Category: English

Five years ago, Christian died in a gunfight protecting me from a rival gang. Now I saw him in the hospital when I having survived the suicide attempt. He had one arm around Lucia and the other holding a little girl who looked just like him. He looked up. Our eyes met. The smile on his face went frozen. His mother, the woman who had called me a murderer at his funeral, was now stumbling over herself to block Lucia from my view. “Elena, what are you doing here—” “Christian had no choice back then, you have to understand—” I looked down at my hospital gown. At the fresh bandages on my wrists. “So.” I said. “While you all watched me lose my mind — while I was swearing a widow’s oath over his body — you thought I was the punchline. Is that it?” Nobody answered. Christian moved Lucia behind him. He looked at me warily. Five years. He’d been alive for five years. And I was the only one who didn’t know. The little girl wrapped her arms tighter around his neck. “Daddy,” she said.

My chest went cold. Lucia hid behind Christian as if I were some kind of monster, yet a blatant provocation flashed in her eyes. Seeing my stunned expression, she reached out and gripped Christian’s arm tightly. The diamond ring on her hand dazzlingly bright. “Christian.” Her voice was soft. Just loud enough for me to hear. “Today is our anniversary. We’re going to miss the show.” I looked past them at the screen on the wall. January 22nd. Their wedding anniversary. The same date Christian had promised to propose to me. The same date, five years ago, that I buried him. At that funeral, his family circled me like I was already guilty. I knelt. I said sorry until my voice gave out, until my knees bled through my dress. You killed him. You should have died instead. Why are you still breathing? I’d spent five years trying to answer that last question. If I hadn’t gone into that warehouse after him, none of it would have happened. I walked straight into a rival ambush. Christian came back for me. He took the bullet that was meant for him and lost his only way out. The explosion brought the whole building down. But he hadn’t died. He’d been alive this whole time — with a wife, with a daughter. My eyes were dry. I had nothing left to cry with. I stared at him for a long time. Lucia kept tugging at his sleeve, and his mother came forward again. “Christian had no choice, Elena, you don’t understand how complicated—” “How complicated,” I said. “Right.” I took one step toward him. He took one step back. “I married you,” I said. “You know that? After your funeral. Your mother gave me permission to take your name. “I stood at the altar in a white dress and held a photograph of your face and swore the widow’s oath with my own blood.” Christian went white. Lucia pressed her daughter’s face into her shoulder. “I thought I owed you my life,” I said. “I spent five years trying to pay it back.” Christian reached for me. I stepped back. “Don’t touch me.” I looked at the little girl half-asleep on Lucia’s shoulder. “What’s her name,” I said. Christian’s hand moved to his cuff. “Nova,” he said. Nova. New life. The name he’d promised me four years into what I thought was ours, lying in bed one night talking about the future. If we ever have a daughter, I want to call her Nova. That was his wish. He’d given it to someone else. I reached up and unclasped the cross necklace from my throat. The one I’d worn every day since his funeral. I dropped it into the trash can by the nurses’ station.

The first time I met Christian, I didn’t trust him. He wasn’t family. Not by blood, not by history. He’d come up through a crew in South Boston, earned his place soldier by soldier. My father had promoted him to Capo. My mother died the night I was born. A hemorrhage during labor — she didn’t make it to morning. Nobody said it was my fault directly. But I grew up knowing it was the thing people thought about when they looked at me. Christian was the first to understand my sensitivity and vulnerability. He was patient. He showed up every time he said he would. He remembered small things — how I took my coffee, which side of the booth I preferred, the anniversary of my mother’s death. So I let him in. All the way in. We were careful at first, the way you have to be when the Don is your father. But my father saw it coming before either of us said a word. My father told him straight: You hurt her, I’ll handle it personally. We fell in love for four years. That’s how long I thought we had something real. Then Lucia arrived. She was the adopted daughter of a low-level enforcer who ran collections in the North End. Small, quiet, the kind of woman who made herself easy to overlook. Christian brought her to a dinner one evening and introduced her around. I didn’t think much of it. The first time I made a concession for her, it was the gallery. I’d spent two years building that operation — a high-end art front on Commonwealth Avenue, clean enough to pass any audit, profitable enough to move serious money. It was mine. I’d sourced the artists, handled the books, kept the whole thing running without a single problem. Then Christian sat me down. “Her father’s in debt to the family,” he said. “If he loses the gallery position, he gets cut loose. And if he gets cut loose, Lucia has nothing. No protection, no income, nowhere to go.” He looked at me. “You’re the Don’s daughter. You can rebuild something like this in six months. She can’t.” I looked at him for a long moment. “You’re asking me to give up two years of work,” I said. “I’m asking you to give her father a way to stay in,” he said. “That’s all.” I didn’t argue. I told myself it was the right thing. I signed the gallery over. Lucia sent me a thank-you note. After that she was everywhere — family dinners, the club, always nearby, always just within Christian’s orbit. The night it broke open, Lucia got herself into trouble at one of the family’s clubs. Wrong crowd, wrong room. Christian went in after her. By the time it was over he’d broken the terms of a standing truce with a rival crew to get her out. She was wearing his jacket when they brought her out. I told him that night that I was done. That I was leaving. He showed up at my door two hours later. I’d never seen him cry before. He stood in the hallway with red eyes and shaking hands and said my name like it was the only word he had left. “You’re the only one,” he said. “I swear to God, Elena. She’s just someone I feel responsible for. That’s all it is. Please.” I stayed. I tore up the ticket and I stayed, because I loved him, and because he asked me to, and because I’m afraid of losing one of the few people in this world who love me.

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619KYi1iNeVgp 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni674313”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

The day I go to have my wedding dress altered, a woman I’ve never seen before bursts into the private fitting room and stabs me in the stomach. “You think you deserve to wear a dress like this? A homewrecker like you?” She tears at my skirt with one hand, and her smile turns vicious as she throws acid at me with the other. The blade’s already buried deep in my abdomen. The pain drops me straight to my knees, but she grabs my hair and yanks my head up, forcing me to look at her. “Kieran Fairfax is my husband. Who the hell do you think you are? Just some mistress who can’t even show her face in public!” Blood drips down my fingers. That’s when it finally hits me. The man I’ve loved for seven years has been keeping another woman on the side. “What’re you staring at? Even if I kill you right here, my husband’s powerful enough that nobody’s gonna do a damn thing to me.” She’s still sneering at me, so confident and smug, but I pull out my phone with blood-slicked fingers and call my brother, Lucian Hartwell. “Luke.” My voice comes out eerily calm. “Come pick me up, and tell the Fairfax family this marriage is over.” *** The moment I hang up, the $10,000 wedding dress starts dissolving where the acid hit it. My exposed skin burns like fire where the sulfuric acid splashed, and the acrid stench of chemical burns mixes with blood as fluid seeps from the corroding wounds. I glare at the woman in front of me with so much rage I could tear her apart right then and there, but the crowd that’s gathered after my phone call just bursts into laughter instead. “Oh my God, she said she was Mrs. Fairfax. That woman’s so screwed!” Sophia points right in my face, her voice dripping with contempt. “You bitch! Still trying to act tough? You think one phone call’s gonna save you?” “The Hartwells? Who? Never heard of them! I’m calling the cops right now. They’ll throw your ass in jail for stealing that dress!” I press my hand against the festering wounds, and hot blood just keeps pouring between my fingers and pooling on the floor beneath me. The rapid blood loss makes my vision blur and fade, then blur again. I glance at Sophia’s bodyguards standing behind her and realize I should’ve brought my own security today. I look around desperately for help, but everyone just stands there watching and whispering to each other with mockery written all over their faces. No one steps forward. I force myself through the agony and lift my eyes to meet Sophia’s. My eyes burn with murderous intent. “I don’t know who you think you are, but listen up. I’m a Hartwell. The Hartwells of Southcrest City. Get out now, while I’m still letting you walk away alive.” My stare must piss her off because Sophia kicks me hard right in the stomach. “The Hartwells? Who gives a shit! You think I’m scared of you? Let me tell you something.” “I’m Sophia Martinez, Kieran Fairfax’s wife, the CEO of Fairfax Group! Who the hell are you to talk to me like that?” The kick tears the stab wound wide open, and blood mixed with pus keeps pouring out. But right now, I barely even feel the pain. Her words just keep playing in my head over and over. She’s Kieran’s wife? Then what the hell am I? I watch her smug face and let out a bitter laugh. Now I finally get it. Kieran cheated on me. The man our families chose for me when we were kids, the man I’ve been with for seven years, has been keeping another woman this whole time. I know this isn’t the time to deal with it, so I push down the rage and say coldly, “Sophia, right? Get me to a hospital now and tell Kieran to get his ass over there.” I see the shock on Sophia’s face and glare right at her. “If something happens to me today, you’re the first person he’s gonna kill. And Kieran’s going down right after you.” The second I finish talking, Sophia bursts out laughing and yanks me up by my hair. “Who the hell do you think you are? Got some nerve ordering my husband around!” She keeps slamming my head against the floor. “Even if I kill you right here, the Fairfax family’s loaded! We can pay for whatever!” My head’s ringing so bad I can barely think straight, and everything’s going red and blurry. She digs her sharp heel into the wound in my stomach and twists it. The pain and hopelessness just keep washing over me. Then I hear tires screeching outside. I see that familiar black Maybach pull up in front of the bridal shop, and something in my chest finally loosens. I look straight at Sophia and laugh. “I already told you. I’m a Hartwell. From Southcrest. My brother’s here. Now, you ready to die?”

“Izzy!” When Lucian sees the shape I’m in, rage floods his eyes. He rushes over and pulls off his jacket without thinking, wrapping it around my exposed skin. He holds me close, and I can see how worried he is just from the look on his face. “You okay, Izzy? It’s alright. I’m here now.” My throat tightens and tears start streaming down my face before I can stop them. Lucian gently wipes them away, then looks up at Sophia with pure hatred. “You laid a hand on my sister. You’re fucking dead.” Sophia laughs like she just heard the funniest joke in the world. When she finally stops, she gives Lucian a dismissive look. “Big talk! Let’s see if you’re even alive in five minutes to keep running your mouth. Get them! Show this asshole that I’m not someone he wants to mess with!” Her bodyguards rush forward the second she finishes talking. Lucian’s men form a protective circle around us and take down the first few attackers, but more bodyguards keep coming. Our people are starting to get overwhelmed, and I grab Lucian’s arm. “Luke, is this everyone you brought?” His expression darkens, but he squeezes my hand. “Relax. Dad’s on his way with backup. I want to see who the hell’s stupid enough to touch my sister.” Sophia watches her guys go down one after another, and she’s clearly getting pissed. She glares at us while pulling out her phone. “You two just wait. I’m calling my husband right now, and he’s gonna kill you both.” The call connects and she immediately starts crying into it. “Honey! Some guy named Lucian is attacking me! He says I hurt his sister and he’s threatening to kill me! Get over here!” She puts it on speaker deliberately. But the second she finishes talking, the voice on the other end changes completely. He sounds panicked. “Lucian? Which Lucian? Where the fuck are you? Don’t move, just stay there!” After seven years together, there’s no way I wouldn’t recognize Kieran’s voice. Even through the phone, I can hear how badly he’s shaking. Perfect. I’ll just wait for him to show up. Sophia hangs up looking smug. “Ha! My husband’s coming to kill you both! He said he doesn’t know any Lucian, so killing you and paying some compensation is no big deal!” She turns to her bodyguards. “Whoever takes them down first gets a million dollars!” The bodyguards’ eyes light up with greed. One of them grabs a knife off the table and charges straight at us. Lucian spins around and pulls me against his chest. “Close your eyes, Izzy!” Before I can see what’s happening, a warm hand covers my eyes. I hear Lucian grunt, and the smell of blood fills the air. Panic hits me hard. I try to pry his hand away from my face. “Luke! What happened!” When I finally see, there’s a nasty gash across his arm, blood dripping everywhere. Then someone kicks him hard, and he crashes to the ground with me still in his arms. Blood sprays from his mouth. “Luke!” I’m screaming now, and my chest feels like it’s splitting open. I’m fine, but Lucian’s shirt is completely soaked with blood. The hatred inside me just keeps growing and growing. The next second, I lift my face, blurred by blood and tears. I grab the scissors from the work table and charge straight at Sophia’s smug face. The blade sinks deep into her stomach…

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619TacKjRUdyi 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni845827”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

Seven years after graduation, Webster Hill and I—Elena Bertie—received invitations to the same New Year’s gala. At the reunion dinner, our former headmaster teased him from across the table, steam rising from the dishes between them. “Elena once gave up her entire future for you. So… when are you two finally making it official?” Webster’s glance flicked toward me. His throat tightened. “I’m getting married next month.” While the table erupted in whistles and applause, he added, almost under his breath, “To Vivian.” The name had dropped like a blade, the air had gone still. Every gaze had slid to me, soft with pity. I lifted a bite of fish, smiled upward, and said, “Congratulations.” Then I went on eating. Whatever had to do with Webster had nothing to do with me. I focused on eating—one bite for me, one for the child I was carrying. My deskmate, Lisa, watched me wolf down rice and sighed. “Well, turn grief into appetite, I suppose.” I rolled my eyes, cheeks bulging, and mumbled through the grains. “That page turned years ago. I’ve long moved forward.” “Don’t act tough. If you wanna cry, my shoulder’s right here.” Her earnestness startled me. I had no idea that my love for him was so obvious to everyone. Webster swapped seats with Lisa and settled beside me. “Dude, promise you’ll come to the wedding.” My fork paused. I had not heard the word for so long. It summoned the ghost of a girl once chased down corridors by spit and stones. I answered, polite and level. “Call me Elena, please.” The deliberate distance made his smile falter. “Elena, if we can’t be… Well, we can still be friends. I really hope you can be there.” “We used to fight side-by-side. Such good times.” We ate together, crammed together, and chased girls together. Or rather, I helped him chase Vivian Kitto. “Sorry, busy that day. I can’t make it.” The twenty-fifth was my son’s birthday. We already had a family day planned at Disney. His eyes dimmed. “You never used to refuse me, Elena.” “You said it yourself. That was before.” I rose, bag over shoulder, and took my leave of the table. “I’ve got a child to bathe and tuck in. Enjoy the evening, guys.” Webster suddenly caught my wrist. Something unreadable flared in his gaze. “What child? Are you nannying for someone?” I slipped free easily. “I’m married. I have a son.” A short, harsh laugh escaped him. “Still the same, Elena, clinging to your dignity while your soul rots.” I never bothered to recall the past. It had never been pride. He had simply trampled my dignity so Vivian could walk on it. “I trust her.” The click of stilettos approached. Vivian had arrived, radiant as ever, claiming every gaze. She tucked her hand through his arm and beamed. “Long time no see, Elena. Sorry I’m late.” “Since the twenty-fifth is impossible, bring your husband to my bachelorette on the twenty-fourth.” That would be Christmas Eve. Why should I gift it to her? I was about to refuse when she turned to the room with a lilting smile. “Surely Elena has let go of the past, right?” “After all, you and Webster practically grew up together.” The words clubbed me across the ribs. *** I was ten when my dad carried a one-legged boy into our house. His war-comrade’s only son, Webster. His parents were crushed beneath their own roof in the quake, only to save his life. Disaster had made him brittle, suspicious. I offered my favorite toy. But he smashed it. “My models are rubble. Don’t bother to remind me!” My parents spooned pork into his bowl. But he sniffed at their kindness. “You don’t have to raise me. Just send me to an orphanage.” He wanted death. His eyes were dim. I washed his twisted foot, steadying him through physiotherapy. He squinted at me, mocking me as the little foot-maid. One winter noon, I tried to support him into sunlight. Yet he shoved me into the freezing pond, and I burned with a fever for a week. In the end, even my parents talked of giving him up and sending him to the orphanage. Only my childish stubbornness kept him.

For five years, I had been his crutch. And slowly, he finally saw me as a friend. We linked pinkies. “Elena, you saved me. I swear to you a lifetime of happiness.” When I shivered, he draped his blazer around my shoulders. At meals, every rib on his plate migrated to mine. The day I vaulted into the grade’s top ten, he was more excited than I was. On that day, he hugged me so hard our fingers locked. I believed we would live happily ever after, just like Webster had promised before. But then, Vivian appeared. She would be redoing her senior year here. With long hair, she had a face every boy would sketch in his notebook. As the monitor, Webster introduced her around the class. When he reached me, Vivian smiled oddly. “Elena Bertie, your girlfriend, right? The famous power-couple.” My smile remained. But his voice cut across, slow and deliberate. “You’re mistaken, Vivian. Elena’s my buddy.” My heart clenched. Stunned, I looked at him in disbelief. Under her measuring stare, I managed a nod. “Right, we’re buddies.” I wanted to question him, but on second thought, I realized he never actually said he loved me, let alone intended to marry me. The whole drama was just my wishful thinking. I drew back without hesitation. He had no love for me, after all. He asked me to help him chase Vivian. So I covered his midnight trysts, even ghost-wrote his love notes to her. I kept my love deep inside my heart, keeping my distance. Then one dawn, he knocked at my bedroom door. “Elena, she turned me down. She said a cripple like me doesn’t deserve her…” His eyes had been road maps of sleepless nights. A sour ache rose in me. I couldn’t help but hug him. “It’s her loss if she said so. If she doesn’t want you, I do. I’ve loved you for years.” His throat bobbed. Inside his eyes were emotions I could barely understand. The next second, he kissed me. “Elena, MIT together, then we get married.” The dean informed me one day. If I ranked first in the recommendation exam, I would secure a guaranteed spot at MIT. I studied like a maniac, thinking happiness was glittering just ahead. But on exam morning, Webster had an accident. A car slammed into him at the gate, hurling him three meters. I sprinted across the asphalt, screaming for an ambulance. The dean kept reminding me, “Ten minutes to the exam, Elena. I’ll accompany him. Just go!” But Webster’s fingers clawed into my palm, blood warm. I looked up through a haze of tears. “I’ll renounce my guaranteed admission. I choose to take the SAT.” In my eyes, no future was worth more than his safety. A month later, as I helped Webster limp into the classroom, Vivian stepped forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Webster, you’re my boyfriend now.” During my bewilderment, she looped her arms around his neck, smiling with reckless triumph. “Since you were willing to take that risk for me, you must come to my send-off dinner.” “A send-off dinner?” My voice came out dry and cracked, as though a fist closed round my heart. “I’ve been accepted by MIT through the recommendation exam. So, yeah, I’m holding a party.” She looked at me, mouth curved in contempt. “And I have you to thank for it, kind enough to surrender your own place for my boyfriend.” I trembled, trying to argue, “Webster is my…” “Buddy,” he cut in, and the word dropped me into an ice cellar. A tear slid free. Webster’s body went rigid. “Elena, you want me to be happy, don’t you?” “Even without the recommendation, with your grades, you’ll still get in.” I refused to believe it and caught his sleeve, breathing in sobs. “We said we’d be together. You promised me a lifetime of happiness…” Vivian shoved me hard. “Stop scheming after my man under that cover of ‘his buddy’.” “I’ve seen your sort before, man-stealing tomboy.” My head struck the lectern. Blood seeped through my hair. Webster tried to reach for me, but Vivian pouted. “Tomboys have a trick for every occasion. It’s just a little cut. Look how she plays the fragile innocent.” With a gloomy face, he took Vivian’s hand and walked away. By the time I came home bandaged, Webster had made an excuse and moved out. Needless to ask whose idea it was. Guess I had lost my mind, still clinging to the pact we made, unable to let go. On Webster’s birthday, Vivian shook her hair loose and slipped her elastic around his wrist. “Here’s my gift. Happy birthday.” Sweetness flooded his eyes. “I love it.” I refused to be outdone. In public, I handed him the present I salvaged from five sleepless nights. It was the old plastic model buried with his house in the earthquake. His gaze faltered. When he shifted his gaze to me this time, something in him softened. Vivian’s eyes reddened, her voice shook. “Give the hair-tie back. I see, you prefer your girl-buddy’s gift.” “Are you flaunting it to shame me? To call me stingy and careless?” The air around us curdled. Her best friend jabbed a pen into my forehead. “Tomboy, what’s your game? Throwing down the gauntlet in front of the real girlfriend?” Panic seized Webster. He swept the model to the floor and ground it beneath his heel. Then, he turned to me, his voice glacial. “I’m an adult. Who keeps toys from childhood?” “Growing up together doesn’t mean we forget boundaries.” Shards littered the ground. With red eyes, I lifted my head. “But that night, you came to my room…” and kissed me. The last three words never left my lips before a vicious slap snapped my head sideways. “Elena, don’t push your luck!” The sting on my cheek was nothing beside the tearing in my chest. Vivian sneered. “Webster in your room? You threw yourself at him, didn’t you, shameless tomboy.” “I didn’t.” Unfortunately, no one believed me. Teenagers were quick to hate when a spark was offered. They branded me the slut who entangled Webster, and hatred caught like wildfire. Stones thudded against my back. My books were shredded and flung into bins. Chair legs were sawed through. Even my silence was reported as chatter that wrecked the class. One winter day, Vivian’s gang poured a pail of filthy water over me. They then locked me in the bathroom overnight. After that night, I burned with a fever for days. From my sick-bed, I still nursed a thread-thin hope that Webster would come. He never did. Then a headline flashed across my phone. At that moment, it crushed what was left of my heart.

“Betrayal for Wealth: War Comrade’s Orphan Abused and Crippled” The article turned the truth on its head, saying my father only adopted Webster because he coveted his dead comrade’s fortune. And then he tortured him, starved him, and broke his leg. The comment section screamed for my parents’ deaths. I explained again and again, telling them the money had been buried beneath tonnes of rubble and Webster’s leg was crushed in the quake. But no one listened. They found out things about me: tomboy, home-wrecker, third wheel. The cyber-storm swallowed me. My father, honest all his life, could not bear the slander. He jumped into the river and never came back. My mother was shattered. The doctors took her to the psychiatric ward. The house that once rang with the laughter of four was left to me alone. The day the college-entrance papers ended fell on the seventh night after Father’s death. Webster texted, “How did the exam go?” I blacklisted and deleted him. *** “Cat got your tongue?” Vivian’s voice hauled me back to the present. She hid a smile behind her hand. “Don’t worry. Even if you only finished high school, we won’t laugh. We’re all friends.” My face stayed blank. “Christmas Eve that day. I’ll spend it with my family. Got no time for that.” At the word “family”, Webster’s eyes lit up. “Elena, how have Mr. and Mrs. Bertie been these years?” “Before the wedding, I’d like to visit them.” The image of my mother leaping from the building flickered across my mind. I curved my lips. “I hope you see them soon, very soon.” My gaze slid to Vivian. As expected, she turned away with guilt, then composed herself and smirked. “So, Elena, no university, what have you been doing?” “I heard you served a year in prison. Is that true?” With a single sentence, the architect of my ruin tossed me to the wolves. But her own hands were spotless. Webster’s face darkened. He stared at me in disbelief. I kept my voice level. “Yeah.” *** On the seventh night after Father died, I spent my last coin on a bottle of wine for him. A mob smashed the makeshift memorial. They snapped canes that held the awning. One of them shattered the bottle against my skull. Blood in my eyes, I snatched a shard and drove it into his belly. As he fell, his phone rang, Vivian’s name flashing on the screen. *** Her best friend lifted an eyebrow. “And what, exactly, sent you to jail?” “Probably got caught brawling with the lawful wife?” “Once a homewrecker, always trash. No surprise if she’s selling herself now.” The same teachers and classmates who had been all polite smiles a moment ago changed immediately. They were studying me with a blend of pity and voyeuristic glee. It was exactly the scene that drowned me seven years ago. I looked at Webster, wondering whether, after all these years, he would finally speak the truth. The first thing he said when our eyes met was. “Elena, I won’t hold the prison term against you.” “You’re still my best buddy.” A sheet of ice slid down my spine. The man in front of me was a stranger wearing a familiar face. Seven years had passed, and he was still nailing the “man-stealing tomboy” sign to my back. I gazed at him icily, then swung my arm and gave him two ringing slaps, one for each cheek. Since they insisted on poking the wound open, I would no longer wait until after the delivery. Webster stood frozen. Vivian shrieked, features twisted. “You dare hit him?” “Parasite! You should have died with your parents!” Webster was still gaping. Vivian’s best friend, Kelly David, snatched a chair and brought it down on my head. Bang. It sounded so heavy and fierce, but the pain I had expected never came. A gentle voice drifted from above my head. “Darling, if I’d known the alumni dinner was this hazardous, I would have insisted you bring the entire security team.” It was my husband, Derrick Doyle. When he looked at them, his mellow baritone carried the chill of a magistrate’s gavel. “Assault, expect my lawyer’s letter.” Kelly, a seasoned street thug, sneered fearlessly. She kicked the splintered chair aside. “Pretty boy, which gutter do you crawl out of? Looking cute doesn’t scare me. Drag me to court if you can.” Derrick’s lip curled. In his circle, he was the infamous “Devil”. Those who talked back to him usually disappeared before breakfast. “Honey, your classmate is… so amusing.” The moment the words left his mouth, I knew the legal route had been abandoned. Kelly was doomed. A vestige of conscience made me pull out my phone to call the police. But Kelly ripped it from my hand, smashed it under her heel, and ground several times. She was even grinning. I sighed. No use healing those determined to drown. She jabbed a finger into Derrick’s chest. “Go on, lawyer, police, whatever, just try…” Before the sentence ended, two men in black clamped a hand over her mouth and clubbed her unconscious. She was carried out like a rolled carpet. Vivian yelled, “Who are you people? Where are you taking Kelly?” I answered for him, knowing he wouldn’t bother. “My husband, Derrick Doyle.” Webster’s whole body had gone wooden. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Elena… you’re really married?” Vivian gave a cold laugh. “Derrick, do you even know what your wife is?” Everyone here can testify, she played mistress, a textbook man-stealer.” “High-school grad, jailbird.” “Just dump her while you still can.” I almost smiled, imagining the scene of Vivian begging for mercy.

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/202606195YSCltu5al 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni283885”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

On Christmas Eve, several of my colleagues received flowers from their boyfriends. Mia, wanting to tease me, said, “Ella’s boyfriend has a PhD in Art. No wonder he knows how to do romance better than any of us!” Two years ago, Noah gave me a bouquet of 999 deep red roses that made everyone envious. Last year, he gave me a photo frame inlaid with countless tiny diamonds forming the words “I Love You.” When it came to gifting occasions, Noah had never let me down. But this year, my phone stayed silent all night. Worried that something might have happened to Noah, I took early annual leave and flew to Engisland to check on him. But when I braved the wind and snow and arrived at the lobby of his building, I saw him standing by a Christmas tree, kissing another girl. *** When I clearly saw that guy’s face and confirmed it was Noah, I completely froze. Noah gently lifted the girl into his arms, coaxing her as she wrote a wish on the ribbon. “Baby, tomorrow is Christmas.” “Santa Claus will grant all your wishes.” The girl’s eyes sparkled as she wrapped her arms around Noah’s neck and said, “Will he really grant all my wishes?” Noah blinked, his hand lightly patting the girl’s bottom. “Of course.” The gesture is intimate enough to hurt. Almost instinctively, I hid in a nearby corner, as if I was the third one between them. Tears spilled out uncontrollably. It was eight years of long-distance love, and this was the first time I had ever checked up on him. Her voice is soft as she gives Noah’s chest a playful tap. “Come on, put me down.” Noah supported her waist with one hand and pressed the back of her neck with the other, forcing her to bend down for a kiss. I collapsed as I unlocked my phone, taking several deep breaths to steady myself. As long as Noah didn’t lie, as long as he admitted the girl was just someone he was fooling around with, I could deceive myself and forgive him. I could pretend I knew nothing. “Noah, who are you with?” A familiar ringtone sounded not far away. The girl pouted and questioned Noah, “Your phone’s been ringing all night. Which lover of you is it?” She turned her head away in anger. Noah immediately raised three fingers. “Chloe, you’re the only one I love. There’s no one else, I swear. “For you, I even abandoned my fiancée and stayed with you here for six years.” I had been with Noah for eight years, yet he had been with another woman for six of them. I laughed at myself as I collapsed weakly onto the ground. Mia sent a message out of concern. “Ella, did you arrive safely in Engisland?” “Enjoy your time, but don’t forget to return early to take care of work matters.” Tears fell in large drops. My colleagues knew I was coming to see my boyfriend, so they prepared a date outfit for me and gave me a delicate couple’s bracelet as a gift. We all thought Noah would be overjoyed to see me. The voices behind me gradually faded away. I peeked out and saw the girl linking her arm with Noah’s, looking sweet, as they went upstairs. Suddenly, she leapt onto Noah’s back, light and lively like a little sparrow. “Come on. Practice carrying me into the wedding room in advance.” Wedding room? Had Noah even thought about marrying her? Then what about the eight passionate years between Noah and me? And the promise he personally made to marry me? I booked a hotel room facing Noah’s apartment. Whenever I draw the curtains, I can see him and his girlfriend going about their daily lives. After a simple investigation, I learned the girl’s name was Chloe Carter, Noah’s student. On campus, they maintained a distant teacher-student relationship. But no one knew that outside of school, they lived together and were deeply in love. The school might not intervene in a teacher-student relationship on paper, but Noah juggling two relationships, with Chloe knowingly becoming the other woman, would certainly face condemnation.

I stood by the window, torturing myself. I watched Noah gently peel her clothes away, watched him press soft kisses to her lips. Two shadows entwined on the wall, intimate and twisting, illuminated by the dim yellow light that flickered through the night. It felt as if my heart were being sliced apart. The pain was so intense I could barely breathe. It wasn’t until the early hours of the morning that Noah finally replied to my message. “I was working overtime in the studio tonight to rush a client’s draft. So sorry, honey. I even forgot to say Merry Christmas to you.” He transferred the money to me, noting it as a voluntary gift. I stared at the glaring, cold numbers, my chest aching all over with a thousand tiny pains. In the past, whenever there was a holiday, no matter where he was in the world, Noah would fly back to my side. I used to laugh and tease him for not being able to live without me. And he would act spoiled, nuzzling into the hollow of my neck. “I’m your husband-to-be so of course I can’t live without you. When I finish my studies, I’ll come back to marry you.” “We’ll never be separate again.” Five years ago, Noah completed his PhD. When I asked about his return date, he said he was not sure. A friend had invited him to open an art studio there, and he couldn’t leave for the time being. Three years ago, I heard rumors that the studio had moved back and asked him when he would return to marry me. He hesitated and told me he had been hired as an instructor at an Art School in Engisland. The wedding date was postponed again and again, and I grew sensitive and anxious. I started to wonder if Noah was with someone else there. To ease my doubts, he would report in with a video call every week without fail. But now, when I scrolled through our chat history, his last reply was from half a month ago. After that came my long, one-sided monologue. I didn’t accept the transfer and started typing. “I’ll come find you tomorrow and spend Christmas together.” My phone said he was typing. But no reply came for a long time. It wasn’t until three hours later that he sent a cute emoji with a message. “I hate to see you worn out from the long trip, don’t come over—let’s video call instead.” Noah clearly could have confessed, yet he still said nothing about it. Perhaps, in his heart, I had long since stopped mattering. I gave Noah no time to think. At dawn, I knocked on his door. When he opened it, he seemed still very sleepy. He thought I was delivering newspapers and turned sideways, pointing at the coffee table. “Just put it there.” I followed the direction he pointed, and a girl’s pink lace nightgown lay casually on the sofa—rumpled and in utter disarray. Sour bile surged in my stomach, and my eyes burned with pain. “Noah…” When he heard my voice, his back stiffened instantly and his eyes snapped fully awake. He cried out in shock. “Ella?” “Yes, it’s me.” The bedroom door suddenly clicked open from the inside, and the girl came out wearing only her underwear, rubbing her sleepy eyes. “So noisy…” Noah’s face changed drastically. He hurriedly took off his coat and wrapped it around her, explaining guiltily. “Ella, she’s my student. She had a fight with her boyfriend yesterday and they were talking about breaking up.” “I was worried something might happen to her, so I let her stay for one night.” The girl’s face was pale as she bit her lower lip and looked at me timidly. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Ella…” I nodded, unable to force even the slightest smile. Noah personally cooked a big meal for me. After eight years, he had finally learned to wash clothes and cook for a woman. But that woman wasn’t me. After the meal, Chloe stood up, saying she needed to go to class. Noah picked up his car keys, preparing to drive her. Suppressing my grievance and anger, I smiled and took his arm. “Take me to the school as well. I’d like to have a look.”

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619DVtROBpbAO 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni695086”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

The day they dragged me back to SilverCrest Pack House, I learned I was supposed to be royalty. Born with Alpha blood. Stolen at birth. Raised in the gutter by Rogues. I expected claws and teeth when I crossed the threshold. Violence. Rejection. Instead, my biological parents—Alpha Matthias and his Luna Vivienne—went still as corpses when they saw me. Their eyes turned wet and red-rimmed. They claimed me in front of the entire pack, their voices breaking over the words. Even she was kind. Seraphina, The Beta-born wolf they’d raised as their daughter for seventeen years. The one who’d lived my life. She called me “sister” with that honey-sweet voice. Taught me which fork to use at formal pack dinners. Showed me how to curtsy before visiting Alphas. I wanted to claw her perfect face off. But I smiled instead. Tried to play along. It didn’t work. Every time I knocked over a wine glass or stepped on my dress hem during training, I heard the Omegas snickering. Saw the warriors exchange glances. “Look at the Rogue trash trying to act civilized.” “She’ll never be one of us.” Poor Alpha Matthias, stuck with that as his bloodline. One day, I snapped. My claws came out. I backhanded a servant so hard she hit the marble floor, blood streaming from her split lip. My mother’s—Luna Vivienne’s—scent turned from roses to thorns. “What do you want from us?” Her wolf was close to the surface, amber bleeding into her eyes. My voice shook. My wolf howled inside my skull. “You compare me to her every single day! You all whisper that I’m crude, feral, not fit to be seen in polite company!” I pointed at Seraphina, who stood frozen by the grand staircase. “She stole seventeen years of my life! She’s been living as a Princess while I ate garbage and got beaten by Rogues! And now you expect me to be the family joke?” I looked between my parents. My Alpha father, towering and silver-haired. My Luna mother, beautiful and cold as winter. “This pack house isn’t big enough for both of us.” Alpha Matthias’s jaw worked. His command voice was absent, just exhaustion. “This isn’t Seraphina’s fault—” “Then whose fault is it?” I snarled. “Mine for being born?” “Choose,” I said, my wolf rising in my throat. “Her or me.” — Silence. Heavy as stone. “Lyra…” My mother reached for me. I jerked away so violently I nearly shifted. “Don’t touch me!” That’s when my father’s patience shattered. His hand connected with my face—an Alpha’s strength behind it. No holding back. I staggered, tasted copper. My cheek bone cracked. My composure cracked. Seventeen years of rage and pain came flooding up. I swept my arm across the antique tea service. Porcelain exploded against the floor. “Everything good in this pack goes to her first! I get her leftovers—the things she doesn’t want! Because you think I’m too stupid to know the difference!” Last month, they’d given me fabric for a dress. Omega-made, simple blue cloth. I’d been pathetically grateful. Then I’d overheard two servants in the garden. “Did you see how excited the little Rogue got over that fabric?” “She doesn’t know any better. It’s what Lady Seraphina rejected last week. Not even good enough for the Omega seamstresses.” The memory burned. “I’m the real Alpha’s daughter,” I choked out. “But I’m just here to make her look better by comparison, aren’t I?” “Lyra, enough!” My mother’s wolf was fully present now, her power washing over the room. “The servants talk too much. We’ll punish them. You want better things? Tell me. I’ll give you anything.” My father tried to sound reasonable. His Alpha tone was forced calm. “Go to the vault. Take what you want. Why destroy the peace of this house over servants’ gossip?” Seraphina—silent until now—stepped forward. Tears glittered in her violet eyes. “I didn’t know… Sister, if you want anything of mine, please take it. It’s all yours.” She reached for my hand, her touch gentle. I slapped it away. “I don’t want your scraps.” My wolf was in my voice now, making it deeper. Rougher. “Everything here should’ve been mine. You lived my life. Stole my parents. Took my destiny.” I met her eyes. Hers were wet. Mine were dry as bone. “I want you gone. Out of SilverCrest Pack. Forever.” The words echoed in the great hall. Seraphina went pale as death. Swayed on her feet. My mother pulled her close, held her like something precious. Her eyes on me were full of disappointment. They loved her. Not me. I looked around at the assembled pack members. Warriors, Omegas, Betas. All watching me like I was the villain in this story. Maybe I was. I laughed—sharp and bitter. Then I ran. Straight for the pack’s sacred well in the courtyard. The one that connected to the underground springs. Deep enough to drown in. I didn’t hesitate. Just vaulted over the stone rim.

Hands grabbed me mid-leap. Pack warriors hauled me back from the edge, their grips bruising even through my struggling. “Let me go!” I thrashed, kicked, bit. “This house—her or me! HER OR ME!” My mother wrenched me from the guards. Crushed me against her chest. Her scent was wrong. Too floral. Not the milk-and-warmth smell I’d imagined my whole childhood. “My Lyra,” she gasped. “Please. Calm down. Don’t do this—” I couldn’t hear her over the roaring in my head. Then Seraphina was there. Tugging at my mother’s sleeve with delicate fingers. “Luna Vivienne…” Her voice broke. “Don’t torture yourself.” She smiled, but it looked like dying. “I’ll leave. I’ll go.” The world stopped. I stopped fighting. Stared at her. She stared back. Her eyes held sadness, resignation, and something that looked like pity. “Sister, this is my fault. All of it. I… I took your place for seventeen years. I don’t blame you for hating me.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’ll go. Just promise me you’ll stop hurting yourself. Stop making Alpha Matthias and Luna Vivienne suffer. Please.” The sincerity in her tone made me feel like a monster. Like I was the one who’d done something wrong. My father exhaled slowly. Didn’t argue. Seraphina bowed to me—a full submission, neck bared. Then she walked to her chambers to pack. — She left the next morning. No ceremony. Just a small carriage and two servants. I watched from my window as she disappeared down the forest road. Did I win? I moved into her rooms that afternoon. Had the servants throw out everything that smelled like her—lavender and honey. Replaced it with my own things. The Rogues who’d raised me taught me one thing: take what you can, when you can. So I took. I also had the two gossipping servants whipped. Twenty lashes each. Then I sold their families to a lumber camp on the northern border. The message was clear: Disrespect me, and you disappear. The pack went quiet after that. No one dared whisper when I passed. But my parents… they grew colder. Conversations died when I entered rooms. My father’s eyes slid past me at dinner. My mother’s smiles became plastic. I told myself I just needed to try harder. So I did. I trained until my muscles screamed. Studied pack law until my eyes bled. Learned the formal ceremonies, the ancient rites, the proper way to address visiting Alphas. I convinced myself that if I just became good enough, they’d love me the way they loved her. The slap came at a gathering of highborn pack daughters. I’d dressed carefully. Practiced my posture. Smiled at the right times. One of them—a Delta’s daughter named Clarissa—examined me like I was a stain. “So you’re the one who drove Seraphina out of SilverCrest Pack.” Her lips curved. “The ‘true’ Alpha daughter.” My spine went rigid. “She left willingly.” Clarissa laughed. Cold as winter. “The whole territory knows the truth. Alpha Matthias brought home a feral Rogue who made his life hell. You bullied the sweet, refined girl he’d raised and forced her out.” Her words were claws in my gut. “You’re the embarrassment,” she continued. “Highborn packs value breeding and education over bloodline. Seraphina was perfect—a credit to Carter. You?” She let the question hang. “You’re just a mistake.” I was shaking. My wolf wanted blood. Clarissa leaned close. Whispered like she was sharing a secret. “You think they just… let her go? Alpha Matthias arranged everything. Bought her a house. Set up a trust fund.” She paused for effect. “This morning, he went to the High Council. Secured her a mate bond with the Heir Apparent. Alpha Heir Rowan himself.” My world tilted. “So enjoy being the ‘real’ daughter,” Clarissa said sweetly. “While Seraphina becomes the future Alpha Queen.”

Finding her new residence was easy. I stood across the street, hood pulled low, and watched a luxury car pull up. Midnight black, council plates. The man who stepped out radiated power. Alpha Heir Rowan. Tall, golden-haired, perfect. My parents emerged from Seraphina’s new townhouse—paid for with Carter money—wearing smiles I’d never seen before. Genuine joy. “Our greatest worry, finally resolved.” My father’s voice carried on the wind. “Alpha Heir Rowan is honorable,” my mother agreed. “Seraphina’s future is secure now. She deserves this happiness after everything.” She squeezed Seraphina’s hand. “My darling girl, if anyone in the High Council mistreats you, you tell us immediately. SilverCrest Pack will always be your home. We are always your family.” Seraphina’s voice was thick with tears. “Father… Mother… I’ll miss you so much.” “We’re not far, sweet one. You can visit whenever you wish.” The scene was a portrait of familial love. It made me want to vomit. They were closing the gate when I stepped into the light. All three froze. Their smiles died. I pulled back my hood. “Alpha Queen,” I said. Voice flat. “Quite the promotion.” My father’s expression hardened. My mother opened her mouth. I cut her off. “I specifically said she needed to leave. I specifically forbade you from contact.” My laugh was sharp enough to draw blood. “But I guess Alpha commands only apply to servants. Not to you.” “Lyra!” My mother’s wolf flashed gold in her eyes. “You’re being unreasonable!” She pulled Seraphina behind her like I was a threat. “She was raised in luxury. The High Council is brutal. How could we send her to suffer there?” I stared at her. “Mother.” The word felt foreign. “Let me clarify something.” My wolf rose in my chest. “I came from the brutal place. The one where Rogues beat children for fun. Where I ate rats to survive. Where I have scars on my back from being whipped with silver chains.” My voice dropped to a whisper. “If I could survive that hell, why can’t precious Seraphina handle the council?” I’d lived seventeen years in filth. Been starved, beaten, degraded. The male Rogue who’d taken me had gambled away food money. Beat me unconscious when drunk. The female Rogue had worked me like a slave. Called me worthless. Reminded me daily I was nothing. No dignity. No safety. No love. And now my birth parents pitied her for having to face politics. Tears—angry, bitter tears—burned down my face. “I survived alone. No one cared. No one helped. But she has to go where she belongs, and suddenly you’re heartbroken?” I’d known they wouldn’t actually send her back to the Rogues. But some pathetic part of me hoped they’d at least pretend. Hide her away. Make an effort. Instead, they flaunted their love for her. Didn’t even try to hide it. My mother looked stricken. “Lyra… I’m sorry… Those seventeen years… I thought of you every day. But I couldn’t find you—” “But I’m HERE now!” My wolf’s howl leaked into my voice. “The past is the past—isn’t that what you always say? So why can’t you move forward?” I pointed at the townhouse. At the expensive furniture visible through the windows. “You set her up perfectly. New house. Trust fund. A mate bond with the Heir Apparent.” My voice cracked. “While I’m just the family scandal. The feral bitch who doesn’t know her place.” A crowd was gathering. Wolves from neighboring packs, watching the spectacle. My father’s face flushed with fury. The Alpha didn’t tolerate public scenes. “Enough,” he snarled. Command voice activated. “You’ve embarrassed this family enough.” He turned to his Beta guards. “Take her home. She’s confined to pack lands until I say otherwise.” They grabbed my arms. Dragged me away while the crowd whispered. Disgraceful. Poor Alpha Matthias. That Rogue girl is out of control. — Back at SilverCrest Pack’s territory my attendant—an old Omega named Martha—looked at me with something like pity. “Young Alpha…” She sighed. “Why do this to yourself?” I didn’t answer. Just stared at my reflection in the dark window. Martha’s voice was soft. Knowing. “Lady Seraphina was raised by the Alpha and Luna for seventeen years. That bond… it doesn’t just vanish because of bloodline.” She moved closer. “You fighting them only makes them see you as the problem. If you want what’s yours, you need to be smarter. Take what you can actually hold, not what you wish they’d give you.” Her words were ice water on my rage. She was right. I couldn’t force them to love me. But I could force them to give me what I deserved.

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619X9njDzSWG8 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni838889”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

For the sake of her sick first love, Osborn Abraham, my wife, Leila Shaw, pretended to be poor for thirty years. When our son, Ward Altman, fell ill and required hospitalization, I, Peter Altman, I borrowed money from every relative and friend I knew. I was only two hundred yuan short of the surgery fee. No matter how much I begged, Leila simply said she had no money to give me. To cover the cost, my mother secretly sold the medicine she needed the most. She gave up her treatment—and died because of it. I handled my mother’s funeral alone. When I went to pick up my son from the hospital, I accidentally found the shopping receipts my wife had accumulated over the years in the closet. Custom-tailored suits, watches worth hundreds of millions, even a private jet… Clutching those receipts, I stormed up to Leila to demand an explanation, but my son Ward stopped me. “Dad, Osborn isn’t in good health. Mom is just taking good care of him. Why are you making a fuss?” I looked at the son whose life had just been bought with my mother’s death, and a piercing pain stabbed through my chest. Leila, standing beside him, said indifferently, “Osborn is well-educated. Of course he needs the best of everything.” “Unlike you. You are just a househusband throwing a tantrum over a few hundred dollars.” “See? I didn’t give you any money, and our son turned out fine anyway.” Fine. Since both mother and son thought this way, there was no reason for me to stay in this family any longer.

After throwing the receipts to the floor, I walked out the door. Leila chased after me and thrust a basket into my hands. “Our son has just recovered. Remember to buy some ribs.” “I’ve already given you this month’s grocery allowance. Don’t ask me for more.” Her face wore that same smile, as if nothing had happened, as if my sacrifices were nothing out of the ordinary. Thirty-five years ago, when Leila’s monthly salary was a hundred dollars, she had happily given me thirty to run the house. But now, her monthly salary had long since exceeded six figures, yet the money she gave me for groceries was still only thirty bucks. She said research at the school was expensive, that our child’s education cost a lot. But she never told me that she actually had so much money—money she had been giving to another man. I looked down at the basket and laughed bitterly. “I don’t feel like cooking tonight. You two can fend for yourselves.” Leila’s expression darkened instantly. “Pete, are you still making a fuss over those two hundred dollars?” “Fine, no ribs then. Just go back and stew a chicken for us. We’ll make do.” After thirty-five years of marriage, Leila had grown entitled and detached. But she wasn’t always like this. Thirty-five years ago, when we first got married, she had told me, “Pete, let’s work together to build the best life.” o what exactly was that “best life”? Was it spending all my savings to buy her books and supplements? Was it me standing on a stool all night, holding a basin to catch the dripping rainwater from the roof so she could study in peace? Before I even turned thirty, I developed severe joint pain. On rainy days, the pain was so excruciating I would foam at the mouth. When I asked Leila Shaw for some money to buy medicine, she only said, “People get like this when they get older. Just bear with it and it’ll pass.” All the while, she was spending two-thirds of her salary on medication for Osborn. I only learned the truth today. The irony felt unbearable. I lifted my eyes and said, “Leila, let’s get a divorce.” Leila was stunned. Then, she doubled over laughing, as if I had told the funniest joke in the world. “Pete, do you know what you’re saying?” “Divorce? That isn’t a word for someone like you.” “Fine. If you don’t want to cook, then don’t. Go buy something for us to eat.” She dug into her pocket, pulled out two crumpled ten-dollar notes, and stuffed them into my palm. “I remember you like that sesame cake. Buy yourself one. And pick up some pizza while you’re at it. Ward wants some.” Her tone was earnest. I couldn’t tell if it was because I had mentioned divorce, or if she actually felt a shred of guilt. In thirty-five years of marriage, this was the first time she had ever voluntarily given me extra money. I stood rooted in the doorway, the bills a dead weight in my hand. When I finally looked up, Leila was gone, the door sealed shut behind her. Trapped in the hall, I could only listen to the distant, muffled sound of Ward’s indignant protests from the other side. “Mom, you shouldn’t have given Dad anything.” “He only dares to make a scene because you indulge him.” “If you ask me, don’t give him a single cent. Let him spend his pension.” Leila fell silent for a moment before speaking slowly. “Your father’s pension has been going to Osborn for years.” “You know Osborn is a man of dignity. If he knew he had nothing left, that his pension was gone after the factory fired him, the shock would kill him.” It sounded like she really felt sorry for him. I gripped the handle of the patchwork basket until my knuckles turned white. Only then did I remember the past. That year, just after Leila had given birth to our daughter, Esther Altman, and was still recovering at home, I had received the news: I had been fired from the factory. Bearing the weight of a new family, I couldn’t accept it, so I planned to demand an explanation from the director. But Leila had gripped my hand, weeping, begging me not to go. She told me to think about our newborn child. To think about my own health. She said she had already finished graduate school, and once she recovered from childbirth, she would earn money to support both me and the baby. She asked me to stay home and take care of the family and our child. Yet it wasn’t me who had been fired all those years ago. It was Osborn! It was Leila Shaw who secretly manipulated everything, letting Osborn take my identity and continue working in my place. But the factory refused to keep his benefits or enroll him in a pension plan. It was Leila who transferred my pension to him month after month. For twenty-five years, I was a househusband with no income. For twenty-five years, I blamed myself. For twenty-five years, I resented myself. I never understood why I had been kicked out. It turned out that it was all orchestrated by the person I loved the most! The basket slipped from my fingers and hit the floor. I pulled out my phone and dialed my neighbor, Rex Trollpoe, a lawyer. “Rex, I’d like to ask about filing for a litigated divorce.”

When I returned from Rex’s house, Leila was sitting in the living room, her face livid as she watched TV. Under the bright lights of the house, I realized that though she was no longer young, she was still as graceful and beautiful as ever. Apart from her graying hair and the lines around her eyes, time seemed to have spared her. I recalled that just a month ago, I had seen Osborn’s posts on social media. He was in France. The man in the photos looked vibrant, nothing like someone approaching sixty. I had mentioned it to Leila with a tinge of envy. “Why is it that when people get older, they can travel and enjoy life, while we’re stuck in this tiny little world?” Leila had smiled at me. “Our son isn’t married yet. Let’s save more money first. Once he’s settled down, the two of us can travel together too.” That day, I had actually looked forward to it. I pictured Leila and me traveling hand in hand in our old age. I had worked even harder at odd jobs, scraping together every cent for Ward’s future, thinking I was building a dream for us. But I never could have imagined that the other half of Osborn’s photo, the part cropped out of the frame, had featured Leila in a flowing silk dress. They wore matching colors, looking like a couple who had walked through decades together. Meanwhile, I stood by the stove in our drafty apartment, choking on cooking fumes. All I could do was ask Ward, who was always impatient, what foreign countries were really like. When I came back, Leila turned off the TV and crossed her arms over her chest, clearly ready to lecture me. I knew she was angry that I hadn’t brought back dinner. If this had been in the past, I would have apologized immediately and cooked a full table of dishes to make up for being late. But not tonight. I pretended not to notice her expression, changed my shoes, and headed toward the bedroom. Leila’s rage spiraled instantly. She slammed the remote onto the coffee table with a crack and pointed a finger at my nose, ready to sold me. But she stopped when she saw the calmness on my face. “, if you’re unhappy about something, just say it. We’ve been together for so many years. You don’t have to beat around the bush.” Her surprise was genuine. She didn’t believe I would really be upset over two hundred dollars. Nor did she believe that, after discovering evidence of her affair, I would actually leave her. I laughed bitterly. “I’ve made myself clear, Leila. We are getting a divorce. It’s that simple.” Now that I brought it up again, Leila flew into a rage from humiliation. “Pete! Ward was right. I’ve been too lenient with you all these years!” “Divorce? What would you even do after a divorce? Can you even support yourself?” It was true. All these years, the meager earnings from my odd jobs had gone into supporting this house and our children. Even my pension had been used by her to please another man. I lifted my head and pointed at everything in the house. “Which thing in this house wasn’t bought with the money I earned from odd jobs?” “Leila, where has all your money gone over the years? Don’t you know that in your own heart?” As our quarrel continued, Ward burst out of his room wearing headphones. He pointed a finger at me. “That’s enough, Dad! Aren’t you just accusing Mom of cheating?” “Let’s get one thing straight: Osborn and Mom are just friends. Only someone as filthy-minded as you would think otherwise!” My fingers curled tight into white-knuckled fists before I even knew it. My gaze fixed on Ward, the very boy for whom my mother had traded her life, and the memory crashed over me. Before my mother died, she had pressed a wad of crumpled bills into my hand, money she had earned from collecting scrap metal. “Ward is growing up. Buy him good food. He needs to build his strength.” I could no longer hold back my emotions. I raised my hand and slapped my son across the face, tears streaming down as I shouted, “Do you even know that just because your mother refused to give me two hundred dollars… Your grandma sold the very medicine that was keeping her alive! She is dead!” Ward froze for an instant, then sneered with cold contempt. “Dad, that’s ridiculous. Just to get money from Mom, you’d even joke about Grandma’s death? Did you lose your mind?” At that moment, the calmness on Leila’s face disappeared as well. She wrenched open her wallet, pulled out two hundred dollars, and shoved it at me. “Alright, Pete. It’s just two hundred dollars. How long are you going to make a scene about it?” “I’ll give it to you, okay? Let’s drop this matter. We won’t bring it up again.” She turned to comfort Ward, as if she were truly a reasonable, understanding mother. I looked at the bills in my hand. Slowly, I shook my head. “This can’t be brushed aside. This… won’t pass.”

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619mStOrlh8qN 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni730185”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

I followed the mob boss, Hector Wayne, for ten years. One day, he told me to protect a girl, Caroline Parker. “You’re used to living and dying beside me,” he said. “Caroline isn’t. She’s… different. She’s innocent.” Then he added, without hesitation: “If you die, it doesn’t matter. I only need her to live.” He once saved my life. I couldn’t refuse his request. But later, when we were ambushed by our rivals, ten years of instinct took over. Without thinking, I stepped in front of him and took the fatal shot meant for his heart. The gunfire sent Caroline into a panic. She ran blindly—straight off a cliff. Her fate unknown. From that moment on, Hector hated me to the bone. When I was kidnapped by enemy forces again, he did something unprecedented. He didn’t come to save me. Instead, he had someone bring me a message. “Fiona, the thing I regret most in my life is saving you back then.” “You owe Caroline. Now you’re gonna pay it back with your life.” My heart completely died. I was tortured to death by the enemy and dumped in the wilderness. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Hector told me to protect that girl. This time, I refused without hesitation. “I can’t protect her. My family is waiting for me to go home and get married.” The life I owed him was repaid in my previous life. In this one, I chose a different path. I would marry someone else, and leave him to chase the regret he carried from before. At my words, a flicker of expression finally crossed Hector Wayne’s usually impassive face. He let out a cold, dismissive laugh. “Fiona Lester. You’ve been with me this long—your reputation’s already worn thin. Who else would want you?” “When I retire and marry Caroline, you can still stay by my side like you do now. Just don’t push it too far. That’s when it stops being fun.” His tone was certain I was bluffing. But he forgot that I have never lied. Years ago, my parents had already arranged everything overseas. They’d found me a suitable man and were simply waiting for me to finish playing at danger and come home to marry. Caroline, dressed in a white dress, walked up to me. Tears filled her eyes as she held my hand. “Fiona, I know you don’t like me. But you shouldn’t embarrass me in front of so many of Hector’s brothers. I heard you used to help Hector take care of many girls before.” She paused, then lifted her eyes. Her gaze turned sharp. “Taking care of me should be easy for you too, shouldn’t it?” There had always been women around Hector. And yes, I had handled more than my share of trouble for him. But they were not Caroline. He cherished her differently. Guarded her differently. I pulled my hand free and met Hector’s assessing stare. “You’re right,” I said evenly. “I’m not young anymore. I can’t keep playing house without a name or a future.” “We’re done.” As soon as the words fell, the entire room went silent. Hector frowned almost imperceptibly. Impatience filled his eyes. Most of the people present were brothers who had once fought impossible battles with Hector and me. The atmosphere grew tense. Someone gave an awkward laugh and tried to smooth things over. “Fiona, don’t mess with us. Boss can’t manage without you. We’ve shared so many years together. There’s no need to make things like this over an outsider.” “Yeah, Fiona. You’ve been with Hector for ten years. We brothers already set aside wedding money for you two. Leaving now really isn’t appropriate…” Before he could finish, Hector casually picked up an ashtray from the table and smashed it at the speaker. After a horrifying dull thud, the man’s head split open and blood poured out. The entire room fell silent. No one dared to speak another word for me. Hector pulled Caroline behind him. His expression was grave. “What do you mean I can’t manage without Fiona? You think you’re all being fed by her?” “The gang can run without anyone. From now on, Caroline will take over Fiona’s position as second-in-command. Don’t you say one more word about it. Let’s see whether my gun’s harder, or your skull is.” I gave a bitter smile. In ten years, Hector had never defended me like this in front of others. Even when the enemy humiliated me, he still didn’t care. To me, he always said one thing. “It’s not like you haven’t been seriously injured before. What’s a few insults? It’s not like you’ll lose a piece of flesh.” Thinking of this, I let out a self-mocking laugh and turned away without hesitation. Hector chased after me and gripped my wrist tightly. “Fiona, think it through. Once you walk out that door, don’t even think about coming back!” When he saw me staring at him without saying a word, he completely lost his temper. “Fine, Fiona. You’ve got guts!” He leaned down close, voice low and edged with fury, every word bitten off: “Since you wanna leave, then go as far away as possible.” His eyes darkened. “Don’t come back and get in my way like you did in the last life!”

I froze for a moment. So he had been reborn too. I hadn’t expected that even with a second life, his hatred for me would remain untouched. No, sharper than before. I stood there in silence, watching him wrap an arm around Caroline and walk out of my sight. Only after he left did his brothers dare to come over and comfort me. “Fiona, Boss just likes something new. You two go way back. There’s no way he’d actually marry some barely-grown girl.” “Yeah, Fiona. Just coax Boss a bit more. He listens to you the most. He can’t seriously let a young girl run the gang. That’s ridiculous.” I walked over to the window and lit a cigarette. Smoke curled around my fingers before the wind tore it apart. “The transition is already handled,” I said calmly. “This is the key to the confidential cabinet. Give it back to Hector when you see him.” I casually handed the key to Nick and turned to leave. “Fiona, so when will you come back?” he called after me. My steps paused. “I’m not coming back.” *** I went back to pack my things at a time when Hector wasn’t home. Ten years left me with very little. The Polaroid we bought together for the first time. The bracelet he bought me after earning his first fortune. The instrument he could never blow properly when he confessed to me. I put them all into a wooden box and burned everything to ashes. When Hector stormed in to find me, I was just stepping out with a pitifully small suitcase. The moment he saw me, he grabbed my neck with deadly force. In an instant, I felt the closeness of death. “Fiona, didn’t I warn you not to harm Caroline? Did you take my words as a joke?” “Who gave you the nerve to poison her?” “If anything happens to her because of you, I don’t mind killing you one more time!” I shook my head desperately and forced out half a sentence. “No, I didn’t…” His rough fingers scraped hard across the edge of my ear, leaving a long, bloody gash. “Fiona, this is the last chance I’m giving you. Get to the hospital, kneel down in front of Caroline, and apologize until she forgives you.” “Otherwise, I have a hundred ways to make your life worse than death.” As soon as he finished speaking, he seized my wrist and shoved me into the car. He drove at full speed all the way to the hospital. In the intensive care unit, I saw Caroline lying on the hospital bed. Her face was so pale it had no color at all. When she saw me come in, she instinctively shrank back. Panic filled her expression. “Fiona, I know I was wrong. Please don’t feed me pesticide again, okay? I’ll be obedient. I’ll stay far away from Hector…” “My life was saved by Hector. Even if you wanna kill me, at least let me see Hector one last time, okay?” I was stunned by the groundless accusation. Hector, however, walked over to Caroline, full of tenderness. He carefully pulled her into his arms and soothed her. “Caroline, don’t be afraid. I’m here. No one can harm you.” “If someone wants to bully you, I’ll bully them back twice as hard.” The next second, his tone turned sharp. He looked at me coldly. “Kneel.” I shook my head with tears in my eyes. “I said it already. I didn’t poison her. Why do you never believe me?” “Fiona, I only care about the result. Caroline almost lost her life because of you. You should atone for it.” He kicked the back of my knee and forced my head down. He smashed it hard against the tiled floor. Dizzy pain exploded through me, unbearable and overwhelming. Again. And again. Hector’s commanding voice came into my ears like a demon’s decree. “Apologize to Caroline. Don’t stop until she forgives you.” Warm tears slid down my cheeks and slammed onto the floor. “I was wrong. Please forgive me.” “I’ll never appear in front of you again. I promise I’ll disappear completely and never get in your way again.” When he heard me say I would disappear, Hector’s face darkened. I wiped the blood that had flowed into my eyes and stubbornly lifted my head. “Are you happy now?” Hector frowned and looked at me with a complicated expression. “There’s no need to pretend to be pitiful in front of me. I haven’t forgotten how you caused Caroline’s death in the last life. I already lost her once. I can’t lose her again.” “Since you’ve apologized, get lost now.” He flung me to the ground like a piece of trash. I looked at him one last time. I braced myself against the wall and struggled to stand. With the last of my strength, I pulled open the hospital room door. Then, before I lost consciousness, I completely disappeared from his sight.

While I lay unconscious, memories of my first life drifted back to when I first met Hector Wayne. Back then, I had been running from a marriage my family arranged for me and ended up trapped deep in the mountains. It was eighteen-year-old Hector who appeared like something out of a legend and pulled me out alive. He wore a black T-shirt faded from too many washes, a half-burned cigarette always caught between his fingers. When I insisted on following him, reckless and stubborn, he let out a soft laugh. “I’m just a street thug,” he said. “Some days I eat, some days I don’t. You’re too delicate. There’s no future with me.” I didn’t care. I threw myself into his arms and said, with absolute certainty, “I’m going anywhere you are.” He paused when he was about to push me away. In the end, he pulled me tightly into his embrace. That year, I walked away from the multimillion-dollar career and political marriage my family had prepared for me. Without regret, I moved into a damp basement apartment that cost five hundred a month and called it home with Hector. The place was so run-down that even a light rain would leak through the ceiling. In that air thick with humidity, we clung to each other night after night. Through countless dawns, he lifted me high enough to make the world disappear. And in the heat of it all, he once said he loved me. For ten years, I saw his hands soaked in blood. I also saw him cry late at night. I became an indispensable part of his life. Until the day he brought Caroline in front of me. Caroline looked a lot like me when I was younger. She was stubborn, resilient, pure, and beautiful. Her appearance shattered the fragile balance between Hector and me. When he calmly told me to protect her, my heart clenched with sudden pain. But he had saved my life. I had no reason to refuse him. Later, during the gunfight while we were escaping our enemies, I instinctively used my body to block a fatal shot for him. Caroline was startled by the gunfire. She panicked, lost her footing, and fell off a cliff. None of us knew if she survived. From that moment on, Hector hated me to the bone. So much so that before an enemy’s bullet pierced my forehead, he still had someone pass on a message to me. “Fiona, the thing I regret most in my life is saving you back then.” “What you owe Caroline, you’ll repay with your life.” *** I snapped awake as if from a dream. The moment I opened my eyes, I saw Caroline standing by my bed. She was playing with the metal wristwatch I had once given to Hector. Seeing that I was awake, she stopped pretending. “I heard this was some kind of family heirloom. Hector treasured it so much. What a pity. I only mentioned that Happie needed a collar accessory for his birthday, and he gave the watch to me.” She tilted her head, smiling. “Oh right, Happie is the golden retriever Hector and I are raising together. You should feel honored.” She leaned down with a smile and whispered into my ear. “Who he loves is already obvious, isn’t it? Why are you still shamelessly clinging to him?” “Was the lesson you got in your last life not enough?” I stared at her with widened eyes. “You were reborn too?” She laughed so hard and then looked at me with pity. “Fiona, you don’t really think I’m some naive little girl, do you?” “If I hadn’t faked my death once in the last life to make Hector see where his heart truly lay, do you think he would’ve had the resolve to finish you off?” “If you want to blame someone, blame yourself for being too much of an eyesore.” I frowned at her. “But you already have what you wanted. I’ve decided to leave Hector and never come back. Why do you still…” Before I could finish, she cut me off. “That’s far from enough! As long as you’re alive, there will always be a corner of his heart reserved for you. I can never fully have him!” “So you must die!” She picked up the fruit knife from the table and pressed it against my face. The icy touch made every hair on my body stand on end. I looked at her in terror. Her smile only grew more unhinged. The next second, she turned the blade around and stabbed it straight into her own chest. The knife pierced her flesh. Blood soaked through her snow-white dress. She cried and said, “Fiona, I know you hate me. I really didn’t mean to harm you or something. I just wanted to come see you. How could you treat me like this…” I froze. Almost instantly, Hector pushed the door open while carrying a lunch box. He raised his hand and slapped me hard across the face. “Fiona, if anything happens to Caroline, I’ll take your life!” He didn’t hold back. The force split my lip and sent blood streaming from my nose. The dark muzzle of his gun pressed against my forehead. His eyes were bloodshot as he said, each word trembling with fury, “Caroline is the one I cherish most. You hurt her—you know the rules.” “This is on you.” The gunshot exploded through the room. A searing pain tore through my left leg. Blood poured out, soaking the floor as agony ripped through my body. I collapsed, stunned, watching as Hector carefully lifted Caroline into his arms and carried her out of my sight. Cradled against his chest, she mouthed two words at me. You lost. My nails dug into my palms until they hurt. I let out a hollow laugh at myself. At my own stupidity, and at how completely I had lost. I had already decided to leave, and yet, somewhere deep down, I had still gambled on one thing. That he might trust me. Even a little. I wiped the tears from the corner of my eyes and made up my mind. This would be the last time. That night, numb, I bandaged my wound. Then, without hesitation, I dialed the number of the man waiting for me across the ocean—the fiancé my family had chosen.

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619JANYXRvPM0 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni620051”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

The engagement party was in full swing when my fiance’s childhood friend Zoe arrived carrying a velvet box. “I brought you something special, Harper,” she purred, her voice sticky-sweet. Out of politeness, I opened the box. Inside were chocolate-covered cannoli. I took one bite. Then another. Something was wrong. The texture. The taste. Zoe and her friends burst into hysterical laughter. “This stupid bitch can’t even taste fingernails,” one of them shrieked. My stomach turned inside out. Shock. Rage. I didn’t think. I reached into my clutch and pulled out the small silver pistol I always carried. A Beretta .22. In our Mafia world, only women of high status are allowed to carry handguns. How dare she play with me? I pressed the cold barrel against Zoe’s temple. The room gasped. Zoe froze, her smile dying. “Harper—” she whispered. Before I could pull the trigger, my fiance Liam’s hand shot out. He grabbed my wrist and twisted it viciously. The gun clattered across the marble floor. Then his hand cracked across my face. The slap echoed through the ballroom. I stumbled backward, my cheek burning. Zoe sobbed dramatically. “Liam, she tried to kill me! She’s insane!” Liam looked at me with pure disgust. “Harper. Are you out of your fucking mind?” “It’s just a joke!” I spat blood onto the white marble. “A joke? She put fingernails in my food and made me eat them in front of everyone!” Liam’s eyes went cold. “So what? You’re not dead, are you?” “Stop being dramatic.” Something inside me shattered. My heart. My hope. My love. All of it turned to ice. I pulled out my phone and texted a number I’d saved months ago: “The wedding is ready. I need a new bridegroom. Not Liam. Just come. I’ll marry you.” It was just an arranged marriage between Liam and me; I didn’t necessarily have to choose that bastard Liam as my fiance! — The room had gone silent. Everyone stared. Liam helped Zoe to her feet. She was still crying, milking every second. “Harper hurt me!” she wailed, though there wasn’t a mark on her face. Liam didn’t even check if she was hurt. He just believed her. Without warning, he slapped me right on my left face. Liam was ex-military. Former Special Forces turned boss of a small mob. Was he serious now? I was a Mafia princess, and my dad would let him pay for this! The blow knocked the air from my lungs. I flew backward into the champagne tower. Glass exploded. Champagne soaked my dress. Shards cut into my arms, my back, my legs. Blood mixed with wine on the white marble floor. “Have you lost your mind?” Liam stood over me, towering. His face was twisted with rage. “Zoe put some fingernails in a cannoli. It was a prank. A fucking prank.” “You pull a gun on her? She’s not a woman from the Mafia world! Not as cruel and disgusting as you!” I stared up at him from the broken glass. He knew this beforehand?

Of course he knew. And he said I was disgusting? The nausea was replaced by something worse. Heartbreak. I started gagging. Retching. Tears streamed down my face. I couldn’t control it. Zoe watched me with satisfaction. Liam looked disgusted. “Look at you. Acting like Zoe murdered your mother. When will you stop playing the victim?” Zoe suddenly clutched her chest. “Liam, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset Harper so badly. I’ll slap myself. I deserve it.” She raised her hand to her own face. Liam caught her wrist. “Don’t. You did nothing wrong. She’s just oversensitive.” I laughed. A bitter, broken sound. I spat more blood and struggled to my feet. Glass fell from my dress. “You call putting fingernails in food and making me eat them in public a ‘small prank’? She humiliated me! Liam, don’t forget who I am! You begged my father to marry me to you! Don’t you need my father’s connections to help your gang’s business?” For a second, Liam’s expression flickered. Maybe he understood. But then Zoe clutched her head and whimpered. “My head… Liam, it hurts so much… I think she gave me a concussion…” Liam’s face darkened. He jabbed his finger at me. “Harper. You tried to murder Zoe in front of the entire family. Are you trying to embarrass me? Everyone’s watching.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “If you care about my reputation at all, you’ll kneel down right now and beg Zoe for forgiveness.” “Kneel for her!” “Then maybe I’ll forget this happened.” My heart turned to stone. Zoe spoke up again, her voice saccharine. “Liam, even if Harper bows, everyone will know you forced her.” “How about this—make her eat all the cannoli.” “Then everyone will see how forgiving she is.” Liam’s eyes lit up. “Perfect.” He snapped his fingers. “Hold her down.” Four of his men grabbed me. They forced me to my knees on the blood-soaked floor. Liam pried open my jaw. He shoved cannoli after cannoli into my mouth. I choked. I gagged. I couldn’t breathe. But he didn’t stop. Not until the box was empty. Finally, he released me. I collapsed on the floor, vomiting. Liam stood over me, his voice cold and emotionless. “You embarrassed Zoe. You ruined my night.” “I don’t feel like marrying you today.” “Starting tomorrow, you’ll kneel in our room. Every day.” “When I’ve forgiven you, we’ll talk about the wedding.” He turned to leave with Zoe on his arm. I forced myself to speak. “Liam.” He stopped. “If you’re going to protect that woman over me, then this marriage is off.” “Forever.”

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619NlTTRX5hnY 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni327714”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

I stared at the patent application for the anti-cancer drug I’d spent five years developing. The name in the inventor column made my blood run cold. Ryan Brooks. Not Dr. Julian Vance. Not the oncologist who’d sacrificed countless nights, missed family gatherings, and poured his soul into this research. Ryan Brooks. A medical resident who’d been at Sterling Memorial Hospital for barely six months. I stormed into my wife’s office, patent application clutched in my fist. Elena Sterling sat behind her desk, perfectly composed in her CEO power suit. She didn’t even look up from her laptop. “Elena, what the hell is this?” She glanced at the paper, then back to her screen. “Oh, that. I had Ryan submit it under his name. What’s the problem?” “What’s the problem?” I could barely keep my voice steady. “This is my research. Five years of my life. You put his name on it?” “Ryan needs this, Julian.” Her tone was casual, dismissive. “He’s young, ambitious. This kind of breakthrough will launch his career.” “Launch his career? This is intellectual property theft!” “Don’t be so dramatic.” She finally looked at me, her expression cold. “Can’t you stop being so petty for once? Give the new generation a chance.” “Petty? This is academic fraud, Elena. This could destroy both of our careers—” “Effective immediately, you’re relieved of your position as Department Head of Oncology.” Her words cut like a scalpel. “Report to General Logistics and Maintenance. You’ll be reassigned to janitorial duties.” The room spun. “You’re demoting me to… you’re making me a janitor?” “Maybe some time cleaning toilets will teach you about humility and teamwork.” She returned to her laptop. “We’re done here.” I walked out in a daze. My phone buzzed—a notification from Instagram. Ryan Brooks had posted a new photo. The image showed two hands intertwined on white sheets.One hand wore a wedding ring. I recognized that ring instantly—the custom-designed platinum band with microscopic engravings I’d commissioned for our fifth anniversary. There was only one in the world. The caption read: “My boss. My lover. ❤️” I didn’t hesitate. I liked the post and commented: “Congratulations to you and CEO Sterling. Wishing you a lifetime of happiness together.” The next day, they announced Ryan’s promotion to Department Head at the morning meeting. I showed up with two envelopes. The first was a lawyer’s letter citing intellectual property theft and demanding a full investigation. The second was a divorce petition with Elena’s signature from a month ago—she’d signed it without reading, too eager to rush off to check on Ryan’s parents’ blood pressure. I slammed both documents on the conference table and walked out. On my way to the parking lot, I sent my father a text: “Pull the investment. All of it.”

My phone vibrated. The restaurant hostess calling to confirm my reservation. “Dr. Vance, we’re confirming your party of two for seven PM this evening.” I looked at the empty seat across from me at the coffee shop. Elena was supposed to join me tonight to celebrate the patent filing. That plan died the moment I saw Ryan’s name on the application. “Change it to a table for one.” I ended the call. Another notification popped up—a video in the hospital’s staff group chat. Ryan’s face filled the screen, eyes red and glistening with theatrical tears. “Dr. Vance, I’m so sorry you misunderstood. That Instagram post was about my girlfriend. I thought CEO Sterling’s ring design was beautiful, so I had a replica made for her. I should have told you first. Please forgive me.” Below his video, Elena had commented: “No apologies needed, Ryan. Small minds see corruption everywhere.” The group chat exploded with ass-kissing responses. “We never doubted you for a second, Ryan!” “Some people are just too insecure to handle young talent.” “Dr. Brooks and CEO Sterling are beyond reproach. Certain individuals need to check their jealousy.” I almost laughed. Everyone at Sterling Memorial knew about Elena and Ryan’s “mentorship.” These hypocrites were just hedging their bets with the person who controlled their paychecks. From Department Head to janitor in one day. How could I compete with the CEO and her boy toy? I didn’t bother replying in the chat. Instead, I opened my desk drawer and pulled out the divorce papers. Elena had signed them a month ago without reading—she’d been in a rush to accompany Ryan to his parents’ house for a “routine check-up.” When did Ryan’s needs become more important than our marriage? Didn’t matter now. This farce was over. My phone rang again. Elena’s name flashed on the screen. She’d called ten times already. Part of me wondered if she’d finally realized how badly she’d screwed up. Maybe she wanted to apologize. I answered. “Where the hell are you, Julian?” Her voice dripped with fury. “Do you know what time it is? You’re AWOL. Get back to the hospital immediately!” My brief flicker of hope died. “AWOL? Elena, you demoted me to janitorial staff. I don’t have a shift today. Your new Department Head, Dr. Brooks, is supposed to be on call.” Silence on her end. She clearly hadn’t expected me to push back. “The night shift is understaffed. Ryan has a family emergency. I need you to cover.” Of course. She’d forgotten about our dinner reservation. Or maybe she’d never bothered to listen when I told her about it. “Dr. Brooks has an emergency, and you need coverage?” I kept my voice level. “Perhaps you should handle it personally. After all, you’re his boss and his lover. Isn’t that what his post said?” “Julian, you—” I hung up and blocked her number. I checked the time. My restaurant reservation was in twenty minutes. I gathered my things and headed out. The restaurant was elegant and quiet.I sat alone at my table, surrounded by dishes I’d ordered for two. The irony wasn’t lost on me. How many years had I believed we were unshakeable? That our relationship would never fall victim to something as cliché as an affair? Then Ryan Brooks showed up, and everything changed. I’d hoped the novelty would wear off. That Elena would remember what we’d built together. I was a fool. I picked up my chopsticks, tried to eat. The food tasted like ash. Through the thin wall separating the private dining rooms, I heard champagne glasses clinking and voices raised in celebration. “Congratulations to Dr. Brooks on his breakthrough anti-cancer drug development!”

I gripped my fork so hard my knuckles went white. The voices next door grew louder, more exuberant. “Dr. Brooks, you’re a prodigy! This kind of achievement at your age—unprecedented!” “CEO Sterling, you have an incredible eye for talent. Promoting Dr. Brooks was a masterstroke!” “Hey, where’s Dr. Vance tonight?” someone asked. “I heard CEO Sterling reassigned him to…janitorial duties?” The speaker lowered their voice, but the contempt was clear. “Probably too embarrassed to show his face. Can’t handle the competition.” “Good riddance. Let’s not ruin the mood talking about jealous has-beens.” I heard Elena’s voice, warm and affectionate in a way she hadn’t spoken to me in months. “Ryan, don’t let the pressure get to you. This success is yours. You earned it.” “Thank you, Elena.” Ryan’s voice oozed false modesty. “I couldn’t have done it without your support. This achievement belongs to everyone here!” The food in front of me looked delicious. My stomach churned with nausea. I dropped my fork. The clatter echoed in my empty room. I couldn’t stay here another second. I pushed back from the table and headed for the exit. As I rounded the corner, the bathroom door opened. Elena stepped out, her face flushed from wine. She froze when she saw me. “Julian?” Her eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here? Are you following me?” Following her. Of course that’s what she’d think. “Your imagination is working overtime, Elena.” I turned to face her fully. “You forgot. This time, this place—this was supposed to be MY celebration dinner. The one you scheduled with me two weeks ago.” Her expression crumbled. A flash of panic and embarrassment crossed her face. “I’ve been swamped with work. I forgot about—look, Ryan really needed this patent to establish himself. The hospital needed a young success story to showcase. The research would have brought prestige regardless of whose name was on it. As long as I knew the truth, what’s the harm?” She took a step toward me, her voice softening. “Julian, I know you’re upset. But think about the bigger picture. Once things calm down, I’ll reinstate you as Department H—” “Don’t bother.” I cut her off, “Keep the position. Keep the patent. You and your protégé Ryan deserve each other.” Shock flickered across her face. She’d expected me to cave, to swallow my pride for the sake of our marriage and her precious “bigger picture.” “Julian! Stop being so childish! I’m trying to give you an out here—” Her phone rang. She glanced at the screen. Her entire demeanor shifted in an instant—the anger and impatience vanished, replaced by warmth and concern. “Hey, Ryan. I’ll be right there…” Her voice turned syrupy sweet. “Don’t worry, I’m just outside. You can’t survive five minutes without me? Silly boy… okay, okay, I’m coming now.” She turned toward the private room without another glance at me. As if I’d ceased to exist the moment Ryan’s name appeared on her screen. “Wait for me, sweetheart. I’ll be right there.” The hallway fell silent. I was alone again. I looked at the closed door of their celebration one last time. Then I walked out of the restaurant and didn’t look back. My phone buzzed. A message from my doctoral advisor, Dr. Marcus Johnson . “Julian, please tell me you haven’t submitted that patent application. There’s a critical flaw in the compound interaction data.”

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619MVbeirsCG5 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni697200”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” That’s what I heard when I opened the door to my own house. My husband-Gavin kissing a 21-year-old girl deeply. Three hours ago, this man canceled our anniversary trip to take care of his sick mother. Now he’s taking care of a different girl. So where’s his mother—the one who’s been dead for three months? **** Three hours earlier at the airport, Gavin’s phone buzzed just as we were about to board to enjoy our wedding anniversary trip. “Babe, I’m so sorry. My mom’s sick. I need to go back. Can’t make this trip.” I was disappointed. But his mom came first. I said okay. Gavin left. I tore up the ticket. Then I remembered—his mom died three months ago. Time to see what kind of “sick” a dead woman gets. I followed Gavin’s car. All the way to our house. I didn’t get out. I checked my phone instead. Tiffany,our housekeeper’s daughter was blasting Instagram stories. [Best 21st birthday EVER. Thank you for spoiling me rotten. ❤️] The photo: White lace dress. Leaning into a man’s chest. The man was my devoted husband. I cracked my knuckles. Got out. Walked to the door and opened it. Balloons everywhere. A dozen people crowding around two persons in the center. They were chanting,”Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Gavin grabbed Tiffany’s waist and kissed her. The crowd went wild. When they finally broke apart, Gavin was still stroking her lips with his thumb. Then he looked up. And saw me standing in the front row. His eyes went wide. He shoved Tiffany back. I was faster. Slap. Slap. Two clean hits across his face. The room went silent. Tiffany spun around. Saw me. Screamed. Grabbed Gavin’s arm and hid behind him. I smiled. “Didn’t know you had a new mom, Gavin.”

He stammered. Tried to explain. A girl with short hair shoved me hard. “Who the hell are you? You can’t just barge into someone’s house and hit people! Apologize to Tiffany’s boyfriend. Now.” The others joined in,”Yeah, assault is illegal. She should apologize. Or we call the cops.” “I bet she has priors. Who knows what she’ll do next?” “How did this psycho even get in here? Does she know who she just hit?” I looked at them. Smiled wider. Then turned to Gavin. “You think I shouldn’t have slapped you?” Gavin licked his lips. Started to speak. Tiffany tugged his sleeve. Shook her head. I saw it all. Curious what game they’d play. Gavin glared at me. “Scarlett, what the hell is wrong with you? It’s Tiffany’s birthday. Whatever you want to say, say it later. Stop embarrassing yourself. Get out!” Protecting his mistress in front of her friends. How sweet. I laughed. Cold. “Get out? Are you two hiding something?” Tiffany started crying. “Scarlett, I know you’ve always had a crush on Gavin. I know it hurts to see us together. But love is mutual. Gavin loves me. We’ve been together for two years. He promised to marry me after I graduate. Please stop chasing him.” Gavin’s face twitched. He didn’t expect her to say that. He glanced at me. I froze. We’d been married for two years and one month. They’d been together for two years. He cheated one month after our wedding. And hired Mrs. Higgins as our housekeeper just to move Tiffany in. Two years. I’d been played for two years. The short-haired girl spoke again. “Oh my God. You’re the housekeeper who has a crush on Tiffany’s boyfriend. Pathetic. Trying to steal him in public?” I laughed. Actually laughed. “Tiffany, still dreaming? What makes you think you’re worth me working as your maid?”

Before I could say another word, someone threw a drink in my face. The short-haired girl held an empty glass. Smirking. “You’re the one who needs to wake up!” “We all know who Tiffany is. Her mom runs a huge business. Her boyfriend owns a company. This whole villa is hers.” “And you? Look at what you’re wearing. Cheap knockoffs. No brand labels. You’re only good for scrubbing floors.” Cheap knockoffs? My clothes had no labels because they were custom couture. Hand-designed by masters. The other girls piled on, “Exactly. Apologize to Tiffany. Or you’ll lose your job too.” A guy spoke up. Sleazy tone: “Lady, you’re way too old to be competing with Tiffany. If you’re that desperate for a man, I can help. I’ve never tried someone in their thirties. One hundred dollars for the night?” Everyone laughed. I wiped the drink off my face. Stared at Gavin. “Gavin. I’m your wife. You’re going to stand there and let them insult me for your mistress? Don’t you dare regret this.” Gavin’s face was ice. “Tiffany’s my girlfriend. You brought this on yourself.” Vague. Cowardly. Tiffany stood taller. Seeing all her friends back her up, seeing Gavin on her side, she got bold. “Scarlett, I call you that because you’re older. But don’t forget your place. You can throw tantrums at home all you want. I don’t care if you disrespect me today. But Gavin is a man. All these people are watching. He’s a CEO. You slapped him in public. Did you think about his feelings?” She turned to Gavin. Voice soft. “Gavin, I may be young, but I know how to protect my man. I give you respect in public. Unlike… some people.” Double meaning. Hitting his ego. His insecurity. I laughed coldly. “You’re right. I forgot to slap you.” I grabbed her hair. Slap. Slap. Two hard hits across her face. Tiffany screamed. Covered her cheek. Sobbing. “You hit me! I won’t let you get away with this!” “Keep barking.” I raised my hand again. Gavin grabbed my wrist. Shoved me hard. I stumbled backward into the champagne tower. Crashed to the floor. Glass shards buried in my palm. Gavin didn’t even look at me. He pulled Tiffany into his arms. “Scarlett. Apologize to Tiffany. Now.” I stared at my bleeding hand. Bit down on the pain. Pulled the glass out piece by piece. Two years of marriage. Like glass shards. Cutting into me. Tiffany smiled at me from his arms. Triumphant. My voice went cold. “Gavin. You threw a birthday party for your mistress in my house. You cheated on me and now you want me to apologize to her? Are you brain-dead? Or do you think I’m a pushover? Don’t forget, I’m your legal wife. I gave you everything. I can take it all back. I can make you a broke nobody.”

Gavin’s eyes flickered. Tiffany jumped in first. “Scarlett, Gavin built his company with his own hard work and talent. He earned his wealth through his own ability. Don’t act like you helped him.” He couldn’t even read a basic business project. Talent? When he started his company, I gave him $100,000 from my family. I got him million-dollar contracts from my dad’s company. I didn’t want to hurt his pride, so I secretly transferred top managers from my dad’s firm to Gavin’s startup. He thought he was a genius. Why else would industry elites join his tiny company? It was all me. Without me, he’d never have gone from a startup to a company about to go public in two years. The guests started whispering, “She said this is her house. That Tiffany’s the mistress. Think it’s true?” “Maybe. The guy’s way older than Tiffany. I always said something was off.” “But he’s protecting her. Would a cheater be this bold?” “Let’s just watch. We’ll find out.” The short-haired girl snapped, “Stop speculating! This is Tiffany’s house. I’ve been here dozens of times. I’ve seen them sleep in the master bedroom. I’ve even met her mom. A real socialite.” I understood now. They’d been rolling around in my bed. Disgusting. Tiffany flashed the diamond ring on her finger. “This is my house. Everyone here can confirm it. You’re the one who should leave. Gavin, I don’t want to see her. Make her go.” Gavin nodded. “This is your house. Whatever makes you happy.” The short-haired girl grabbed my hair. Dragged me toward the door. “Have some self-awareness, lady. You can’t just steal someone’s boyfriend. Pathetic.” She yelled to the others, “Want to see what this homewrecker looks like naked? Let’s strip her! For Tiffany!” My eyes went wide. I covered my chest. Some of the guys moved forward. Started pulling at my clothes. I fought back. Screamed at Gavin. Begged him to stop them. Gavin frowned. Started to raise his hand. Tiffany grabbed it. “Gavin, relax. My friends know what they’re doing. They’re just standing up for me. And this way, you’ll have leverage over her later.” Gavin nodded. Pinched her cheek. They both watched as my clothes were torn apart. “Let me go! This is illegal!” The short-haired girl slapped me. “We’re doing you a favor. You like stealing men? We’ve got plenty of guys here. You should be grateful.” Her words hung in the air. I felt hands all over me. I was losing hope. Then a voice came from the door. “How’s my princess’s birthday going? Mommy’s gift just arrived.”

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/2026061996FNqyCQzX 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni408011”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix