Category: English

1 After slaving away like a dog for the Campbell family for twenty years, I received my termination notice on the exact day their biological daughter returned. My mother pointed at her and said, “From now on, she will be running all operations at Campbell Corporation.” The biological daughter, Bianca, who didn’t even know how to format a basic spreadsheet, immediately posted a smug picture on her social media, showing off the Porsche and the company shares that used to be mine. Our chief financial officer looked at the measly three-hundred-dollar severance check in his hand and let out a long, heavy sigh. I calmly handed over every key in my possession, walked out the door, and took a position at our fiercest rival’s firm. Two weeks later, my mother found me, weeping hysterically. “Why did the banks freeze all of our credit lines? What did you do to us?” … “My biological daughter is back. The corner office belongs to her now.” Before I could even speak, a girl dressed in my custom-tailored haute couture outfit sashayed over. This was Bianca, the true heiress of the Campbell family. She pointed a manicured finger at my face, her lips curling into a mocking sneer. “The fake should know her place. Pack your bags and get lost.” “This dress is entirely wasted on you anyway.” She gestured to my wrist. “And that watch you’re wearing, my mother bought that for me. Take it off.” Her tone was so self-assured, as if she were confronting a common thief. I looked at them: the woman I had called Mother for twenty years, and the biological daughter who had been back for less than a day. “Starting today, Bianca is in charge of everything,” my mother announced, her words signaling the end of an era. With that single sentence, my twenty years of dedication to the firm were entirely wiped clean. Our CFO, Mr. Henderson, walked over, his hand trembling slightly as he held an envelope. He slid a few bills across the polished desk, his voice barely a whisper. “Mrs. Campbell’s orders… this is your severance. Not a single penny more.” Three hundred dollars. It wasn’t even enough to fill the tank of the Porsche I had been driving. It wasn’t a severance package: it was spare change thrown to a beggar. The profits I had generated for this company were measured in the tens of millions. Now, my exit was valued at three hundred dollars. I didn’t touch the cash. I simply looked at my mother and Bianca with absolute calm. I placed my apartment keys, the office keys, and the combination to the corporate safe onto the mahogany desk. Then, I unclasped the luxury watch from my wrist and let it clatter beside them. “I hope you don’t regret this.” Bianca let out a sharp laugh, snatching up the car keys and snapping a photograph. She grabbed the share transfer agreement my mother had prepared, posting both images to her social media with the caption: Returned to the rightful owner. I’m back! Within seconds, my phone vibrated with notifications as the company group chats lit up. The very employees who had called me “Director Campbell” yesterday were now lining up to flatter Bianca. Even the security guard at the front gate looked away, pretending not to see me as I walked past. I was treated like a leaper carrying a plague. I walked out of the building carrying a single cardboard box containing nothing but a few of my favorite business textbooks. I took one last look at the glass tower. I no longer had a home. The moment I stepped onto the street, I dialed a number I had kept saved in my phone for three years. “Mr. Crawford, does your previous offer still stand?” 2 A low laugh echoed from the receiver. “Of course, Natalie. I’ve been waiting for you.” The moment I hung up, my screen filled with dozens of unread messages from suppliers and banking representatives. “Director Campbell, is the proposal for next quarter finalized?” “Natalie, when will our outstanding invoice be cleared?” I drafted a single, cold template and sent it to everyone: I have officially resigned from Campbell Corporation. Please direct all future business inquiries to Miss Bianca Campbell. The top-floor office of Crawford Enterprises offered a sweeping view of the city’s financial district. Marcus Crawford slid an authorization agreement across the glass desk. “Full executive authority. HR, finance, and operations: you have the final say.” I signed my name without a moment’s hesitation. “My first move is to secure the talent.” Meanwhile, Campbell Corporation was undergoing a massive, chaotic restructuring. Bianca had decided my old office was too plain, spending hundreds of thousands of dollars to redecorate it. The sleek leather chairs were replaced with pink velvet sofas, and the desk was cluttered with useless, expensive crystal ornaments. “That old-fashioned style of management is completely obsolete,” Bianca boasted, spinning in her executive chair while taking selfies for her followers. “We’re adopting a flat structure now. No more bureaucratic approvals, if I like a proposal, we move forward.” Mr. Henderson rushed into her office, holding a stack of corporate expense reports. “Miss Campbell, how can we charge these luxury handbags to the company account? This is a severe compliance violation!” Bianca didn’t even look up from her phone. “I’m the executive director. What’s wrong with buying a few bags? It’s for corporate public relations.” Mr. Henderson’s hands shook with frustration. He marched down to my mother’s office to protest, but she merely waved her hand dismissively. “Bianca is just settling into her role. What’s wrong with spending a little money? Don’t bring Natalie’s rigid, joyless rules into my office.” Mr. Henderson stood frozen, letting out a silent sigh before retreating from the room. That afternoon, a major municipal client called demanding the technical specifications for an active project. The files were locked on my old computer, secured with an advanced encryption protocol. Bianca tried a dozen passwords, growing increasingly frustrated. “Call IT! Tell them to break this piece of garbage open!” The IT department was summoned, and they forced open the hard drive. But because the security protocol had been bypassed, the system triggered a self-defense wipe, leaving the data corrupted. “What is this garbage?” Bianca sneered, staring at the screen. “Miss Campbell, the data is corrupted. We cannot send this to the client,” the technician warned. “The client is screaming for it,” Bianca said, applying a fresh layer of nail polish. “Just make up some numbers and send it over. They won’t know the difference anyway.” Two hours later, the client’s furious tirade was directed straight to my mother’s personal line. My mother spent the evening offering groveling apologies and promising discount rates, barely managing to salvage the relationship. When she hung up, she offered Bianca nothing more than a gentle scolding. “Be more careful next time, darling. Don’t let them catch you making mistakes.” Bianca rolled her eyes. “That client was just looking for a reason to complain.” At that exact moment, I was sitting in a quiet cafe across the street. Campbell Corporation’s Sales Director sat opposite me, his face lined with exhaustion. “Natalie, it’s a circus over there. That spoiled child doesn’t know the first thing about logistics, but she insists on micromanaging every shipment.” I took a sip of my coffee and slid a contract across the table. “Crawford Enterprises is expanding. We’re offering double your current compensation package.” His eyes lit up, his hand dropping over the contract. “Let me pack my desk.” That evening, Bianca posted another update on her social media, showing her signing a stack of documents with the caption: Running a corporation isn’t that hard. Some people just liked to pretend they were busy to seem important. I zoomed in on the photograph. The documents she was signing were non-binding letters of intent, riddled with glaring legal loopholes that left the company completely vulnerable. I put my phone down and dialed our acquisitions department. “The Westside development project Campbell Corp is bidding on: intercept it.” The next day, the news of the lost bid reached the Campbell executive suite. Instead of panic, Bianca addressed the senior management with condescending amusement. “A low-margin project like that is only fit for beggars. We are focusing on high-end ventures. Let them have the scraps.” She had no idea that the Westside project was Campbell Corporation’s only source of steady liquid cash flow. In the company’s inbox, an automated red-flag warning from their primary lending institution arrived. Bianca glanced at the screen, annoyed by the notifications. “Why is there so much spam today?” She selected all, clicked delete, and emptied the trash folder. The screen was clear, and her world was quiet once more. 3 The annual regional commerce summit was held at the grand convention center. Desperate to save face after losing the Westside project, my mother made a grand entrance with Bianca by her side. I encountered them near the registration pavilion. I was wearing a tailored, unadorned black power suit, devoid of any jewelry. “Well, look who it is,” Bianca sneered, clutching my mother’s arm. “Does Crawford Enterprises pay that poorly? You can’t even afford a decent necklace. Still looking like a basic assistant.” I ignored her, walking past to greet several prominent industry leaders. “Mr. Ross, Mr. Thomas, it’s wonderful to see you again,” I said, offering a warm smile. The executives immediately paused their conversation, their faces lighting up as they reached out to shake my hand. “Natalie! We heard you joined Crawford Enterprises. Marcus certainly lucked out getting you on his team!” “We must schedule a lunch next week to discuss the new distribution channels!” Bianca was left standing on the perimeter, her smug smile hardening into a mask of embarrassment. My mother’s face turned pale as she quickly ushered her daughter toward their assigned seats. When it was Campbell Corporation’s turn to present, Bianca walked onto the stage, clutching a speech she had spent the previous night memorizing. Her presentation slides were filled with overly stylized fonts and flashy graphics. “In the coming fiscal year… we plan to… build a synergy… of luxury ecosystems…” she read, her voice flat and devoid of any logical structure. The applause from the audience was polite but sparse, most of the executives already checking their phones. During the Q&A session, I raised my hand. The moderator immediately recognized me, passing the microphone down the row. Seeing me stand, Bianca’s eyes flashed with a sudden, sharp panic. “Miss Campbell, in light of the projected volatility in raw material costs next quarter, what is Campbell Corporation’s specific hedging strategy?” It was a standard industry question, but it was the lifeblood of a manufacturing firm. Bianca froze. She didn’t even know what the word “hedging” meant. She looked desperately toward our mother in the front row, who was frantically making hand gestures, but it was useless. “Regarding that query…” Bianca stammered, forcing a nervous laugh. “We will simply negotiate with our suppliers to bring the prices down.” A heavy, dead silence descended on the hall. Then, a ripple of quiet amusement broke through the crowd. Negotiating against global market index prices was an absolute joke. Marcus Crawford took the microphone from my hand, adding a dry postscript. “It seems Campbell Corporation’s strategy relies on wishful thinking. Fascinating.” The laughter in the hall grew louder. Bianca’s face burned crimson, and she looked as if she wanted to sink through the floor. My mother rushed onto the stage, grabbing the microphone. “What my daughter means is that we are optimizing our supply chain management to mitigate overhead,” she explained, using her twenty years of industry standing to salvage the situation. The next morning, the financial media was ruthless. Campbell Corp’s New Director Displays Shocking Ignorance. Attempting to Negotiate Against Global Markets: A Corporate Comedy. Campbell Corporation’s stock price immediately began to slide. Back at their estate, my mother threw the morning papers onto the coffee table. “This is your idea of being prepared?” Bianca burst into tears. “Mom, Natalie set me up! She used industry jargon I’ve never heard of before!” My mother let out a tired sigh, her heart softening at her daughter’s tears. “Alright, dry your eyes. Once the bank approves our capital injection, we can stabilize the stock price. The Campbell family can weather this storm.” Desperate to prove herself, Bianca secretly took a meeting with a foreign investment firm called Sinclair Holdings, which promised a guaranteed thirty percent return on short-term capital. The representative was impeccably dressed and spoke with a smooth, aristocratic accent. Bianca bypassed my mother’s approval, signing a high-yield leverage agreement. “Once this return clears, I’ll see who dares to look down on me,” she whispered as she signed the document, already imagining the city’s elite bowing to her success. In my office, I reviewed the photographs sent by my private investigator. The man shaking hands with Bianca in the pictures was a notorious international financial fugitive. I closed the file and opened a finalized document. With a single click, I sent a hundred-page risk assessment report to Campbell Corporation’s primary credit institution. The report detailed their fraudulent R&D claims, their corrupted technical data, and Bianca’s unauthorized, high-yield leverage agreements. Ten minutes later, the Campbell executive suite erupted into chaos. Our former Sales Director, accompanied by the entire corporate accounts team, walked into Bianca’s office and dropped their resignation letters onto her desk. “What is the meaning of this? This is mutiny!” Bianca shrieked. “Crawford Enterprises offered us double our salary,” the director replied with a cold smile. “And honestly, we’d prefer not to starve under your leadership.” Before she could process their departure, the procurement manager burst into the room, his face white with panic. “Miss Campbell! Our raw material shipments have been halted! The budget supplier we switched to has been shut down by federal regulators for toxic waste violations! Our warehouses have been sealed by court order!” Bianca collapsed into her chair. “Call Sinclair Holdings! Tell him we need an immediate withdrawal of our investment to cover the emergency procurement!” She dialed the number with trembling fingers. We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is no longer in service. Only the cold, automated recording echoed in her empty office. The luxury investment firm had vanished into thin air, taking the company’s remaining liquid cash with them. Mr. Henderson marched into my mother’s office, holding a red-inked financial summary. “Mrs. Campbell, we are ruined! All of our corporate accounts have been frozen!” My mother’s vision blurred, and she gripped the edge of her desk to keep from fainting. “How is that possible? What about our credit lines?” “The bank just issued a formal default notice.” Mr. Henderson’s hand shook as he handed her the document. “Due to material breaches of contract and extreme operational risk, the bank has recalled all outstanding loans, halted all pending credit, and initiated asset liquidation.” My mother clutched the document, her manicured nails tearing through the paper. “Natalie… this was Natalie’s doing!” The empire was crumbling in an instant. Suppliers lined the street outside their building, holding signs demanding unpaid wages. The factory floors fell silent as workers walked off the job. Bianca locked herself in the executive washroom, her phone ringing continuously with threats and demands from creditors. Late that night, my phone rang. It was an unknown number. I picked it up, and the agonizing, hysterical crying of my mother echoed through the line. “Why? Why did the banks freeze everything?” she wailed, her voice thick with panic. “Natalie! What have you done to us?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “453927”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Fiscal year-end: I’d landed the company’s six biggest accounts, expecting a 900,000commission.Myphonebuzzed—depositreceived:900.00. I stormed to accounting. The manager wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Ariana rerouted your entire commission to Stephen’s account,” she whispered. Stephen, Ariana’s ex, joined three months ago and never made a single cold call. Yet at the annual gala, Ariana handed him the “Sales Executive of the Year” trophy. Passing my table, he smirked, “Don’t worry, man—you’ll get it next year.” Two hundred guests held their breath. I sipped my water, then linked my phone to the projector. The giant LED lit up with six scanned contracts—my signatures, corporate seals, exact figures, dates. Silence choked the room. Champagne spilled from Ariana’s glass onto her dress. I grabbed a mic. “Ariana, care to explain to everyone here how Stephen closed these six accounts?” “Marc, do you really have to make a scene and embarrass everyone tonight?” Ariana slammed her glass onto the table. The sharp crack of shattering glass was deafening in the dead quiet room. She marched up the stage in her heels, her face flushed with fury, and snatched the microphone right out of my hand. I stood my ground, my eyes calmly meeting her enraged glare. “I am simply asking a professional question, boss.” I pointed at the glowing screen behind her. “From the initial cold outreach and needs assessment, all the way to the pitch and the final hard close, I ran those six contracts entirely on my own.” “Your boy Stephen doesn’t even know where our clients’ headquarters are located. Doesn’t that trophy burn his hands?” The whispers in the crowd were finally bubbling up. Stephen did not look ashamed in the slightest. Instead, he let out a mocking scoff, tossing my crystal trophy up and catching it with one hand. He tilted his chin up. “Look, I know you’ve always had a chip on your shoulder about me.” His voice dripped with provocation. “But you can’t just erase my hard work in front of everyone. Closing deals isn’t just about blue-collar grunt work.” I almost laughed out loud. “Your hard work? You mean grinding reps at the gym during office hours? Or was it the grueling effort of picking out a Rolex on company time?” “Marc! That is enough!” Ariana took a step forward, shielding Stephen behind her like a fiercely protective mother. “Clients are company resources. They are not your personal property!” She pointed at the screen, her tone dripping with self-righteousness. “Yes, you did the initial legwork. But the backend data analysis, the risk assessment, the ongoing relationship management… Stephen handled all of that.” I stared into Ariana’s eyes. The woman standing in front of me felt terrifyingly like a stranger. Three years ago, we built this startup from the ground up in a dingy garage. Back then, she held my hands and promised that half of this empire would belong to me. Now that the company was pulling in real money, she shoved her ex-boyfriend into the ranks and robbed me of the very deals I bled for. “Data analysis?” I looked at her with pure ice. “Ariana, are you insulting my intelligence, or the intelligence of everyone in this room?” “Those six clients are undergoing supply chain upgrades for heavy manufacturing. They don’t need risk assessments from a guy who doesn’t even know how to write a basic Excel formula!” “Shut your mouth!” Ariana was completely unhinged now. She whipped her head around and screamed at the tech guy at the soundboard. “What are you staring at! Cut the projector! Now!” The screen went pitch black. The ballroom dimmed, leaving only the harsh spotlights hitting Ariana and Stephen. Stephen gave an arrogant shrug and shoved the trophy toward my chest, his tone sickeningly sweet. “Babe, don’t fight with him over me. If he is that desperate for a piece of glass, I’ll just give it to him. It’s not a big deal.” Ariana grabbed his wrist and pushed the trophy firmly back into his chest. “No one is taking away the honor you earned.” She turned around, looking down at me with absolute cruelty and disgust. “Marc, you are arrogant, you destroy team morale, and you publicly slander your colleagues.” “Effective immediately, you are suspended.” The crowd gasped. I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. “Ariana, you are throwing away the entire foundation of this company for a guy who acts like a parasite?” “This is my company. I set the foundation.” She spat the words out like venom. “Pack your desk. Don’t bother coming in tomorrow.” I took a deep breath, watching her turn her back on me. “I really hope you don’t regret this, Ariana.” She stopped in her tracks but didn’t bother to look back. “Security, escort Marc out.” “Hey man, I packed up your cubicle for you. Figured I’d save you the trip tomorrow.” The next morning, the second I stepped into the sales floor, Stephen called out to me. He was lounging on the leather sofa, legs crossed. At his feet sat a beaten-up cardboard box. Inside were my coffee mug, a neck pillow, and some crumpled scratch paper, all tossed in like garbage. I didn’t touch the box. Looking past his shoulder, I saw my office. My desk had been wiped completely clean. Sitting right where my monitor used to be was his limited-edition Patek Philippe watch and a shiny new Porsche key. “Who gave you permission to touch my things?” I didn’t yell, but the frantic clicking of keyboards across the entire sales floor instantly died. Stephen smirked, standing up to adjust the collar of his tailored suit. “Ariana told me to move in. She said the Director of Sales office shouldn’t sit empty, so she asked me to manage the team for a few days.” He leaned heavily on the title, his face swollen with pride. I let out a cold laugh. “Manage the team? You don’t even have the admin password to the CRM system. What exactly are you managing? How they book your golf times?” Stephen’s face twitched, but he quickly recovered that smug, punchable look. “Look, I know you’re bitter.” He lowered his voice, leaning in. “But Ariana said it herself. Your era is over. The company needs big-picture thinkers now, not just some meathead who only knows how to charge forward.” I didn’t have the patience to entertain his delusions. I walked straight toward my computer. “Move. I need to back up my personal files.” Stephen suddenly shot his arm out, blocking the monitor. “No can do! Boss gave strict orders. Every piece of client data on this hard drive is company property. You are not taking a single byte out of this building.” Looking at his obnoxious face, I felt the anger rising from the pit of my stomach. “Get this through your thick skull. I hunted down those accounts one by one. Apex Solutions had absolutely nothing to do with it.” “Whether they belong to Apex is not for you to decide.” Ariana’s voice drifted over from behind. She was wearing a razor-sharp business suit, casually sipping an espresso as she strolled over. “Your suspension notice went out to the entire company last night, Marc. You are no longer an active employee.” She stopped next to Stephen and naturally looped her arm through his. “You do not have clearance to touch company hardware.” Seeing her arm wrapped around him felt like a physical eyesore. “You are holding my personal hard drive hostage?” “It is standard protocol to prevent corporate espionage.” She took a sip of her coffee, her tone completely robotic. “As for those accounts, Stephen has already taken over. He is much more diplomatic than you. He is better suited for long-term relationship building.” The sheer audacity made me laugh. “Him? The guy doesn’t even know the difference between gross margin and net revenue. You are sending him to deal with industry sharks?” Ariana frowned, clearly annoyed by my lack of submission. “That is none of your concern. Security is waiting for you by the elevators.” I took a deep breath, swallowing the urge to smash that monitor over his head. As I turned to leave, my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was the company-wide chat. Stephen had just uploaded a screenshot of a bank transfer. Amount: $900,000.00. He made sure to tag my name underneath it. “Thanks for laying the groundwork, man! Your clients are taking really good care of me.” I stood by the elevator, staring at the glaring nine hundred grand on my screen. Ariana’s voice echoed from down the hall. “Without this company, you are nothing, Marc.” “I’m so sorry, your keycard has been deactivated.” Ben, the kid at the front desk, kept his head down. He was too scared to look at me. I stood outside the glass doors of Apex Solutions, gripping my dead ID badge. It had been three days since the suspension. For three days, I tried calling my six core clients. Their lines were either dead, or their assistants gave me polite, scripted brush-offs. It wasn’t until last night that a buddy from a rival firm forwarded me an internal industry memo. Ariana had sent it out under the company’s letterhead. The memo heavily implied that I was under investigation for “severe ethical violations” and warned all partners to cease contact with me. She was trying to salt the earth so nothing would ever grow for me again. I only came back today for one thing. “Ben, I just need to grab one personal item. I will be in and out.” I tried to keep my voice steady. “I… I can’t. Ariana was very clear.” Ben looked like he was about to cry. “Let him in.” The glass doors pushed open from the inside. Stephen strutted out in a flashy burgundy blazer and custom loafers. He looked me up and down, unable to hide his absolute glee. “Well well. Rough few days, huh? You look like garbage.” I ignored him and stepped forward to walk inside. “Hold it.” Stephen threw his arm across the doorway. “You think this is a public park? You can just waltz in whenever you want?” He turned back to the reception desk and pulled a small velvet box from the drawer. It was a vintage Parker fountain pen. A gift from Robert, the veteran who taught me the ropes my first year in the trenches. I always kept it locked in the deepest part of my desk. “This what you’re looking for?” Stephen tossed the box lightly in his hand, a malicious smirk spreading across his face. “Want it?” “Give it back.” My voice dropped to absolute zero. “Sure thing.” Stephen’s smile widened. He suddenly opened his fingers. Clack. The velvet box hit the hard marble floor. The fountain pen spilled out, rolling across the stone. Instead of picking it up, Stephen took a deliberate step forward. His heavy, expensive loafer came down hard right on the gold nib. “Oops. Butterfingers.” He blew a carefree whistle, his eyes dancing with cruel amusement. “My bad, man. It’s just a cheap piece of junk anyway. I’ll have Ariana buy you ten new ones.” I stared at the crushed metal on the floor. Every drop of blood in my body rushed to my head. I lunged forward and grabbed him by the lapels of his stupid blazer. “What are you doing!” Ariana materialized out of nowhere, grabbing my wrist and shoving me backward with all her strength. I stumbled back, my shoulders hitting the glass door with a heavy thud. I stared dead at Ariana. My eyes felt like they were bleeding ice. Stephen instinctively flinched behind her, but realizing his sugar mama was there, he puffed his chest back out. “Did you see that? He tried to assault me.” Stephen leaned into her shoulder, playing the victim perfectly. “I accidentally dropped his pen and he completely lost his mind.” Ariana looked at him with tender concern before whipping her head around to glare at me. “You are acting like an absolute psycho!” “That was my mentor’s last gift before he died.” I pointed at the mangled pen, my voice shaking with pure rage. “It’s just a pen! Are you really throwing a tantrum in the lobby over a pen?” She crossed her arms, thoroughly disgusted. “I am warning you. Apologize to Stephen right now. Or you can kiss your final paycheck and your severance goodbye.” I looked at the woman who once swore we would conquer the corporate world together. To impress her new toy, she had stolen my blood, my sweat, and now she was trying to stomp on my dignity. I slowly crouched down, picked up the broken pieces of the Parker pen, and gripped them tightly in my fist. The sharp metal pierced my skin, but I couldn’t feel the pain. “Ariana. I promise you, you are going to pay for this.” I stood up, staring directly into her soul. She let out a dismissive scoff. “Pay for what? With what leverage? Listen to me very carefully. Tomorrow morning is the all-hands meeting. You will show up, sign your termination papers, and apologize to Stephen in front of the entire staff.” “And if I don’t?” “Then I will make sure every firm in this city knows that Marc is a corporate thief.” The all-hands meeting was held in the largest boardroom. Over two hundred employees were packed inside. You could hear a pin drop. When I pushed the doors open, every single pair of eyes stabbed into me. Some looked pitying, some mocking, but most just had the cold indifference of people watching a car crash. Ariana sat at the head of the massive table. Stephen sat right next to her, occupying my former seat as Vice President. “You’re three minutes late.” Ariana tapped her pen against the mahogany wood, her tone frosty. I pulled out a chair in the very back row and sat down, not even bothering to look at her. “Hand over the papers. I have places to be.” Her face darkened. She shot a glance at Stephen. He immediately stood up, holding a thick stack of documents. He looked like a king addressing his peasants. “Everyone, we called this meeting to address two items.” Stephen cleared his throat, projecting his voice loudly. “First. Due to severe policy violations, including hoarding client resources for personal gain and creating a hostile work environment…” He paused, flashing a brilliant, victorious smile at me. “The board has decided to officially terminate Marc’s employment. We reserve the right to pursue further legal action.” A collective, muffled gasp rippled through the room. Getting fired versus getting laid off was the difference between life and death on a resume. Ariana was trying to execute my career on live television. “Second item.” Stephen’s smile grew even wider. “The six major accounts I recently inherited have all cleared their first-phase deposits. This proves that once we cut out the dead weight, this company operates smoother than ever!” He started clapping. A few brown-nosing department managers quickly joined in, and soon a pathetic, scattered applause echoed through the room. I sat in the corner, watching this absurd circus. It was actually hilarious. “First-phase deposits?” I spoke up, cutting right through their little victory parade. “Did you even bother to read the contract terms? Those deposits are strictly automated. They trigger three days after the ink dries, no matter who is holding the account.” I stood up and slowly walked toward the front of the room. “The real crisis you need to manage is the phase-two API integration testing. Do you even know what an industrial PLC protocol is? Can you even spell ‘backend redundancy’?” Stephen’s face froze. He instinctively glanced at Ariana, but his ego wouldn’t let him back down. “Stop trying to scare people with your tech jargon! I will have the IT guys handle the technical details!” “Marc! You are fired! You do not get to dictate company strategy anymore!” Ariana slammed her hands on the table and stood up. “Whether Stephen can handle it or not is my problem. You will sign this termination notice right now and get out of my building!” She grabbed a folder and violently slid it across the table toward me. “I’m not signing garbage.” I looked at her, enunciating every syllable. “You have zero proof of any violation. This is wrongful termination.” “Proof?” Ariana sneered. “I am the CEO. My word is the proof.” She pointed a shaking finger at the heavy oak doors, the veins popping in her neck. “Security! Drag him out of here! I am officially terminating Marc right now!” Just then.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “453912”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My husband of ten years had never brought home more than three thousand dollars a month. He claimed he was constantly making mistakes, incurring three-hundred-dollar or five-hundred-dollar penalties that stripped his take-home pay down to a meager two thousand. For years, my own salary was the only thing keeping our heads above water, paying off the mortgage, the car loan, and our daily expenses. But then, our seven-year-old daughter was severely injured. I had no choice but to quit my job to become her full-time caregiver, leaving the entire financial burden on his shoulders. To pay for her specialized treatment, my husband worked day and night, picking up food delivery shifts the moment he clocked out of his day job. Yet, we slid deeper and deeper into debt. Ultimately, my daughter missed her critical window for treatment, and the doctors had to amputate her leg to save her life. I thought this was simply our tragic fate, a burden we were destined to bear, until I went to file for her disability benefits and stumbled upon a hidden bankbook. It held a balance of over twenty-five million dollars, a fortune built from the very bonuses and commissions he claimed he had never received. And his plan for that money? To fund a lavish, multi-million-dollar fireworks display for his first love. … Because neither of us made much money, after paying off the house and the car, we had barely enough left to cover groceries. We lived on the knife-edge of survival. Our daughter, Rachel, was only7, but she possessed a heartbreaking maturity. She would quietly skip breakfast, saving the five dollars I gave her for lunch so we could use it for bills. Desperate to ease our burden, she secretly started earning her own pennies at school, running errands, buying breakfast, and carrying homework for her wealthier classmates. I was entirely in the dark until last week, when her teacher called to tell me Rachel had been struck by a car while crossing the street to buy breakfast for a classmate. Only then did I realize how much weight her tiny shoulders had been carrying. I quit my job immediately to stay by her hospital bed, but her condition continued to deteriorate. The doctors assured me she would survive, but they warned me that only a specialized, imported drug could save her leg from permanent tissue death. The catch? Each pill cost twenty thousand dollars, and she needed two pills a month. Our combined savings couldn’t even cover half of a single dose. We sold our car, listed our home, and mortgaged every asset we possessed, but the gap remained impossibly wide. The specialist warned us that the golden window for saving her leg was closing rapidly. Desperate, we begged our relatives, reached out to old friends, and launched a crowdfunding campaign online. Late one night, Rachel’s small, frail hand brushed against my arm. Her voice was barely a whisper in the quiet ward. “Mom, please stop the treatment. I don’t want you and Dad to suffer so much for me.” Hearing her speak, the emotional dam I had built over the past weeks completely shattered. I held her close and wept through the night, but when the sun rose, I had to wash my face and continue searching for ways to scrape together the money. “Maddie, I can’t do this anymore.” My husband, Kevin, walked into the room wearing his worn delivery vest, letting out a long, heavy sigh. “Between my office job and these late-night deliveries, we aren’t even making a dent in the cost of that medicine. Maybe we should just let them amputate. Prosthetics are incredibly advanced these days, she can still live a normal life.” We had a screaming match right there in the corridor. I couldn’t accept that my little girl would have to go through life missing a limb, but reality eventually caught up with us. Because we couldn’t pay the hospital fees, the specialty medication was halted, and the surgeon had no choice but to amputate. Losing her leg seemed to drain the last bit of life from our family. After she was discharged, we moved into a cramped, dingy one-bedroom rental. The small space was constantly filled with the medicinal smell of ointments and a suffocating silence. Kevin threw himself into his work with even greater intensity, working his day job and delivering food until the early hours of the morning. He would collapse onto his cot the moment he got home, barely speaking a word to us. I thought he was drowning in guilt and exhaustion. Until the afternoon the community center notified me that Rachel was eligible for disability assistance. While searching our closet for our marriage certificate, my fingers brushed against a small, stiff booklet tucked deep inside the inner pocket of an old suit jacket he rarely wore. It was a dark blue, textured bankbook, unassuming at first glance. Driven by a sudden, inexplicable urge, I flipped it open. It was a private account in his name, registered with an exclusive private bank known only to the city’s ultra-wealthy. My eyes scanned down the printed rows of transactions, eventually stopping at the final balance. I counted the digits once, twice, my mind going completely blank. I stared at the string of zeros, refusing to believe my own eyes. Twenty-four million, five hundred and sixty-seven thousand, eight hundred dollars. I had known Kevin for ten years and been married to him for eight. He always claimed his base salary was thirty-five hundred dollars, but insisted that after various deductions, he never brought home more than three thousand. His explanation was always the same: his superiors were vindictive, and the company found every excuse to dock his pay. I had begged him to find another job, but he always refused, claiming he owed a debt of loyalty to the firm. Now, looking at this bankbook, the puzzle pieces fell into place with a sickening click. The most recent deposit was a wire transfer from a week ago: a project commission of thirty-five thousand dollars. A week ago, we were begging on our knees for Rachel’s medical fees, and Kevin was weeping, claiming he wanted to jump off a bridge to end his misery. Yet, he was secretly sitting on a fortune. I forced myself to remain calm, grabbing my identification documents and the bankbook before heading out the door. I needed to know exactly where every single cent had come from. During the two-hour transit to the bank, I tried to rationalize his behavior, desperate to find an excuse. Maybe the account didn’t belong to him. Maybe the funds were being held in trust for his firm. But when the account manager printed out the complete transaction history, the truth stared back at me, cold and undeniable. 2 Clutching the thick stack of printed statements, I listened to the bank manager explain the account’s history with polite professionalism. “Mrs. Bennett, your husband is one of our premier private banking clients. His financial portfolio is exceptionally robust.” Kevin had spent years telling me that Grayson Group stripped his commissions, but the statements showed they had never docked a single dime. In fact, his monthly take-home pay had consistently exceeded twenty-five thousand dollars. My eyes scrolled down the pages, finding transaction after transaction that aligned with our family’s worst crises. Three years ago, Rachel was rejected from a prestigious private academy because we “couldn’t afford” the tuition. On that exact day, Kevin’s account received a deposit of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, labeled as a bonus from an overseas clean energy venture. Two years ago, my mother required an urgent cardiovascular procedure. Kevin claimed the company’s funds were locked up, forcing me to swallow my pride and borrow thirty thousand dollars from every relative we had. On that same day, his account cleared a wire transfer of five hundred thousand dollars for his annual management bonus. One year ago, Kevin had a minor collision with a luxury vehicle, claiming he had to pay a five-thousand-dollar deductible out of pocket. I took extra shifts to cover the cost, while his account was credited with seventy thousand dollars for quarterly performance. Every single time we were pushed to the brink of despair, every time I lay awake at night crying over utility bills, every time our daughter suppressed her own wishes because she knew we were poor, he was holding a fortune in his pocket. He chose to watch us drown. He chose to let us suffer, using our pain to play the part of the tragic, hard-working family man. Hot tears spilled over my cheeks. How could a man hold tens of millions of dollars in his hands and look his wife in the eye, weeping about how hard it was to put food on the table? “I’m fine,” I said, wiping my face and offering the manager a polite smile. “Thank you for your help. I’ll take these records with me. There’s no need to inform my husband of my visit.” Stepping out into the humid air, my mind was a chaotic blur. I knew I couldn’t handle this alone, so I pulled out my phone and dialed the number of the most ruthless divorce attorney in the city, Mr. Douglas. With his guidance, I finalized Rachel’s disability registration. But Mr. Douglas gave me a sobering warning: simply finding the money wasn’t enough to secure everything in a court of law. I needed to discover exactly what he was saving this money for, and why he had gone to such extreme lengths to hide his true financial standing from his own family. Since Rachel’s amputation, our neighbors had been incredibly supportive, dropping off home-cooked meals and helping with the garbage. But none of them knew the storm brewing inside me. Every evening, I had to look at Kevin and pretend to be the same supportive, grateful wife, thanking him for working multiple jobs to support us. That evening, Rachel mentioned she was craving her father’s homemade chicken noodle soup. I bought the ingredients early and called Kevin to let him know. An hour later, a text popped up on my screen: [Got a high-paying delivery order on the other side of town. Don’t wait up for dinner.] In the past, I would have felt a pang of guilt, wishing he didn’t have to work so hard. But tonight, I was standing across the street from a trendy uptown lounge, watching him park his delivery scooter. He pulled off his helmet, laughing and joking with a group of well-dressed men as they walked inside. “You think this is easy for me?” Kevin’s loud voice drifted from a semi-private booth near the back of the lounge. I slipped into the adjacent booth, hiding behind the high leather backrest, my phone’s voice recorder active. “I’ve spent ten years playing the poor bastard!” Kevin scoffed, taking a long swig of his drink. “Looking at those miserable pennies every month made me sick. And Maddie actually believes I’m some useless, low-earning failure.” His childhood friend clapped him on the back. “Come on, Kevin, you’re playing the long game. For Victoria, it’s worth every second.” Victoria. Victoria Ross. His first love, the girl who had walked away, his sacred muse. “I didn’t have the means back then,” Kevin sighed, his voice suddenly thick with emotion. “Her family looked down on me and forced her to marry that wealthy snob. Now that her husband’s firm has collapsed, it’s my turn to step up. I’m going to give her the life she deserves.” He smiled, a look of pure satisfaction on his face. “I have more than enough to buy her whatever estate she wants. I’m going to give her everything.” One of his friends leaned forward, lowering his voice. “But what about your daughter? The kid just lost her leg. Why didn’t you use some of that cash to save her?” I held my breath, waiting for his response. Kevin slammed his glass onto the table, his voice turning cold and sharp. “Why should they get to spend my money?” “They’re nothing but dead weight. If Victoria hadn’t married that guy, I would have never married Maddie in the first place. I was just lonely.” “Every cent I made is for Victoria. She’s landing back in the country this weekend. I’ve coordinated a private, luxury fireworks display for her homecoming. You guys better show up.” The sound of clinking glasses and raucous laughter echoed through the booth. I switched off the recording, slid out of the lounge, and walked into the cool night air. When I got home, the nanny had already put Rachel to sleep. I sat in the dim light of the living room, staring at our wedding photograph on the wall. Was defying my own family to marry him worth it? No. It was a joke. I picked up my phone and dialed Mr. Douglas. “Mr. Douglas, I have new evidence. Along with the bank records, I have a recording of him admitting to hiding marital assets and intentionally withholding medical funds from our daughter.” Kevin, you think you can keep playing this game? You want to give your muse a beautiful fireworks display? Then I will make sure that when those fireworks reach their peak, you fall straight into the abyss you’ve dug for yourself.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “453928”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 As the top search-and-rescue diver in the country, I was used to high-stakes calls, but the one that came in on a rainy Tuesday morning made my blood run cold. A ten-year-old boy had gone missing at Savage Cove—the same place where my little sister, Grecia, drowned ten years ago. Back then, Nora, my girlfriend and captain of the rescue squad, promised she’d bring Grecia back safe. Instead, she cut my sister’s safety line to hand the rescue credit to her partner, Victor. Grecia was swept into the abyss. Victor became a national hero, while I spent the next decade diving into the dark more than two hundred times, pulling 193 people back to life. I mapped Savage Cove’s deadly depths until I knew every current—so no one else would be left waiting in the dark. But today, when dispatch sent the missing child’s photo, I froze. Behind him stood the boy’s mother. Her face was one I would never forget. I turned the phone face down on the desk. “I’m not taking this dive.” “Sean, you’ve got to be kidding me, right?” The dispatcher laughed, assuming it was a joke. “Last year during the peak flood season, you dove forty meters into near-zero visibility mud to pull a trapped kid out of a shipwreck. You hold the active recovery record. If you say you can’t do it, nobody else in this country can.” “I’m not joking,” I replied. “Sean…” “I’m serious. I can’t take this. Coordinate with another team. Don’t waste any more time.” I hung up. But before I could zip my gear bag, the door slammed open. Chief Harrison practically fell into the room, drenched in sweat. “Sean,” he panted, gripping the doorframe to steady his breathing. “Don’t leave yet. Just hear me out.” “Chief, there’s nothing to discuss.” “The conditions at Savage Cove are a nightmare,” Harrison urged, shutting the door behind him and blocking it with his body. “Our regular guys have been down there for two hours. Three rotation teams, and they haven’t found a single trace.” He lowered his voice, stepping closer. “The boy who went under is Victor’s son. Yes, that Victor, the owner of the biggest commercial diving firm in the state. His wife is Nora, the former rescue captain. If it weren’t for their massive donations over the years, we wouldn’t even have half of this high-tech equipment.” “Then use the equipment to find him,” I said, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “If the gear is so advanced, you don’t need me.” Harrison lunged forward, grabbing my arm with white-knuckled desperation. “We tried! The sonar can’t see past the blind spots in the underwater crevices. We need eyes down there. We need hands. Sean, I wouldn’t swallow my pride to beg you if there were any other way.” I remained silent. Harrison stomped his foot in frustration. “Are you worried about safety? I know Savage Cove is a death trap, but I swear to you, we have the best support on the shore. Dry suits, backup tanks, comms, whatever you want. I will guarantee your life with my own!” “It’s not a safety issue, Chief.” “Then what is it?” “Personal reasons.” “Personal reasons?” His voice cracked, rising in pitch. “Sean, there is a ten-year-old boy suffocating at the bottom of a river, and you’re telling me about personal reasons?” By now, the news of my refusal had leaked. Several rescue team members gathered outside the open door, whispering. “Sean, you’re the backbone of this team,” one of them called out. “If you won’t go, who will?” “Some hero he is,” another muttered, loud enough for me to hear. “Just a coward who’s afraid of a little current.” The insults started to pile up. I kept my face blank and checked my watch. “Chief, you just wasted another five minutes. I’m not taking the job. Call someone else. Time is running out.” I brushed past him, but a voice from the back of the crowd cut through the tension. “Your sister died in Savage Cove, didn’t she, Sean? Is that why you’re being so heartless? You’re just going to let a kid die?” I went rigid. My heart felt as though it were being squeezed by a freezing hand. My phone screen lit up on the desk behind me. The ten-year-old boy in the photo had a bright, gap-toothed smile. He was the exact same age my sister had been when she died. I closed my eyes. If Nora hadn’t unclipped her line ten years ago, would my sister be alive today? A sudden commotion at the entrance broke my thoughts. A man in a sharp, tailored suit strode through the crowd. He didn’t even look me in the eye. Instead, he snapped open his wallet and began throwing thick stacks of cash at my chest. “What do you mean, you won’t dive?” he sneered. “You want money? Here. Name your price.” Victor turned to Chief Harrison, his lip curled in disgust. “This is the savior you insisted on? Some legendary rescue diver? He’s nothing but a mercenary holding a dying child hostage to inflate his fee.” He stepped closer to me, pulling out his phone. “Still not enough? I can wire you a hundred thousand right now. Five hundred thousand? Name it. Just get my son out.” The onlookers gasped at the sheer amount of money being thrown around. I didn’t move. My eyes were locked on the silver service medal pinned to his lapel. Ten years. He was still wearing the honor he had bought with my sister’s life. Seeing where I was looking, Victor let out a cold, mocking laugh. “What? Jealous? I’m not like you, mercenary. I earned this medal with my life.” He puffed out his chest, playing the martyr for the crowd. “Ten years ago, right here in Savage Cove, the visibility was practically zero. My wife and I didn’t hesitate for a second. We dove straight in. Unlike some cowards who sit on the shore and bargain with a child’s life.” I stared at him, my throat tight. “Did you save her?” Victor’s smug grin faltered for a fraction of a second before he recovered. “In those conditions, no one could guarantee a miracle…” I let out a soft, humorless laugh. “So, you didn’t save her.” “I am indeed different from you,” I said, stepping closer to force him to look at me. He had clearly forgotten my face, forgotten the broken brother who had stood on the shore ten years ago. “I don’t dive unless I am absolutely sure. And I never give a grieving family false hope, only to drag them into a deeper despair.” Flustered and angry, Victor grabbed me by the collar. “Who cares if we couldn’t save her? At least we didn’t hide like cowards! You won’t even wet your feet. What right do you have to judge me?” The murmurs from the crowd grew louder, turning hostile. “He’s right. At least Victor tried ten years ago. Sean is just a greedy coward.” Their judgmental eyes stung like needles. They thought I was selfish, cold, and demanding a payout. I didn’t care to explain. Then, a woman stumbled through the doorway. Her hair was a messy nest, and her expensive makeup was smeared with tears. Ten years had passed, but her face was still instantly recognizable. The woman who had promised to bring my sister back, only to push her into the abyss, was standing right in front of me. My fists clenched so hard my fingernails bit into my palms. She didn’t look at my face. She shoved Victor back and threw herself toward me. “Please,” she sobbed, grabbing my hand. “The Chief says you’re our last hope. I don’t know you, but I trust you. My baby is down there. He’s only ten. He’s terrified of the dark. He can’t sleep without hearing my voice.” Her tears fell onto my shoes. “If you go down, I’ll give you anything. Whatever you want. Just save my boy.” I took a slow, deep breath, feeling the decades of suppressed rage boiling in my chest. If they knew the real price of this rescue, would they still ask for it? “I will go to the site,” I said quietly. Nora gasped with relief, squeezing my hand. “Thank God! Thank you, Mr… Mr. Shaw? Whatever your name is, my husband and I will never forget this.” “Don’t misunderstand,” I interrupted, pulling my hand away. “I agreed to go to the site. I didn’t say I would dive.” 2 Ten years later, I stood on the banks of Savage Cove once more. The shore was packed with state-of-the-art equipment. High-powered sonar scanners, massive underwater floodlights, three top-tier rescue boats idling in the water. A dozen experts hovered over a folding table, analyzing underwater topographical maps. “This is Victor’s son,” one coordinator shouted. “Spare no expense! Get him up!” Standing on the periphery, a bitter taste filled my mouth. Ten years ago, my sister had slipped into these exact same waters. Back then, there was only one cheap inflatable dinghy, a couple of standard nylon ropes, and Nora’s empty promise. But today, because the boy in the water belonged to a wealthy, influential family, an entire command center appeared within two hours. What was my sister’s life to them? A stepping stone. A sacrifice to polish their public image and pave the way for their lucrative diving empire. Even though they had only brought back a cold, lifeless body, they still wore the crowns of heroes, using that fake glory to build an empire. A technician rushed over to the Chief, his face pale. “Based on the water pressure and the boy’s tank capacity, the survival window is down to twenty minutes. His oxygen is almost gone. If we don’t get a diver down there right now, he’s dead.” “Sean, please,” Harrison urged. “You’re already here. Put on the gear.” I shook my head. “You have the most advanced sonar in the state, a top-tier medical team, and a dozen specialists. Besides, the boy’s parents are decorated rescue heroes from these exact waters. Why should I be the one to go down?” Nora flinched, not expecting me to bring up the past. Her lips trembled as she looked up at me. “Yes, we went down back then, but we were injured in that rescue! We retired to administrative roles years ago. Our physical condition isn’t up to a deep-dive recovery anymore!” Perhaps driven by a guilty conscience, she suddenly fell to her knees. Her knees hit the gravel with a sickening thud. “Mr. Shaw, I beg you! I admit we aren’t as good as you. We don’t deserve the hero titles. But my son is innocent! Please, if you go down, I’ll do anything. I’ll admit whatever you want!” She began to desperately knock her forehead against the rocky ground, bruising her skin. “Please! Save my son!” Her agonizing cries ignited the anger of the crowd around us. “Sean! Are you even human? How can you torture a grieving mother like this?” “You’re disgusting! She’s on her knees, and you’re still playing games!” A couple of angry young divers lunged forward, grabbing my arms and shoving me toward the water’s edge. “You’re going down today, whether you like it or not!” The waves of hostility pressed in from all sides. I let out a raspy, dry laugh. “You all want me to dive that badly?” I looked at Victor, then at Nora. “But even if I go down, even if I find your boy… how do you know I won’t just unclip his safety line and let him drift away?” “What did you just say?” Victor’s face contorted with rage. He yanked out his phone and made a rapid call. Within minutes, a flock of local reporters who had been waiting nearby rushed past the barricades, pointing cameras and microphones at us. Victor stood before the lenses, squeezing out tears of outrage. “I didn’t want to make this a public spectacle, but my son has been trapped underwater for over two hours. His oxygen will run out in ten minutes. And yet, this man, who claims to be the best rescue diver in the country, refuses to save him.” He pointed a trembling finger at me. “I offered him money. My wife fell to her knees to beg him. We’ve done everything. My son is dying, and this man is using a child’s life to settle a personal grudge. Does a monster like this deserve to be called a savior?” The live feed exploded. Online headlines began flashing: Top Rescue Diver Refuses to Save Drowning Ten-Year-Old. The comments sections flooded with venom, calling for my head. Losing his mind, Victor lunged forward, grabbed me by the hair, and dragged me toward the river’s edge. Taken off guard, I lost my footing. He shoved my head violently down into the freezing water. The biting cold rushed into my nose, my eyes, and my ears. The crushing pressure of the river seized my skull, and a familiar, terrifying suffocation washed over me. I closed my eyes. The memory of ten years ago rushed back. I remembered standing on this very shore, watching Nora and Victor climb out of the water, packing up their gear to leave. I had fallen to my knees, begging them. “Nora, please, she’s only ten! Just try one more time! Please!” And she had looked at me with cold, distant eyes. “I’m sorry, Sean. We did our best. The current is too strong. A layman like you wouldn’t understand the danger down there. We’re lucky to have made it out alive ourselves.” My sister must have felt this exact same terror. The water filling her lungs, believing she was saved, only to be cast back into the dark. Just as my vision began to fade into black, Victor yanked me out of the water by my hair. I collapsed onto the mud, coughing violently, my lungs burning. My ears buzzed with the sound of rushing water, but Victor’s triumphant sneer cut through the noise. “How does it feel to almost drown?” he hissed. “My son is feeling that every single second! And you stand here doing nothing!” No one in the crowd showed a shred of sympathy. “Serves him right! If he had just done his job, Victor wouldn’t have had to do that.” “He had it coming.” I wiped the remaining water from my eyes, staring at the couple through a blurred, bloodshot gaze. “You want to know why I won’t go down?” I rasped, my voice dripping with venom. “Because I’m afraid.” “I’m afraid that if I go down there, I’ll become just like you.” Victor’s face lost all color. “Ten years ago, in these exact waters,” I said, rising slowly to my feet. “You found her. But on the way to the surface, you unclipped her safety line.” Nora gasped, her body violently trembling as she stared at me. “You… you’re… Sean?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “453913”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 On the day of our wedding anniversary, I brought a homemade, carefully packed lunch to my wife’s corporate headquarters. The receptionist froze for a solid three seconds when she saw me. “Nolan, Ms. Whitmore isn’t in today. she started her maternity leave.” I stared at her. I told her I had no idea my wife was pregnant. All the color drained from the receptionist’s face. She immediately backtracked, stammering that she must have remembered the schedule wrong. A cold chill crept up my spine. I pulled out my phone and remotely accessed the dashcam footage from Kate’s luxury SUV. The live feed showed a man carefully supporting my wife by the arm as they walked into the doors of an exclusive private maternity clinic. Their body language was undeniably intimate. When the man turned his head in the footage, my stomach dropped. I recognized him instantly. It was my best friend, Joshua. Three years ago, when I was hospitalized after a severe car crash, Joshua had visited me every single day. Back then, my wife used to tease me, saying my best buddy pampered me more than my own mother would. I dialed Kate’s number. The background noise on her end was loud and chaotic. “What is it, honey? My meeting hasn’t wrapped up yet.” The words of confrontation hovered right on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to scream and ask her why. But I swallowed the bile down. “Nothing. I just missed you.” I hung up the phone. If these two pieces of trash wanted each other so badly, I would let them rot together. I sat in the pitch black living room, my eyes locked on the front door as it finally swung open. “Kate, was your corporate board meeting held at a maternity clinic today?” The motion sensor lights in the entryway flickered to life. Kate’s hand was still resting gently on Joshua’s forearm. At the sound of my voice, her entire body went rigid. Joshua instinctively shrank back, hiding slightly behind her. He gripped the lapel of Kate’s tailored blazer, his eyes instantly welling up with tears. “Kate, I told you I shouldn’t have let you accompany me. Nolan is definitely misunderstanding this.” His voice was a fragile whisper, dripping with manufactured victimhood. Kate furrowed her brow, stepping slightly to the side to shield his body with her own. She tossed her car keys onto the credenza. The metal smacked against the wood with a jarring clatter. “Nolan, what kind of psychotic episode are you having tonight? Are you spying on me?” She marched toward me, her tone laced with heavy impatience. I tossed my phone onto the glass coffee table. The screen was frozen on a screenshot from that morning, showing her delicately helping Joshua out of the passenger seat right in front of the clinic. “I went to your office to bring you lunch. Your receptionist told me you were on maternity leave.” I kept my voice deadpan. “I didn’t even know my own wife was pregnant, yet another man is already escorting you to your prenatal checkups.” Kate glanced at the glowing screen. For a fraction of a second, guilt flashed across her face. But she quickly squared her shoulders, her arrogance returning in full force. “Joshua has a weak constitution. He actually fainted a few days ago.” “I took him to the clinic for a full blood panel, and I just happened to get my checkup done while we were there.” She looked down at me as if I were a speck of dirt on her designer shoes. “When you were in that car wreck three years ago, he practically lived at the hospital taking care of you.” “Now that he’s unwell, what is wrong with me, as your wife, stepping up to repay that debt of gratitude?” Her self righteous speech actually made me laugh out loud. “Repay my debt? So you kept it a total secret from me, took time off work, and hid your pregnancy just to keep him company?” Joshua stepped out from behind her, fat tears rolling down his pale cheeks. “Nolan, please don’t be mad at Kate. I begged her to keep my health issues a secret. I didn’t want to worry you.” He took a step forward, reaching out as if to grab my hand. I sidestepped, refusing to let him touch me. Without my support, he dramatically stumbled forward, collapsing onto the plush living room rug. Kate’s face twisted in pure rage. She immediately dropped to her knees to help him up. “Nolan! What the hell is wrong with you! You know his health is fragile, he can’t handle this kind of stress!” She roared at me, the veins in her neck bulging. I looked down at my hands. I hadn’t even made physical contact with the man. “Are you legally blind, Kate? I never even touched him.” Joshua leaned his weight heavily against Kate’s chest, shaking his head weakly. “Kate, I’m fine. I just lost my balance. It’s not Nolan’s fault.” “My chest just feels a little tight. I think I’ve been standing for too long today.” Kate wrapped her arms protectively around his shoulders, whipping her head around to glare at me with absolute venom. “Look at how bitter and toxic you’ve become. Where is the refined gentleman I married?” She pointed a perfectly manicured finger right at my face. “Let me make this perfectly clear. If anything happens to Joshua’s health, I will hold you personally responsible.” I stood there, quietly watching her unhinged display. This was the woman who had once sworn to love me for the rest of her life. Now, she was verbally eviscerating me over the pathetic lies of another man. I took a deep breath, swallowing the intense nausea churning in my gut. “Kate, take him and get out of my house.” She froze, clearly stunned that I had the nerve to kick her out. She let out a sharp, condescending laugh, her eyes sweeping over me with utter disgust. “Get your facts straight, Nolan.” “This house might have been left to you by your dead parents, but I am the one making the money to keep the lights on.” “You sit around here all day doing absolutely nothing. What right do you have to kick me out?” My fingernails dug so deeply into my palms that the skin nearly broke. Joshua gently tugged at her sleeve. “Kate, I should just go. I don’t want to be the reason you two fight. I can just stay at a cheap motel, it’s fine.” Kate grabbed his hand, her voice softening into a sickly sweet croon. “Your body is far too weak to stay in some rundown motel.” She turned back to me, her eyes hardening into ice. “Joshua’s current apartment has a terrible mold problem. He is going to stay here with us for a few days, at least until I can find him a suitable luxury rental.” I stood my ground, staring directly into her eyes. “Absolutely not.” My defiance clearly infuriated her. She took a threatening step toward me, radiating oppressive authority. “I wasn’t asking for your permission, Nolan. I was notifying you.” “If you refuse to apologize to Joshua right now, I won’t be coming home for the next few days. You can sit here and reflect on your toxic behavior.” 2 “Do whatever you want.” I looked at her, my voice completely dead. Kate’s face turned a mottled shade of purple. She probably expected me to compromise, to grab her arm and beg her to stay like I used to. But she calculated wrong this time. She ground her teeth, wrapped her arm securely around Joshua’s waist, and marched toward the front door. “You’re going to regret this, Nolan.” The heavy oak door slammed shut, the sheer force of it rattling the walls. The living room fell back into a suffocating, dead silence. I collapsed onto the sofa, my mind instantly drifting back to her pregnancy. That was my child growing inside her, yet she chose to have another man by her side during the ultrasounds. A wave of bitter acid burned my throat. My phone screen lit up on the table. It was a text message. From Joshua. [Nolan, Kate insisted on booking me a suite at the Four Seasons. She said she absolutely refuses to let me suffer.] Attached was a photo taken from behind, showing Kate standing at a marble concierge desk, handing over her platinum credit card. I saved the screenshot to my cloud drive and immediately blocked his number. The next morning, just as I finished a tasteless cup of black coffee, the doorbell rang. It was Kate’s executive assistant, Rachel. “Nolan, Ms. Whitmore sent me to pick up a few things.” Rachel kept her eyes glued to the floor, actively avoiding my gaze. Behind her stood two burly corporate bodyguards. They walked straight past me and headed directly for the climate-controlled storage room. A moment later, they started carrying out the premium reserve tonics and imported truffles my parents had left me before they passed away. I stepped firmly into the hallway, blocking their path. “Who gave you permission to touch those?” Rachel wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. “Nolan, Ms. Whitmore said Joshua’s body is incredibly fragile and he needs high-end nourishment.” “She mentioned that these items were just gathering dust in here anyway.” I let out a harsh, barking laugh. She wanted to take my deceased parents’ legacy to feed her pathetic little sidepiece? “Put them down. Tell her to come get them herself if she wants them so badly.” The words had barely left my mouth when Kate’s icy voice echoed from the open doorway. “Excuse me? Am I no longer allowed to make decisions about the inventory in my own home?” She was wearing the exact same designer suit from yesterday. She clearly hadn’t come home last night. Kate strode into the foyer, waving her hand to signal the bodyguards to continue carrying the boxes. “Nolan, you can’t possibly consume all of this by yourself.” “Joshua is recovering, and his body needs these exact nutrients.” She walked right up to me, holding out an open palm. “Give me the keys to your loft studio in the South End.” My head snapped up. I stared at her in utter disbelief. That studio was my sanctuary. It was my private creative base where I worked under my secret illustration pseudonym, “Ronin”. Every inch of that space held my blood, sweat, and artistic soul. “Why the hell do you need the keys to my studio?” Kate spoke as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. “Joshua says the recycled air in the hotel suite is making him claustrophobic. It’s bad for his recovery.” “Your studio has great natural light and a private courtyard. I’m lending it to him for a while.” She paused, a mocking smirk playing on her lips. “It’s not like you’re doing anything important there anyway.” “Those messy little sketches of yours don’t bring in a dime. We might as well put the real estate to some practical use.” I stared at her, my blood boiling. “That is my workspace. It’s not a halfway house for your stray trash.” Kate’s eyes darkened instantly. “Watch your mouth, Nolan. Since when did Joshua become trash?” Without warning, she lunged forward and grabbed the canvas tote bag resting on the entryway console. “Give that back!” I lunged to grab it out of her hands. Using her height advantage in heels, she held the bag high out of my reach with one hand. With her other hand, she ruthlessly tipped it upside down, dumping the contents all over the hardwood floor. Keys, my phone, and my hand-drawn conceptual drafts scattered everywhere. My heart skipped a beat. I immediately dropped to my knees to rescue the delicate drafting paper. But Kate was faster. She stepped forward, the sharp stiletto heel of her shoe planting directly in the center of my artwork. She bent down and snatched the keyring holding the studio keys. “You’re an unemployed bum who paints to kill time, and you actually think you’re some kind of tortured artist?” She tossed the keys in the air and caught them, her lips curling into a cruel, satisfied smile. “I’m taking these.” “You better stay out of trouble for the next few days. If you go to the studio and harass Joshua, I’ll make you regret it.” I stared at the crumpled, dirt-stained paper trapped under her heel. It was a commercial piece I had spent three agonizing months perfecting. My chest physically ached, my heart contracting in sharp, jagged spasms. “Kate, if Nolan really doesn’t want me there, we can just forget it.” “I really don’t want to be the wedge that drives your marriage apart.” Joshua’s fragile, breathy voice floated in from the front porch. 3 “Why wouldn’t he want you there? I’m the one paying the lease on that property anyway.” Kate turned her head, her voice melting into absolute honey as she spoke to the man outside. She didn’t even bother to give me a second glance as she turned to leave. I scrambled up from the floor and blocked the doorway. “Give me the keys.” I stared into her eyes, emphasizing every single syllable. Kate scowled, her patience completely evaporated. “Are you psychotic, Nolan? It’s just a dusty old room. Are you seriously going to throw a tantrum over this?” Joshua stood on the porch, looking at me with wide, pitiful eyes. “Nolan, I know you hate me, but I really am sick.” “I just wanted a quiet place to breathe and rest.” “Drop the act,” I snapped, pointing a finger at him. “You know exactly what you’re doing, you parasite.” Joshua’s face went chalk white. He swayed dramatically, stumbling backward two steps as if he had been physically struck. Kate exploded. She shoved me with both hands, her strength fueled by sheer fury. “That is enough!” Her push caught me completely off guard. I lost my footing, stumbling backward. The base of my spine slammed violently into the sharp, solid edge of the heavy oak shoe cabinet. A blinding, agonizing pain ripped through my lower back, shooting down my legs. I gasped, instinctively clutching my spine as my legs gave out. I slid down the wooden cabinet, collapsing onto the floor. Cold sweat instantly soaked through my shirt, sticking to my skin. Kate stood over me, looking down without a single ounce of pity in her eyes. “Stop playing dead. If you want to fake an injury, at least try to make it look convincing.” She grabbed Joshua’s arm, supporting his weight, and walked right out the door. The heavy front door clicked shut once again. I lay curled on the cold floor, the agony in my spine so intense I couldn’t even draw a full breath. My hands shaking violently, I dug my phone out of my pocket and dialed for an ambulance. Hours later, in a sterile hospital room. The emergency room doctor held up my X-ray scans, his face grim. “Mr. Whitmore, you’ve sustained severe trauma to your lumbar vertebrae.” “You are going to need strict bed rest for the next several days. Absolutely no physical strain, or you risk permanent nerve damage.” I lay flat on the stiff hospital mattress. My mind drifted to the artwork destroyed under her designer heel. Then to the child, my child, growing inside her womb. A hollow, rhythmic pain pulsed in my chest. I lay in that hospital bed for an entire day. By nightfall, the acute, stabbing pain in my back had dulled to a heavy ache. Suddenly, panic set in. I realized my finalized commercial commission, a massive canvas piece, was still sitting on an easel in the South End studio. If Joshua ruined it, the breach of contract penalty would completely bankrupt me. I ripped the IV needle out of the back of my hand. Ignoring the bleeding, I forced myself upright, gritting my teeth against the pain, and hailed a cab to the studio. The front door of the loft was unlocked. I pushed it open, and the sight before me nearly tore my soul apart. Tubes of my imported, custom-mixed oil paints, worth tens of thousands of dollars, had been slashed open and stomped into the floorboards. In the center of the room, Joshua was standing with a pair of heavy fabric shears, carving jagged gashes into my nearly finished masterpiece, The Cosmos. “What the hell are you doing!” I roared, lunging forward and ripping the scissors out of his grip. He shrieked, instantly dropping to the floor. He curled into a ball, clutching his chest and wailing at the top of his lungs. “Ah! My chest! It hurts so much. Nolan, why did you shove me?” The rapid clicking of heels echoed from the hallway. Kate burst into the room. Seeing Joshua writhing on the paint-stained floor, her eyes turned bloodshot. Without asking a single question, she spun around and delivered a brutal, ringing slap across my face. The crack of her palm against my cheek echoed in the empty loft. A high-pitched ringing filled my ears. My head snapped to the side, and the metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth. “You absolute psycho! You know how weak his heart is, how could you be so vicious?” I clutched my stinging, swollen cheek, pointing a trembling finger at the shredded canvas on the easel. “He destroyed my life’s work! He is playing you for a total fool!” “Why are you defending him? You didn’t even ask what happened before you hit me!” Kate didn’t even glance at the ruined painting. She dropped to her knees, carefully gathering Joshua into her arms. “Are a few sheets of trash paper more important than a human life?” “I am warning you right now. If Joshua’s condition worsens, I will make you pay with your life.” She practically carried him out of the room, rushing down the stairs. I slumped against the wall of my ruined sanctuary, surrounded by the wreckage of my art. My phone buzzed in my pocket. The caller ID showed Kate’s name. I pressed answer. “Nolan, you terrified Joshua today. His heart rate is highly irregular.” “He’s hooked up to an IV right now. You better drag yourself down here and apologize to him on your hands and knees.” 4 “My spine is injured. I can’t make it.” My knuckles were white as I gripped a torn shred of my canvas. My voice trembled with exhaustion. A sharp, mocking scoff echoed through the phone speaker. “Your spine? Nolan, if you’re going to lie to get out of trouble, at least invent something creative.” “Tonight is the Whitmore Group’s annual anniversary gala. Even if you have to crawl on your hands and knees, you will show up.” She paused, her tone dropping into a sinister, icy threat. “The tabloids are already spinning rumors that our marriage is falling apart. If you don’t show up tonight to play the loving husband and save our stock prices.” “Tomorrow morning, I will permanently cancel the maintenance funds for your parents’ cemetery plot.” My fist clenched so hard my fingernails drew blood. My parents were buried in the most exclusive, expensive memorial park in the city. It was the ultimate leverage she had over me, and she knew exactly how to use it. “Send the address,” I ground out between clenched teeth. An hour later. Wearing a loose-fitting black suit to hide my stiff posture, I walked into the grand ballroom of a luxury downtown hotel. My face was pale, my movements slow and calculated. The ballroom was an ocean of designer gowns, champagne flutes, and blinding camera flashes. Kate was wearing a breathtaking custom haute couture gown, radiant and glowing as she mingled with corporate elites. And standing right beside her, wearing a bespoke tuxedo and a sickeningly smug smile, was Joshua. Gleaming on his wrist was a limited edition luxury watch. The exact watch Kate had gifted me for my birthday last year. I stared at the scene, the nausea churning violently in my stomach. Kate spotted me from across the room. Her smile faltered, and she marched over, her brow heavily furrowed. “You look like you’re attending a funeral. Are you deliberately trying to embarrass me?” She hissed the warning under her breath. I ignored her completely, walking straight past her to sit at an empty table in the corner. The throbbing pain in my lumbar spine was intensifying by the minute. I needed to conserve every ounce of energy just to stay upright. The host took the stage, tapping the microphone and inviting Kate up to give the keynote address. Kate stood bathed in the spotlight, pulling Joshua up to stand right beside her. “Tonight, as we celebrate the anniversary of the Whitmore Group, I have a very special announcement to make.” Her voice boomed through the high-end sound system, commanding the room. “Mr. Joshua here will officially be joining the Whitmore Group as our new Executive Art Director.” “Furthermore, he will be the sole creative force behind the highly anticipated ‘Cosmos’ illustration exhibition opening next month in the city center.” The ballroom erupted into thunderous applause. I sat frozen in my chair, feeling as if a lightning bolt had struck me directly in the chest. That was my exhibition. I had spent six grueling months planning it. She hadn’t just shredded my original drafts. She had taken my blood, sweat, and tears, and slapped her lover’s name on all of it. I slammed my hands onto the table, forcing myself to stand. I shoved my chair back and marched toward the stage. “Kate, what gives you the right to hand my life’s work over to him?” I pointed directly at the two of them, my voice shaking with pure, unadulterated rage. The applause died instantly. Every single eye in the ballroom snapped toward me. Joshua immediately shrank behind Kate’s back, his eyes widening in performed terror. “Nolan, what are you talking about? I painted every single piece for that exhibition with my own two hands.” Kate’s face turned completely purple. She glared at the security detail standing near the stage. “Are you idiots deaf? Drag this lunatic out of here right now!” Four massive security guards in black suits rushed forward. Two of them grabbed my arms, twisting them painfully behind my back. “Let go of me!” I thrashed wildly against their grip. Kate walked down the steps of the stage, stopping inches from my face. “Nolan, are you so consumed by jealousy that you’ve lost your mind?” “You are a useless leech who can barely hold a paintbrush straight. You honestly expect these people to believe you created art of that caliber?” She looked down at me, her eyes filled with absolute venom and disgust. “Get on your knees and apologize to Joshua this instant. If you refuse, I promise you won’t walk out of here tonight.” The surrounding guests began to whisper, the gossip spreading like wildfire. “Mr. Whitmore is acting like a hysterical madman.” “I heard he’s incredibly paranoid. He attacks any young artist Ms. Whitmore decides to sponsor out of pure jealousy.” The guards shoved my shoulders down, kicking the backs of my knees to force me to the floor. The violent downward pressure triggered an explosive, blinding agony in my injured spine. My vision whited out, my consciousness slipping away. I squeezed my eyes shut in total despair. Just as my knees were about to hit the cold marble floor. The heavy double doors of the ballroom were violently kicked open with a deafening crash. A low, glacial female voice sliced through the silence of the room. “Whoever dares to touch him will lose their hands tonight.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “453914”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When I was eighteen, Leo and I had our first time in a shabby motel room. Back then, he was driven by a wild, untamed passion, leaving me so swept away that I lost all sense of direction in the rush of first love. But when I was twenty-five, he sent me into the abortion clinic himself, all because of a Truth or Dare game with his female friend, Eve. “I’m sorry, Rachel. I was playing Truth or Dare with Eve last night, and I lost the baby as a forfeit.” “A baby can be conceived again, but a bet between guys can’t be reneged on. Just bear with it for a bit, okay?” His words made me tremble with horror: “You’d actually kill our baby for another woman? What kind of spell has she cast on you?” Leo’s face darkened, angered by my outburst. “You have the nerve to bring up Eve? Do you have any shame? Who in this world is more despicable than you?” “You’re like a slut, climbing into my bed willingly. You frequented that cheap motel more often than anyone else. What right do you, a woman of insatiable desire, have to criticize her!” That sentence shattered the last bit of my dignity. I gave up all resistance and walked into the operating room. Twenty-five-year-old Leo, I don’t love you anymore…

“Rachel.” Just as I was about to enter the operating room, Leo suddenly called out to me. He hung his head, his voice a little hoarse: “I didn’t mean to hit a nerve. I just couldn’t stand you targeting Eve. My words just slipped out.” As he draped a coat over me, Leo earnestly promised: “I’m a big businessman. If I lose my word, who will dare to work with me in the future? I don’t want to lose this baby either, but I can’t help it.” “I promise you, we’ll have another baby very soon.” Another baby? This was already my third child with Leo. To get pregnant with it, I’d had countless fertility shots; the dense needle marks on my waist hadn’t faded yet. The doctor had warned me many times that this baby might be the last one I could ever conceive. How could there be another? I opened my mouth, but my throat felt like it was blocked by a razor blade. It hurt too much to utter a single word. Leo’s phone rang. On the other end, Eve impatiently urged: “Getting an abortion is taking forever. You’re not trying to back out, are you?” “Rachel’s not a newbie, why’s she being so dramatic? Hurry up and finish the dare, all of us guys are waiting for you to drink!” Eager to keep his appointment, Leo’s last shred of patience with me vanished. He perfunctorily kissed the back of my hand: “I have a business dinner, so I can’t stay for your surgery.” “Anyway, it’s not your first time, you know the drill. You got this, I’m sure you’ll be fine on your own.” Leo practically flew out the door, quickly slipping away. I clutched my stomach, swaying as I walked into the abortion room. The doctor pushed up her glasses, her gaze a mix of pity and contempt. “Your uterine wall is paper-thin. If you have another abortion, you really won’t be able to get pregnant again.” “If you don’t respect yourself, why should anyone else respect you?” My face flushed, too ashamed to meet the doctor’s eyes. Digging my nails into my palms, I forced myself to calmly tell the doctor: “Go ahead, I’ll take full responsibility for all consequences.” After signing the waiver, I stripped naked and was pushed into the operating room, utterly stripped of my dignity. A thick, long needle pierced my body without warning. The pain made me break out in a cold sweat, and I couldn’t help but let out a soft whimper. Faintly, I heard the nurse’s dissatisfied grumbling: “This is her third time. Why act so fragile? Where was all this delicacy when she was having fun?” My consciousness began to fade. Along with the nurse’s voice, I seemed to see three adorable babies, holding hands, vanishing completely from my life… When I woke up, the surgery was over. No surprises, no miracles. This time, I had completely lost my ability to conceive. I numbly stuffed the surgical report into my bag, not a trace of sadness on my face. This heart, which had beaten countless times for Leo, and ached countless times, was finally dead. “Leo, we—” Back home, I pushed open the door. Before I could even suggest divorce, I was choked by a strong smell of smoke. I coughed violently, tears streaming down my face. Inside, a group of people were playing Truth or Dare. Leo had promised me he’d never bring his drinking parties home.

“Oh, your belly’s flat! Leo, you’re a real man, you honored the bet and actually got rid of your own child!” Eve excitedly touched my stomach, dramatically giving Leo a thumbs-up. Leo glanced at Eve triumphantly: “A bet’s a bet. When have I ever cheated you?” To ease the awkward atmosphere, one of Leo’s friends pulled me down to sit, trying to smooth things over: “Rachel, you’re such a good sport!” “Rachel, it’s rare for us to get together with you. Why don’t you join us today?” Leo frowned, instinctively moving to decline the invitation for me, but I cut him off coldly: “Sure, I’ll play.” I really wanted to see what kind of thrilling game would make Leo abandon his own flesh and blood. My luck was terrible; Eve and I played rock-paper-scissors multiple times, and I lost every round. Leo, fearing Eve would propose an overly extreme dare, volunteered to drink three penalty shots in my place. He gulped down shot after shot, stiffening his neck as he swallowed: “Rachel just had a miscarriage, I’ll drink for her.” Amidst chants of ‘Leo really cares for Rachel,’ Eve’s face grew increasingly sour. Finally, after I lost another round of rock-paper-scissors, Eve impatiently cursed: “What’s the damn point if you keep drinking for her? Women are just so slow. How many times have I said no women at our guys’ gatherings!” Leo, tipsy, tried to appease Eve with a smile, but I spoke first: “I choose truth.” Eve’s eyes lit up, her complaints vanishing instantly, replaced by a glint of excitement. She sneered, raising an eyebrow at me, both contemptuous and playfully venomous: “Alright, then I’ll start asking.” “Rachel’s had three abortions, so she must have been examined by plenty of male doctors. Why don’t you tell us guys which male doctor had the ‘best bedside manner’ and made you ‘most comfortable’? Hahahaha!” I clutched the wine glass tightly, my heart seizing up. Those two previous children were a lifelong pain, a secret between Leo and me. How did Eve know? “Tsk, no wonder Leo doesn’t want to sleep with you. You’ve been ‘inspected down there’ by a bunch of men. What normal man wouldn’t find that dirty? Even I, a woman, find it disgusting.” Eve’s grating laughter was like a sharp knife, stabbing my heart over and over. I could no longer suppress my anger and grief. I picked up the wine glass and splashed it on Eve’s face. It wasn’t enough to vent my fury, so I added a slap: “It definitely feels best when I’m slapping you.” Eve, mortified and furious, covered her face, her eyes wide as she glared at me. The sudden outburst stunned everyone in the room. Realizing what had happened, Leo furiously grabbed the back of my neck. *Smack! Smack! Smack!* He slapped me repeatedly, left and right. “Rachel, are you f**king crazy? It’s just a game, what right do you have to lay a hand on Eve!” “If you can’t take a joke, then don’t play! Besides, Eve was just telling the truth…”

Leo’s eyes were bloodshot, and he reeked of alcohol. He went over to Eve, carefully blowing on her swollen half-face, his eyes filled with undisguised tenderness. As if to spite me, Leo hooked an arm around Eve’s shoulders and said, loud enough for everyone to hear: “Eve, you wanted to know which doctor Rachel enjoyed the most, right?” “I’ll tell you. The answer is the one today.” “Because – Rachel has only had one proper abortion. The first two children she aborted herself!” The room erupted in a collective gasp. Eve gasped, covering her mouth, her grin so wide it almost reached her ears: “You’re not kidding me, are you? Rachel is crazy, she actually aborted herself!” “You’re so rich, why would she abort herself? Is she a psychopath, or just seeking thrills? She really knows how to play!” Eyes fell on me, some with shock, some with contempt. “She’s had three abortions, her uterus must be completely ruined. Do you think Rachel can still have kids?” “If she can’t, there’s always our Eve! Leo can have kids with Eve. Eve’s probably still a virgin. What can that slut compare to?” Eve bounced over to the man who spoke, playfully punching him twice: “Oh, stop it! Leo and I are just buddies, okay? No kids!” “But you’re right about one thing, I am pure…” Eve rarely showed such shyness. Leo ruffled her hair, smiling dotingly, and everyone else burst into laughter. Looking at their disgusting, laughing faces, I nearly threw up. Tears touched my swollen skin, sending waves of sharp, stinging pain through me. I shook my head frantically, trying to dislodge those painful memories. But memories, like a tidal wave, engulfed me. When I was eighteen, I got into college. The orphanage couldn’t pay my tuition, so I had to work at a auto repair shop. But the meager wages couldn’t cover my tuition and living expenses, and I started thinking about dropping out. Leo, who was also an apprentice at the repair shop, cornered me against a wall, his eyes red as he promised: “Keep studying, I’ll support you.” From then on, Leo repaired cars during the day, hauled bricks at night, and did manual labor late into the night. In the prime of his youth, he almost burned himself out for me. Every time we met, besides giving me money, he only told me to study hard, never once complaining. When he heard I was being bullied by classmates, Leo rushed into the school with a knife and stabbed himself three times in front of everyone, blood splattering everywhere. He said: “Anyone who dares to bully Rachel again, this is what happens. I’d even stab myself, what else wouldn’t I dare to do?” From then on, even the flies in the school avoided me. I grew up in an orphanage, starved for love since childhood. Meeting a man like that, it was truly hard not to fall in love. To cling to that bit of warmth, I was willing to give everything. In that thirty-dollar rundown motel, I confessed my feelings to Leo, clinging to him and trying again and again. Later, that became our regular spot. He was like a wild wolf, always fiercely breaking through the cheap condoms. Because of that, I got pregnant twice. Without money for a proper hospital, I had to find a way to abort myself. I blindly swallowed expired abortion pills, then deliberately tumbled down the stairs. Once wasn’t enough, so twice, then three times. This method was incredibly cruel to both me and the baby. Leo hated himself for it. To avoid harming me again, he even underwent a vasectomy at a black market clinic, almost losing his ability to conceive altogether. He said he owed me for life. He would work twice as hard, pushing himself to the limit. He would make me happier than anyone else, ensuring I’d never live through such hardship again. Life did get better, but Leo’s heart changed. The lifelong pain I dared not touch had now become his talking point. As long as it made Eve smile, he didn’t mind stabbing me again and again in my most vulnerable spot. I furiously grabbed a wine bottle and smashed it over Leo’s head: “Game over.” “Get out, all of you, get out!” Leo’s friends tactfully dispersed, and Eve was reluctantly pulled away.

Leo was knocked unconscious by my blow and didn’t wake up until noon the next day. He clutched his head in pain, dimly recalling what happened yesterday. Leo took my hand and hit his own face with it: “Honey, drunks don’t know what they’re doing.” “Slap me back, I promise I won’t fight back. As for the abortion thing… I’ll go clarify it for you right away. With me around, let’s see whose dead mouth dares to spread rumors.” Looking at Leo’s shameless demeanor, I calmly said: “Let’s get a divorce.” Leo smiled helplessly, his pinky finger lightly hooking my strands of hair. He thought I was just throwing a tantrum, wanting to be intimate with me and coax me into forgiving him, just like before. His phone rang. Leo glanced at the caller ID, quickly pulled his hand away, and answered. “Eve, what’s wrong?” “What else? I lost a dare. I tell you, I’m pretty unlucky this time, the punishment is to get a room with one of the guys, and we have to go all the way!” “They’re all laughing, saying I wouldn’t dare, but you know me, I always honor a bet! I choose you to get the room with.” Leo’s breathing hitched. He looked up, observing my expression, then quickly refused: “Don’t be reckless, you idiot. Just forfeit.” “You don’t want to? Humph, then I’ll find someone else~” Leo panicked, immediately agreeing without thinking: “Eve, I dare you! Send me the hotel location, I’ll be right there.” Leo anxiously slipped on his shoes, not even bothering to look at me: “Eve is naive and overly competitive. If I don’t go, she’ll definitely be taken advantage of by some other guy.” “Don’t worry, honey, I’ll go talk some sense into her, I’ll definitely convince her not to do it!” I followed Leo’s car, tailing him all the way to the hotel. Posing as his wife, I got a room key, then burst in, phone in hand. *Click! Click!* I captured both of them, faces flushed and stark naked. When she saw me taking pictures, Eve shrieked: “Rachel, delete those photos right now! Leo and I were just doing a Truth or Dare punishment. Can’t you be less petty?!” Leo, his face red, pulled the blanket to cover his lower body, stammering an explanation to me: “Eve is too stubborn, she insisted on completing the dare. I couldn’t help it…” “But don’t worry, I only see her as a buddy. This is a one-time thing, absolutely no next time.” “Listen, Rachel, delete the photos. Eve is still a girl, how will she ever get married if these get out?” I couldn’t help but laugh. Caught red-handed in bed, and he’s still calling them ‘good buddies.’ I calmly tucked my phone into my pocket. Seeing I was unmoved, Leo’s face gradually darkened. He pulled out his phone and started playing a blurry video. It was the video of me falling down the stairs to abort myself when I was eighteen. Leo had secretly kept this video on his phone, captioned ‘Lifelong Regret.’ Whenever he got too tired from working hard, he’d watch it once to motivate himself. Watching it always gave him the drive to keep going. Now, that former regret had become a bargaining chip to threaten me. “Rachel, if you dare to spread those photos, I’ll post this video online! Everyone will see your ugly state of secretly getting an abortion, how you killed your own flesh and blood!” Through my tears, I smiled calmly: “Don’t worry, I won’t spread it.” “I’m not here to fight the other woman, nor am I here to break up you two loving ‘besties’.” “I just want to keep some evidence. In court, it might help with our asset division.” With that, I turned and walked away without a trace of hesitation. In the empty, themed suite, Eve pouted, rolling her eyes as she asked: “Hey, is she really serious this time?” Leo instinctively shook his head: “No way! She’s an orphan, no family, no home. Where could she go without me?” “I’ll contact the hospital right away to arrange the next IVF. Rachel loves children so much, she’ll calm down immediately.” Leo called the hospital, but the nurse on the other end responded with confusion: “Don’t you know? After the last abortion surgery, Rachel completely lost her ability to conceive.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “409064”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

The night my wife was on a business trip, her male assistant sent me a photo. In the picture, they were naked, wrapped in each other’s arms, sleeping soundly. He even provocatively added a line: “Mr. Carter, your wife is mine now.” I didn’t reply. I opened the company SnapChat group, two hundred and thirty-six people online. I posted their intimate photo. “Congratulations to our assistant, Leon Miller. Effective immediately, he will also serve as CEO’s husband. Salary and benefits negotiable.” Then I turned off my phone and went to sleep. The next day, when I turned it back on, I had 136 missed calls. My wife was crying and cursing in her voicemails. But the only thing I wanted to say was: You picked him. You deal with him. My phone vibrated. I swiped to unlock it. Someone had sent me a picture. Kelly, my wife, and a man. They were naked, tangled together on white hotel sheets. Her cheeks were flushed in sleep, a faint smile on her lips. The man leaned in, kissed her forehead, and held up his phone for a selfie. Only half of his face was visible, his eyes full of triumph. I recognized him: Leon Miller, Kelly’s assistant. Below the photo, a line of text followed. “Mr. Carter, your wife’s quite good in bed. She’s mine now.” I stared at that line for a long time. My finger hovered over the screen. No reply. No anger. My heart felt like it was gripped by an icy hand, then that hand released, leaving only a hollow numbness. I exited the chat and opened another app, finding a group chat. “Carter Tech Group (236).” Two hundred and thirty-six people. Everyone from top management to junior staff, except the cleaning crew, was in it. I posted the intimate photo Leon had sent me in that group. Then, in the input box, I typed out each word, one by one. “Congratulations to Mr. Leon Miller, our company’s CEO assistant. Due to outstanding performance, he will also be taking on the role of CEO’s husband, effective immediately. Salary and benefits are negotiable. Please be informed.” Send. I scrolled to the group member list and found Kelly’s profile picture. It was a photo of us on the beach, her smiling brightly. I tapped on her picture, selected, and removed her from the group. Then I found Leon Miller. Removed from group. After doing all that, the world went quiet. I switched my phone to airplane mode. And tossed it onto the nightstand. The room was dark, curtains tightly drawn. This was our master bedroom. In our three years of marriage, Kelly had spent less than three months sleeping here, total. She said she was busy. The company was in its growth phase; she had to travel, attend events, hold meetings. She’d say, “Mason, you understand me.” I used to. I handed her the company I had founded, along with the “CEO” title. I told her, “Go chase your dreams. I’ll hold down the fort.” Now, her dream was caught, and the home was gone. Good riddance. I lay down and closed my eyes. For the first time in three years, I fell asleep so quickly.

Turning my phone back on was like detonating a bomb. The screen was plastered with layers of red notification badges. Texts, 99+. Missed calls, 136. Half from Kelly. Half from an unknown number, likely Leon Miller. A few more from Kelly’s parents. I opened my voicemail. The latest one, from Kelly, a minute ago. “Mason! You lunatic! You’ve ruined me! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?!” Her voice was sharp, hoarse, and tearful, like a rusty saw grating wood. “You sent the photo? In the company group chat?! Are you out of your mind?! What about the company’s stock price?! How am I supposed to face anyone?!” “You’re just a useless freeloader who hides at home! What else can you do besides these low-down tricks?!” “I’m telling you, you retract that message right now! You tell everyone it’s a Photoshopped picture! That you were drunk and joking! Do you hear me?!” “If you don’t do as I say, I’ll make sure you don’t get a single penny! You just wait!” The voicemail ended. I deleted it expressionlessly. Next. Still her. “Honey… Honey, I’m sorry… I’m really, truly sorry… Please, just give me another chance, okay…?” Her voice had done a complete 180, becoming soft, pitiful, punctuated by sobs. “He seduced me… He drugged me… I wasn’t willing… You’re the only one I love, Mason…” “Have you forgotten about us? Our love, our past…?” “Please, come home, okay? Let’s talk face to face, resolve this, don’t let outsiders laugh at us…” “Where are you now? Turn your phone on! Say something back to me…” I continued deleting. She was a good actress, always had been. In front of the board, the media, her parents. The perfect boss, the perfect daughter, the perfect wife. Unfortunately, I was the only, and the most sober, audience. I opened the company SnapChat group. Overnight, the group name had changed from “Carter Tech Group” to “CEO’s Husband Job Opening.” The group was in an uproar. Thousands of messages had already scrolled by. Some were shocked, some were gossiping, some were cursing me, and some subtly supported me. The company’s Vice President, Jayden Wells, a protégé I had personally promoted, posted a message in the group: “Mr. Carter, we all believe in you.” Dozens of “+1″s followed. I smiled faintly. My phone started vibrating wildly again. Caller ID: Kelly’s Mother. I answered. “Mason! You animal! Do you want to live or not?! What did you do to Kelly?!” On the other end of the line was Kelly’s mother’s familiar, booming roar. I held the phone away from my ear a bit. “I didn’t do anything,” I said calmly. “You didn’t do anything? You sent those pictures everywhere! How is your wife supposed to live with herself?! How are we supposed to face anyone?!” “I didn’t take that photo.” “I don’t care who took it! Can’t you, as a man, just be a little more accommodating to your wife? It’s so hard for Kelly, a young woman, to fight her way up out there! Do you know how much pressure she’s under?! So what if she made a mistake? Did you have to go to such extremes?!” Her logic was as twisted as ever. “So, if she makes a mistake, I’m supposed to take the fall?” I asked. “Otherwise, what? You’re her husband! If you don’t cover for her, who will?! I’m telling you, Mason, right now! Immediately! Go apologize to everyone! Say the photo was fake, that you were jealous of Kelly’s success and mentally unstable!” I fell silent. On the other end, Kelly’s mother thought I was intimidated and softened her tone. “Mason, listen to my advice. Married couples always work things out in the end. Kelly truly cares about you. Just give in a little, and this whole thing will blow over. We’re still family.” I cut her off. “You’re right. I’m her husband, and I should cover for her.” Kelly’s mother immediately brightened: “That’s right! You should have thought that way from the start!” I paused, then spoke each word distinctly. “So, I’ve prepared a big gift for her. Soon, you and she will both receive it.” With that, I hung up. And blocked her number.

The doorbell rang. As expected. I peered through the peephole. Kelly’s mother’s face, distorted with fury, was pressed against the lens. Behind her stood a timid Kelly’s father. “Mason! Open up! I know you’re in there! You coward, do you have the guts to do it but not to own up to it?!” She pounded forcefully on the reinforced door, creating loud thuds. I didn’t open the door. I leaned against the wall behind it and lit a cigarette. This was something I had quit three years ago. Kelly disliked the smell of smoke; she said it was for losers. Now, I picked it up again. The smoke billowed, making me cough a bit, but also clearing my head. The yelling from outside continued. From “bastard” and “ungrateful wretch” to “freeloader who lives off us.” She seemed to have forgotten that this marital home was purchased by me in full before we married, with only my name on the title. She also forgot that the red Porsche her daughter drove was my thirtieth birthday gift to her. She even more conveniently forgot that when “Carter Tech Group” was on the brink of bankruptcy, it was I who took out all my savings and mortgaged my parents’ house to give it a fighting chance. People’s memories are always so selective. After about half an hour of shouting, Kelly’s mother’s voice grew hoarse, and her strength gave out. Silence fell outside the door. I guessed she was brewing her next attack. Sure enough, my phone rang. It was Kelly’s father. I put out my cigarette and answered. “Mason…” Kelly’s father’s voice sounded tired and conflicted. “Can you… just open the door and let your mother in to talk? She’s outside, and the neighbors are watching…” “You know what she’ll say,” I replied. A silence fell on the other end. “Mason, I know Kelly was wrong. She… she was spoiled by us,” Kelly’s father sighed. “But, can you… for my sake, for the sake of your three years of marriage, not make things so big?” “For old times’ sake?” I laughed. “Three years ago, I handed the company to her, came home myself, cut off all my business, all my connections. Wasn’t that for old times’ sake?” “I took care of all the housework, letting her focus on her career outside, coming home to a hot meal and clean clothes. Wasn’t that for old times’ sake?” “Three hundred out of three hundred sixty-five days a year, she was traveling, networking, ‘expanding the empire.’ I never doubted, never complained. Wasn’t that for old times’ sake?” My voice was calm, but Kelly’s father’s breathing grew heavier on the phone. “I gave her everything I had. My career, my energy, my trust. What did she give me in return?” “A photo, and a message saying, ‘Your wife is mine now.’” “You tell me, who’s not considering ‘old times’ sake’ now?” Kelly’s father was completely speechless. After a long pause, he finally spoke in a near-pleading tone: “So… what exactly do you want?” “What do I want?” I walked to the peephole, watching Kelly’s mother lean against the wall, panting, her face full of resentment. “It’s simple.” I said into the phone, as if speaking to the people outside the door. “First, a divorce.” “Second, Kelly leaves with nothing.” “Third, ‘Carter Tech Group,’ I’m taking it back.” A gasp came from the phone, I couldn’t tell if it was Kelly’s father or mother. “You’re dreaming! Mason, you’re crazy!” Kelly’s mother’s roar erupted again, making my ears ache even through the door. I ignored her. “My message has been delivered. You can go home.” “As for the gift I prepared for Kelly…” I pulled open the curtains, the sunlight blinding. Downstairs, a black sedan had just pulled up. Two men in black suits stepped out, carrying briefcases. My lawyers. “The gift has arrived.” I hung up the phone and opened the door. Outside, Kelly’s mother was about to lunge forward, but seeing the two serious-faced lawyers behind me, her movements froze. I stepped aside, making a path. “Leo Rodriguez, Owen Davis, please come in.” I gave Kelly’s mother a smile, the most genuine smile I’d had in three years. “Care to come in and listen?”

Kelly’s mother’s face went from flushed to ashen, then from ashen to livid. Her lips trembled, and she pointed at me, unable to utter a single word for a long time. Kelly’s father steadied her, looking at me with a pleading expression. I ignored him. “Leo, please.” Leo Rodriguez nodded, opened his briefcase, and pulled out two documents. One was the divorce agreement. The other was a thick stack of papers. “Mr. Carter,” Leo Rodriguez’s voice was calm and professional, precise as a surgeon’s scalpel, “let’s discuss the simpler matter first.” He pushed the divorce agreement to the center of the table. “The core terms of this divorce agreement are that Ms. Kelly Carter voluntarily relinquishes all marital assets and leaves with nothing. Mr. Carter, considering past sentiment, is willing to waive any financial claims against Ms. Carter for marital misconduct.” “Bullshit!” Kelly’s mother finally found her voice, slamming her palm on the table. “This is blackmail! Why?! The company is Kelly’s! The house and car are half hers! Mason is dreaming if he thinks she’ll leave with nothing!” I remained silent, just making a “please continue” gesture. Leo Rodriguez adjusted his glasses and spread out the thick stack of materials. On top were several detailed expense reports. “Ms. Carter’s mother, please don’t get agitated. We propose this arrangement based on the utmost protection for Ms. Carter.” He pointed to one of the receipts. “Last May, Ms. Carter authorized a company expenditure of three hundred seventy thousand using the pretext of ‘overseas business inspection.’ This money was used to purchase a Patek Philippe men’s watch. According to our investigation, that watch is currently on Mr. Leon Miller’s wrist.” Kelly’s mother’s breathing hitched. Leo Rodriguez turned to another page. “Last October, Ms. Carter advanced fifty thousand in company reserves under the pretext of ‘expanding partner resources.’ This money was used to rent an apartment in the west for a year. The actual occupant of that apartment, however, is still Mr. Leon Miller.” “This January, for the ‘Annual Excellent Employee Award,’ Mr. Leon Miller’s bonus was two hundred thousand, far exceeding directors of the same level. The payout of this bonus was not approved by the board; it was unilaterally signed and approved by Ms. Carter.” With each item Leo Rodriguez listed, Kelly’s mother’s face grew paler. He tossed a stack of photos onto the receipts. In the photos, Leon Miller was driving a brand new BMW, entering high-end clubs, his luxury watch glinting on his wrist. “And these are just the tip of the iceberg,” Owen Davis added from beside him, his voice even colder. “Ms. Kelly Carter and Mr. Leon Miller are suspected of using their positions to embezzle company assets, amounting to a significant sum. According to criminal law Article 271, this constitutes embezzlement. For substantial amounts, the penalty is five years or more in prison.” “Five years… in prison?” Kelly’s father mumbled, his body swaying slightly. “So,” Leo Rodriguez concluded, “we now have two choices.” “Choice one, Ms. Carter signs this divorce agreement. We handle this as an internal family matter, and Mr. Carter will not sue or press charges. She only loses money.” He paused, his eyes sharpening. “Choice two, we reject this agreement. In that case, we will file a lawsuit with the court tomorrow and simultaneously report to the police. Then, Ms. Carter will face not only divorce and asset division but also a criminal investigation.” “At that point, news of ‘Carter Tech Group’ CEO cheating on her subordinate and conspiring to embezzle company assets, I imagine, would be quite spectacular.” The entire living room was dead silent. Only Kelly’s mother’s heavy breathing could be heard. She looked at the mountain of evidence on the table, then at my calm, unruffled face. The arrogance and fury in her eyes were finally replaced by fear. I picked up my now-cold coffee and took a sip. I looked at her. “Now, do you still think I’m dreaming?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “409065”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

To save my brother, I willingly became Ethan Thorne’s mistress for three years. I thought if I was good enough, I could eventually melt his cold heart. That was until I overheard him at a star-studded charity gala, laughing with his friends: “Lily? Just a plaything I could buy off. Serena’s pregnant. We’re getting engaged next month.” In that moment, my heart turned to ash. In front of everyone, I slammed the priceless pink diamond he had just bought onto his face, then turned and walked into the rainy night. Later, I became a rising star in the business world, with countless admirers. But the arrogant billionaire heir, Ethan Thorne, was the one who knelt at my door on a stormy night, his eyes bloodshot: “Lily, please, just look at me again…” The deep autumn in Manhattan was bone-chilling. But inside the Ritz Hotel’s top-floor charity gala, it was a scene of dazzling elegance, warm as spring. I sat in a corner of the lounge, staring at the balance on my phone. Leo’s medical bills were almost depleted again. Ethan brought me tonight, saying he wanted to bid on something for me, a gift for our three-year anniversary. A part of me actually felt a flicker of hope. Three years. He had never brought me to a public event before. This was the first time. Footsteps and hushed laughter drifted from outside the door. “Ethan, you’re really splashing out this time, huh? Thirty million for a pink diamond, didn’t even bat an eye.” It was Ethan’s childhood friend, Mr. Davis. “Serena likes it. What’s thirty million?” Ethan’s voice was lazy, nonchalant. My heart plummeted. Serena? Serena Cross? The heiress from the Cross family who just returned from abroad? “But what about the one in your lounge? She’s been with you for three years, she deserves some credit, or at least some consideration for her effort, right?” Mr. Davis lowered his voice, a hint of mockery in his tone. Ethan chuckled. That laugh, thin as the door separating us, pierced through my heart like a knife. “Lily?” His voice was dismissive, as if he were discussing an unimportant item. “Just a plaything I could easily dismiss with money. Her brother needs saving; she wouldn’t dare make a scene.” “Right. Serena’s pregnant, and you’re getting engaged next month. It’s time to clean house, get rid of anyone who shouldn’t be around.” I sat on the sofa, utterly frozen. It was like falling into an ice pit. Pregnant? Engaged? Just three days ago, he held me close, whispering in my ear that after Leo’s surgery, we’d go to Iceland to see the Northern Lights. It was all a lie. The deep affection I believed was real was just a handout after he weighed the pros and cons. The door opened. Ethan, dressed in a designer suit, walked in, holding the velvet box containing the pink diamond. Seeing my pale face, he frowned slightly. “What’s wrong? Not feeling well?” He walked over, reaching out to caress my head, a familiar gesture. I turned my head away, dodging his hand. His hand froze in mid-air, and his eyes darkened. “What’s with the attitude?” His voice held a trace of impatience. I stood up, looking him directly in the eyes. “Are you getting engaged?” My voice was eerily calm. Ethan paused. Then, he tossed the box onto the coffee table and tugged at his tie. “You heard?” He showed no sign of being caught off guard, instead, there was an air of casual frankness. “Serena’s pregnant. The Cross family can help me secure the Southside development project.” He looked at me, like he was reassuring an ignorant subordinate. “Just be good. This pink diamond is yours, and the money I give you will double every month. You won’t lack anything, except that title.” I looked at the pink diamond, sparkling with a dazzling, almost blinding light. Suddenly, I felt utterly disgusted. “Ethan Thorne.” I called his full name. “Do you really think my dignity, Lily’s dignity, can be bought with money?” He scoffed. “What else? Have you paid for Leo’s dialysis tomorrow? Without me, you two would have starved on the streets long ago.” He was certain I couldn’t leave him. Because I was poor, because I had a sick brother who was a burden. I took a deep breath. I picked up the velvet box from the table. Ethan’s lips curved into a mocking smile, thinking I had finally conceded. The next second. I raised my hand and slammed the box squarely onto his face. “CRACK!” The box hit his forehead, bounced to the floor, and the pink diamond rolled deep into the carpet. Ethan’s forehead immediately turned red. His eyes widened in disbelief. “Lily! Are you crazy?!” “Yes, I am crazy.” I stared at him coldly. “Consider these three years wasted on a dog. We’re over.” With that, I turned without hesitation, pushed open the door, and walked into the cold hallway.

“Stop!” Ethan roared from behind me. I didn’t stop. The elevator at the end of the hallway opened just then. I quickly stepped inside and pressed the close door button. The elevator doors slowly shut, cutting off Ethan’s enraged face. Stepping out of the hotel, the cold wind, mixed with a fine drizzle, hit me. I pulled my thin trench coat tighter and walked into the rain. My phone vibrated wildly in my pocket. All calls from Ethan. I turned it off directly, pulled out the SIM card, and tossed it into a roadside trash can. I returned to the luxury apartment in the city center. Ethan’s scent was everywhere. The walk-in closet was filled with designer dresses he bought me, and the vanity table held complete sets of expensive skincare products. I found an old suitcase. I only packed a few of my old clothes, a few textbooks, and a five-year-old beat-up laptop. I didn’t touch any of the glittering jewelry or branded bags. I neatly placed the black card, car keys, and access card Ethan had given me on the shoe cabinet by the entrance. I took one last look at this “gilded cage” I had lived in for three years. With a resounding “BANG,” I closed the door. Dragging my suitcase, I took the last night bus. It brought me to a dilapidated neighborhood. This was a forgotten corner of the bustling city. Narrow alleys, puddles of murky water, and the air thick with the sour smell of cheap fast food mixed with sewage. I knocked on the door of a run-down boarding house with a red light on. “How much for the cheapest single room?” The woman behind the counter eyed me up and down. “Top floor, no AC, shared bathroom, six hundred a month, a month’s rent as deposit, plus three months upfront.” “Okay.” I paid the money and got the key. The room was only about a hundred square feet. A wooden bed, a shaky wardrobe. The paint was peeling, and there was a yellowish water stain on the ceiling. I sat on the hard bed, listening to the sounds of snoring and a baby crying from next door. It was noisy. But I felt a freedom I had never experienced before. The next morning. I went to the hospital. Leo lay in his hospital bed, his face as white as paper. Seeing me, he forced a weak smile. “Lily, you didn’t come to see me yesterday.” “Yesterday… I had to work overtime.” I walked over and tucked his blanket in. “Lily, where’s Mr. Thorne? He hasn’t been here in a while.” Leo asked innocently. My heart ached. “Leo,” I looked into his eyes and said seriously, “from now on, don’t mention him again. We have nothing to do with him anymore.” Leo froze. He was sick, but he wasn’t stupid. He looked at my swollen eyes and seemed to understand something. “Lily, is it because of me… Am I holding you back?” His eyes reddened. “Don’t be silly.” I held his cold hand. “You’re the only family I have in this world. As long as you’re okay, I’m not afraid of anything.” As I walked out of the ward, the nurse on duty at the station called out to me. “Lily, the money in your brother’s account will only last for three more days. The follow-up targeted therapy costs fifty thousand per injection. You need to find a way to get funds quickly.” “I understand, thank you.” I walked out of the hospital, standing on the busy street. The sunlight was blinding. I touched the necklace around my neck. It was the only memento my mom left me. I gritted my teeth, then turned and walked into a pawn shop on the corner. “Ten thousand.” The owner, after examining it with a magnifying glass for a long time, named a price. “But it’s an antique necklace!” I exclaimed. “Times are tough, young lady. This necklace, this is the price. Take it or leave it.” The owner said, like he knew he had me over a barrel. I closed my eyes. Leo’s pale face flashed in my mind. “Fine, I’ll pawn it.” With the ten thousand dollars, I immediately deposited it into the hospital account. This ten thousand would only last half a month. I had to find a job as soon as possible.

I thought that with my degree from a top university, finding a job wouldn’t be difficult. But I underestimated Ethan Thorne’s influence. In one week, I sent out hundreds of resumes. Either they went nowhere, or after passing an interview, I’d get a call the next day saying I wasn’t suitable. Until I went to a decent internet company. The HR manager handed my resume back directly. “Ms. Lily, if you’ve crossed the wrong person, New York isn’t the place for you anymore. Go back home.” I clutched the resume, my nails digging into my palms. Ethan Thorne. He wanted to push me to the brink, force me to come back and beg him. I stood under the scorching sun, looking at the distant Thorne Industries building. Towering into the clouds, absolutely domineering. “Ethan Thorne, you wish.” I gritted my teeth, saying each word slowly. If I couldn’t get into a big company, I’d go to a small one. A place that didn’t require background or academic qualifications, only results. Finally, I joined a newly established real estate agency. A base salary of fifteen hundred, commission entirely dependent on my sales. An office without AC, a beat-up electric scooter, and every day, I’d be out on the streets, handing out flyers under nearly 100-degree Fahrenheit heat. “Excuse me, interested in buying a house? New development in the South District, great school zone!” I stopped a middle-aged woman passing by and handed her a thick stack of flyers. The woman waved her hand dismissively, like shooing a fly. “Go away, go away, it’s too hot!” The flyers scattered across the ground. I knelt down, picking them up one by one. Sweat stung my eyes. My white shirt was soaked with sweat, clinging to my back. But I had no time to complain. After half a month, I was tanned and had lost ten pounds. But I also closed three small deals, earning over ten thousand dollars in commission. On payday, I bought a roasted chicken and took it to the hospital to share with Leo. Leo ate heartily, his mouth covered in grease, laughing happily. Looking at him, I felt it was all worth it. Just when I thought my life was finally getting back on track. Trouble came knocking. That afternoon, my manager suddenly called me into his office. “Lily, we have a big client tonight, specifically asking to see the villa at South Hill Estates. You’re coming with me.” Mr. Peterson rubbed his hands, his face excited. “South Hill Estates? That’s a hundred-million-dollar mansion!” “Exactly! If we close it, the commission alone will be over a million! You’re in luck, kid!” I felt a faint unease. How could such a big deal fall to me, a newcomer? But a million-dollar commission was too tempting. With that money, Leo’s surgery and subsequent recovery costs would all be covered. I pushed down my doubts and followed Mr. Peterson to South Hill Estates. The moment I pushed open the door to the luxurious private room. All the blood in my veins froze. On the leather sofa. Ethan Thorne had his legs crossed, a glass of red wine in his hand, looking at me with a half-smile. Serena Cross leaned against him, dressed in a Chanel maternity outfit, her face full of coy charm. There were a few other trust fund kids from their circle in the private room, all staring at me with expressions of eager anticipation. “Mr. Thorne, I’ve brought her.” Mr. Peterson bowed and fawned over him. I turned to leave. “Stop.” Ethan’s voice was cold. Two bodyguards immediately blocked the door. I turned back, looking at him coldly. “Mr. Thorne, if you’re buying, let’s see the house. If not, I need to get off work.” Serena let out a snicker. “Ethan, is this the stubborn woman you were talking about? Look at the state she’s in now.” She eyed my cheap professional outfit and my tanned, rough skin, her eyes full of disdain. “Heard you’re selling houses? Fine.” Serena pulled a stack of cash from her bag and tossed it onto the table. “Drink these three bottles of liquor on the table, and I’ll sign for this hundred-million-dollar villa with you.” On the table were three bottles of expensive, high-proof tequila. Mr. Peterson was frantically signaling me from the side. “Lily, drink it! This is Mr. Thorne and Ms. Cross doing you a favor!” I looked at the three bottles of tequila. I’m allergic to alcohol. Drinking this much could be fatal. Ethan looked at me, his eyes holding an air of condescending charity. “Lily, if you drink it, not only will this deal be credited to you, but I’ll cover all of Leo’s future treatment abroad.” He was certain I would concede. Just like every time he had used Leo to manipulate me over the past three years. I walked to the table. Serena’s smile grew wider. “A pauper is a pauper, willing to throw away her life for money.” I picked up a bottle of tequila. I unscrewed the cap. Then. With a flick of my wrist. “SPLASH!” The entire bottle of liquor was precisely doused all over Serena’s Chanel dress, worth hundreds of thousands.

“AHH—!” Serena shrieked, jumping up, the pungent smell of alcohol instantly filling the room. “You bitch! Are you crazy?!” She pointed at me, trembling with rage. Dead silence filled the private room. Everyone gasped. Mr. Peterson was so terrified his legs went weak, and he collapsed onto the floor. Ethan’s face instantly darkened to an extreme. He abruptly stood up and grabbed my wrist. His grip was so strong, it felt like he wanted to crush my bones. “Lily, are you asking to die?!” His voice was gritted through his teeth, filled with towering fury. I met his furious glare, a cold smile playing on my lips. “Mr. Thorne, didn’t Ms. Cross enjoy her drink? I just helped her with a little washing. No need to thank me.” I forcefully pulled my hand free. “Your dirty money? I find it disgusting.” “BANG!” I turned, kicked away the bodyguard blocking the door, and strode out of the private room. Behind me, I heard Serena’s crying and Ethan’s sound of smashing a glass. I walked along the tree-lined road outside South Hill Estates. The night wind blew, and I realized my back was completely soaked. In that moment, I was genuinely afraid. Ethan could crush me as easily as an ant. But I was even more afraid of bending my spine again. Returning to my rental room, I was utterly exhausted. As soon as I lay down, Mr. Peterson’s call came in. “Lily! Don’t bother coming in tomorrow! You crossed Mr. Thorne, and if you want to self-destruct, don’t drag the company down with you!” The call was abruptly cut off. I looked at the black screen of my phone and let out a bitter laugh. Another job gone. The next day, I started sending out resumes again. But this time, the situation was worse than before. The entire real estate industry had blacklisted me. I walked under the scorching sun, looking at the mere three thousand dollars left in my bank account, feeling a despair I’d never felt before. Was I truly no match for him? Just as I squatted on the curb, burying my face in my arms. A pair of gleaming black leather shoes stopped in front of me. “Ms. Lily, our CEO would like to see you.” A man in a sharp suit handed me a business card. “Sterling Group, CEO’s Executive Assistant.” I froze. Sterling Group? That was the only business giant that could contend with Thorne Industries. I followed the assistant to the CEO’s office on the top floor of the Sterling Group building. A tall, slender figure stood by the floor-to-ceiling window. Hearing footsteps, he turned around. His features were sharp, his gaze deep, exuding an aura of authority that needed no anger. Sterling Group CEO, Julian Vance. “Lily?” He eyed me, then gestured to the sofa opposite him. “Sit.” I sat down, a bit reserved. “Mr. Vance, you wanted to see me…” Julian pushed a file across the table to me. “I’ve seen the proposal you did in college for urban renewal. It was brilliant.” I paused. That was my work from junior year, which won a national gold award, but after I started being with Ethan, I never touched such things again. “Ethan Thorne is blacklisting you.” Julian said directly. “No one in New York would dare hire you but me.” He looked at me, his eyes sharp. “I’m giving you an opportunity. Sterling Group is bidding for the Southside land, and I need someone familiar with grassroots operations and with enough ambition.” “A base salary of ten thousand, five percent project commission. Fail, and you’re out.” Five percent! That Southside land was worth billions, so five percent was tens of millions! My breath hitched. “Why me?” I couldn’t help but ask. Julian smiled faintly. “Because yesterday at South Hill Estates, you poured a bottle of liquor on Serena Cross.” “The enemy of my enemy is my friend. I like people with grit.” I took a deep breath, stood up, and nodded firmly, my voice steady. “Mr. Vance, I won’t let you down.” From that day on, I officially joined the Sterling Group. I worked like a maniac. Daytime, I was on-site, doing background checks; nights, I pulled all-nighters revising proposals. The Southside land was a complex situation, involving many resistant homeowners and long-standing disputes. I visited each family, doing individual outreach. Once, I was even bitten on the calf by a dog released by a grumpy homeowner. After getting my rabies shot, I hobbled back to knock on doors. Julian saw my relentless effort. He began to personally mentor me, teaching me the cunning and deception of the business world, teaching me how to read people. Under Julian’s guidance, my growth rate was astonishing. In just three months, I secured eighty percent of the demolition agreements for the Southside project. A week before the bidding conference. Ethan Thorne made his move.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “409066”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

My mother-in-law, Eleanor, was trapped in a fire, trying to save my treasured heirloom necklace. She suffered severe burns over 70% of her body, hanging by a thread. She desperately needed $500,000 for skin grafts and anti-infection surgeries. I frantically tried to withdraw our recently matured savings, only to find the account completely empty. I called my husband, Ethan, but his ‘one true love,’ Genevieve, answered the phone. “Ethan, this $5,000,000 pink diamond necklace looks so perfect with my custom gown. I’ll definitely steal the show on the red carpet tonight.” A chill ran through me, but Ethan’s voice, hushed and impatient, growled from the other end of the line, “I lent the money to Genevieve to make a statement first. A little burn cream is all my mom needs, don’t bother me!” He didn’t know that $500,000 was his own mother’s life, slowly clawing back from the BICU. Later, he pounded his head against the floor outside the sterile unit, begging me to save her. I only handed him a pair of handcuffs.

Dr. Miller emerged from the burn intensive care unit, his scrubs still on, his brows deeply furrowed. “Olivia, Eleanor’s family?” I shot up from the floor, my legs numb from kneeling for so long. I stumbled forward. “I’m here.” I clutched the wall, my voice hoarse, like sandpaper. He handed me a long payment slip and a critical condition notice simultaneously. His voice was low, yet every word hit like a ton of bricks: “The patient has 70% deep second-to-third degree burns across her body, accompanied by severe inhalation injuries. Her condition is very unstable tonight, and infection indicators are off the charts. Basic resuscitation will continue, but subsequent imported anti-infection medication and continuous hemodialysis require family consent and the fees must be paid as soon as possible. A deposit of $500,000 is needed first.” I stared at the string of despairing numbers on the payment slip, my vision blurring, my ears ringing. My mother-in-law, Eleanor, had been burned that afternoon. An old house in an older part of the city had suffered a sudden electrical short and caught fire. The flames spread quickly. Neighbors had all run out, and Eleanor had initially escaped too. But then she remembered a necklace my mother had left me before she died, still in a bedroom drawer in the old house. She knew it was my most cherished keepsake, and she rushed back into the flames without a second thought. By the time the firefighters pulled her out, she was unrecognizable. Her skin was peeling and burnt, emitting a suffocating smell of scorched flesh. Before she was pushed into the BICU, she couldn’t even open her eyes, yet she clutched a smoke-blackened jade bracelet, trying with all her strength to press it into my hand. Her dry, cracked lips moved for a long time, only managing a faint whisper: “Olivia… it’s not broken… don’t cry…” In that moment, my heart felt like it was being ripped apart. But the one who should have been here, her own son, Ethan, was nowhere to be seen. I trembled as I pulled out my phone and dialed the number I knew by heart. The first call went unanswered. The second was immediately hung up. It wasn’t until the fifteenth call that the phone finally connected. Before I could speak, a woman’s seductively sweet laughter floated from the other end. “Ethan, help me put on this necklace. This pink diamond truly suits my complexion. I’ll definitely be the center of attention on the film festival red carpet tonight.” I froze, feeling like I’d been plunged into an ice bath. Ethan’s voice quickly dropped. “Olivia?” I clutched the payment slip so hard my nails almost dug into my flesh, biting back my anger. “Where are you?” He was silent for two seconds, his tone laced with impatience. “I’m handling an urgent matter outside.” “Your mother is in the BICU with 70% severe burns. The doctors need $500,000 for her life-saving treatment, and you’re telling me you have an urgent matter?” I practically roared. The other end of the line went silent for a moment, then Genevieve’s cloyingly sweet and artificial voice broke through. “Olivia, don’t worry. Aren’t the doctors at the hospital treating Eleanor? Ethan is with me on important business; tonight is incredibly important to me.” I laughed, a bitter, shaking sound born of pure fury. “What important business? More important than your own mother’s life?!” Ethan’s voice immediately turned cold, a clear warning in his tone: “Olivia, don’t be so harsh. Genevieve is walking the international film festival red carpet tonight. Her team invested so many resources. If she doesn’t have a show-stopping piece of jewelry to make a statement tonight, her rivals will tear her apart. Who’s going to cover those losses?” I almost thought I was hallucinating. “What about the $500,000 in our account that just matured?” I demanded, my voice sharp. “The bank manager just said the money was fully transferred by you at 1 PM this afternoon. Where did it go?!” Ethan paused, then spoke with infuriating self-righteousness. “I already used that money to pay the rental and deposit for Genevieve’s pink diamond necklace. You figure something out for Mom for a couple of days. Just put some burn cream on it, she’ll be fine. Don’t make a big deal out of nothing.” I stood in the empty, cold corridor, the constant beeping of monitoring equipment filling my ears. The cold seeped into my very bones. “Ethan.” I asked him, enunciating each word. “Do you know where your mother is right now? Do you know what deep third-degree burns mean?”

His voice grew even more agitated: “Of course I know! But she’s lying in the hospital, isn’t she? Doctors always exaggerate to scare families into paying more. Genevieve’s situation is different. The red carpet is about to start, hundreds of media cameras are on her, there can’t be a single mistake!” Genevieve’s soft voice cooed from beside him: “Ethan, don’t argue with Olivia. If Eleanor were awake, she’d surely want you to seize this opportunity first, right? After all, when my commercial value rises, I’ll be in a better position to ‘take care’ of Eleanor, won’t I?” Seize this opportunity. I looked down at the glaring red words “CRITICAL CONDITION” on the payment slip and suddenly felt utterly absurd. My mother-in-law had been so frugal her entire life, almost to the point of being harsh. She’d price-compare at several grocery stores just to save a few bucks. Her air conditioner broke last summer, but she wouldn’t replace it, saving every penny so Ethan could buy a new house. Last year, when I suffered a severe hemorrhage from an ectopic pregnancy, Ethan sat in the hospital corridor for just ten minutes before excusing himself for a company meeting and leaving. It was Eleanor who stayed by my side for half a month, never leaving, barely sleeping. She’d grumble about my poor health, but she’d wake up countless times in the middle of the night, checking my forehead for a fever. If I so much as shifted in bed, she reacted faster than the nurses. She wasn’t highly educated, and sometimes her words were rough. But when my life was on the line, she protected me with her own. Now she lay charred black in a sterile unit, close to death. Yet her biological son was using her life-saving money to rent a diamond necklace for another woman to walk the red carpet. Dr. Miller, seeing my pale, swaying face, walked over and sternly reminded me: “Family, it’s best not to delay any longer. The patient’s blood volume is critically low; if we don’t start CRRT immediately, her kidney function will fail.” I snapped back to reality, abruptly hanging up the phone. “Doctor, I’ll find a way, right away!” I transferred all the money from my bank accounts and maxed out three credit cards, barely scraping together $80,000. The cashier looked at the system and reminded me coldly: “You’re still short $420,000.” I turned, clutching the thin receipt, and saw the massive digital screen in the hospital lobby, broadcasting the international film festival red carpet live. [Rising star Genevieve stuns with a multi-million dollar pink diamond, escorted by a mysterious male companion who never leaves her side.] On the screen, Ethan wore a tailored tuxedo, his hair immaculately groomed, a charming, polite smile on his face. There wasn’t a hint of a son worried about his dying mother. Genevieve wore a shimmering mermaid gown, clinging to his arm, the huge pink diamond on her neck refracting blinding light under the spotlights. She flashed a captivating smile at the cameras, like a queen on her throne. I stared intently at the screen, then suddenly tightened my grip on the payment slip and turned to leave. I’d see how much luxury and glamour he was paving for Genevieve with Eleanor’s skin and blood.

The film festival was held at the Starlight Grand Theater in the city center. When I arrived, the red carpet was already nearing its end, the perimeter packed with frenzied fans and media outlets of all kinds. Security was extremely tight; the red carpet stretched from the plaza all the way into the theater’s main hall, flanked by flashing lights and fan signs. On the most prominent massive LED fan truck, Genevieve’s stunning posters scrolled continuously, with the caption: [Exclusively sponsored by Mr. Ethan.] Genevieve was standing in the interview area at the end of the red carpet, her voice sickeningly sweet. “This necklace holds profound meaning for me. I want to thank all my fans for their support, and especially this most important person beside me. Without his unwavering support, I might not be standing here today.” As she spoke, her eyes, brimming with affection, gazed at Ethan. Ethan thoughtfully adjusted the hem of her gown. The live comments on the big screen scrolled wildly. [Ahhh, Gen is so beautiful! That pink diamond is absolutely breathtaking!] [Who’s the handsome guy next to her? Giving off rich CEO vibes, totally shippable!] [Their eyes were practically glued together, just get married already!] I stood outside the barricade, watching Ethan shield her from the blinding camera flashes. That motion was so practiced, it was as if they were the loving couple. Clutching the payment slip and the critical condition notice, I took a deep breath, then pushed past the security guard and walked, step by determined step, toward the interview area. The security guard gasped in alarm: “Hey! What do you think you’re doing? You can’t come in here!” I ignored him, rushing forward like a madwoman. Genevieve saw me first, her perfect smile freezing for an instant, but quickly returning to her innocent, vulnerable facade. “Olivia? Why are you here looking like that?” Ethan turned, saw my disheveled state, with my mother-in-law’s blood still on my clothes, and his brows furrowed tightly. He lowered his voice, furious: “What are you doing, making a scene here? Aren’t you ashamed? Did you take care of things at the hospital?” I raised my hand and slapped the critical condition notice hard against his chest. “Your mother is charred and lying in the ICU, with a $420,000 deficit waiting to be filled, and you’re asking me if I took care of things?!” Nearby journalists, always alert, quickly caught the words “intensive care unit” and pointed their cameras at us. Ethan’s face instantly changed. He grabbed my wrist, his grip so strong it almost crushed my bones. “Shut up! Don’t cause trouble here, come outside with me!” I struggled with all my might to shake off his hand, pointing at the pink diamond necklace on Genevieve’s neck, my voice sharp with anguish. “I’m causing trouble? Ethan, that $500,000 in our matured savings was waiting to save your mother’s life. Why didn’t the hospital receive a single penny?!” Genevieve’s eyes immediately reddened, and tears streamed down her face. “Olivia, don’t misunderstand Ethan. That money was just temporarily lent to me for the necklace’s deposit. Tonight’s red carpet is too important to me. If I didn’t have this necklace, the brand would blacklist me. I can write you an IOU. I’ll pay you back as soon as I get my payment.” “Pay back?” I looked at her performative display, laughing bitterly in my fury. “My mother-in-law is hanging on by a thread, kept alive by a ventilator and a dialysis machine. Are you gambling her life for your career?!” Genevieve bit her lip, swaying as if about to collapse, as if she were the one suffering some immense injustice: “I couldn’t help it! This is my only chance to make it big. If I mess up today, all my years of effort will be wasted.” Ethan immediately shielded her behind him, looking at me like an enemy, his voice incredibly cold. “Enough! Olivia! Genevieve is going through enough already, do you have to destroy her at the most important moment of her life?” I looked at this man I had shared a bed with for five years, and felt like my chest had been hollowed out, cold wind whistling through it. “*She’s* going through enough? So your mother should just be burned alive and left to die?!” Genevieve suddenly poked her head out from behind Ethan, her eyes red-rimmed, but her words were like poisoned daggers, stabbing straight into my heart. “Olivia, I know you’re always jealous of how well Ethan treats me. But Eleanor is Ethan’s biological mother, and even Ethan can weigh the pros and cons and agree to postpone treatment. You’re not her biological daughter, so why are you pretending to care more than her own son? Are you trying to use this as an excuse to get a share of the family assets?”

The surrounding journalists instantly fell silent; only the frantic clicking of camera shutters remained. I stared intently at her, shaking with rage, and then let out a bitter laugh. “You know that’s his biological mother!” Ethan avoided my furious, almost feral gaze, tugged at his tie, clearly agitated, trying to argue his way out of it. “Didn’t the doctors say? Burns just look scary, it’s not like she’s going to immediately…” He swallowed his words before he could finish, as if he himself felt guilty. I finished the sentence for him, my voice cold as ice: “…immediately die?” Genevieve’s face went pale. She quickly pulled Ethan’s arm, saying softly: “Ethan, don’t say anything more. Olivia is emotional right now, I understand how she feels. Let’s just lend her the money first.” Her pretense of understanding and generosity made my stomach churn with nausea. I pulled out my phone, dialed the bank manager directly, and put it on speaker, turning the volume to maximum. The phone rang twice before it was answered. “Ms. Olivia?” I forced my voice steady, asking coldly: “Mr. Davies, I’d like to confirm, where was the $500,000 deposit transferred this afternoon at 1 PM?” Mr. Davies hesitated. “That… it was transferred to a private account, as per Mr. Ethan’s instruction.” “I’m asking you, was it transferred to the hospital’s corporate account?” More and more celebrities and journalists gathered to watch, and the live comments on the big screen were already flipping wildly. [What’s going on? Wife publicly exposes cheating husband and his mistress?] [Using his own mother’s life savings to rent a necklace for his mistress? What kind of monster does something like that?!] [Isn’t that guy Genevieve’s sugar daddy? Turns out he’s just a leech, stealing his own mother’s life savings?] Mr. Davies was silent for two seconds, then finally delivered the fatal blow: “No, it wasn’t the hospital. The recipient was ‘Starlight Jewel Rentals.’” I stared at Ethan’s instantly ashen face and pressed him: “Ethan, what do you have to say for yourself now?” Ethan flushed with anger, cutting me off sharply: “It’s my money once it’s in my account, I can spend it however I want! I’m her only son, her money will be mine eventually!” “So you can use it to fund someone else’s vanity?!” “I said it was a loan! A temporary transfer!” Ethan was still stubbornly refusing to admit it. I stopped arguing with him and turned directly to face all the media cameras. I held up the critical condition notice, the ICU payment request, and the bank transaction records I had printed on the way, all high above my head. “To all my friends in the media, look closely! Ethan, to rent this pink diamond necklace for Genevieve, stole his mother’s life-saving $500,000! His mother is now suffering 70% burns, waiting to die in the ICU!” The moment my words fell, the scene exploded as if a heavy bomb had been dropped. “Holy crap! Trading his own mother’s life for his mistress’s red carpet walk? That’s utterly despicable!” “Can she really still wear that? Doesn’t she worry about karmic retribution?” Genevieve frantically covered the necklace on her neck, screaming at the security personnel: “Security! Get this crazy woman out of here! Turn off the live stream! Turn it off now!” I took a big step forward, firmly blocking the center of the camera’s view. “Don’t turn it off!” My eyes were red as I pointed at the vibrant red carpet beneath Genevieve’s feet. “This red carpet you’re standing on, it’s ripped from my mother-in-law’s charred flesh! That diamond you’re looking at, it’s stained red with her blood!” Ethan’s face completely twisted. He lunged like a rampaging beast, reaching out to snatch my phone and the evidence. “Bitch! I’ll kill you!” I was prepared. I sharply sidestepped him, coldly watching him miss and stumble and fall heavily to the ground. “What’s the rush? There’s still my mother-in-law’s accidental death insurance, isn’t there? Didn’t Genevieve just say, ‘Let’s just get through tonight’s red carpet first’?” Genevieve’s face instantly went ashen, and she recoiled in terror. Ethan abruptly turned, staring at her in disbelief. “You… you told her about the insurance?” Genevieve opened her mouth, tears instantly streaming: “I didn’t mean it like that, Ethan, let me explain…” Watching the repulsive scene of them blaming each other, my last shred of hope was completely shattered. I finally understood that they weren’t just after the $500,000 in savings. They were also after the $2,000,000 accidental death insurance payout if Eleanor didn’t make it! Just then, my phone vibrated wildly. It was the hospital’s dedicated number. My heart plummeted. My fingers trembled as I pressed the answer button. Dr. Miller’s voice was more anxious than ever, tinged with a deep sense of helplessness. “Olivia, the patient is in severe septic shock, her blood pressure is almost undetectable. Also, someone just contacted the hospital claiming to be her legal guardian, requesting to forgo all life-sustaining resuscitation and opt for palliative care. Do you know about this?!” All the blood in my body felt like it was drained instantly, my fingers so stiff I could barely hold the phone. “What?” Dr. Miller paused, his voice incredibly grave. “The applicant used your identity information. If we proceed, we’ll have to remove the ventilator immediately.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “409067”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

My husband, earning a paltry five thousand a month, brazenly moved his pregnant mistress into my multi-million dollar penthouse, which I’d bought outright. Not only did he try to kick me out, but he also allowed his mother to steal and use my special chemical cream, leading to her disfigurement and baldness. His sister even demanded I pack my bags and clear out for the mistress. Watching this self-righteous family of fools, I laughed, chillingly. They seemed to have forgotten that I was not only the owner of this luxury apartment but also the CEO of the company that held his fate in my hands. Since you’re so comfortable spending my money, then you’ll return it all, with interest. You can spend the rest of your lives reflecting on your mistakes in prison! After seeing my mother-in-law, Brenda, sneak into my master bedroom on the security camera countless times, I finally snapped. On the screen, she was sitting at my vanity, her eyes gleaming at a plain white ceramic jar on the table. Her rough fingers scooped out a large glob of white cream, preparing to smear it on her face. I took a deep breath and opened our SnapChat family group, sending a voice message. “Brenda, whatever you do, don’t touch the white jar on my vanity. That’s an industrial-strength depilatory and decolorizing cream our R&D department just formulated. It’s extremely corrosive and will cause severe burns if it touches your skin.” Less than thirty seconds after I sent the message, my sister-in-law, Ashley’s voice message popped up, sharp and shrill. “Sophia, who are you trying to scare? It’s just some skincare cream, right? What’s wrong with my mom using a little of your stuff? Do you really have to make up such a malicious lie to curse her with disfigurement?” Immediately after, my husband, Mark, jumped in with a text message. “Sophia, you’re being a bit much. My five-thousand-a-month salary goes entirely to support this family. You eat and drink off me, and you’re still stingy about your mom using a bit of your skincare? Don’t be so selfish!” I looked at the words on the screen and laughed, purely out of anger. Five thousand a month to support the family? This multi-million dollar penthouse in the city center was my pre-marital property, bought entirely with my own money. Mark’s measly salary wasn’t even enough to cover the monthly property management fees and utility bills. The car he drove, the designer clothes he wore – wasn’t all of it paid for with my secondary credit card? My generosity, mistaken for weakness, had only attracted a pack of greedy leeches. Fine. Since good advice was wasted on the undeserving, I wasn’t going to bother with more words. I slowly typed a line: “I’ve warned you. Consequences are on you.” Ashley instantly replied: “Pfft, cut the act! My mom just said the cream has a faint fragrance and feels cool on her face – it’s definitely high-end stuff! You can just stay at work and be jealous. When my brother gets home, he’s going to teach you a lesson, you selfish, wicked woman!” I locked my phone, took a sip of my iced Americano, and my gaze turned cold. Teach me a lesson? We’d see who was teaching whom a lesson today.

At six in the evening, I pushed open the front door. Before I could even take off my shoes, I heard a bloodcurdling scream from the living room. “Oh, my face! It hurts so much! Help me!” I slipped on my slippers and slowly walked into the living room. The scene before me was ten times more spectacular than I’d imagined. Brenda was rolling on the floor, clutching her face with both hands, letting out heart-wrenching wails. Her already sparse hair was falling out in clumps, scattered across the wool rug like weeds. More horrifying was her face; the areas where she’d applied the white cream were now swollen and almost distorted. Her entire face looked terrifying, glowing with an eerie redness, and yellowish tissue fluid was even starting to seep out. “Brenda! What happened, Brenda!” Mark and Ashley rushed out of the kitchen, gasping in shock at the sight of Brenda on the floor. “Mark! Brenda’s hair is all gone! Her face is ruined!” Ashley shrieked, her voice trembling. Mark suddenly turned, his eyes bloodshot, glaring at me like a furious beast. “Sophia! You witch! What poison did you use on my mom!” He stomped towards me, raising his palm to slap my face. I stood my ground, not even blinking, staring at him coldly. “Try to touch me.” My voice was quiet, but it carried immense pressure. “If that slap lands, I guarantee you’ll receive a court summons tomorrow, along with a divorce agreement that leaves you with nothing.” Mark’s hand froze mid-air, the muscles in his face twitching. He was clearly intimidated by my presence. “You dare threaten my brother?!” Ashley shrieked, hopping next to him. “It’s obvious you’re twisted, deliberately leaving poison on the table to harm my mom! I’m calling the police!” I sneered, walked over to the sofa, and sat down, crossing my legs. “Call the police? Go ahead. I’d love for the police to see who ignored a warning and secretly stole and used someone else’s property.” I took out my phone, pulled up the SnapChat family group chat history, and waved it in front of them. “It’s all here, in black and white, voice messages included. I clearly told you it was industrial depilatory cream, but you insisted on thinking it was high-end skincare and smeared it on your faces. So now your face is ruined, and your hair is gone – and that’s my fault?” Brenda was rolling her eyes in pain on the floor, almost passing out. “Stop talking! Call an ambulance!” Mark panicked, yelling at Ashley. The ambulance wailed as it arrived. The paramedics frowned at Brenda’s horrific state. “The burns are too severe. She needs to be taken to the emergency room for debridement immediately!” As Brenda was being carried away on a stretcher, Mark pointed at my nose, gritting his teeth as he delivered his ultimatum. “Sophia, you just wait! If anything happens to my mom, I’m not done with you! When I get back from the hospital, you’re getting out of this house!” The front door slammed shut. I looked at the empty living room, my cold smirk deepening. Make me leave this house? Mark, you must still be dreaming.

At ten o’clock that night, the front door opened again. I was sitting on the sofa, replying to company emails on my tablet. Mark walked in first, his face not showing the slightest bit of anxiety or sadness from the hospital, but rather a smugness, like a villain getting his way. Following him, besides Ashley, was a young woman in a tight-fitting dress with a slightly bulging belly. “Crystal, slow down, watch the step.” Mark carefully supported the woman, his voice dripping with tenderness. The woman called Crystal leaned coquettishly into Mark’s embrace, her critical gaze sweeping across the living room. “Oh, Mark, is this your multi-million dollar penthouse? The location is great, but the decor is too cold and hard, not cozy at all. Let’s find someone to throw out all this black, white, and gray furniture tomorrow and replace it with the French cream style I like, okay?” “Yes, yes, whatever you want. You’re carrying our family’s grandchild, so you’re the boss,” Mark said, fawning, acting like a servant to royalty. Ashley quickly joined in, eagerly carrying Crystal’s bag. “Don’t be mad, Crystal. This awful decor was chosen by that useless old hag who couldn’t give Mark a child. Once she’s gone tonight, this place is all yours!” “Hag?” I raised an eyebrow, put down my tablet, and watched the drama unfold with interest. Mark settled Crystal on the other end of the sofa, then turned to me, his face morphing into a fierce scowl. “Sophia, you still have the nerve to sit here?” He pulled a hospital diagnosis report from his pocket and slapped it onto the coffee table. “My mom has severe chemical burns on her scalp; all her hair follicles are dead. She’ll never grow hair again! Her face is ruined! I’m settling this with you today!” I glanced at the diagnosis report without even lifting an eyelid. “So? How do you want to settle it?” “So I don’t need to be polite anymore!” Mark straightened his back, righteously pointing at Crystal. “Crystal is three months pregnant with my son! You’ve been married to me for three years and couldn’t pop out a single kid, and now you’ve done this to my mom!” “This apartment will be considered compensation for my mom’s medical expenses and for Crystal’s pregnancy! Now, get out, immediately, clean out, and make space!” I looked at his shameless face, feeling only one thing: the diversity of the human species was truly astonishing. A five-thousand-a-month loser, living off me to support his whole family, finds a mistress, gets her pregnant, and then shamelessly brings her back to *my* entirely-paid-for house, even distributing *my* property as if it were his own. “Mark, why isn’t she leaving yet?” Crystal covered her nose, looking at me with disgust. “The sofa she sat on feels dirty. What if she infects my son with bad luck?” “Exactly! Get out! Don’t be an eyesore!” Ashley chimed in, hands on her hips. “Do you really think our family cares about you? My brother is a senior manager at your company now, with a bright future ahead! He can more than support all of us!” I calmly glanced at the security camera next to the TV cabinet, which was blinking red. “Alright.” I stood up and straightened the creases in my clothes. “Since you’re all so ‘loving,’ I won’t interrupt your family bliss.” Mark paused, clearly not expecting me to agree so quickly, without even an argument. “Smart move.” He suppressed the wild joy and greed in his eyes, feigning generosity. “Pack your few old clothes and leave. Don’t even think about taking anything valuable from this house!” I ignored him, walked straight into the walk-in closet, grabbed a small suitcase, and casually packed a few changes of clothes and important documents. At the entrance, I stopped and turned back to look at the two on the sofa, still being all lovey-dovey. “Mark, I hope you remember what you said tonight. You and your family had better enjoy this apartment.” With that, I opened the door and walked out without looking back. As the door closed, I clearly heard Crystal’s seductive laughter. “Mark, you’re amazing! You got rid of that old hag with just a few words! Now this big house is ours!” “Of course! In this house, I call the shots!” Mark boasted proudly. I stepped into the elevator, pulled out my phone, and a cold smirk played on my lips. The show had only just begun.

I pressed the 18th floor on the elevator. The 18th floor of this building was also my property, which I’d converted into a private studio and lounge. Mark and his family had no idea. I poured myself a glass of red wine and walked to my computer, pulling up the security camera feed from upstairs. On the monitor, the group who had taken over my apartment was already eagerly starting their new lives. Crystal was directing Ashley to throw my belongings out the door. “That vase’s color is too dark, it looks like an urn, throw it out!” “What’s with that messy painting? It’s bad luck, take it down and use it as trash lining!” Ashley, like a diligent minion, unhesitatingly swept the antique vase I’d bought at Sotheby’s for over one hundred fifty thousand dollars into the trash. “Crystal, how’s this?” Ashley asked, smiling obsequiously. “It’ll do, I guess,” Crystal said arrogantly, patting her belly. “Mark, tomorrow I want to throw a baby shower and invite all my best girlfriends to see our new home.” “No problem! Whatever my wife wants, she gets! I’ll transfer you money tomorrow, spend as much as you like!” Mark puffed out his chest, grandly. I watched his pathetic attempt to play the big shot on the screen, a cold sneer on my face, as I opened my mobile banking app. First step: I stopped all automatic payments linked to this apartment, including utilities and the hefty property management fees. Second step: I immediately reported the credit card linked to my account, which Mark held with a one million dollar limit, as lost and froze it. Initially, I had ignored the board’s opposition and secretly arranged a figurehead managerial position for him at a branch company. Even that credit card was given to him to save face and maintain his ridiculous ego when he was out. I never imagined he’d mistake my charity for his own capability. Using my money to support another woman, and trying to seize my apartment? Pure fantasy. After doing all this, I sent a message to Mr. Clark, my company’s CFO. “First thing tomorrow, initiate a comprehensive financial audit of Mark’s department at the branch company. Investigate all accounts he handled; not a single cent should be missed.” Mr. Clark replied instantly: “Received, Ms. Sophia.” I swirled the red wine in my glass, watching the scumbag and mistress embracing and sleeping on the monitor, my eyes chillingly cold. Enjoy your last hurrah.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “409068”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster