his way to throw a banquet at the summit of the snow mountain, forcing me to crawl a hundred kilometers up the slope to atone and beg for forgiveness. All because, three years ago, an avalanche had occurred, and Jerome was convinced I’d been the one to cut the lifeline—the reason his first love, Zenobia, lost the use of both her legs. “Just one more kilometer to go. Strip off your parka and lay it under Zenobia’s feet, then kneel down and lick the slush off her shoes clean. Do that, and I’ll forgive you.” A roar of laughter rose from the surrounding heirs and heiresses at Jerome’s words. Bank cards came flying out as bets were placed. “I’ll put ten million on it—she’d strip down to her underwear for a single word of forgiveness from Jerome!” Jerome looked down at me, his voice cold as ice. “You hear that? Just take it off, and out of consideration that this is your ninety-ninth time begging me, I’ll show you mercy and grant you a proper place at my side.” Everyone assumed I’d grovel and obey, just like all the times before. Instead, I rose unsteadily to my feet and hurled the bracelet Jerome had once given me off the cliff. “Jerome, I’m not asking for your forgiveness anymore.” Because last night, my little brother—the one who’d sold his blood and contracted an infection just to scrape together the compensation money—had died. I had nothing left to live for. … “Oh? New angle this time? Throwing things now?” Laughter erupted again. “Jerome, I’ll raise five million. I bet she’s on her knees within ten minutes, begging you to fetch that bracelet back. After all, you gave it to her with your own hands. She’s bound to regret it.” “I’ll raise five million too. I bet she still ends up kneeling. This is her ninety-ninth time begging, after all.” The bets came flying, one after another. I stood at the edge of the cliff, both knees crusted over with scabs of dried blood. For three years, in the name of so-called “atonement,” whenever Jerome and Zenobia wanted a show, I had to throw away every shred of pride and dignity, anywhere, anytime, and crawl on the ground. By now, I had crawled a total of nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine kilometers. Dignity had long since become a luxury. I’d nearly forgotten what it felt like to walk like a normal person. Zenobia sat in her wheelchair, tucking the cashmere blanket tighter over her knees, and spoke to me gently. “Leona, don’t push yourself. The wind’s so strong—if you actually freeze to death up here, what a damper that’d put on Jerome’s mood.” She paused, then leaned closer and lowered her voice. “After all, you haven’t finished paying for your sins yet.” The bitter wind hurled snow against my face. The blood-soaked legs of my pants had long since frozen stiff. Jerome stared at me. “Leona, after you climb the last kilometer, it’ll be over.” “I’ll take you home and give you a proper title.” I pulled my hand back into my sleeve. “No need.” The red string my brother had braided around my wrist had snapped, leaving only a tiny stub of red thread. Jerome tucked the blanket closer around Zenobia. “Zenobia, are you cold? Maybe we should head back to the tent first?” Zenobia caught his cuff. “I’m not cold—I’m just worried about Leona.” “Her brother’s still waiting for her down at the foot of the mountain. Don’t be too hard on her.” My fist clenched tight inside my pocket. “He died last night.” The laughter cut off for a beat. Then someone snickered. “Here we go again.” “Last time it was her foster mother dying. Time before that, the orphanage running out of food.” “Now she’s gone and made up her brother’s death too.” “Jerome, her acting really is getting better and better.” Jerome frowned. “Don’t joke about family. That’s not like you.” I pulled a crumpled piece of paper from my inside pocket and held it out. One corner of the death certificate had been softened by melted snow. Jerome glanced at it once, then flicked it back into my arms with a sneer. “Leona, you’re really getting good at lying.” “Wasn’t it just yesterday that Zenobia’s legs were hurting again? I held off on transferring you that money on purpose, just to make her feel a little better. One day. You expect me to believe he died in one day?” I looked at him, my throat clogged like it was stuffed with bloody cotton. Yes. Just one day. But in that one day, my brother Duncan had bled from every part of him, curled up on his hospital bed in agony, too weak even to cry out. To scrape together the medical bills, I’d knelt sobbing all over that hospital. I’d thrown away every last shred of pride. But Duncan had seen me. That little brother who’d treated me like the whole world ever since we were children, who could never bear to see me bow my head—he couldn’t stand watching his sister beg on her knees. While the nurse was changing his dressings, he dragged his bleeding body to the rooftop of the hospital and threw himself off. And now, Jerome was looking at me as if granting me alms. “Enough. Your punishment ends here.” “Once we’re off this mountain, I’ll arrange treatment for your brother abroad.” Suddenly, I laughed. “No need. There’s no point anymore.” Jerome’s face darkened. “Leona, stop this nonsense.” “It’s freezing up here, and Zenobia didn’t bring enough layers. Take that parka off and put it under her feet.” I lowered my eyes to the parka I was wearing. It was the birthday present Duncan had saved for three months to buy me. He’d told me the wind on the mountains was harsh, and as long as his sister had this on, she wouldn’t be cold. But now, he was gone. This jacket couldn’t protect me. It hadn’t protected him. Better to trade it for an ending than to let it lie filthy beside me here. I crouched down and unzipped the parka. The crowd erupted again. “Here it comes! Here it comes! I want in on the bet!” Cold air rushed in against my skin. I walked up to the wheelchair, folded the jacket neatly, and laid it down at Zenobia’s feet. “My brother bought this. Don’t get it dirty.” Few people knew that when Zenobia first arrived in the New York scene, I had been the one to bring her into Jerome’s circle. When people sneered at her background, I was the one who’d stood in front of her, time and time again. Later, she became everyone’s precious darling, cradled in their hands. And I became the sinner she named—the one who’d crippled her. Zenobia’s fingers curled beneath the blanket. Jerome’s gaze was cold and fixed on me. I took a step back, and a small slip of paper fell from the pocket of the parka. It landed on the snow and flipped over, revealing the writing inside. 【Leona, the wind on the mountain bites. Bundle up. Stop saying you’re not cold. —Duncan】 I bent down to pick it up. But Zenobia suddenly jerked her feet back, as if I’d startled her. Jerome instinctively threw himself between us, seizing my wrist in his grip. “Leona, what do you think you’re doing?” “You’ve already hurt Zenobia once. Now you’re going to do it again, right in front of me?” I looked down at where his fingers were biting into my wrist. “Let go. What I’m picking up is the last thing Duncan left me.” Jerome paused, then unconsciously released his grip. I plucked the slip of paper out of the slush. A flurry of hurried footsteps came from the entrance. The mountain caretaker was running toward us, an old, battered cloth bundle slung over his shoulder. “Excuse me—who’s Leona?” “The funeral home down at the base asked me to deliver this. Said it’s the deceased’s belongings.” Every gaze in the crowd snapped to that worn-out bundle. I reached out to take it. The instant my fingertips brushed the wrapping, a length of coarse rope poked out through the opening.

Jerome moved first, snatching the old length of knotted rope out of the bundle. The rope was worn, its fibers fraying loose, and the inner core was stained a deep, unwashable red. Three years ago, when Jerome, Zenobia, and I had gone climbing in the Alps, we’d been caught in an avalanche and swept down the ridge. When I came to, Zenobia’s legs were ruined. Everyone said I’d cut the lifeline to save myself—that was how she’d ended up crippled. Zenobia spoke, her voice trembling. “Leona, why do you still have this?” Someone nearby let out a cold laugh. “What did I tell you? Only the guilty hold on to the evidence!” A few others chimed in. I ignored the jeering, my eyes locked on the rope. Back then, I’d been unconscious. It was Duncan who’d gone to the rescue station and collected everything that belonged to me. Everyone had been so eager to brand me guilty—everyone except Duncan. He’d kept this knotted length of rope all that time, saying he hoped that one day it would clear my name. “Give it back to me. That belongs to Duncan.” Jerome’s fingers paused for a heartbeat over the dark red staining the rope. His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly—then he sneered again. “Don’t keep using your brother as an excuse to lie. This is evidence. There’s no way I’m handing it over to you.” My eyes burned. “Didn’t you say you’d already gotten to the bottom of this three years ago?” He shot me a glance. “Just because the matter’s settled doesn’t mean you have the right to touch it.” I lunged for it. Jerome hadn’t expected it. He stepped back and caught my cracked, frozen wrist in a reverse grip, the pressure light. “Stop it. The wound will split.” “That was left to me by my brother.” Jerome let go and tucked the knotted rope into the inner pocket of his coat. “It was left to make you face what you did, not so you could keep weaseling out of it.” My hand fell to my side, the joints too stiff to bend. During the avalanche, a secondary rope had wound around Zenobia’s left leg, and the bleeding wouldn’t stop. What I’d cut was that secondary rope. But when she woke up, she’d cried and said it was my fault. All Jerome had said was, “Zenobia would never lie about her own legs.” Then he turned and walked over to her. The wind sent ash from the bonfire drifting onto my arm. I went back to the bundle, crouched down, and started looking through my brother’s belongings. A few worn pieces of clothing. A pair of sneakers with the soles worn smooth. A notebook with the words “Account Book” written across the cover. And a photograph. Duncan, standing in front of a blood donation van, giving a thumbs-up to the camera, grinning wide enough to flash his canines. He was thin to the point of being gaunt, his cheeks hollowed, his chin sharp enough to hurt to look at—but the smile was the same as ever. I pressed the photo to my chest, my nails biting deep into my palm. Don’t cry. My tears would only become their next punchline. I bound the bundle back up, gathered it against my chest, and stood. “Leona.” Zenobia called after me. She glanced down at her own legs, then suddenly smiled. “Leona, do you know what I’ve hated most these past three years?” She lifted her head to look at me. There was no fragility in her eyes now—only a satisfaction she couldn’t quite hide. “What I hated most was that you crippled me, and yet you still get to walk on those legs of yours, all the way over to Jerome.” She lifted her chin, gesturing at the slush-soaked ground beneath her feet. “So today—you’re going to kneel. Get down on the ground at my feet.” “You owe me a pair of legs from three years ago. You’re going to pay it back with your dignity.” The bonfire lit up her innocent face. Jerome stood right behind her, and said nothing in protest.

A thin sheet of ice covered the gravel road, crunching beneath every step. I pushed Zenobia along it. Each time my knees bent, the old, broken-open wounds seeped fresh blood. For three years now, the injuries they’d inflicted on me had split open, scabbed over, and split again. My skin had long since lost its normal elasticity. Jerome followed two paces behind. He had someone bring me a pair of knee pads. “Don’t push yourself. I didn’t tell you to push her on your knees.” Someone hooted from behind. “Jerome’s gone soft. If it were me, I’d have made her crawl while she pushed.” Jerome shot him a glance and replied, his tone neither sharp nor mild. “This is punishment, not torture. The point is to make her remember what she did wrong.” Remember what I did wrong. I’d been hearing those words for three years. The wind picked up at the bend, and I lowered my head, putting more weight into pushing the chair. Zenobia didn’t turn around. She lowered her voice. “That parka of yours—the fabric’s pretty thick. How many times did your brother have to sell his blood to afford it?” My step faltered for a beat. Her tone stayed casual. “Enough to cover a pair of my shoes?” I stopped. It wasn’t anger. My fingers were spasming. I couldn’t keep a grip on the handles. Jerome came up beside me. “Why’d you stop?” Zenobia’s eyes reddened, her voice fragile. “Jerome, it’s my fault. I was just trying to comfort Leona, and I said it wrong, and now I’ve upset her…” Jerome looked between us and said evenly, “Leona, apologize to Zenobia.” Apologize to her? For what? The words caught in my throat. I didn’t say them. Not because I didn’t want to. Because saying them wouldn’t matter. For three years, Zenobia would always strike first, then play the wounded victim in front of Jerome, and the ending was always the same. The one apologizing was always me. “And if I don’t?” Jerome was silent for a few seconds, as if seriously weighing some fair solution. “Then I’ll have to reconsider next month’s winter supplies for the orphanage.” His tone carried a reprimand. Winter on the plateau dropped to thirty below. The orphanage had twenty-seven children. The youngest was only four. The blankets weren’t thick enough. There weren’t enough medicines. The coal they used for heating wouldn’t last till spring. Over the years, in the name of atonement, Jerome had taken control of every resource connected to me. When he chose to loosen his grip depended entirely on his mood. I lowered my head. “I’m sorry.” Zenobia tilted her head. “Leona, you’re too quiet. The wind’s loud—I didn’t catch that.” “I’m. So. Sorry!” I said it again, louder. Zenobia smiled, satisfied, as if she’d finally gotten me to bow my head. When she’d first arrived in New York, she hadn’t even owned a decent coat. I was the one who’d given her my clothes, my contacts, every resource I had. But now—what she loved most was watching me kneel and apologize to her. She tucked the blanket closer and said softly, “Leona, if you’d only been this obedient from the start, wouldn’t life have been easier?” Jerome’s friends behind us were murmuring that I clearly still loved him, otherwise I wouldn’t be this compliant. I pushed the chair forward another two steps. “Jerome.” He gave a noncommittal hum. “All these years, all those apologies—did you ever, even once, actually hear them?” The wind howled. He didn’t answer. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter.” I turned my head and kept pushing. By four in the afternoon, the light was already fading fast. The moment the high-altitude sun dipped below the horizon, the temperature plunged toward forty below. I wheeled Zenobia back to her tent. Just as she was about to go inside, she turned and looked at me, about to say something—but Jerome got there first. He stood at the tent’s entrance, his tone as imperious as ever. “Leona.” His gaze swept over my hands, blue with cold, and my scab-covered knees, as if doling out the last of his patience. “Stop throwing tantrums. If you behave, I’ll let the matter with Zenobia drop, and you won’t have to worry about your brother’s medical bills anymore.” My fingertips clenched tight at my sides. But he took it for hesitation, and his voice softened. “I’ll send people to handle the hospital end of things. The best doctors, the best medication—we can even discuss treatment options abroad.” “But only if you stop upsetting Zenobia.” Snow blew into my throat, and I almost tasted blood. He said it so easily. He didn’t know. Duncan didn’t need doctors anymore. He didn’t need medication. Zenobia, in her wheelchair, gave Jerome’s sleeve a small tug. “Jerome, I’m a little cold. Let’s go inside.” The tent flap fell shut. I stood where I was, the snow pouring into my throat, like a dull blade slowly slicing open my chest. The phone in my pocket buzzed. The number for the funeral home at the foot of the mountain. “Hello, ma’am. Please come to collect your brother Duncan’s ashes on time.” I clutched the phone, my knuckles white. “He left instructions before he passed—that the ashes be handed to you personally. He said he still owed you a trip home.” The line went dead. I looked out into the storm and whispered to myself: Duncan, wait for me. I’m coming to bring you home.

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619YCWfL4XXNR 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni845007”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

In the high society circles of Manhattan, every woman talked about how lucky Sarah Miller was. I married Julian Thorne and became the envied Mrs. Thorne. But only I knew how suffocating the reality behind the title actually was. Every day, I numbly watched him bring home woman after woman. He even fell in love with a “gold-medal housekeeper,” Chloe, and let her set strict rules for our home. She not only froze all my cards and threw away my designer clothes and bags, but she also stipulated that I only had a five-dollar daily allowance. And I wasn’t allowed out past eight o’clock. Even when the hospital sent a critical notice at 8:01 PM, Chloe still ordered the bodyguards to stop me at the door. I suppressed the panic burning inside me. “My mother is having a heart attack. I need to go to the hospital right now.” Chloe sat on the sofa, filing her nails. “Mrs. Thorne, rules are rules. You can’t go out after eight. No exceptions, even if your mother is dying.” Trembling with rage, I turned and rushed into the study to find Julian, begging him to let me leave. He glanced at me coldly. “As long as you are Mrs. Thorne, you must obey the rules Chloe set.” Looking at the man I had loved for ten years, I felt nothing but strangeness. If this is what it takes, then I don’t want to be Mrs. Thorne anymore. … The front door was blocked tight by two burly bodyguards in black. My legs went weak with anxiety. My hands shook as I dialed the ER. “Please, start the resuscitation on my mother first. I promise I’ll pay the fees later…” “But, Miss Miller…” Before I could hear the rest, my phone was slapped out of my hand by a manicured hand. “Rule number one of the Thorne household: No loud noises!” My phone hit the floor and shattered. The screen went black. I stared helplessly at the broken device, tears pattering onto the floorboards. “Who are you putting on this pathetic show for? Are you unhappy with my rules?” Chloe rolled her eyes, pouted, and picked up her handbag as if to leave. “Since your wife can’t tolerate me, I’ll just leave. I’m obviously not welcome here anyway.” “Don’t be like that.” Julian walked up from behind, pulling her into his arms and kissing her forehead. “Baby, who dares to disobey you here?” As soon as he finished speaking, he gripped my chin with one hand, forcing me to look up. His tone was icy. “Sarah, smile.” My heart was with my dying mother, but I didn’t dare anger him. I forced out a smile that was uglier than crying. “My mom is in critical condition. Julian, for the sake of all our years together, please let me go see her.” “She only got hurt in that car accident last year because she was saving you. You can’t just ignore her…” Julian’s eyes flickered slightly. A trace of guilt passed through them. He looked at Chloe in his arms and asked tentatively, “Baby, just this once?” “No!” Chloe struggled out of his grasp, crossing her arms and sitting on the sofa like a spoiled princess. “It’s just a heart attack. She’s not dead yet. What’s the fuss?” “When you brought me here, you promised that everything in this house would go my way!” “I don’t care. If you dare to indulge her, don’t expect to enter my room tonight!” “Okay, okay. I really can’t say no to you…” Julian shook his head helplessly, picked her up, and placed her on his lap, tapping her nose affectionately. Chloe giggled, looking at me with pure provocation. Bringing a mistress into the house and trampling on my dignity as the legal wife. This scene had played out countless times in the Thorne mansion. Seeing the sympathetic looks from the servants, a sense of despair rose from the soles of my feet. I clenched my fists and summoned all my courage. “Julian, let’s get a divorce.” As long as we divorced, I wouldn’t be Mrs. Thorne anymore. I could leave this hellhole.

The living room went instantly silent. Julian’s expression turned cold. A sneer curled his lips. “Sarah Miller, what did you say? Threatening me with divorce?” “When your chauffeur father knelt and begged the Thorne family to take care of you, you weren’t this tough.” His words felt like invisible hands choking me, stealing my breath. Memories played in my mind like an old movie. My father was the private driver for the Thorne family. Ten years ago, Julian’s father was attacked by a gunman. My father took the bullet for him. In the ICU, Mr. Thorne asked him what he wanted. With his dying breath, my father said, “Please, Mr. Thorne… take care of my daughter…” Back then, Julian and I were best friends. At the funeral, he hugged me while crying. “Sarah, don’t worry. I’ll take care of you forever. With me around, no one will dare to bully you.” Unfortunately, Julian had long forgotten his childhood promises. Now, the person hurting me was him. Watching the intimate couple in front of me, I choked back my tears. Seeing my silence, Julian reached out and patted my head, like petting a pet. “As long as I don’t sign the papers, you will always be my wife.” I knew that without his consent, no law firm in New York would dare take my case. Desperate, I tried to rush for the door. Slap! A crisp sound echoed. My face instantly swelled up. “I told you, my rules cannot be broken!” Chloe directed two bodyguards to intercept me. Looking at her smug face, I couldn’t take it anymore. I lunged at her, grabbing her carefully styled hair. “If my mom misses her surgery, I won’t let you get away with it!” I strangled her neck, but Julian kicked me away. My head slammed into the corner of the marble coffee table. The sharp pain nearly knocked me out. “Throw the Madam in the wine cellar. Let her cool off.” Several men dragged me into the cold, damp underground cellar. No matter how much I banged on the heavy oak door, no one answered. I leaned against the door in despair, thinking of my mother’s haggard face in the hospital bed. Finally, the tears fell. Knock, knock, knock. The door was tapped gently. Through the small ventilation window, a rough hand pushed in some food. “Madam, please eat something.” It was Martha. She had watched me grow up and loved me like her own daughter. “Martha, please let me out. I need to go to the hospital…” “Madam, I don’t dare.” Martha’s voice was full of helplessness and trembling. She lifted her sleeve, revealing thin arms covered in crisscrossed scars—Chloe’s “discipline.” “…Thank you.” I didn’t want to make trouble for her. I slumped to the ground, looking at the dry sandwich and bottle of water. Since Chloe came to the Thorne house, she set my daily living allowance at five dollars. Discount sandwiches from the convenience store became my staple diet. Meanwhile, she pestered Julian to take her to three-star Michelin restaurants every day for caviar and black truffles. I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. The wife of a billionaire, living worse than a homeless person on the street.

I suffered through a sleepless night in the freezing wine cellar. The moment the door opened the next morning, I rushed to the hospital like a madwoman. Mom was lying in the hospital bed, wearing an oxygen mask, gasping weakly. Tears poured down my face. I grabbed her hand tightly. “Mom, I’m here…” “Miss Miller, you’re finally here.” The attending physician walked in, holding a chart, looking worried. “Miss Miller, we performed emergency surgery last night, but your mother needs a second heart bypass immediately—it’s her only chance.” “Then do the surgery! I’ll pay whatever it costs!” “However…” The doctor lowered his voice. “Your previous medical team was replaced. The new doctors were arranged by Miss Chloe. Without Mr. Thorne’s authorization, we cannot perform a surgery of this level.” I went numb. Cold sweat soaked my back. The doctor looked at me with pity. “Miss Chloe said if you can come up with two hundred thousand dollars, she will agree to the surgery. Otherwise, she will completely cut off the funding for your mother’s medical bills.” I never expected Julian to go this far just to play this absurd “housekeeper game” with Chloe. He stopped the money for my mother’s life! Seeing my pale face, Mom struggled to tug at my shirt. “Sarah… don’t beg him for me anymore…” I shook my head desperately, sobbing. “Mom, you’re the only family I have left. Even if I have to sell my blood, I will cure you.” Tears blurred my vision. I didn’t see the heartbreak in my mother’s eyes. I also missed the look of longing and finality as she watched me leave. When I rushed back to the villa, Julian was in the dining room, coaxing Chloe to eat breakfast. A long table was filled with luxurious dishes. From French omelets to top-grade Kobe steak. The stark contrast fueled my rage. Thinking of my dying mother, I rushed over. “Julian, why did you stop my mom’s medical funds?” Julian put down his knife and fork, looking surprised. “When did I…” “I ordered it.” Chloe dabbed her mouth elegantly with a napkin. Her look was full of arrogance. “Mrs. Thorne, your daily allowance is five dollars. If your mom needs two hundred grand for surgery, go earn it yourself.” I shook with anger, looking at Julian in disbelief. “You’re just going to watch her do this? That’s a human life!” “Chloe.” Julian finally spoke. “Maybe we should…” His words were cut off by Chloe’s scream. “You’re going to give in to her again?” She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping harshly against the floor. “When you brought me back, you agreed that I would be in charge! Now your wife wants to break my rules with just one word? Then why am I even here? I’m leaving!” Julian quickly grabbed her. “Okay, okay, I’ll listen to you. Whatever you say.” I stared blankly at the scene. My heart felt like it was splitting open. This was the man I had loved for ten years. My mother and I were nothing but tools for him to please his mistress. Looking at the table full of food, I let out a cold laugh. “Chloe, you tell us to be thrifty, but why are you so extravagant? If I recall, that couture dress is from this season’s runway. It costs tens of thousands of dollars.” Chloe pouted nonchalantly. “The rules are for the Thorne family. I’m not a Thorne…” “Do you know how hard it is for normal people to make money? Your breakfast alone costs a month’s rent for a worker.” Looking at the jewelry dripping off her, I lunged to slap her. The next second, my face burned with pain. Julian used full force to slap me to the floor. He then turned to check Chloe’s neck with concern. He looked down at me, his face dark. “I said, no one is allowed to bully Chloe.” Chloe lifted her chin defiantly. “You want money? Go earn it yourself! Don’t play the victim here.” She grabbed my arm and had the bodyguards drag me into the black Maybach. “I’ll allow you out past eight tonight. I’m taking you to a good place.”

She took me to Manhattan’s most exclusive private club. Seeing my pale face, Chloe smiled triumphantly. “People should work hard for themselves. Go serve tea to the bosses, or kneel and shine their shoes. You might earn some tips.” “When you scrape together two hundred thousand, go save your mom.” Before I could resist, she had me pushed into the noisy hall. For my mother’s medical fees, I had to compromise. I knelt on the expensive carpet in humiliation, polishing the leather shoes of arrogant men. A shiny Italian shoe lifted my chin. A stack of hundred-dollar bills slapped my face like a mockery. “Isn’t this Mrs. Thorne? How did she fall so low?” “Ironic, isn’t it? Can’t even keep her husband.” “You didn’t see Julian’s new girl. I heard last week at the auction, just to make her happy, he spent a hundred million without blinking…” Their words were like poisoned knives, slashing my heart until it bled. My mom’s life was worth less to him than a trinket at an auction. I knelt numbly before rich heir after rich heir, enduring their ridicule. But no matter how hard I tried, the tips didn’t come close to the needed amount. My vision began to darken. Between low blood sugar and stress, I was about to faint. Until a pair of familiar high heels stood before me. “Still trying hard, huh?” Chloe squatted down and patted my cheek. “Since you’re working so hard, I’ll show you something. You’ll love it.” I didn’t understand what she was doing. She took out a delicate porcelain box, opened the lid, and used a silver spoon to scoop out some gray powder. “Guess what this is?” A bad feeling hit me. “Chloe, what is that?” She covered her mouth in mock surprise, malice flowing in her eyes. “I thought you two were close. You don’t even recognize your own mother’s ashes?” “Look how pretty. It looks like fireworks under the lights.” She slowly poured the ashes onto the carpet in front of me. “Thank me. I reunited you two.” Trembling, I pulled out my phone and called the hospital. Every second felt like a century. When the voice answered, mine was distorted by fear. “Doctor, where is my mother?” The other end paused. The tone was heavy. “Mrs. Thorne, I’m so sorry… Your mother passed away this morning.” “She had a heart attack last night. We called both you and Mr. Thorne, but no one answered. Finally, Mr. Thorne’s secretary picked up.” “She said, per Mr. Thorne’s instructions, to cremate the body immediately.” I stared at the porcelain box on the floor. Grief crashed over me like a tsunami. That box really contained my mother… Meeting my gaze, Chloe started laughing. “You and your mom are so stupid! I just showed her a video of you kneeling here shining shoes, and she got so angry she had a heart attack and died.” “If you ask me, you two should go to hell together.” “Chloe, I’m going to kill you! I’ll kill you!” I lunged at her like a wild animal, hands reaching for her throat. If what she said was true, I couldn’t imagine how broken my mom was seeing that video before she died. “Julian, help! She’s going to kill me!” The next second, I was kicked away. I rolled across the floor, my forehead smashing into a table leg. “Sarah, are you crazy?”

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/202606196pnKS6hr40 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni214854”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix