Category: English

My sister was dating a young heir from a wealthy family, but they were cruelly broken up by his older brother. His snobbish older brother looked down on people, calling my sister a gold-digging green tea bitch. I was so furious I created a burner account, intending to let him taste what it’s like to love someone he can’t have. We dated online for half a year. The old-fashioned prude, calling me “baby” left and right, proposed we meet in person. I gave a cold laugh, blocked him, and ran. I thought our paths would never cross again in this lifetime. But after all the twists and turns, my sister and the young heir actually got married. At the wedding banquet, upon hearing a familiar voice, I didn’t even dare to raise my head. Yet I saw my sister and brother-in-law go over and call that man “Uncle.” Uncle? I was so shocked I dropped my chopsticks. 1 As I bent down to pick up my chopsticks, the tablecloth hid my shocked expression. How could it be the uncle? This voice clearly belonged to Arthur Sterling, the older brother of my brother-in-law, Liam Sterling—the one I had been online dating for half a year. Half a year ago, my sister and Liam were dating and went to meet the parents, only to be cruelly broken up by Arthur. This obsessive older brother insisted my sister wasn’t good enough for Liam. He even called her a gold-digging green tea bitch, saying she was only with Liam for his money. My sister came back crying her eyes out and broke up with Liam. When I found out, I was furious. I felt this couldn’t just slide. Arthur Sterling, right? You obsessive bro-con, how dare you insult my sister and make her cry? Just watch how I deal with you. I registered a burner account pretending to sell tea, added Arthur’s contact info, and checked in on him warmly every day, stringing him along until he was totally hooked. Arthur seemed like a pure, old-fashioned prude. He was extremely hard to flirt with at first, but eventually, he fell for me, calling me “baby” with every other breath. Until recently, when he proposed we meet up. Acting very insecure, I said my circumstances were poor and I wasn’t good enough for him. Arthur said he didn’t care about any of that; he just liked me for me. Wow, typical Arthur Sterling. When it comes to himself, “just liking her” is enough, but when it came to Liam, he insisted my sister had to be a perfect social match. If this isn’t a double standard, what is? He was clearly targeting my sister. I was so angry I humiliated him thoroughly, blocked him, and disappeared. I thought that after toying with Arthur and making him suffer, the matter would be settled. Who knew that after all the twists and turns, Liam and my sister would still get married. I came to attend the wedding banquet, sitting at the main table for the bride’s family. Right next to us was the Sterling family’s table. From the moment I sat down, I didn’t dare raise my head or even sneak a glance. I also used a sore throat from a cold as an excuse to play mute the whole time. I had sent Arthur photos, but they were heavily Photoshopped—smaller face, bigger eyes, higher nose bridge. As long as I didn’t speak, comparing me to that heavily edited photo that even my sister wouldn’t recognize, he absolutely wouldn’t be able to tell it was me. Trembling with fear, the wedding proceeded to the second half, and the newlyweds came to toast each table. “Wishing you a hundred years of happiness.” Hearing that familiar voice, I practically buried my head in my bowl. But my sister and Liam both called him Uncle! No, no, something must be wrong. Maybe I misheard? After sitting back down, I sneaked a glance next to me, only seeing the man’s back. He was in a suit, his attire exceptionally luxurious, his back broad and straight. It was just that a dense aura of low pressure surrounded him. After the newlyweds toasted and left, an elder at the table teased him. “Your little nephew is married. When do you, as an uncle, plan to get married?” “Don’t mention it, Second Brother.” A young man next to him, who seemed to be his friend, said sympathetically: “Old White was finally blooming, but it turned out the other party was a female scammer selling tea. She blocked him and ran. He’s still fuming about it even now…” “Harrison.” The owner of the voice was somewhat displeased, seemingly reminding him to stop. What White? I quickly turned my head, breaking into a cold sweat. This person… really doesn’t seem to be Arthur. In the evening was the family dinner with the Sterling family. My sister introduced the Sterling family members to me beforehand using photos. My inner despair finally reached its peak. I’m doomed. I really flirted with the wrong guy! 2 During our half year of online dating, “Arthur” sent me countless spicy photos and left countless voice messages with me. In the later stages, he became super clingy, wanting to be on a voice call even while sleeping. I would recognize that voice even if I were a ghost. Seeing the time was ripe, I told him I had a change of heart and had a new boyfriend who was much better than him. I called him old, saying he probably smelled like an old man. I called him ugly, which is why he didn’t show his full face. I also said his body looked like it was pumped full of protein powder. And! I even said he was small… Only after a refreshing round of insults did I block him and run. The more I thought about it, the paler my face became. I am completely doomed. Not only did I fail to get revenge, but I also brought massive trouble upon myself and my sister. My sister had said the Sterling family is a powerful dynasty. The old patriarch has three children, and the most favored one is undoubtedly his youngest son, Julian Sterling. He is the current CEO of the Sterling family enterprise, Sterling Corp, and holds a pivotal position in the entire Sterling family. If he found out I toyed with him like this, my sister’s life in the Sterling family would definitely become difficult! I paced around anxiously but couldn’t tell my sister. I had done this behind her back. Besides, it wouldn’t help even if she knew; she might even give the game away. After our parents died, my sister and I relied on each other in the orphanage. It wasn’t that there weren’t families wanting to adopt us separately, but my sister and I refused to be parted, so we both stayed behind. My sister had always been very good to me. Now that she had become a university lecturer and married into such a good family, there absolutely couldn’t be any problems because of me. Julian Sterling absolutely must not discover that I am that person. At the family dinner, I finally saw Julian’s full appearance. One word: handsome. Two words: incredibly handsome. I actually played with such a handsome man and even turned us into enemies. I just hoped he wouldn’t recognize me. I played the role of a good, quiet, mute girl. Julian’s cold gaze swept over me for a second and then withdrew. He didn’t recognize me. I breathed a sigh of relief, sat down safely, and didn’t dare look up again. Because I was the only relative from the bride’s side, Liam’s family was quite attentive to me. Learning I was still a senior in college, Liam’s mother asked: “Have you found an internship company yet? How about coming to our Sterling Corp?” Sterling Corp? Isn’t that the company where Julian is the CEO? No, no! But Liam’s mother was looking at me with such burning intensity, it was hard to signal my sister with my eyes. I opened my mouth, almost forgetting my “lost voice” persona. “That sounds great.” My sister agreed readily, smiling brightly: “Thank you, Mom.” NO! How is this any different from delivering myself right to his doorstep! At the table, Sterling Corp CEO Julian just watched and tacitly agreed. As the family dinner dispersed, I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead, resolving to visit the Sterling family as little as possible, whether I had a reason to or not. Before leaving, my sister pulled me aside seriously. “You’ve been acting weird today. What exactly is going on?” I continued playing mute, waving my hands and typing that I was just sick and feeling unwell. My sister sighed in relief and told me to hurry back and rest. I finally managed to bluff my way through and return to my dorm. But the tricky part was that my sister had actually gotten me an internship spot at Sterling Corp. Sterling Corp is an industry leader; having an internship there would undoubtedly add a brilliant stroke to my resume. If it weren’t for the Julian situation, I would have definitely gone without hesitation. But what if Julian recognized me… I agonized for several days before making up my mind. It’s just a three-month internship. Sterling Corp is so huge. How could a lowly intern possibly run into the CEO? I just need to survive for three months and then quietly slip away. 3 Having connections in high places makes things easy; I quickly blended in. At first, I was on edge for a few days. But later, exactly as I had thought, a lowly intern only had to complete the tasks assigned by their mentor. The highest-ranking superior I usually saw was just a department manager. Let alone the CEO, I couldn’t even see the General Manager. I felt relieved. However, surviving in an industry-leading company wasn’t that easy. Within a few days of joining, the workload was outrageously heavy. Proposals submitted were constantly sent back, the department head got scolded, and consequently, the working atmosphere was extremely tense. While eating in the cafeteria, my lunch buddy gossiped with me in a low voice. “Do you know why things have been so tough these past few days?” He was an intern from the same batch as me. “Why?” I was very curious. “Because…” My lunch buddy glanced around and lowered his voice to the absolute minimum. “The CEO went through a breakup.” My spoon dropped onto my plate. I gave an awkward chuckle: “Really?” “I heard it was an online romance too, and he ran into a scammer.” I lowered my head to sip my soup, hiding my expression. “Where did you hear that from?” “The CEO asked his special assistant to investigate an account. Word spreads fast, from one to ten, ten to a hundred. Everyone knows now.” My lunch buddy was thoroughly puzzled: “With his net worth, what kind of woman couldn’t he get? To think he’d actually date online. Online dating is one thing, but getting scammed… If the other party knew who he was, they’d probably regret it until their intestines turned green.” They’d definitely regret it until their intestines turned green! It’s all because I wasn’t careful when asking for contact info. Instead of finding Arthur, I actually hooked such a big fish. I asked carefully: “Did the special assistant say what the CEO plans to do if he finds the person?” “Call the police, for sure! That tea-selling woman must have fleeced a lot of money from the CEO. Add up the total amount, and it’s probably enough for a severe sentence.” Total nonsense! When I initially approached Julian, my motives were indeed impure. I put on the guise of selling tea, harassing him every day asking if he wanted to buy some. It just so happened a friend’s family sold tea. Who knew he would actually buy it, and at ten times the price, insisting I accept the money. Other than that, any other money he gave me, I returned when we broke up. I told him I found a new boyfriend who was super possessive and wouldn’t let me spend other men’s money. Even though the Sterling family is rich, I was really afraid Arthur might get cheap and sue me to return the money, causing unnecessary trouble. Anyway, as long as the goal of breaking his heart was achieved, that was enough. Thankfully, that account is deleted now. Julian shouldn’t be able to trace it. As long as I survive these three months… “Chloe, go deliver this document to the CEO’s office.” I took the document from the senior colleague in my department, wanting to cry but having no tears. Why is there another hurdle! Riding the elevator up to the top floor, I secretly hyped myself up. It’s just delivering a document, how hard can it be? I’ll just keep playing mute. I fearfully went up to the top floor, only to find the office empty. Julian wasn’t there. A secretary from the CEO’s office asked me which department I was from. Since he wasn’t there, there was no need for me to play mute. I answered obediently, the other party noted it down, and it was fine. After a few times like this, I relaxed. Once again taking a document up to the top floor, I had just greeted the people in the secretary’s office when a familiar voice came from the inner office. “Let her come in.” Me: “…” My heart leaped to my throat again. Looking death in the eye, I walked into the office and handed the document onto the desk. Julian reached out a hand with prominent knuckles to take it, then lowered his eyes and began to flip through it, saying nothing for a long while. As time ticked by, I calmed down a bit and boldy looked up, only to meet Julian’s raised, phoenix-like eyes. I quickly lowered my head again. After a suffocating silence, Julian spoke, asking me: “How have you been doing in the company lately?” I had just spoken to the people in the secretary’s office outside, so I couldn’t play mute anymore! Squeezing my voice, I replied softly: “Pretty good.” I glanced up at him and added a title: “Mr. Sterling.” “Good?” Julian seemed not to hear anything unusual and gave a cold laugh: “They send you to deliver documents, clearly knowing the relationship between you and me, and you call this good?” What relationship? Don’t spout nonsense! I was so anxious I even forgot to squeeze my voice: “What relationship do we have…” Before I finished, looking at his inexplicable expression, I realized he was talking about his relationship with my sister. “Hehe.” I caught on, “I didn’t tell them anything…” It’s rare for me to be someone with “connections,” yet I feel so guilty about it. I wish no one knew. But it turns out they had me deliver documents because they knew I had connections and was here to act as a shield against getting scolded. Julian frowned slightly, sizing me up for a long while, and said: “Call your manager up.” I felt like I had received a royal pardon and fled at top speed. I don’t know what Julian said to the manager, but no one ever asked me to go up and deliver documents again. Another hurdle passed! 4 On my last shift before the holiday, I was mentally planning what to eat for dinner as I pressed the elevator button. With a ding, the elevator arrived. I looked up and ran straight into Julian, dressed in a suit. Wait, what?? Why isn’t he taking the executive elevator? What is he doing taking the employee elevator? Julian, inside the elevator, stared at me intently and asked, “Are you coming in?” I braced myself and stepped inside. The elevator doors slowly closed and continued downwards. The person beside me was tall, making the already cramped space feel even smaller. A pleasant, fresh scent filled my nose; it seemed to be his natural scent. Those scandalous photos he had sent me in the past were awakened from the depths of my memory. At first, it was just hands and arms. Later, it was pecs and abs draped with various accessories. And then later… Recalling the scenery I saw then, and his words: “Satisfied with what you see?” My face grew redder the more I thought about it, and I felt like there wouldn’t be enough oxygen in this narrow space. Why is this elevator so slow? I looked up at the flashing red numbers. “Chloe.” “Hmm?” I instinctively responded, turning my head to meet Julian’s inquiring gaze. He half-narrowed his eyes. “You seem… very afraid of me?” 5 “I…” I tried hard to stay calm: “You are the boss, and an elder. I… respect you.” Beside me, Julian said flatly: “Then don’t look like you’ve done something to feel guilty about.” “We haven’t met before this, right?” Hearing these words, my back heated up, and I felt like my hairs were standing on end. “No, no we haven’t.” “Oh.” Julian responded casually, his expression normal, as if it were just an offhand question. With a ding, the elevator stopped at a certain floor, and a huge crowd of people flooded in. Good news: I finally didn’t have to face Julian alone. Bad news: I was squeezed into the furthest corner, forced to stand right against Julian. Heavens above, why must you torture me like this? Once again, I cursed the person who gave me the wrong contact information countless times. After a long torment, the elevator finally reached the first floor. “Goodbye, Mr. Sterling.” The people in front cleared out, and I was preparing to slip away. I had only taken two steps when a stinging pain in my scalp pulled me back. I came back to my senses and realized my hair had actually gotten tangled in Julian’s suit button! Just destroy me! My face was stiff. I felt like nothing could possibly hit me harder now. Outwardly calm, I stepped forward to rescue my hair from his button. Fortunately, it was just an accidental snag, not severely tangled. A gaze that couldn’t be ignored swept over me. Feeling it, I looked up. Julian’s eyes were slightly lowered, his cold gaze resting quietly on my collarbone. During my movements just now, my collar had become slightly disheveled, revealing a bit of my collarbone. There, rested a tiny red mole. The one from the photos I had sent him.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394794”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I helped my husband pay his credit card bill. When I logged into his banking app, I discovered that his salary account balance was over four million dollars. I looked at it three times. Four million, one hundred and seventy thousand. We’ve been married for three years, and he told me his monthly salary was five thousand. We split every meal 50/50, every bill calculated down to the cent. I couldn’t even bring myself to buy a $399 coat. I stared at that string of numbers, my fingers turning ice-cold. Arthur, who exactly are you? 1. It was a Wednesday. Arthur was going on a business trip, and before he left, he asked me to help him pay his credit card. “You know the password. Send me a screenshot when you’re done.” He sent a message on WhatsApp, complete with a kissing emoji. I said okay. We’ve been married for three years, and we’ve always split everything 50/50. He said his monthly salary was five thousand; mine was eight thousand. Rent was four thousand: he paid two thousand, and I paid two thousand. Utilities and HOA fees, split down the middle. Meals, split down the middle. He said, “It’s not easy for either of us; splitting it 50/50 is the fairest.” I thought that made sense. Even though my salary was higher than his, splitting it was indeed fair. So, for three years, I lived very frugally. I ate at the school cafeteria for lunch, twelve bucks a meal. I bought all my clothes online. If it was over two hundred dollars, I had to think about it for three days. Last month, I had my eye on a coat, $399. I tried it on three times but didn’t buy it. I told myself to wait, wait for the Black Friday sales to buy it. Arthur found out and said, “If you like it, just buy it.” I said, “Forget it, it’s not a necessity.” He smiled. “You really know how to manage a household.” At the time, I felt that although money was tight, it was nice for two people to strive together. Until that day, when I opened his banking app. He had given me his password. A long time ago, he asked me to pay his phone bill once. Back then, I just paid the bill and logged out. This time, after helping him pay his credit card, I was getting ready to take a screenshot. While taking the screenshot, my finger slipped. It swiped to the “My Account” page. A number popped up on the screen. $4,171,283.67. I thought I had read it wrong. I closed it and opened it again. $4,171,283.67. Four million, one hundred and seventy thousand. I held my phone, sitting on the sofa, motionless. Someone was honking their horn outside the window. A kid was crying downstairs. I couldn’t hear a thing. Four million, one hundred and seventy thousand. He said his monthly salary was five thousand. We had split everything 50/50 for three years. I couldn’t even bring myself to buy a coat. 2. Before we got married, Arthur told me he worked in sales at a small company. “Base salary is three thousand, plus commissions, it’s about five thousand.” He dressed very ordinarily, H&M, Zara. He drove a used Toyota with scratched paint. I never suspected a thing. I’m an elementary school teacher, making eight thousand a month. In this city, thirteen thousand between the two of us isn’t a lot, but we could get by. When he suggested splitting things 50/50, I thought it was reasonable. “I earn less, but I don’t want you to support me. Splitting it 50/50 is about respect.” Those words warmed my heart. My mom said, “Although this young man doesn’t earn much, he has good character and knows how to respect you.” So, I married him. Life after marriage could be summed up in one word: frugal. We never ate out at restaurants. I cooked, and we split the grocery bill. I used an expense-tracking app, recording every single transaction clearly. “Today’s groceries were 23.50. You pay 11.75, and I pay 11.75.” He’d say, “I’ll round it up and give you 12.” I’d laugh, “Okay, Mr. Generous.” Back then, I felt this kind of penny-pinching was actually quite sweet. For my birthday, he sent me a $520 red envelope on WeChat. “It’s the thought that counts.” I accepted it, thinking it was nice. For his birthday, I bought him an $899 pair of headphones. He said, “Why did you buy something so expensive?” But his eyes were smiling as he said it. I didn’t think anything was wrong. Until last winter. My cold turned into pneumonia, and I was hospitalized for a week. The medical bills were over six thousand dollars. I asked him if he could cover it for me first, as I hadn’t been paid yet. He thought for a moment. “How much will insurance cover?” “Probably about half.” “Then you use your insurance first, and we’ll figure out the rest later.” I said okay. The day I was discharged, he did the math for me. “Insurance covered 3200, leaving 3400. You pay 1700, and I pay 1700. Fair, right?” I said it was fair. I was still coughing that day. He took me home and bought a box of pears. “Drink plenty of water, get well soon.” I felt he treated me well. Really. He was just poor. Poor people budgeting carefully, there’s no shame in that. That was my thought back then. Laughable? Laughable. My mom was diagnosed with diabetes last year. She needs long-term medication, which costs about eight hundred a month. I told Arthur about this. “I want to send my mom a thousand dollars every month.” He fell silent for a while. “You can, but this is your family’s business. It comes out of your portion.” I said okay. From then on, my monthly disposable income was even less. I switched from eating lunch at the cafeteria to bringing my own meals. I’d cook a little extra the night before and take it to school the next day. Colleagues asked me, “Why are you always bringing your lunch?” I smiled, “It’s healthy.” After Arthur found out about me sending money to my mom, he said something. “Don’t give too much either. Your mom still has your dad.” I said, “My dad’s pension is only two thousand.” He said, “Then do what you can afford.” Do what you can afford. Those five words, I thought they were well-intentioned at the time. Thinking back now, it’s a joke. A man making fifty thousand a month telling his wife, who makes eight thousand, to “do what she can afford.” But that night, I didn’t fly into a rage. I was very calm. Terrifyingly calm. I took a screenshot of that balance. Then I exited the app. Then I sent Arthur the screenshot of the credit card payment. “Done.” He replied, “Thanks, honey.” With a heart emoji. I looked at that heart. I put down my phone. I went to the kitchen and washed the dishes. Then I sat in the living room and started thinking. Four million, one hundred and seventy thousand. If his monthly salary was five thousand, his savings over three years would be eighteen thousand at most. Even living as frugally as possible, twenty thousand tops. Four million, one hundred and seventy thousand. This wasn’t saved up. This was another level of income altogether. I needed to know more. But I couldn’t let him find out. I couldn’t. 3. The next day, I took half a day off. Not to go to school. To see Chloe. Chloe was my college roommate, now a lawyer. Specializing in family law. We met at the coffee shop downstairs from her law firm. I showed her the screenshot. She took one look. “Over four million?” “Yes.” “And he said his monthly salary was five thousand?” “Yes.” Chloe put down her coffee cup. “What do you suspect?” “I don’t know,” I said. “I just feel something isn’t right.” “Do you know where he works?” “Yes. A company called ‘Apex.’ He said he does building materials sales.” Chloe took out her phone and did a search. “Apex Industries?” “Probably.” She scrolled through a few pages. “This company had a revenue of 1.2 billion last year and is preparing to go public.” I was stunned. “1.2 billion?” “What does your husband do at this company?” “He said… sales.” Chloe looked at me. “A sales guy making five thousand a month at a company with 1.2 billion in revenue?” She didn’t finish her sentence. I understood. Chloe helped me organize my thoughts. “Don’t alert him just yet. You need to do three things now.” “First, confirm his real income. Check his bank statements. You have his password?” “Yes.” “Second, confirm where this money is going. Four million is the balance. How much comes in, how much goes out, and where is it all going.” “Third, confirm if he’s having an affair.” I looked at her. “You think he is?” Chloe didn’t answer directly. “A balance of four million, one hundred and seventy thousand. If his monthly salary is fifty thousand, that’s eighteen million over three years. Minus the four million, where did the other fourteen million go?” Fourteen million. That number hit me like a ton of bricks. “It could be investments, it could be real estate, it could be something else,” Chloe said. “But keeping it a secret from you is not a good sign.” I nodded. “Find out the truth,” she said. “Find out the truth before you decide what to do.” She looked at me. “Don’t cry, don’t make a scene.” “Find out the truth, and then deal with it as you must.” I said okay. That night, Arthur still hadn’t returned from his business trip. I sat alone in the living room and opened his banking app. This time, I didn’t rush. I looked at every single transaction. Salary account, monthly deposits. Not five thousand. It was four hundred and eighty-seven thousand, three hundred and twenty-one dollars. Every single month. A fixed date, the 15th. Source: Apex Industries LLC. I scrolled down. Expenses. Transaction by transaction. There was one transfer, a fixed monthly amount. $15,000. Memo: Mortgage. Mortgage. We rent our apartment. What mortgage? I took a screenshot. I kept scrolling. Another transfer, varying amounts. Three thousand, five thousand, eight thousand, twenty thousand. Same payee. Different memos. “Buy whatever my baby wants.” “Bought this for you, don’t be frugal.” “Happy Black Friday.” I stared at the word “baby.” My hands didn’t shake. My heart didn’t break. It felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over my head. Freezing me to the bone. So cold it actually stopped hurting. I kept scrolling. I found a massive transfer. Three million, two hundred thousand. Exactly three million, two hundred thousand. It happened a year and a half ago. The memo had only two words: “Down payment.” A 3.2 million down payment. While I was gnawing on discounted bread in our rental. He was buying a house for someone else. I finished looking through all the statements. Closed the app. Stood up and went to the bathroom. Splashed water on my face. The person in the mirror had red eyes, but no tears had fallen. I looked at myself in the mirror. “Arthur,” I said softly. “You’re finished.” 4. For the next two weeks, I didn’t show a single sign. I cooked when I was supposed to cook, split bills when I was supposed to split bills. When Arthur came back from his business trip, I poured him water as usual. “Rough trip?” “It was alright.” He smiled and kissed my forehead. “Miss me?” “I missed you.” I said, smiling. Smiling very naturally. He didn’t notice anything unusual. But during those two weeks, I did a lot of things. First thing: Confirm who the payee was. Chloe helped me look into it. The payee’s name was Mia Miller. Female, 28 years old. When I saw that name, my hands stopped. Mia Miller. I knew her. Arthur’s “cousin.” She had been to our house. Eaten the food I cooked. Called me “sister-in-law.” Last Thanksgiving, she came to our house for dinner. I made a big feast. Arthur said she was his aunt’s daughter, fresh to the city and didn’t know anyone. “Take good care of her,” he said. I said okay. That day, Mia wore a white dress. She looked very pretty. I even complimented her. “Mia, you look so pretty.” She smiled and said, “Sister-in-law, your cooking is amazing.” When she left, she gave me a hug. “Sister-in-law, thank you.” I patted her back. “We’re all family.” We’re all family. I checked Arthur’s contacts. There was no “Mia Miller.” But there was a contact named “Baby.” I checked his iMessage chat history. His phone was passcode-protected, but I knew it. Our wedding anniversary. Ironic, isn’t it? I opened “Baby’s” chat. I saw photos. Photos of that house. Fully furnished. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Sunlight pouring in, a massive living room. Mia stood in the middle of the living room, throwing a peace sign. Arthur sent a message: “Do you like it?” Mia replied: “I love it! Hubby is the best!” Hubby. She called him hubby too. I scrolled down. Arthur: “The deed is here, it has your name on it.” Mia sent a string of kissing emojis. “Hubby, I want to have a baby with you.” Arthur: “Okay.” I took screenshots of the chat history. Page by page, I captured it all. Then I exited. Cleared the login traces. Put the phone back exactly where it was. Arthur was sleeping soundly in the bedroom. I walked out to the balcony. The night wind was biting cold. I stood there for a long time. Then I went back to the bedroom and lay down beside him. Closed my eyes. And didn’t sleep a wink all night. 5. After Chloe finished looking at the screenshots I sent her, she was silent for a long time. “Are you okay?” “Just tell me what to do.” She nodded. “First, the house was purchased after you were married, and the down payment came from his salary. His salary is considered joint marital property.” “So that house—” “Even though it’s under Mia’s name, the down payment originated from joint marital property. You can claim this is a transfer of marital assets.” “Can we get it back?” “Yes. And the courts penalize this kind of behavior heavily. When dividing the assets, the party at fault gets less or nothing.” I listened. “Also,” Chloe said, “you said his company is preparing to go public?” “Yes.” “During the IPO process, if an executive has a major undisclosed personal dispute, it could constitute a disclosure violation.” “What does that mean?” “It means—if he is an executive at the company, his divorce litigation and asset dispute could impact the company’s IPO process.” Chloe looked at me. “This is your leverage.” “He won’t want the company to know about this.” I thought for a moment. “Can you help me find out his position at the company?” Chloe gave me the answer the next day. Arthur Vance. Vice President of Apex Industries. In charge of Marketing. Not sales. Vice President. That Friday, Arthur came home very late. I didn’t ask him where he had been. I had cooked dinner, and his portion was keeping warm in the oven. He came back, ate, and said, “We had a company meeting today, I’m exhausted.” “You’ve been working hard.” “Oh, by the way,” he suddenly said, “my mom wants to take us out for dinner next Saturday. A family gathering.” “Okay.” He looked at me and smiled. “Your cooking is better than my mom’s.” I smiled too. “Then I’ll go help out when the time comes.” “No, no, you’re a guest when you go.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek. “You’re the best, honey.” I didn’t pull away. I even returned the smile. Because I had already made up my mind. Next Saturday, that family gathering. That would be the day I cast the net. Over the weekend, I went to see Chloe. This time it was official. “Help me prepare three things.” “First, an application for asset preservation.” Chloe nodded. “Second, a divorce petition.” “Okay.” “Third—” I looked at her. “Help me run a background check on Mia Miller.” Chloe raised an eyebrow. “What do you want to know?” “Everything. Her job, her background, and… exactly when she and Arthur started seeing each other.” Three days later, Chloe placed a file in front of me. “You might need to mentally prepare yourself.” I opened it. Mia Miller is not Arthur’s cousin. No familial relation was found. Her registered address isn’t even in the same state as Arthur’s hometown. “Cousin.” It was a lie from beginning to end. I kept reading. The first transfer record between Mia and Arthur—wasn’t two years ago. It was four years ago. The year before we got married. In other words, he knew her before he knew me. While he was dating me, marrying me, splitting bills 50/50 with me—she was there the entire time. I wasn’t a betrayed wife. I was a pre-arranged transitional placeholder. The last page of the file. Mia Miller opened a prenatal care file at the city maternity hospital three months ago. Pregnant. Due date: six months from now. I closed the file. “There’s one more thing you need to see.” Chloe handed me her phone. It was a chat screenshot. A message Arthur sent to a friend. “Once Mia’s baby is born, I’ll bring up divorce with Elena. I’ll give her what’s due, but the house and main assets have been dealt with in advance, so she won’t get much.” The friend replied: “Then why didn’t you divorce her earlier?” Arthur sent a voice memo. Chloe hit play. Arthur’s voice, very relaxed. “It’s not worth divorcing now. The company is pushing for an IPO at the end of the year; an executive getting divorced looks bad. We’ll wait until the IPO is done and the equity is in hand, then divorce. The timing is perfect.” “What about your wife?” “Her?” Arthur laughed. “Give her a few hundred thousand to get rid of her. She’s an elementary school teacher, what kind of money has she ever seen? Give her two or three hundred thousand and she’ll be thanking her lucky stars.” The voice memo ended there. It stopped. Chloe looked at me. I was expressionless. For a long time. “Give her a few hundred thousand to get rid of her.” I repeated. “She’s an elementary school teacher, what kind of money has she ever seen.” I laughed. “Chloe.” “Yeah.” “When can we file the asset preservation?” “Anytime.” “Then do it now.” 6. For the next few days, I acted as if nothing had happened. Cooked. Went to work. Split bills 50/50. Every day Arthur came home, I’d bring him water or tea. When he went on business trips, I packed his bags. “Honey, you’ve been in a pretty good mood lately?” “Am I?” “Yeah, feels like you’re smiling more than before.” I looked at him. “Maybe it’s because the weather is nice.” He didn’t think much of it. He wouldn’t think much of it. Because in his eyes, I was that woman who “is an elementary school teacher, what kind of money has she ever seen.” Easy to bully. Easy to fool. Easy to get rid of. What he didn’t know was— The asset preservation application had already been submitted to the court. The real estate under his name, the property he transferred to Mia’s name, were all under the court’s purview. What he didn’t know was— I had already obtained three years of his complete bank statements. Every single dollar transferred to Mia, every single thing bought for her, was all printed out. A thick stack. What he didn’t know was— The lawyer’s letter had been written. The divorce petition had been written. Everything was ready. Just waiting for that family gathering. Before Saturday, I did one last thing. I called my mom. “Mom, Arthur’s family is having a gathering this Saturday. You and Dad come too.” “Huh? Go to his house? What’s going on?” “Nothing major, just a get-together. You come, I have something to say.” My mom probably caught something off in my tone. “Elena, are you okay?” “I’m fine. You’ll know when you get here.” “Did you and Arthur have a fight?” “No.” I paused. “Mom, bring your IDs when you come.” “Why bring our IDs?” “You’ll know when you get here.” I hung up the phone. I sat in the living room of our rented apartment. That $399 coat, I finally ordered it. I’m going to wear it next Saturday.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394810”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

With only three days left before the tumor completely compressed my cranial nerves, my own brother gave the only miracle drug that could save my life to someone else. In front of the interview cameras, my brother spoke eloquently, tears of excitement welling in his eyes. “As a doctor, it is my honor to be able to help her.” “Especially since my patient is a twenty-year-old supermarket cashier. It truly breaks my heart.” The reporter couldn’t help but ask, “But it’s said that according to the waitlist, this miracle drug was originally supposed to be for your sister…” My brother cut her off sharply. “What do you mean ‘supposed to be’? Chloe has lived a life of privilege since childhood; she’s never experienced the hardship of working as a supermarket cashier. What’s wrong with making her wait a little?” “Furthermore, as the family member of a medical professional, she has understood since she was young the principle of sacrificing for the greater good.” In the intensive care unit, I stared expressionlessly at my brother’s exclusive interview on the TV. I watched that cashier crying and thanking my brother, watched my brother acknowledge her as his god-sister, watched their deep bond… Suddenly, I felt that dying wouldn’t be so bad. The doctor pushed the door open to remind me that before transferring to hospice care, I could make one last phone call to my family. After hesitating for a long time, I still dialed my brother’s number. But before I could even speak, his impatient voice came through. “Chloe, I’m very busy. Don’t call me unless it’s an emergency.” “As the family of a doctor, can’t you be a little more understanding?” … The call was ruthlessly disconnected. My attending physician stood next to me, unable to hide the pity in his eyes. I forced a bitter smile and took the paperwork from his hands. “Never mind. I’ll handle the paperwork for the hospice transfer myself.” The nurse’s aide standing nearby couldn’t help but turn her head away, her eyes red, muttering softly, “I’ve been taking care of patients for so many years, but this is the first time I’ve seen a family member actively hang up on someone about to enter hospice.” I didn’t say anything, just felt that letting me pass away quietly and alone would be fine. But this quiet didn’t last long before it was shattered by a commotion in the hallway. Several production crew members carrying cameras, along with a group of reporters, unexpectedly barged into my hospital room. The harsh glare of the camera lights forced me to squeeze my eyes shut. “Ms. Davis, what are your thoughts on your brother giving the miracle drug to the cashier?” “Do you feel your brother is playing favorites and ignoring whether you live or die?” “There are rumors that you aren’t actually that sick, and that you’re intentionally putting on a sob story to compete for your brother’s attention. Is this true?” A barrage of sharp questions hit me like a dense swarm of needles piercing my chest. Before I could speak, my doctor lost his temper and loudly questioned the reporters in front of him. “Not that sick? Open your eyes and take a good look at the tubes sticking out of her! Her brain tumor has almost completely compressed her cranial nerves. She currently relies on life support just to breathe and can’t even turn over on her own. You call this ‘not that sick’?” “Competing for attention? Competing for attention to the point of planning her own funeral?” The nurse’s aide couldn’t stand it either. She reached out to shield me from the intrusive lenses, cursing under her breath. I struggled to lift my head, shooting them a grateful look. A wave of sourness surged in my heart. These strangers, whom I’ve only known for two months, could empathize with my current situation, while my own brother blindly believed I was just being unreasonable. Brother, I didn’t lie to you. I’m really going to die. To end this farce as quickly as possible, I leaned against the headboard and spoke calmly. “According to hospital policy, I was next in line for the miracle drug. If you don’t believe me, go check it yourselves. I have nothing more to say.” As my voice fell, a flurry of camera shutters clicked before me, the flashes blinding me. Under the high-definition lenses, the reporters scrutinized every micro-expression, trying to find even a hint of anger on my face. But I was incredibly calm; my expression didn’t ripple in the slightest. Some reporters were getting impatient and were about to speak again when my brother’s voice came from outside the room. “Chloe, what nonsense are you spouting to the media again? Why are you so unreasonable?” Before I could understand what was going on, my brother shoved his phone directly in my face. The internet was tearing him apart. [Leaving his own sister to die to save a cashier? Is her brother trying to be some kind of saint?!] [Look, even the attending physician and the nurse’s aide couldn’t stand it! Her own brother is worse than strangers!] It turned out that the doctor and the nurse’s aide’s defense of me had been broadcasted live, sparking a public outcry online. That cashier, Mia Smith, even fell to her knees before me, crying and slapping herself. “Ms. Davis, please don’t slander your brother online. It’s all my fault! I don’t have money; I shouldn’t have used this drug. I deserve to die! Hit me, curse at me…” Facing the cameras, Mia cried her eyes out. In just a few words, she twisted a medical incident that disregarded a patient’s life into a class-warfare drama of the rich bullying the poor. The irony was, from beginning to end, I hadn’t said a single word against her. My brother finally lost his patience. He pulled Mia up, shielded her behind him, and yelled at me self-righteously. “Chloe, you truly disappoint me. The next batch of the miracle drug arrives in thirty days. You can use it then. Is that acceptable to you?” Thirty days? But I wouldn’t live to see thirty days. I looked up at him, suddenly feeling exhausted by talking to him. I didn’t want to explain anymore, didn’t want to argue, and didn’t even want to care who was right or wrong. I let out a breath: “Forget it. There’s no need.” “Suit yourself! Who do you think you’re showing that sour face to all day!” Throwing down those words, my brother didn’t spare me another glance. Even as a doctor himself, he didn’t take the initiative to ask about my condition. He just grabbed Mia and stormed off. “Mia just finished taking the miracle drug and still needs a series of rehabilitation treatments. I’m going to accompany her first.” “You’re the older sister; you need to be more understanding and yield to your younger sister. I’ll come see you in a few days.” The moment the hospital room door closed, my attending physician sighed heavily. “Ms. Davis, your brother is really too…” He didn’t finish, but I knew he was feeling indignant on my behalf. After those reporters left, the nurses passing by with medication trays couldn’t help but complain. “You haven’t bothered anyone since you were admitted. Isn’t that understanding enough? Why does he only have eyes for that god-sister…” The nurse’s aide took the tray from the nurse, her words full of sympathy for me. “A colleague at the billing department just told me that Dr. Davis booked the best rehabilitation package for that cashier sister of his. The money spent on her rehab alone is countless times higher than the cost of his own sister’s intensive care unit. He must have been kicked in the head by a donkey.” “Sigh, our poor Chloe, to encounter something like this at the very end…” My eyelashes fluttered, and an indescribable sense of being moved welled up inside me. These strangers, who had only interacted with me for two months, could empathize with my suffering, while my own brother had shown nothing but coldness from the start. I sighed. Forget it. In the final days of my life, I lacked the energy to care anymore. That afternoon, after finishing the paperwork to transfer to the hospice ward, I forced my weak body, supported by the nurse’s aide, to go to the hospital’s billing window to pay. But when I swiped my card, the screen suddenly popped up a “Transaction Restricted” prompt. The next second, my brother called. “Chloe, are you wasting money again?” He roared, his voice carrying undisguised moral condemnation. “Do you know how many patients this money could help? Do you know how many delivery orders Mia has to run to earn what you spend in a day?” “To prevent you from wasting money, I’ve canceled your card! Chloe, you disappoint me too much!” When he finished venting, I finally spoke, my voice hoarse. “Arthur, I really need to change rooms. I’m about to…” “Enough. There are so many patients in the hospital, why do you have to be special?” “I don’t care what your situation is. In short, as long as I’m here, I will not allow you to waste money!” After my brother hung up, I dialed back a few times, but it only rang busy. The nurse’s aide heard everything clearly and was trembling with anger. “This is too much! This is really too much bullying!! You wait here; I’m going straight to Dr. Davis’s office to confront him face-to-face!” “Forget it. Don’t bother.” I didn’t need to change rooms anymore, and I didn’t want this brother anymore either. My condition had deteriorated to the point where the general ward couldn’t take me, but I couldn’t check into the hospice ward either. As night slowly fell, I could only find a secluded corner in the hospital corridor and slowly lay out my bedding. Leaning against the cold wall, I instinctively curled my body up. I only had one day left until my death. On the last morning of my life, I was awakened by the freezing cold. Shivering, I had just struggled to stand up using the wall when a familiar voice echoed down the corridor. “Chloe!” It was my brother’s voice. I looked up blankly, only to see his eyes were bloodshot. His face carried obvious exhaustion, a stark contrast to his previous cold demeanor. He walked quickly to me, reaching out to touch my arm, but I instinctively dodged him. My brother’s hand froze in mid-air, the apology in his eyes deepening. “Chloe, I’m sorry. It was Arthur’s fault.” “I mobilized all my resources, contacted an overseas lab overnight, and expedited a dose of the miracle drug for you.” “Chloe, come back with me for treatment, okay?” Actually, I hadn’t failed to notice the reporters with cameras following behind him. I also hadn’t failed to suspect that my brother was intentionally helping the production crew generate buzz. But when he said the words “miracle drug,” I still noticeably hesitated. My brother grabbed my wrist, his eyes pleading. “This drug can really cure your brain tumor, Chloe.” “I can’t fail you. Trust me one more time, okay?” I quietly looked at his bloodshot eyes and, as if possessed, nodded. Who would eagerly seek death when there is a chance to live? In the end, I chose to trust him one more time. “That’s great!” My brother clearly sighed in relief, pulling me towards the operating room. “The doctors are all ready. We’ll go in right now.” The cameras followed us, and the live stream comments were flying. [Dr. Davis finally found his conscience!] [As long as the siblings have reconciled. Hope Ms. Davis recovers soon!] Pulled by my brother, I stumbled toward the operating room. But when we reached the doors, I didn’t see the medical team prepared to receive me. There were only a few medical staff gathered around discussing, looking anxious. “How’s the situation? Mia’s side effects are getting worse; we must administer the drug immediately!” “But that new drug hasn’t undergone clinical trials yet; the risk is too high…” “Dr. Davis said to have someone stand in first. When his sister Chloe arrives, have her test the drug!” Mia? Test the drug? The blood in my entire body instantly froze. I violently shook off my brother’s hand, looking at him in disbelief. “You lied to me?” My brother’s expression changed slightly, but he quickly recovered his calm. He deliberately avoided the cameras, his tone carrying a hint of taking it for granted. “Chloe, Mia experienced side effects after taking the drug and urgently needs this new medication. Just consider it doing me a favor; endure it and it will pass.” I was trembling with anger, my voice shaking. “Doing you a favor means using me as a guinea pig?” My brother frowned. “What guinea pig? Don’t make it sound so awful.” “Can’t you have a little compassion and empathy? Mia is still so young; nothing can happen to her. You are my biological sister; you need to look at the bigger picture.” Looking at his cold eyes and listening to his high-sounding words, I only felt it was ridiculous and pathetic. “And what if something happens to me?” My brother smiled instead, reaching out to pat my shoulder, smiling nonchalantly. “Don’t worry. I’m a doctor; how could I watch you die?” As soon as he finished speaking, two medical staff stepped forward and grabbed my arms. “Let go of me!” “You can’t do this! This is murder!” I struggled desperately, but the weakness of my body made my resistance seem exceptionally feeble. Under my brother’s instruction, I was forcibly pushed into the operating room. The heavy doors closed, shutting out the light from outside, and shutting out the truth. Outside the door, the reporters’ discussions could be clearly heard. “Isn’t Chloe being too unreasonable? Her brother found the miracle drug for her, and she’s throwing a tantrum?” “Exactly. If it were me, I’d be eternally grateful. She actually struggled and resisted. She’s too ungrateful.” “Dr. Davis has done everything humanly possible. Having a sister like this is a real headache.” They knew nothing, yet based solely on my brother’s one-sided story, they casually judged my right and wrong. I leaned against the cold operating table, gasping for breath, my heart already completely cold. Just then, the operating room door was pushed open a crack, and Mia stood trembling at the doorway. She was pale, and tears fell as soon as she saw me. “Sister, please, help me.” She knelt down towards me, her voice choking with sobs. “I know this isn’t fair to you, but I really don’t want to die. Your brother is a good person; be a good person just this once and save me, okay?” Separated by the thick glass doors, the reporters couldn’t hear Mia’s words, but they focused their lenses on her frail figure. She cried so hard she couldn’t catch her breath. This posture of a weak victim blurred the truth and directly locked the shackles of morality firmly onto me. The live stream comments had been completely led astray. [Is Chloe refusing treatment? This is so unreasonable!] [Mia is so pitiful. It’s already hard enough for her, and now she has to accommodate the emotions of this spoiled princess.] [The contrast between the two sisters is too obvious. One is kind and fragile, the other is selfish and cold!] Looking at this absurd scene before me, I suddenly laughed, laughing so hard tears almost fell. My brother walked in wearing his white coat, completely ignoring my resistance. He took the syringe filled with the new drug from the nurse and walked towards me step by step. “Get away!” I desperately twisted my body, but the medical staff pinned me down, making it impossible to move. He didn’t hesitate at all, personally inserting the needle into my vein and slowly pushing the plunger. Only when he saw me gradually quiet down did my brother let out a long sigh of relief. But he didn’t stay in the operating room. Instead, he turned and walked out the door, speaking eloquently to the cameras. “As a medical professional, healing the wounded and rescuing the dying is my bounden duty. Whether it’s my sister or Mia, I will do everything in my power to help them.” His words were deeply moving, winning a chorus of praise. In the operating room, my body gradually became cold. Half an hour later, my brother was still talking animatedly to the cameras. Suddenly, his assistant ran out of the operating room in a panic, his face ghastly pale. “Dr. Davis… bad news! The patient died; there’s no heart rate!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394795”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I have been ruthless since I was a child. At seven, while at a vacation resort, I found Mrs. Wang’s Tibetan Mastiff too noisy. I threw it a piece of beef laced with rat poison and killed it. At ten, I caught my dad kissing his secretary in his study. I shoved her down the stairs, resulting in high-level paraplegia. At fifteen, the school heartthrob was playing with female students’ feelings. I kicked him straight into the fountain pool. Everyone who sees me takes a detour. Except for Arthur. He was a poor student sponsored by my grandfather. With refined features, he was lean and aloof. After graduating from a top university, he joined the Sterling family’s company and became my father’s right-hand man. He was never afraid of me, nor did he look at me through colored lenses. After we married, he treated me exceptionally well, acting as the Sterling family’s model live-in son-in-law for six years. Until today. At my daughter Lily’s fifth birthday party. I saw the lines of text floating before my eyes: 【Arthur Sterling, a poor boy who endured for years, willingly married into the family, actually to swallow the Sterling family’s assets.】 【Chloe, Arthur’s true love, joined the Sterling Group as a “distant cousin” and is now three months pregnant.】 【Madison Sterling dies from brake failure, Grandpa Sterling dies of a heart attack, the Sterling assets are inherited by Arthur, who immediately marries Chloe.】 【Lily Sterling is sent to a remote mountainous area and eventually freezes to death in the snow.】 Arthur stood before me, still maintaining his gentle facade. I raised my hand and threw my glass of red wine directly into his face. 1 Everyone present froze. They knew the eldest Miss Sterling was domineering, but they didn’t know she was this domineering. They thought marriage and motherhood might have tempered her vicious temper. The wine dripped down Arthur’s clean-cut face into his collar, making him look exceptionally pathetic. He took a deep breath and wiped his face. “Madison, did the glass slip? Are you okay?” Huh? Interesting. Couldn’t he tell I threw it on purpose? But over the years, I surprisingly hadn’t noticed that his tolerance towards me was all just an act. I looked up at the crowd, my gaze locking onto the woman in the white dress. Chloe. The text flickered: 【Chloe is carrying a boy. Arthur has already bought an overseas property worth thirty million dollars, planning to send her there to rest during her pregnancy.】 I looked at Chloe’s pure and innocent face, then at Arthur’s “deep tolerance” he forced himself to maintain despite his wine-stained face. Thinking of the sentence, 【Lily Sterling is sent to a remote mountainous area and eventually freezes to death in the snow,】 I trembled with anger. I don’t need a man, but my daughter is my life. I casually took a shot of high-proof tequila from a passing waiter’s tray, twirled it gently in my fingertips, and let my gaze fall on Chloe. “You, come here.” I crooked my finger, my tone like I was calling a cat. Chloe shuddered all over, timidly shuffling over to me, her voice as quiet as a mosquito: “Ms. Sterling, what can I do for you?” I thrust the tequila in front of her: “Today is my daughter’s birthday, shouldn’t you offer a toast? Drink it.” Chloe looked at the spicy, strong liquor, her face instantly turning chalk white. She instinctively touched her still-flat stomach, her eyes filled with terror. If this strong liquor went down, the “golden goose” in her belly probably wouldn’t survive. She jerked her head up, looking at Arthur with those wet, doe-like eyes. “Madison, Chloe is allergic to alcohol. I’ll drink this for her.” Arthur, who had always been completely obedient to me and never dared to defy a single word, was actually stepping up to take a drink for a female employee in front of everyone. I flicked my wrist away, letting out a cold sneer: “Arthur, I told her to drink, not you. Since when is it your turn to tell me what to do in the Sterling household?” “Madison, stop making a scene. She’s just a low-level employee.” For the first time, Arthur pulled a long face at me in front of all the guests. “With so many people watching, the way you’re acting right now is really uncultured.” “Uncultured?” My eyes flashed fiercely, and right in front of Arthur, I poured the entire glass of tequila over Chloe’s head. Perfect, one glass each for the dog couple. “Ah!” The strong liquor ran down Chloe’s carefully styled hair. She screamed, looking completely disheveled. “Madison Sterling! You are an absolute lunatic!” Arthur yanked the pocket square from his chest, strode over, and supported Chloe, naturally letting her lean into his embrace. What a perfect drama of the “cruel” legal wife bullying the “innocent” subordinate for no reason, and the “heroic” live-in son-in-law sacrificing himself to save the beauty. 2 “Madison, today is our daughter’s fifth birthday party. As a mother, do you want her to remember this day as the day you humiliated an innocent subordinate? What kind of psychological trauma will your violent behavior cause the child?” Since I had known Arthur, this was the first time I heard him speak so harshly to me. But right now, in front of everyone, he was standing on the moral high ground, ruthlessly crushing me: “Madison, the Sterling family gave you the capital to be arrogant, but please keep a little bit of kindness for this world. Don’t let Lily grow up thinking her mother is a monster!” The guests began to whisper. “Yeah, Miss Sterling is really going too far. That young girl is just an employee.” “Arthur has such a good temper. To be stuck with a wife like that, he has to endure it for their daughter.” “Madison acting like this is really setting a bad example for the child…” Only my best friend, Mia, stood in the corner, watching all this unfold with an all-knowing gaze. Chloe nestled in Arthur’s embrace, crying beautifully: “Mr. Sterling, please don’t say anymore. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have made Ms. Sterling angry… Don’t fight because of me. Today is Lily’s birthday, boohoo…” What a perfect display of a submissive “green tea.” If I hadn’t seen the subtitles beforehand, I would have almost stood on their side and helped them curse myself. Unknowingly, Lily, holding her doll, came to my side. “Mommy…” she called me in her crisp voice. I picked her up and kissed her over and over. This dog couple actually wanted to send my precious baby, whom I held in the palm of my hand, to the countryside to freeze to death! I took a deep breath, calmed my emotions, and whispered to my daughter: “Do you think Mommy is bad?” Lily shook her head: “Not at all! Mommy is the best mommy in the world! A woman kinder than Snow White!” I smiled. In a child’s world, pure kindness is a virtue. But in this cannibalistic real world, kindness without an edge will only turn you into a lamb waiting to be slaughtered. Arthur saw me smiling while holding our daughter and thought my anger had dissipated. He quickly continued to occupy the moral high ground: “Madison, for the sake of our daughter’s birthday, apologize to Chloe today, and we’ll consider this matter closed.” I just gave him a side-eye. “What the hell is she? And what right do you have to tell me to apologize to her?” Chloe hurriedly stopped him: “Mr. Sterling, don’t say anymore. I’m fine… I’ll head back first, let’s not delay celebrating Lily’s birthday.” Arthur’s eyes were full of heartache. He turned and looked at me angrily: “Madison, I’m taking my employee home first. Reflect on what happened today yourself. We’ll talk about it when I get home tonight!” Then, right in front of everyone, he took off his jacket, draped it over Chloe’s shoulders, and led her away from the scene. Good. Exactly what I wanted. Saved me the trouble of kicking them out! I originally didn’t want to make a move today anyway; I just wanted to give my daughter a good birthday. I didn’t even spare Arthur a glance, just kissed Lily’s cheek again. At this moment, Mia stepped out to smooth things over: “Alright, alright. Lily, go greet the guests, it’s time to cut the cake! We’re going to sing the birthday song!” Lily clapped happily: “Yay! I’m going to eat cake!” Looking at her innocent face, I only had one thought in my mind. That is, I would fight with everything I have to let her live a happy, joyful, and simple life. 3 When the birthday party ended, the nanny took my tired daughter to sleep, and I returned to my bedroom alone. I had already ordered the butler to throw all of Arthur’s things out, change the locks, and send all the family cars in for inspection. There was still a message from Arthur on my phone: “Madison, what you did today was a bit over the line. But Chloe is kind-hearted and won’t hold it against you. I have things to deal with at the company today, I’ll be back late.” If you’re keeping your mistress company, just say so. Why pretend you have company business? Still thinking about coming back? Dream on! I closed my eyes, recalling the subtitles before my eyes, and tears fell like rain. At 7 years old, our whole family went on a trip and stayed at a vacation resort. My dad’s business partner, Uncle Wang, also brought his family along. Mrs. Wang treated her Tibetan Mastiff like a precious treasure; several times it almost bit the resort staff. I saw with my own eyes that beast viciously bite a cleaning lady, ruining half her face! But Mrs. Wang wouldn’t even apologize, just hastily paid some money to settle it. And continued to let her dog act like a tyrant. The first time subtitles appeared before my eyes was then. At that time, I had just started elementary school and didn’t know many words. The subtitles were mixed with pinyin. “Mrs. Wang’s dog will pin Madison down and bite her to death! Old Mr. Sterling tries to save Madison, but is also bitten into a bloody pulp.” I was stunned. Looking at that beast, remembering the cleaning lady with half a ruined face, I secretly decided in my heart: I must strike first! The landscaping at the vacation resort was very good, so there were many mosquitoes, insects, rats, and ants. I easily got my hands on some rat poison. I added it to a deliciously seared steak and fed it to her dog right in front of Mrs. Wang. Mrs. Wang couldn’t help but praise me: “Madison is so sensible, knowing how to care for our Mastiff… “Is it yummy, baby? “Hey… hey baby, what’s wrong? Why are you throwing up? Why did you fall down and start twitching? “Ambulance! Call an ambulance quickly!” I sneered: “Don’t bother. Your dog isn’t going to survive!” Mrs. Wang was shocked: “…You dead girl, you actually dared to poison my son? So young and already so vicious! Believe it or not, I’ll beat you to death!” I ran for my life. As I ran, I thought: when her dog bit someone, she didn’t care. I thought this Mrs. Wang had no heart! Now that her dog is dead, she knows how to panic. 4 The second time the subtitles appeared was when my dad and his secretary were kissing in his study. I originally liked that secretary a lot; I called her Sister Tingting. She had big, watery eyes, wasn’t very tall, and looked gentle and refined. I was originally going to get a newly bought plush toy from Disney to share with her. I tiptoed to the door, wanting to quietly push it open and surprise her. I quietly pushed the door open a crack and saw a scene that left me dumbfounded. She sat directly on my dad’s lap, and the two of them entered a world of their own. At this time, the subtitles appeared before my eyes again. 【From this day on, the secretary sends intimate photos of herself and the female lead’s dad to the female lead’s mom every day.】 【Yes, and she also calls the female lead’s house late at night to insult her mom.】 【The female lead’s dad even moves out to live with the secretary.】 【The female lead’s mom gets depression and later jumps off a building to commit suicide.】 … In that instant, Sister Tingting completely turned into a demon in my heart. Of course, I couldn’t let all this happen. I just quietly waited at the study door for them to come out. I don’t know how long it took, but the door opened. When Sister Tingting walked out, her hair was messy and her face was flushed. “Madison, why are you here.” She looked guilty for a moment. I smiled: “I wanted to show you this Minnie I bought at Disney. Is it cute?” “C… cute. As cute as Madison.” She smiled harmlessly. “Really?” I took her hand, “There are more downstairs, let’s go look together.” Then, when we reached the top of the stairs, I used all my strength and shoved her hard. “Ah!” White Tingting let out a terrified scream. But it was too late. She just beautifully tumbled down the stairs like that. And fell unconscious. Later, White Tingting was basically ruined. My family paid her patriarchal mother a large sum of money, which was all spent buying a car, a house, and a wife for her younger brother. When my grandfather learned the ins and outs of the whole matter, he severely taught my father a lesson. The branch company that was originally intended for my father to take over was given to my uncle. “Bringing a secretary home to fool around! And being caught by your child! What kind of behavior is this? This matter was suppressed with money. If the media finds out and makes a big fuss about it, our family’s clean reputation will be ruined by you!” After that, my father never dared to openly chase women outside again. 5 As for the school heartthrob… He was a spoiled rich kid from the Gu family. Relying on his handsome face, he ran wild at school. But he hadn’t done anything totally outrageous yet. That day after school, a row of subtitles appeared before my eyes. 【This rich kid is just a bit mischievous at this age. Who knew that as an adult he wouldn’t learn anything good and would play with the feelings of so many innocent girls?】 【Yeah, and he’ll be flirting with the female lead while also pursuing her best friend, causing the best friend and the female lead to turn against each other!】 I froze and looked at my best friend, Mia, beside me: “When you grow up, will you like the second young master of the Gu family?” Mia looked disgusted: “Madison, what are you saying? Who would like him?” Me: “Then do you dare push him into the water?” Mia: “…” I didn’t explain, just chased after him. “Gu Feng!” I called him. The rich kid turned around: “Yo, Madison. Does the eldest miss of the Zhao family need something?” I smiled slightly and stepped forward. “Look at this fountain pool.” “What about it?” “Get in there!” “Ah…” Mia caught up: “Madison, did you really do it?” Gu Feng floundered up: “Madison Sterling, are you crazy? And you, Mia, you conspired to mess with me?” Me: “Run.” I pulled Mia and jogged away. … Later, Mia and I were on the balcony at home, eating ice cream and talking about it. “So, Madison, what you mean is, you pushed him into the water today because you saw subtitles telling you Gu Feng would cause our friendship to break in the future?” “Exactly!” I took a bite of my Cornetto. “That’s really amazing! To be honest, Gu Feng’s face is indeed my type. If I hadn’t known this in advance, maybe… if he actively pursued me, I really would be moved.” I looked at the distant sky: “As long as you don’t think it’s absurd, as long as you believe me, that’s enough!” “Of course I believe you!” From that day on, Gu Feng blacklisted both of us. He told everyone he met: “Madison Sterling is a crazy bitch, and that Mia hanging around her is no good either. Stay away from them!” Let him talk. After all, I was “in the wrong” first. But for the next ten years, my friendship with Mia remained as strong as ever, without any impact. And she was the only one who always remained extremely calm whenever she saw me “go crazy.” Because she knew I definitely had a reason.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394811”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The first time Arthur cheated, he knelt before me, slapping his own face in extreme remorse. The tenth time I caught him, he smiled and reassured me, “Wait until I’ve had my fun; I’ll return to our family.” The twentieth time, he irritably shook off my hand and threw the divorce agreement at my face. I tore that agreement to shreds and smashed everything in the house that night. When Arthur sent over a signed divorce agreement for the thirtieth time… To force him to come home, I threatened suicide by slitting my wrists. Blood pooled on the floor, yet no one cared. When I woke up again, his friends were sitting in a circle around me, urging me to divorce him. “Didn’t you just stick by Arthur for a few years while he built his business from nothing?” “He’s already got enough headaches dealing with your depression. He just found a little ‘sister’ on the side to blow off some steam. Do you really have to throw a tantrum and pull these suicide stunts?” Surprisingly, this time I signed the divorce agreement cleanly. The next day, keeping it a secret from everyone, I booked an appointment for an abortion. Arthur, I will no longer wait for you to turn back. … When I returned home after the surgery, a dull ache lingered in my lower abdomen, and my entire body felt like it was being gnawed by tens of thousands of ants. I stared at the thousandth “gift” Arthur’s mistress had mailed me today. Actually, the photos of them making eye contact, holding hands, kissing, and sleeping together had already piled up to fill an entire storage room. As soon as I entered, a wave of intimacy hit me from the living room. Arthur was back from his business trip. My eyes landed on the water stains left on the thirty-thousand-dollar fabric sofa from their recent pleasure, and I instinctively covered my mouth, dry-heaving. “This is the gift Mia brought for you. Why are you making such an ugly face?” I looked upstairs, and Arthur, fresh from the shower, came into view. Following his gaze, I saw a palm-sized gift box sitting on the coffee table. Beside it lay an empty condom box. I averted my eyes, endured the pain in my abdomen, and slowly squatted down to change my shoes. Arthur walked down the stairs. “I heard you were looking for me a few days ago. What was so urgent you had to say it in person?” My hand subconsciously pressed against the doctor’s prescription and the abortion medical records in my bag. I had originally thought this child could win back his heart. So I had called him, filled with joy, wanting to tell him that we finally had a child together. But when the call connected, it was Mia who answered. She smugly told me that just as Arthur was pulling down her bra strap, he passionately told her he wanted to have a child with her. Provoked by this, I suffered another episode. After hanging up, I lost control and picked up a blade, slicing my wrist. But now, I shook my head at him. “It’s nothing. Just pressed the wrong button by mistake.” The tight furrow between Arthur’s brows finally relaxed, and his tone softened: “I had Martha stew some supplements for you. Come have some.” Before I could speak, the sound of light footsteps came from upstairs. A girl in a bathrobe dashed down the stairs and threw herself into his arms. “Thank you, Arthur!” I realized belatedly that this sentence wasn’t meant for me. “Does sister not like the gift I bought? A psychologist in the US recommended it to me, saying it would help with your illness…” I didn’t want to hear her voice, so I started walking upstairs. But Arthur quickly stepped in front of me, blocking my path. He softened his tone, a rare occurrence: “At least say thank you to Mia…” I turned around. That empty condom box was still sitting right next to the gift. “I didn’t ask her to buy it.” Seeing Mia acting wronged, Arthur chased after me again: “Throwing another tantrum?” I sighed: “Not a tantrum, just a little tired.” Leaving that sentence behind, I didn’t wait for Arthur’s reaction, turned, and went into the guest bedroom. Just as I finished taking my medication, there was a knock on my door. I locked it from the inside, unwilling to waste any more energy dealing with these trivialities. I took off the diamond ring on my left hand and looked at it carefully for a long time. The diamond on this ring wasn’t big; in fact, it was completely fake. Arthur bought it at a cheap roadside boutique the first time he confessed his feelings to me. We had walked out of a small mountain village hand-in-hand. We even paid for our college tuition by working part-time jobs. After graduating and paying rent, we were so poor we only had about thirty dollars between us. But just because I took a second glance at that ring, he bought it without hesitation. Later, Arthur made a lot of money and bought me many diamond rings, but I never took this one off. But now, this ring has lost its meaning. I opened the glass door to the balcony and threw it out with all my might. With a plop, the ring fell into the flowing fountain outside in the garden. Just as I finished doing all this, the locked door was abruptly opened from the outside. Arthur burst in, a trace of panic disrupting his usually composed face. Ever since I got sick, to prevent me from doing anything foolish, he kept the keys to all the rooms in the house on him. Seeing me safe and sound, the panic on his face mostly dissipated: “Mia knocked on your door, why didn’t you open it?” Chapter 2 Perhaps my movement of throwing the ring was too forceful, and now my lower abdomen began to ache dully again. I took the opportunity to sit on the cushioned lounger on the balcony, discreetly holding the aching spot, and said flatly, “Didn’t hear it.” “From now on, without my permission, no one is allowed to enter my room.” “Including you.” I pointed at Arthur, taking in the shock hidden deep in his eyes. Because all the tables in this guest room have rounded corners, and there are no sharp objects. When I lose control of my actions due to my illness, I lock myself in this room. And he would always hold me, burying his chin in my neck, softly soothing my emotions. I used to not be able to live without him, and I was terrified of him leaving. But things have changed now. He changed, and I changed too. Lying in the hospital, listening to the beep, beep, beep of the machines, I figured a lot of things out. Arthur stared at me intently. I don’t know how long our stare-down lasted before he sneered: “Just because I didn’t answer your call?” “I told you, I was on a business trip. Mia is my secretary; what’s wrong with her answering your call for me?” Before he even finished speaking, and before I could say anything in rebuttal, a loud crash of breaking porcelain echoed from downstairs. Arthur didn’t hesitate for a second, turning and running down the stairs. I followed behind him and saw Mia sprawled delicately on the floor, a large blister forming on her wrist from a burn. “I saw that Sister Chloe didn’t look well, so I wanted to bring the supplements up to her…” Arthur shot me an angry glare. “Chloe, for the past few years, because of your illness, I haven’t even dared to slack off when I go to the office. One computer for work, one for watching the security cameras at home.” “I’m about to be driven crazy by your illness.” “I just want someone to pour me a cup of tea when I’m tired, not have to take care of your feelings on top of it!” “We’re going to the hospital.” With that, Arthur supported Mia’s slender waist, picked her up securely, and strode towards the door. I looked down at the mess on the floor and called out for Martha a few times. The estate was empty; no one answered. I sighed, bent down, and picked up the broken pieces of the porcelain bowl, throwing them into the nearby trash can. Suddenly, a flash of lightning tore through the dark night. Followed closely by a deafening clap of thunder. I was so startled I fell to the floor. In a panic, I tried to push myself up off the floor. But my entire palm pressed down on the freshly broken porcelain, instantly receiving several cuts. After calming down, I called the family doctor. By the time my wounds were treated, the thunder outside had quieted down significantly. The family doctor packed up his medical kit very slowly, looking hesitant: “You…” “I aborted it.” It’s quite funny, really. The first man to know I was pregnant wasn’t my husband, but the family doctor. I watched the drizzling rain outside the window, feeling inexplicably sad: “I’m leaving.” “Julian said I only cause trouble for Arthur.” “He said Mia and Arthur are a match made in heaven.” “So what if I accompanied Arthur as he built his business, endured hardships with him? He’s been miserable these past few years.” “Only when he’s facing Mia can he truly be himself.” “I’ve thought it over, and I think he’s right.” “This estate should have a new mistress soon.” After the family doctor left, I started packing the things I wanted to take with me. Halfway through, my phone sitting on the table suddenly rang. When I answered, Arthur’s somewhat unnatural voice came through: “Tomorrow is my dad’s death anniversary.” I let out a muffled “Mm”: “Okay, I’ll take a taxi to the cemetery tomorrow.” Uncle Sterling treated me well when he was alive, so I naturally had to fulfill this filial duty. Besides, leaving a day early or a day late didn’t matter. “I’ll come pick you up…” I quickly refused: “No need. I know you’re very busy…” After hanging up, I stuffed the last piece of clothing into the suitcase, zipped it up, and placed it in the corner. Ever since the car accident last year, I haven’t dared to drive again. It’s probably an illness too. When I arrived at the cemetery the next day, I was a full two hours later than the time we agreed upon yesterday. Arthur’s face looked terrible, and the faces of everyone standing beside him were ashen. Knowing I was in the wrong, I suppressed my trembling hands and apologized: “Sorry, I’m late because…” Julian spoke up first: “Sister-in-law, I’m not trying to lecture you, but how could you be late even for Uncle Sterling’s death anniversary?” “Yeah, Secretary Mia was here early in the morning, lighting incense, laying out offerings, sweeping… As Arthur’s wife, being this late is really unjustifiable, isn’t it?” “Exactly, it’s one thing to be late for normal events, but to be late for such an important day? This shows you clearly don’t take Arthur’s matters to heart!” Arthur stood silently to the side, but his expression said it all. Chapter 3 Mia naturally patted their shoulders to comfort them: “Oh, stop it, you guys. Maybe Sister Chloe got held up by something, which is why she’s late.” Saying that, she handed me the lit incense: “Sister Chloe, ignore them, they’re just joking.” Her attitude was so natural that one might think she was Arthur’s wife. I looked up at her, forcibly swallowing the urge to explain. Forget it. Letting the misunderstanding last forever is also a way of saying goodbye. I was just about to take the incense from her hand when Julian shielded Mia behind him: “Mia, stay away from her, lest she hurt you.” When Arthur and Mia first crossed the line, I couldn’t accept it. I used both soft and hard tactics to get Arthur and Mia to separate. Arthur coldly said it was impossible. The next day, I had someone stage a kidnapping. That night, Arthur held a knife to my neck, demanding I tell him Mia’s whereabouts. “Aren’t you depressed and always wanting to die? If you don’t tell me where Mia is, I’ll grant your wish right now.” Thinking of this, I unconsciously touched the scar left on my neck, then smiled: “I won’t. After all, the feeling of a knife against your neck—once is enough.” A flash of guilt crossed Arthur’s eyes, but it quickly vanished completely. He glanced at Julian’s group: “Stop arguing, offer the incense!” I bent down, lit the incense in my hand, knelt before Uncle Sterling’s grave, and whispered in my heart. Uncle Sterling, I didn’t mean to be late. All the cars I booked today refused the ride when they saw the destination. I overcame the fear in my heart and drove here myself, which is why I’m late. Uncle Sterling, Arthur and I are getting a divorce. I’m sorry to have disappointed you. I opened my eyes, bowed three times to the tombstone, and as I stood up to place the incense in the censer, a cool breeze blew past, and the incense ash fell onto my hand. It burned. It was as if Uncle Sterling was telling me this choice was wrong. “What happened to your hand? Why is it wrapped in gauze?” “And where is your ring?” Arthur walked over to me, reaching out to grab my hand for a closer look. I swiftly put my hands behind my back, maintaining a distant gap, and forced a smile: “Nothing, accidentally cut it slicing fruit.” “I took the ring off when I showered and forgot to put it on today.” Hearing my words, Arthur didn’t think much of it and just nodded. At this moment, the cool breeze blew again, and a fit of coughing came from behind. I followed the sound and saw Mia covering her mouth, coughing violently. It sounded like she was going to cough her lungs out. Arthur, who was just standing beside me, walked towards Mia, took off his coat, and draped it over her shoulders: “Did the burn from yesterday get infected, or did you catch a cold?” I clearly saw Mia shoot me a triumphant look. But very quickly, she lowered her head and coughed a few more times: “Maybe the wind from the typhoon recently is too strong, and I caught a little cold…” Arthur nodded and immediately took her hand, walking towards the cemetery exit, saying as they went: “It’s my fault. I knew you weren’t feeling well, but I still let you come here to catch a chill.” I walked at the very end of the group, watching everyone crowd around Mia, asking about her well-being, and I couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed. Suddenly, a crisp cracking sound came from the trunk of a nearby tree. I looked towards the sound, and before I could react, a large tree snapped in half and came crashing down directly towards me. “Watch out!” A split second before I lost consciousness, I saw Arthur’s group protecting Mia, moving away from the falling tree area without even turning their heads. When I woke up again, I looked at the pitch-black sky, disoriented for a moment, unable to distinguish reality from dream. But the stinging pain coming from my body reminded me that this was reality. Enduring the excruciating pain, I stood up and found my surroundings completely empty, save for a few security guards struggling to clear the fallen tree debris. “The rescue team all went to the city center for disaster relief. People think our place is unlucky and won’t come…” “If I were ten years younger, I could finish this job alone. Who needs them to come.” “Old Yu, it looks like there’s a person…” The next second, a strong beam of light shone on my face, stinging my eyes so much I had to reach out and cover them. The men exchanged glances, then shrieked and scrambled away, running down the mountain, even dropping their flashlights. I picked up a flashlight from the ground and shone it on my white dress. It was bloodstained, indeed a bit terrifying. Stumbling along for half an hour, I finally reached my car. After driving out of the cemetery, the image of Arthur protecting Mia as they left kept surfacing in my mind. I had reached out to them in despair, but their group didn’t even turn their heads. I suddenly felt very tired. Slowly, my hands let go of the steering wheel. Crash. The car smashed right through the roadside guardrail and plummeted rapidly. Listening to the wind whistling past my ears, I resignedly closed my eyes. Chapter 4 At the hospital, Arthur was keeping Mia company while she received an IV drip. For some reason, Arthur felt restless. Before leaving the cemetery, he told the security guards to go in and save the person, and even left his phone number. But it was already night, and his phone remained completely silent. Mia didn’t notice the anxiety in Arthur’s heart, still relishing the gentleness Arthur had shown her today. There was a knock on the door, and Julian came in. He had a smile on his lips, looking in a very good mood. When he reached Arthur, he handed him the divorce agreement. “Arthur, Chloe signed it.” Arthur took the document and began flipping through it. When he saw the signature on it, his heart subconsciously skipped a beat. He couldn’t quite believe that I would compromise like this. But now, it was right there in black and white, and he had to accept it. He closed the agreement without showing any emotion: “When did she sign it?” Julian sat on the sofa nearby, picked up a piece of fruit, and took a bite: “A couple of days ago. It’s strange, actually. She took a trip to the hospital and then just figured it out and signed. I thought she was going to go crazy and tear it up again…” Arthur’s brows furrowed tightly: “Went to the hospital? When did this happen? Why did she go to the hospital?” “It was when you were on your business trip a few days ago. Same as before, slit her wrists. The family doctor said he couldn’t reach you, so he called me.” “But it was nothing major, just blood loss. After she woke up, the boys and I advised her to get a divorce. I really didn’t expect her to sign it…” He delivered these few sentences lightly, not knowing that to Arthur, they felt like a heavy blow to the head. She had an accident. How could the family doctor not reach him… A chill ran down Mia’s spine when she heard this. Because she knew exactly what she had said when she answered my call. And when the family doctor called later, she hung up without blinking an eye and deleted all the missed calls. In just a few seconds, Arthur’s gaze landed on Mia. He didn’t say anything, just picked up his phone and tapped it a few times. Mia started to panic. She forced a smile and held Arthur’s hand, acting spoiled like she usually did: “My IV drip is almost empty…” But Arthur had no mind for her. His eyes were fixed on the screen, until Mia’s smug voice came from it. “Chloe, did you receive the new photos I sent you?” “Since you received them, why haven’t you divorced him yet?” “You have no idea. Arthur just pulled my bra strap and told me that because you’re always sick and rejecting him, he’s lost interest in you.” “He also said he wants to have a child with me. I advise you to sign the divorce agreement quickly and stop getting in the way at home…” Mia stared wide-eyed at Arthur’s phone. The screen clearly showed the security footage from the hotel they stayed at during the business trip. Mia’s body began to tremble instantly. The next second, she reached out to snatch Arthur’s phone, forgetting about the IV needle still in the back of her hand. “Ah!” The needle was ripped out by the force. She pulled her hand back in pain, but before she could recover, Arthur ruthlessly grabbed her slender white neck. His eyes were bulging: “Who allowed you to say those things to her?” “Didn’t I warn you? As long as you play along, you get the money.” “How dare you say those things to her?” No wonder I had been intentionally or unintentionally avoiding him these past two days. No wonder I had taken off the ring I never removed. For the first time, Mia felt the sensation of suffocation, of being near death. But she couldn’t do anything, only weakly prying at Arthur’s hand. Julian panicked when he saw this and hurriedly stepped forward to stop him: “Ar… Arthur, let go! You’re going to kill her!” “Maybe sister-in-law is waiting for you at home right now. Since there’s a misunderstanding, you just need to clear it up…” At the mention of me, Arthur’s reason finally returned. He applied force, violently throwing Mia to the side. He wore a mocking expression, a chill flashing in his eyes: “Like sending photos to show off? Then I suppose you’re not afraid of these photos and videos getting out, are you?” Mia was completely panicked. Ignoring the blood still gushing from the back of her hand, she crawled forward on her knees and knelt beside Arthur: “No…” Arthur ignored her, forcefully shook off her hand, picked up his coat, and strode out the door. Mia slumped to the floor, knowing the rest of her life was ruined.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394796”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The first time I went to my CEO girlfriend’s house, her mother served me a bowl of premium bird’s nest soup. It was the kind of delicacy that costs more per ounce than the rent on my college apartment. I took a sip, shrugged, and said, “Thanks, Mrs. Sampson. This is some great chicken noodle soup.” The silence that followed was skeletal. The atmosphere in the living room didn’t just drop; it froze solid. After dinner, Heather led me down to the curb. Her voice was as sharp as a winter wind in Manhattan. “Ben, we’re done. My mother was right. A man with your lack of… refinement… is just a liability. You’re an embarrassment I can’t afford.” The very next day, her engagement to Miller Thorne—a trust-fund prince whose family pedigree matched her own—was splashed all over the social pages. I didn’t argue. I didn’t beg. I felt a hollowed-out kind of peace. I quit my corporate job and moved back home to help my father manage his “little organic farm.” Years later, Heather showed up at the gates. She was there to secure an exclusive distribution deal for the world’s most elite organic produce. I was wearing a rough linen work shirt, preping a tea service, when she saw me. The disdain in her eyes was a familiar old friend. “Ben? You’ve really bottomed out, haven’t you? Playing servant in a place like this?” She looked around the rustic-chic pavilion, her lip curling. “I guess life without me hasn’t been kind.” She picked up a teacup, blew on it, and gave me a pitying look. “There’s a hierarchy to the world, Ben. You have to understand that. Bird’s nest and noodles—they’re just not the same thing. No matter how much you want them to be.” I leaned over and handed her a freshly steeped cup of Ceylon black tea. She took a sip and immediately wrinkled her nose. “What is this? It tastes like… old, rotting wood.” “That, Ms. Sampson, is authentic Ceylon black tea from the original mother trees. It’s valued at over ten thousand dollars per gram.” She let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Years later and you’re still a pathological liar. People like you are only fit for drinking rotten wood.” 1 Three days ago, I was in New Zealand, chairing an international summit on the future of regenerative agriculture, when my father called me with an “emergency.” He told me he’d found a promising young partner for me. He praised her character and her business acumen. Her family owned some of the most prestigious luxury hospitality brands in the world—a perfect vertical integration for our family’s holdings. “Dad, I’m not doing a blind date,” I told him. “It’s not a date, Ben,” he chuckled, sounding like the silver-tongued fox he was. “It’s a collaboration. We’re about to break ground on ‘The Aether’—that ultra-luxe eco-resort in Big Sur, remember? The Montgomery family is our biggest partner. Just go. Consider it a soft-launch for the partnership.” He’d arranged for me to go undercover as the resort’s lead tea specialist. “Remember,” he warned, “keep that ‘crown prince’ attitude in check. Don’t scare her off. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. Your happiness comes before the project.” I agreed. It was a ten-year strategic play for our empire; I needed to see the Montgomery heir for myself. But I never expected to run into Heather Sampson before I even met Saskia Montgomery. I was in the tea room, adjusting my linen tunic, when Heather walked in. She was draped in a white silk dress that probably cost more than the car I used to drive. Her eyes locked onto mine, a sneer spreading across her perfectly contoured face. “Ben. Long time no see.” I gave her a curt nod and turned to leave. “Stay right there.” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it carried the weight of a woman used to being obeyed. “Is there something you need, Ms. Sampson?” I asked, my voice flat. She frowned, her expression darkening. “So, three years later and we’re skipping the pleasantries? Is this how you treat guests here? What’s your employee ID? I’m filing a complaint.” I said nothing. She let her gaze rake over my simple cotton work clothes. A slow, cruel smile spread across her lips. “No name tag. You’re just a temp, then?” “Makes sense. You never had any real ambition back at the firm. If I hadn’t carried you, you’d still be stuck in the basement making slide decks. Though, I suppose landing a temp gig at a place as exclusive as The Aether takes a certain kind of low-level hustle.” “Go get your manager. Your service is already making me uncomfortable. It’s ruined my mood.” I tightened my grip on the tea towel. The urge to pour the boiling kettle over her sense of self-importance was briefly, dangerously tempting. But I remembered my father’s face. I forced a professional, hollow smile. “I’ve been doing alright, Ms. Sampson. Traveling for conferences, mostly. The jet lag is the only real complaint I have.” “Ambition? I have plenty.” As the sole heir to the Vanguard Eco-Empire, destined to oversee the largest network of organic estates and luxury sanctuaries on the planet, “ambition” was an understatement. It was my birthright. She scoffed. “A temp attending global conferences? Three years and you’re still addicted to the fantasy, Ben. You’re still that boy who called bird’s nest ‘noodle soup’ and humiliated me in front of my mother.” “My family isn’t the Rockefellers, but we have a reputation. Did you really think a boy from a ‘nobody’ family could keep up? What were you so insecure about?” She was still stuck on that soup? I took a deep breath, refusing to explain myself again. “I told the truth then, and I’m telling it now.” She stared at me for a long beat, her mockery shifting into a cold, clinical kind of pity. “Fine. There’s no point in expecting anything from someone living in a delusion. Just… make me a tea.” “The most expensive one on the menu.” “Put it on my tab. I’ll leave you a thousand-dollar tip. That should cover about half a month’s rent for a guy like you, right?” I didn’t move. She arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “What? Not enough? Or does a temp like you not even have the clearance to touch the high-end leaves?” “Right away, Ms. Sampson.” I stepped into the climate-controlled vault and pulled out a small tin of my father’s private reserve Ceylon black tea—the tea I was supposed to use to welcome Saskia. I carefully measured out three grams and brewed it with mineral water from our own spring. When I returned to the tea room, I saw a familiar, peacock-like figure draped over Heather’s shoulder. Miller Thorne. He was wearing a bespoke suit, the diamond ring on his finger catching the light with an obnoxious glint. When he saw me, he gasped with theatrical shock. “Oh my god! Ben? What are you doing here?!” 2 Miller’s eyes were wide with a faux-concern that didn’t reach his pupils. “I thought you were some big-shot white-collar guy in the city? What are you doing playing servant in the mountains?” “I mean, I know your family was… modest… but is the money really this bad? Are you in trouble, man?” I set the tea in front of Heather, ignored him, and turned to walk away. “Wait a sec,” Miller drawled, his voice oily. “I want one too. Same as hers. Thanks, pal.” As I turned to head back to the vault, he reached up, unclasped a heavy gold chain from his neck, and tossed it onto my service tray. “It’s Bulgari. Limited edition. Retails for about forty grand. Consider it a ‘hardship bonus’ for your trouble.” I looked down at the gold. It was a discontinued model from last year—the kind of thing boutiques dump at private clearance sales for preferred clients. I slid the tray back toward him, my voice cool. “That style is a bit dated, don’t you think? I have a crate of those in my family’s storage. Most were gifts from vendors. The design was always a bit… loud for my taste.” Miller froze. Then he let out a high-pitched, manic laugh, leaning into Heather. “Hear that, babe? He thinks it’s ‘loud.’ Ben, this is real gold, not the flea-market knockoffs you used to buy.” Heather’s eyes were brimming with contempt. “Just take it, Ben. Sell it. It’ll save you five years of labor. Miller is being generous; don’t let your pride make you look even more pathetic.” “Are you sure you want me to have this?” I asked, a hint of a challenge in my voice. Miller propped his chin on his hand, looking like a king handing a coin to a peasant. “Absolutely.” I picked up the chain and, with a flick of my wrist, tossed it into the woven bamboo trash bin by the window. “Sorry. Resort policy. Staff aren’t allowed to accept personal gifts from guests.” “Ben!” Miller shrieked. He scrambled toward the trash bin, fishing the chain out with frantic, trembling hands. He waved it in my face, his face turning a blotchy red. “A forty-thousand-dollar necklace and you just throw it away? Are you insane? Do you know how many square feet of your shitty little apartment this could buy?” I looked at him, amused. “Is it that precious to you? I can write you a check for the value. Though, since it’s an old model, I might have to check the secondary market for the current depreciated price.” Miller was speechless, his mouth working but no sound coming out. Heather let out a sharp, cold laugh. “Stop playing the billionaire, Ben. You couldn’t afford the tax on that necklace if you sold your soul.” My expression went cold. “Give me your Venmo. I’ll have my assistant transfer the funds right—” “Enough!” Heather snapped, cutting me off. “Stop this ridiculous act. It’s embarrassing. If people hear you talking like this, they’ll think you’ve had a mental breakdown.” Miller jumped back in. “Seriously, Heather, I forgot how much he loved to make things up. It’s gotten worse. It’s actually sad.” He shook his head with a patronizing sigh. “Forget it. We’re in a different league. We can’t hold a crazy person accountable for his words, right?” Heather reached over and smoothed Miller’s hair, her eyes lingering on me with a flicker of something—maybe regret, but mostly annoyance. “Miller is a better man than you, Ben. He has grace. You? You’re just bitter and stubborn.” Miller let out a sigh of mock-exhaustion. “Look, my dad is tight with the procurement director here at The Aether. Why don’t I give him a call? Maybe I can get you moved from ‘temp’ to ‘full-time’?” “No,” I said firmly. “Come on, we’re old colleagues! Back at the firm, we were practically bros.” He waved a hand dismissively. “It’s just a phone call. No big deal.” If he made that call, my cover was blown, and my father’s entire plan would go up in smoke. As Miller actually pulled out his phone to dial, I stepped forward and pressed my hand down on his screen. “I said no. Stay out of my business.” I remembered him all too well. Back at the firm, he was always “hanging out” with me, only to turn around and whisper in the breakroom after Heather’s mother humiliated me. “Poor Ben. He’s so out of his depth. Heather’s mom says he has no class. He’s just not ‘Sampson material,’ you know?” And the irony? The second Heather dumped me, she was posting engagement photos with Miller. When I resigned, Miller was the one who walked me to the elevator. “Ben, Heather realized a long time ago you couldn’t give her the life she needs. Someone like me—with the right background—we’re a power couple. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” “You know, that whole bird’s nest thing? That was just her excuse to finally pull the trigger…” I didn’t need him to remind me. I had seen their “flirting” long before the breakup. I just hadn’t wanted to believe it. “Ben!” Miller’s voice rose to a shrill pitch. “Why are you being such an ungrateful prick? I’m trying to help you! Do you even know what’s good for you?” Help? All I saw was a desperate need to gloat. I looked him dead in the eye. “Is that so? Because if you don’t stop harassing me, I might just have to throw you in the lake to see if you can swim as well as you talk.” 3 I turned my back on them, but Miller’s screeching followed me like a siren. “Manager! Manager! I want to report a threat! This server is threatening me! He’s a lunatic!” Heather was on me in a second, grabbing my wrist with a grip that was surprisingly strong. “Miller is being a saint, and you’re acting like a thug? Apologize. Now.” I’d had enough. My patience, usually a deep well, had run dry. “Heather, keep your lapdog on a leash. If he pushes me again, I’ll make sure he regrets ever stepping foot on this property.” Even the senior executives who had served my father for decades spoke to me with deferred respect. Who the hell was Miller Thorne to bark at me? Heather’s grip faltered for a second. “Who said he’s my lapdog? We’re just engaged.” “Doesn’t matter!” I shook her off, my voice dropping an octave. “Control your man.” Heather’s face clouded over. She let out a hollow laugh. “Ben, I shouldn’t have come here. I saw your face in one of the resort’s promotional brochures and I canceled a multi-million dollar contract just to see if it was really you.” I froze. I didn’t understand. “So you came all this way just to bring your trophy fiancé to humiliate me?” She looked like she’d been slapped. For a moment, she couldn’t find her words. Before I could walk away, Miller lunged forward. Crack. The sound of his palm hitting my face echoed through the tea room. My cheek burned. My vision blurred for a split second. I raised my hand to strike back, but Heather threw herself between us, wrapping her arms around me, pinning my arms to my sides. “You can’t touch him, Ben,” she hissed into my ear. “The Thornes will destroy you. Just take the hit and walk away. I’ll fix this. Unless you want to lose this job too.” I struggled against her. “The Thornes? They’re mid-tier contractors. You think I’m afraid of them?” With one word from my father, the Thorne family would be blacklisted from every major development in the state. But Heather held on tighter. “Ben, you have a poor man’s bank account and a rich man’s ego! It’s a deadly combination. How am I supposed to protect you when you’re this reckless?” Miller, seeing her holding me, turned a shade of envious purple. “Manager! Where the hell is everyone? This little ‘home-wrecker’ is threatening me and trying to seduce my fiancée!” His shouting drew a crowd of other wealthy guests. “My god, this is supposed to be a five-star resort. Why is the staff so aggressive?” “I saw it! That young man tried to give him a gold necklace and the waiter threw it in the trash!” “A homewrecker? Disgusting. He should be fired.” Miller, sensing the crowd was on his side, puffed out his chest. “Still want to act tough, Ben?” I didn’t care what they thought. These people were a chorus of the uninformed. But Heather was still clinging to me, and I couldn’t move without hurting her. I used what leverage I had to kick out at Miller. My shoe caught the hem of his trousers, and Heather shoved me away, rushing to check on him. I stumbled back, hitting the floor hard. The crowd looked down at me from their high horses. “Attacking guests in broad daylight?” “This place has gone to hell.” “Complaint! We’re all filing complaints! Get him out of here!” “Fine,” I said, slowly standing up and brushing the dust off my linen pants. I looked at the sea of judgmental faces. “I’ll walk you to the manager’s office myself.” 4 Heather looked at me with pure disbelief. “Ben, just swallow your pride for once! Do you have any idea what a collective complaint will do to you?” “You’ll be blacklisted from the entire hospitality industry. You won’t even be able to get a job at a roadside motel, let alone a place like this.” She turned to the crowd, her voice softening into her professional “CEO” tone. “Everyone, please. This is a misunderstanding. He’s… he’s an ex-boyfriend. He’s a bit unstable, and he clearly needs this job. For my sake, let’s just let it go.” Miller pouted. “Heather! Why are you still defending him?” Heather rubbed his arm. “Miller, your kindness is what I love most about you. Unlike him… well, let’s just move on.” Her “defense” was a masterclass in condescension. She was painting me as a pathetic, obsessive stalker who couldn’t let go of the “queen” who had outgrown him. Three years later, and she still saw me as that same “nobody” boy who needed her scraps of mercy. The situation felt suddenly, deeply exhausting. There were a thousand ways to crush Miller. Why was I letting myself look this ragged in front of these people? Miller smirked, triumphant. “Hear that, Ben? You’re a low-life. Even the owner’s daughter, Saskia Montgomery—who my father happens to be very close with—wouldn’t give you the time of day.” I glanced at him. “Is that so? Maybe I should call her and ask her exactly how much ‘respect’ she has for your father.” I pulled out my phone, and as I did, a small parchment packet of tea leaves fell out of my pocket and scattered across the floor. Heather looked down, and her face went pale. “Is that… what you served me?” “Yeah,” I said. “The stuff that tastes like ‘rotting wood,’ remember?” “Ben!” Heather clutched her chest. “You know I have a sensitive stomach! I never drink low-grade, unbranded tea!” “I didn’t know,” I said. “It’s been three years. I stopped keeping track of your ‘delicate’ requirements a long time ago.” Her eyes flickered with a strange hurt. “Of course. You were always heartless. Just like when you walked away from me without looking back.” I was baffled. She was the one who dumped me. Now it was my fault? Before I could process that, Miller started yelling again. “Oh my god! We ordered the ‘Reserve’ tea, and you served us this floor-sweepings? How much of the difference are you pocketing, you thief?” The crowd started murmuring again. “Wait, is our tea fake too?” “This place is a scam!” Just then, the Resort Director arrived with two security guards. She didn’t hesitate. She signaled the guards to restrain me, then turned to the guests and bowed deeply. “My deepest apologies, ladies and gentlemen. ‘The Aether’ only serves certified organic, premium teas. This employee brought in his own unauthorized leaves. We will deal with this with the utmost severity.” “As an apology, all tea service today is on the house. Please, enjoy the rest of your stay.” Her polished apology worked. The crowd began to disperse, satisfied with the “justice” served. I went to pull away from the guards, but Miller stepped in. “He threatened me. He’s a physical danger. A reprimand isn’t enough.” “I want him fired and trespassed. Now. I don’t feel safe with a violent lunatic on the grounds.” He gave me a nasty look. “It’s a long walk back to civilization, Ben. Hope you like hiking in the dark. Maybe you can share your ‘rotting wood’ tea with the mountain lions.” The Director looked conflicted. “Mr. Thorne, this is private property, but kicking him out after dark is… it’s a liability.” Heather looked uneasy. “Miller, don’t be cruel. He could get hurt.” Seeing Heather’s flicker of concern, Miller doubled down. “Then at least fire him. That’s not too much to ask, is it?” The Director sighed. “I can’t. He was… he was sent here by the Executive Board. I don’t have the authority to terminate him.” I felt a wave of relief. My father hadn’t totally left me to the wolves. He’d made sure the local management knew I was “protected,” even if they didn’t know exactly who I was. Miller laughed. “The Board? Do you know who my father is? Arthur Thorne? We supply the timber for this entire expansion! If I tell my dad to pull the contract, your Board will be begging me to fire this guy.” “Don’t tell me what you ‘can’t’ do. I’m calling my father right now.” Heather frowned at the Director. “Which board member sent him? Give me a name.” The Director kept her head down. “I’m sorry, Ms. Sampson. Orders were to keep it confidential.” The guards, sensing the shift in power, loosened their grip on me. I straightened my shirt, smoothed my hair, and pulled out my phone to dial a number. Miller sneered, pointing at me. “I don’t care if the Pope sent you. You’re done!” The call connected. I put it on speaker and held the phone out toward him. “Why don’t you tell her yourself? Ask her to fire me.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394760”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On my thirtieth birthday, I decided to stop waiting for a man who didn’t exist and bought one instead. I ordered a top-of-the-line, fully customizable synthetic companion—a “Life-Like Partner”—online. To my surprise, the company was running a “Buy One, Get One” anniversary special. Suddenly, I had two. I tried to be fair. Every night, I alternated between their rooms, making sure neither felt neglected. But as the weeks bled into months, the differences became impossible to ignore. Dominic was the premium model. He was graceful, attentive, and followed every directive with surgical precision, always finding the exact rhythm that left me breathless. Kai, the “free” model, was a different story. He was quieter, almost shy, but lately, Dominic had started to change. He became rough—violent, even. On more than one occasion, right when I was on the brink of release, he would glitch, his eyes flashing a deep, warning red as he entered “Aggressive Mode.” Frustrated, I called customer service. “Ma’am,” the rep said with a practiced, saccharine tone, “technically, our units are programmed for absolute compliance. However, high-end models possess a learning AI. Occasionally, they require… breaking in. A bit of behavioral conditioning, if you will.” “And if that doesn’t work?” I asked, looking at the bruise on my wrist. “If you’re unsatisfied, we can process a return. Please note that for privacy and security reasons, returned units are not resold. They are sent for immediate thermal decommissioning—complete incineration.” I hesitated. Despite the glitches, they felt like people. I decided I would try to “tame” Dominic. Tonight was supposed to be his night. Instead, I put on my sheerest lace nightgown and opened the door to Kai’s room. … Kai, who had already powered down for the night, looked up in genuine shock. “Jade? Tonight isn’t my…” I didn’t let him finish. I leaned into him, seeking the comfort of his steady, cool skin. He was so gentle, so eager to please in his own quiet way. Then, the door was slammed open. Dominic stood in the frame, backlit by the hallway lights, his expression twisted into a dark scowl. “Are you serious?” he snapped. “Is thirty the age where your brain starts to rot? There are only two rooms in this house—how did you get lost?” I didn’t answer. I reached for the interface on his forearm, swiping open his status panel. There it was: [AGGRESSIVE MODE: ACTIVE]. It was happening again. Ever since he arrived, his system would override his pleasure protocols and jump straight to hostility. Last week, because I’d forgotten to wear the specific perfume he “preferred,” he had intentionally shut down right at the climax, leaving me cold and aching. I’d searched the forums for other owners. “Impossible!” one user wrote. “My unit is a beast in the sheets and a literal puppy in the streets.” “Maybe you got a refurbished dud?” suggested another. Customer service insisted the units were programmed for my total satisfaction. But no matter how many times I reset him, Dominic only grew more resentful. A chilling thought began to take root: what if I wasn’t the “Master” Dominic had chosen to recognize? Dominic swatted my hand away, closing his interface with a sharp click. “I’m the premium model, Jade. He’s the bargain-bin throw-in. I suggest you remember who the real prize is.” He swept a row of expensive crystal vases off my vanity in a fit of pique. Just as the glass shattered, the doorbell rang. I opened the door to find Serena, my father’s “other” daughter—the walking, breathing reminder of the affair that killed my mother. “Oh, Jade,” she purred, looking past me. “If you can’t handle two of them, don’t be greedy. I’m sure Dominic wouldn’t mind staying with me for a while.” My blood ran cold. How did she even know he was here? I turned and saw a faint, rhythmic blue light pulsing from Dominic’s chest. The realization hit me like a physical blow. He wasn’t glitching. He had set a new primary user. He was sending a distress signal to his “true” mistress. I gripped the door handle until my knuckles turned white. “He belongs to me. I paid for him. Get out.” As I tried to shove the door shut, Dominic’s heavy arm blocked it. “I can’t stand you,” he spat, his voice dripping with vitriol. “You’re just a desperate, aging woman clinging to a machine. Why are you making things hard for Serena?” Aging woman. The words stung more than they should have. “If you hate me so much,” I whispered, “why did you come home with me? You begged for it at the showroom.” Back then, he had been perfect. He had knelt at my feet, whispering, “Please, Jade, take me home. I want to belong to you.” I had spent a fortune on him, then millions more on his maintenance and upgrades to keep him in peak condition. And now, I was a “desperate woman,” while he looked at Serena with a gaze so intense his internal cooling fans kicked into overdrive. Dominic covered his indicator light, looking almost guilty for a split second, before he pushed past me to escort Serena out. I stood there, trembling, until I felt a pair of warm arms wrap around me. Kai was there, silent and steady, wiping a tear from my eye with his thumb. His internal heaters flared, offering the only warmth in the house. Decision made. I pulled out my phone and dialed customer service. “Dominic isn’t working out. Send a team to pick him up for decommissioning.” “Certainly, Ms. Sharon. As per protocol, the unit will be incinerated immediately to protect your data. We’ll be there tomorrow.” “Good.” When Dominic finally swaggared back into the house an hour later, I was waiting. He looked at me with pure exhaustion, as if my presence were a chore. “If you want to do this, make it quick,” he said, beginning to unbutton his shirt. “I have things to do tomorrow.” He stopped, glancing at the nightstand. “Where’s the oil? I told you, I only use the $20,000-a-bottle synthetic joint lubricant. Where is it?” For months, I had pampered him, buying the most expensive supplies to keep his skin soft and his movements fluid. Meanwhile, Kai had never complained once about the $50 generic brand. “Use the cheap stuff,” I said, tossing a plastic bottle of drugstore oil at his feet. “Or don’t. I don’t care.” I walked out and slammed the door. Behind me, I heard the sound of more glass breaking. The next morning, Dominic did something unprecedented: he made breakfast. He stood by the stove, smirking as he saw a pile of high-end mechanical crates delivered to the foyer. “I knew you were just being dramatic,” he said, flipping a pancake. “I saw you ordered the designer maintenance kit. I’ll overlook your attitude from last night.” I realized then that he thought the crates were for him. He didn’t realize I’d ordered them specifically for Kai’s serial numbers. I didn’t bother explaining. I looked down at the plate he set before me and felt a wave of nausea. “Dominic… I hate mackerel. And mangoes. And kale.” He froze. Those were Serena’s favorites. I pulled up his control panel remotely. My heart sank. His entire “Preferences” database had been overwritten. Favorite Foods: Mackerel, Mango, Kale… Primary User: Serena. I searched for my own name in his system. It came up as a string of corrupted, unreadable code. To him, I was no longer his owner. I was a bug in his system. “You’re low on power,” I said coldly. Before he could react, I activated his “Safe Mode” and locked him in the basement. That night, I was woken up by a sound that made my skin crawl—the high-pitched, breathless giggling of a woman. I followed the sound to the basement. I threw open the door to find Dominic kneeling on the floor, kissing Serena’s shins with a terrifying, programmed devotion. “Mistress,” he whispered. The “Servant Protocol.” It was a feature meant to allow the units to cater to their owner’s every whim, a deep-dive into total submission. With me, Dominic had always been impatient, asking “Are we done yet?” every time we were together. But for Serena, he was a slave. I kicked the door frame. “Get out.” Serena scrambled to button her blouse, her face a mask of fake innocence. “Jade, don’t be mean. If you don’t appreciate Dominic, you shouldn’t lock him in a dark basement. He was so lonely… I was just helping him.” She stood up, smoothing her skirt. “Besides, Dad said if I really liked him, I should just take him. He said you’ve always been too greedy for your own good.” Three years ago, Serena’s mother had systematically dismantled my mother’s life until her heart gave out. After the funeral, my father married the mistress and stopped looking at me entirely. Not a dime of child support, not a word of kindness. I lived off the inheritance from my mother’s family. And now, Serena thought she could take this, too. “I bought him,” I said, pointing to the stairs. “Even if I sell him for scrap metal, he’s mine. Leave.” Dominic’s face contorted. “Scrap?” “You’re lying just to hurt Serena!” he shouted. “If you really thought I was scrap, you wouldn’t have bought all those expensive upgrades in the foyer!” I didn’t have the energy to argue. I grabbed Serena’s arm to pull her toward the door. In a flash of movement, Dominic lunged. He didn’t hold back. He kicked me square in the chest, sending me flying back into the dark corner of the basement. The heavy steel door slammed shut, and I heard the bolt slide home. He knew I was claustrophobic. It was in my medical file—one of the “Fatal Data” points that units were supposed to protect. “Let me out!” I screamed, clawing at the door. I couldn’t breathe. The walls felt like they were shrinking. Dominic’s voice came through the door, cold and annoyed. “That’s what you get for touching her. It’s my duty to protect my Mistress. You brought this on yourself.” I heard him kneeling down, his voice softening as he checked Serena for “injuries.” “Open the door,” I gasped, my lungs seizing. “Please… I can’t breathe…” “Stop faking it!” Dominic roared. “You’re just a pathetic woman who uses tears to get what she wants. You want help? Go find that budget-model ‘brother’ of mine.” His words reminded me. I fumbled for my phone and hit the emergency bypass button I’d synced to Kai. Three seconds later, the basement door was torn off its hinges. Kai didn’t hesitate; he scooped me up in a bridal carry and sprinted out into the fresh air of the living room. Dominic didn’t even look up. He was gently massaging Serena’s knee. Whenever I had been hurt, he’d pushed me away, claiming his “strength parameters” were too hard to control. It had always been Kai who patched me up. Serena looked up, feigning shock. “Oh, Jade! I’m so sorry. I must have accidentally deleted your medical files from Dominic’s system. I totally forgot about your little phobia. You’re not mad, are you?” Accidentally deleted. You couldn’t “accidentally” delete Fatal Data. It required a deliberate override. I’d had enough. I pulled out my phone and sent a recording of the entire incident—and the evidence of the system tampering—to the family group chat, CC’ing my father’s legal team. Under pressure from the elder board of our estate, my father was forced to act to avoid a public scandal. He cut Serena’s allowance and moved her curfew to 4:00 PM. Serena was livid. Dominic’s protective protocols went into overdrive. “When are you going to stop acting like a spoiled brat?” Dominic demanded, stalking toward me. “Serena was just playing around. Why do you have to be such a bully?” He really believed he was the master of this house. He’d forgotten he was a machine bought to serve. Serena started crying as she saw the notifications from her socialite friends mocking her downfall. “Jade, please! If people think I’m broke, they’ll ruin me!” Dominic’s chest plates began to glow a dull, angry red. “Look what you’ve done to her! Undo it. Now.” I sat on the sofa, calmly sipping water. I wasn’t going to negotiate with a toaster that was scheduled for incineration. Dominic lunged forward and grabbed me by the throat, forcing me to look at the interface on his arm. A holographic image flickered to life. “Apologize,” he hissed, his voice a demonic rasp, “or I’ll remotely trigger the demolition of your mother’s memorial garden.” My heart stopped. The hologram showed the mausoleum where my mother’s ashes were kept. He had accessed my private security network. His “Servant Protocol” had evolved into something truly predatory. “You’ve read my manual, Jade,” he whispered, his eyes gleaming. “Toppling a few marble pillars is child’s play for me.” I closed my eyes, my body shaking with rage and grief. I pulled out my phone and sent a message to the family group chat, claiming it was all a misunderstanding and asking them to reinstate Serena’s funds. My father’s reply was instantaneous and cruel: You’re just as petty as your mother was. Always whining. I’m leaving everything to Serena. You won’t get another cent. I turned off the screen, a dull ache spreading through my chest. “Not enough,” Dominic said, smirking. “Apologize to her. On your knees, Ms. Sharon.” “Don’t push me,” I whispered, my voice breaking. Serena, sensing her victory, grabbed a silver paring knife from the fruit bowl on the table. “Jade is the ‘real’ Sharon daughter,” she sobbed. “I’m just the mistake. I don’t deserve an apology!” She made a theatrical motion to stab herself in the heart. It was a bluff, and we both knew it. “Do it then,” I said coldly. She hesitated, the knife trembling. But Dominic didn’t hesitate. He shoved me forward with a violent burst of strength. I stumbled, and the knife Serena was holding plunged deep into my abdomen. Dominic stood over me, holding the remote trigger for the mausoleum. “I said apologize. From now on, I run this house.” Blood began to soak through my shirt. I clutched my stomach, the world spinning. I looked up at Serena’s smug face and whispered the words. “I. Am. Sorry.” Serena rolled her eyes, tucked the knife away, and climbed into Dominic’s lap. The last thing I saw before I blacked out was the ceiling fan spinning, faster and faster, until the world went dark. When I woke up, the wound in my stomach was almost entirely healed—synthetic tissue grafts from the emergency med-kit. Dominic was standing over me, wearing nothing but a towel. He leaned in to kiss me, but I turned my head away, gagged by the smell of the cheap, rancid oil on his skin. “Isn’t this what you bought me for?” he asked, his voice dripping with condescension. “Fine. As long as you stay out of Serena’s way, I’ll take turns with the ‘gift’ model to keep you happy.” “Get out,” I rasped. “I don’t want you.” Dominic scoffed. He walked over to the new high-end charging station I’d bought for Kai and tried to force his connector into it. When it didn’t fit, he started slamming his fist against the console. “Did you buy the wrong model, you senile bitch? This doesn’t fit! Go exchange it!” The doorbell rang. Dominic followed me downstairs, still ranting. “See? I told you. You’re already calling the courier to fix your mistake. At least you’re learning…” He stopped as I opened the door. It wasn’t a courier. It was the decommissioning team. “Ms. Sharon?” the man asked, holding out a digital tablet. “We’re here for the T-9 unit, name: Dominic? For the… thermal disposal?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394780”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The moment my retirement statement hit the wires, the industry exhaled a collective sigh of relief. The comment sections were a bloodbath of “good riddance” and “finally.” Only one person staged a protest: Dominic Blackwood, the industry’s new “it-boy” singer-songwriter and the man my girlfriend was rumored to be sleeping with. He stood before a sea of cameras, his face a mask of performative grief. “It’s all a tragic misunderstanding,” Dominic told the reporters, his voice dripping with faux-sincerity. “Nathan West is an indispensable titan of the music world. My only wish is to see him reclaim his throne.” I clicked my phone screen off, the silence of my apartment swallowing his lies. In my past life, I hadn’t ignored him. In that life, his “original” breakout single had been a note-for-note carbon copy of mine. The internet branded me a thief, a parasite, a hack. They told me to crawl into a hole and die. I had fought back with everything I had. I posted voice memos, dated lyric scraps, and Logic Pro session files. None of it mattered. In the court of public opinion, the only metric that counted was the timestamp on the release. His song had gone live ten minutes before mine. Those ten minutes cost me everything. People sent funeral wreaths to my doorstep. They photoshopped my face onto corpses. Someone even splashed red gloss paint across my front door, a screaming “JUDAS” in crimson. The years of relentless cyberbullying fractured my mind. Depression became the air I breathed. My parents poured their life savings into legal fees to clear my name, but the fans were faster. They were a cult, a wildfire. A group of “stans” set fire to my parents’ house in a fit of righteous fury. My parents never made it out. On the night Dominic stood on a stage, weeping as he accepted the Grammy for Song of the Year—for my song—I stepped off the roof of a twenty-story building. I expected darkness. Instead, I opened my eyes to the blinding sun of a Tuesday morning I’d lived once before. The day of the release. … 1 “Noon today. High noon, and the world changes.” “Relax, Nate. With a track this good, the Vanguard Award for Best Songwriter is basically in your pocket.” Mitch, my manager, clapped a hand on my shoulder. I gasped, lungs burning as if I’d just been hauled out of the ocean. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. I stared at the familiar crown molding of my living room, then at Mitch’s confused face. The realization hit me like a physical blow: I was back. It was the morning of the disaster. “You’ve been burning the candle at both ends with this record,” Mitch said, his voice softening. “I’ll clear your schedule for the next few days. Just get some sleep.” “Wait!” I caught Mitch’s arm as he turned for the door. My eyes were glued to the wall clock. The second hand ticked—a heartbeat in the silence. When the minute hand hit the ten-minute mark, I pulled up my phone and went straight to Dominic Blackwood’s social media. Just like last time, the post was there. A link to a streaming site. The caption: ‘Sunlight in the Ruins.’ My soul, laid bare. Listen now. I tapped the link. The haunting, melodic acoustic intro filled the room. “What the hell?” Mitch lunged forward, snatching the phone from my hand. “That’s your track. That’s—Nate, that’s your entire hook! The lyrics, the bridge… everything. How the hell did Dominic get an advance copy?” “He didn’t just get a copy, Mitch. He’s claiming it’s his.” “Maybe someone at the studio leaked the stems? Someone’s head is going to roll for this. I’m calling the label—” “No,” I said, my voice cold and sharp. “Tell the label we’re pulling the release. Cancel everything.” In my first life, I had released my version anyway, thinking the truth would protect me. I was a fool. To the world, I was just the guy who saw a hit and tried to claim it ten minutes too late. I remembered the comments like they were tattooed on my brain: “Stole it and then faked the ‘process’ photos? How desperate can you get?” “Thief. Disappear.” Mitch and my engineers had tried to testify for me, and the internet had torn them apart too. And then there was Camille. Camille Vane, my A-list actress girlfriend who had kept our relationship “discreet” for the sake of her brand. That afternoon, she had gone live on Instagram. She didn’t just distance herself from me; she declared her love for Dominic. She wept on camera, condemning my “unethical behavior” and praising Dominic’s “purity of spirit.” It was the ultimate betrayal. I had played the song for her weeks before anyone else. She knew the truth, and she chose to bury me to elevate him. The industry blackballed me within forty-eight hours. My awards were rescinded. My label dropped me under the weight of the PR nightmare. Every time Dominic released a new “hit,” I was dragged back into the light to be mocked all over again. The wreaths. The paint. The fire. The jump. “Nate, the label spent a fortune on the promo for this single,” Mitch said, pacing the room. “The billboards in Times Square, the Spotify takeover… I can’t just tell them ‘never mind’ without a reason.” “Tell them the master is corrupted. Tell them I’m having a breakdown. I don’t care. Just don’t put that song out.” “Okay, okay. I’ll look into the leak quietly. In the meantime… you need to write something else. Fast. Give them a reason not to sue us for breach of contract.” After Mitch left, I sat in the silence of my home, a ghost in my own life. Dominic was Camille’s “childhood friend.” They grew up in the same posh Hamptons circle. When he graduated from Berklee, Camille used her influence to slide him into the industry’s inner sanctum. He signed with Apex Media, the biggest powerhouse in the country. His debut was a soundtrack for a Scorsese film. I was the self-made guy, the one who’d clawed his way up from playing dive bars. I’d been jealous of their “friendship” for years, but Camille always told me I was being insecure. “Our families are old friends, Nate. If I don’t help him, I look like the bitch of the family.” I had swallowed my pride to keep her happy. I didn’t realize Dominic was the one she’d always wanted. I grabbed my laptop and began scouring Dominic’s old posts, looking for the glitch in the matrix. I found it in a photo from a month ago. August 26th. A picture of his mahogany desk, a whiskey glass, and the caption: In the flow. I zoomed in until the pixels screamed. On the legal pad in the corner of the frame, I saw my own handwriting—or a perfect imitation of it. My exact structural notes. Even a lyric I had scratched out and replaced was there, preserved on his page. This song was my autobiography. It was about the loss of my sister, about the specific salt-air smell of the Oregon coast. It was impossible for someone else to “coincidentally” write it. Did Dominic jump back in time too? No. That didn’t fit. Dominic was a New Yorker through and through. He’d never set foot in the small coastal town where those lyrics were born. Mitch called an hour later. “Nothing. The studio is airtight. The engineers are clean. It’s like the song just… manifested in his head.” I was cornered. Mitch was right about one thing: the label’s investment was too high to ignore. If I didn’t produce a replacement, I was finished anyway. I locked myself in my home studio. I picked up my Fender, my fingers trembling. This time, I wouldn’t write about grief or ghosts. I would write about vengeance. I would be Nemesis. I spent forty-eight hours in a fever dream of caffeine and adrenaline. I didn’t use my main computer. I didn’t use the cloud. I recorded a raw, gritty rock demo on an old, offline handheld recorder. I sent the file to Mitch. He replied within seconds with a string of fire emojis. “Rock? Nate, this is visceral. It’s genius. I didn’t know you had this much rage in you.” He booked a session at a private, high-security studio an hour later. By the time we walked out of the booth, the sun was creeping over the horizon. “The label wants to wait,” Mitch said, rubbing his eyes. “Next week is a holiday weekend. They want to drop this on the following Tuesday to maximize the charts. You okay with that?” I didn’t answer immediately. “What’s Dominic doing?” “My contact at Apex says he’s gone dark. No promo tour, no interviews. He’s just… lurking.” It was too strange. If you have the biggest song in the country, you run the victory lap. You don’t hide. “Fine,” I said. “Wait a week. Let’s see what happens.” I went home and slept for fourteen hours. It was the first time I hadn’t dreamt of fire. I was woken up by a frantic pounding on my front door. It was Mitch. His face was ghostly pale. “Nate. It happened again.” My heart stopped. “What?” “Dominic just dropped a surprise second single. It’s the track we recorded yesterday. Every note. Every lyric. It’s a carbon copy.” The air left the room. My courage, my “rebirth” plan, it all crumbled. How? I’d avoided the cloud. I’d kept my phone on the balcony. I’d used an analog recorder. How was he inside my head? Dominic Blackwood was now the undisputed king of the charts. He held the #1 and #2 spots simultaneously. He was the “voice of a generation.” Fans flooded his comments, asking about the sudden shift from folk-pop to gritty rock. His response was chillingly calculated: “My first track was leaked and plagiarized by someone I used to respect. Luckily, I moved my release up. This new song is a warning. Talent is the one thing you can’t steal, and I am the standard you will never reach.” The internet didn’t need a name to know he meant me. They found my label’s old “coming soon” teasers and swarmed. “He was talking about you, wasn’t he? Where’s your ‘original’ music now, Nate? Too busy hitting ‘copy-paste’?” My loyalists tried to defend me, but without a song to show, they were fighting a losing war. Dominic’s star was rising so fast it was blinding. Then, the woman I once loved finally called. “Dominic is having his release party tomorrow night,” Camille said, her voice hard as flint. “You’re coming.” I laughed, a jagged, bitter sound. “Why the hell would I do that?” “Because your fans are harassing him, and he’s been a mess because of it. If you still want a career—if you still want me—you’ll show up, shake his hand, and put these ‘plagiarism’ rumors to bed.” He stole my soul, and she wanted me to thank him for it. “I’ll be there,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. I needed to see him. I needed to look into his eyes and figure out what kind of monster I was dealing with. The party was held at a penthouse in Soho. Camille was draped over Dominic’s arm, looking every bit the Oscar-winner she was. The room was packed with the industry’s elite. “Two singles, two records broken in one week,” someone gushed. “The lyricism in the second one… that rock edge? It’s soul-shattering, Dom.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394761”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I spent every cent of my savings on a high-tier incubus from the Underground. As it turned out, he hated me for being poor. He despised the cramped, drafty apartment I called home. I once overheard him complaining to his brother: “A woman with no money and even less beauty? I wouldn’t take her if she were gift-wrapped.” I stood in the shadows that day, looking at his brother—a man who walked with a slight limp but possessed the kindest eyes I’d ever seen—and I realized I’d invested in the wrong person. Later, I sold my place and brought the brother home, too. That’s when the first one panicked. With eyes rimmed in red, he grabbed my sleeve and whispered, “Are you… are you throwing me away?” 1 My pet incubus was a nightmare. He didn’t listen, he was cruel, and last night, he bit me. When I woke up and stood before the bathroom mirror to brush my teeth, I couldn’t stop staring at the mark on my neck. It had deepened into a bruised, sickly purple. I hissed as my fingers brushed against it. I tried to tell myself it didn’t matter, that it would fade in a few days, but then I looked at my own face in the glass—plain, tired, unremarkable—and my eyes filled with tears. Rylan loathed me. He loathed everything about me. He hated my voice, my face, and especially this tiny, ancient apartment in a neighborhood that had seen better decades. We’d had a blowout fight last night. In the heat of it, he finally stopped pretending and let the truth bleed out. “Maddie, you’re the one who liquidated your entire life to buy me,” he’d spat, his voice laced with venom. “I didn’t choose you. If I had a choice, I’d never have taken you as a Mistress, and I damn sure wouldn’t be rotting away in this pathetic dump.” I’d been desperate then, still clinging to a ghost of hope. “But it’s been a year, Rylan. Don’t you feel anything for me?” “Nothing. Not a single thing.” He was tied to the headboard at the time, unable to move, but his eyes were predatory and sharp. His answer was instantaneous. That was the moment the last flicker of warmth in my chest went cold. I splashed freezing water on my face, taking deep breaths until the tears retreated. Then, I dug through my drawer for a heavy-duty concealer, layering it over the bite mark until the shame was hidden beneath a beige mask. 2 Rylan was still locked in the bedroom. Before heading to the office, I went in to untie him. He was sitting on the rug, his head down, long lashes fluttering. He was faking sleep; I knew his tells by now. I knelt beside him and began working on the restraints around his wrists. “Rylan,” I said softly. He didn’t move. He kept his eyes clamped shut. “I’m going to work. I’m letting you go, but you have to promise me you’ll stay put. Just stay home today.” “Ha. If you don’t want to let me go, just say it. Stop acting like you’re doing me a favor.” Rylan opened his eyes, his face a mask of pure irritation. I didn’t argue. I just gave him a tired, sad smile and clicked the last buckle open. He seemed stunned by how quickly I gave in. He sat there, his dark, almond-shaped eyes fixed on me. “You’re actually letting me go? I never said I’d be here when you got back.” He was always trying to run. Even though I held his contract and he couldn’t get far, catching him was a chore I was starting to lose the energy for. I nodded, feeling a weight in my bones that sleep couldn’t fix. “Fine. Just… take the house keys.” 3 I’d bought Rylan last winter in the Underground. There wasn’t some grand romantic reason for it. He was just breathtakingly beautiful—tall, broad-shouldered, with a waist so lean it looked sculpted. At the auction, I’d seen his brother, Jude. They were twins, almost identical, except for one thing: Rylan was physically perfect, while Jude’s left leg was mangled, leaving him with a permanent limp. I only had enough money for one. I figured if I was going to spend my life with an incubus, I shouldn’t settle for “damaged goods.” I paid the premium and took the “perfect” one. But a year later, my life was a mess of anxiety and heartache. Sitting at my desk at work, staring blankly at my computer screen, I pulled up my banking app. A few thousand dollars. That was all I had left. I sighed. Maybe I should stop daydreaming about “what ifs.” 4 “Maddie, the boss is grabbing drinks tonight. You in?” My coworker, Sarah, popped over to my cubicle as the clock neared five. I shook my head. She tapped her temple and grinned. “Right, I forgot. You’ve got that gorgeous specimen waiting at home. I bet he’s already got dinner on the table, huh?” Rylan? Cooking? He was more likely to burn the building down out of spite. I forced a smile, but before I could explain, Sarah sighed dreamily. “I’m so jealous. It really makes the 9-to-5 worth it, doesn’t it? I’m saving up for a premium model myself.” I didn’t want to crush her spirit, so I just offered one piece of advice: “When you buy, go to a licensed agency. Stay away from the black markets. There’s no return policy there.” “Got it. Noted!” Usually, I was the first one out the door. Today, I lingered for thirty minutes, slowly packing my bag. I checked the home security feed on my phone. Empty. Rylan was gone again. My heart felt like a tangled knot. Instead of going home to an empty apartment, I started walking. I walked until the neon lights of the city faded into the dim, flickering lanterns of the Underground. 5 The place was a labyrinth of shadows and rot. The air smelled of damp earth and something metallic. The stalls were lined with cages—beast-kin, half-shifters, some looking sickly, their horns sawed off, their spirits broken. “Hey, lady! Take a look at this one. Purebred fae-blood, half price!” I looked away, quickening my pace. I was broke; I couldn’t help them even if I wanted to. I followed the familiar, grimy path to the shop where I’d bought Rylan. The shop was still open. The owner was dozing in a chair by the door. I slipped past him, moving quietly toward the back courtyard where the “stock” was kept. I hadn’t even reached the gate when I heard a familiar voice. “Jude, has anyone even looked at you lately?” It was Rylan. He hadn’t run away to be free; he’d run here to see his brother. 6 I stayed hidden behind the heavy iron door, listening. “A client came by twice last week,” Jude’s voice was raspy, softer than Rylan’s. “But she didn’t want to pay the processing fee. Not for a cripple. Nobody wants a broken toy, Rylan.” “If you hadn’t tried to save me when we were kids… if those traffickers hadn’t broken your leg to keep you from running… it’s my fault, Jude. I’m so sorry.” “Stop it. It was never your fault.” Jude was in a cage, the heavy collar around his neck making it difficult for him to speak, yet his tone remained incredibly gentle. “I don’t regret it. You’re free now, Rylan. You aren’t ‘merchandise’ anymore. Forget about the past.” Rylan spat on the ground, his voice dripping with bitterness. “Free? You think I’m free? The woman who bought me keeps me on a shorter leash than the shop owner did. She’s terrified I’ll bolt.” Hearing him talk about me made my chest tighten. My heart began to hammer against my ribs. “She’s exhausting. Honestly, I’d rather be back here in the cage than stuck with her.” Rylan groaned. “She’s plain, she’s poor… the clothes she buys me are literal rags. I’ve only been there a year and I already can’t imagine spending the rest of my life like this. It’s pathetic.” “Don’t talk like that,” Jude interrupted. “Beginnings are always hard. The woman I saw that day… she looked kind. I think she’ll treat you well if you let her.” “Kind? She’s a nightmare. She ties me up every night. Look, I still have the marks on my wrists.” Rylan rolled up his sleeves. “I’m done with it, Jude. I wish you could take my place. I wish you had to deal with that ugly woman instead of me.” “She’s your Mistress, Rylan. It’s her right. And she isn’t ugly. Don’t be cruel.” “It’s just the truth. She’s nothing.” 7 Every word felt like a serrated blade across my skin. A bitter, acidic taste rose in my throat. I couldn’t listen anymore. I turned to leave, but my foot caught an empty tin can. Clang. Both men went silent. Their eyes snapped toward the door. Jude saw me first. He froze, then his lips curved into a heartbreakingly submissive, tentative smile. Rylan, however, looked like he’d been slapped. His face went pale, then turned a deep, embarrassed red. “You… what are you doing here?” I forced my voice to remain steady. “I came to bring you home.” Without waiting for a response, I turned and bolted back toward the street. 8 “Hey! Maddie!” Rylan caught up to me, grabbing my sleeve. “Why are you walking so fast?” I didn’t look at him. I jerked my arm away and kept moving. But all I could see was Jude’s smile. He was so different from Rylan. Jude had a tiny beauty mark just beneath his left eye; when he smiled, it moved in a way that felt… genuine. “How long were you standing there?” Rylan asked, his voice wavering. “Did you hear what I said to my brother?” Jude’s leg. He’d lost his mobility saving his brother. He was the one who deserved a life. Not Rylan. “Hey! Answer me! Stop acting like a statue.” Rylan’s voice rose, grating on my nerves. I stopped and looked at him. “I heard it. All of it.” Rylan choked on his next breath. He looked panicked for a split second before his arrogance returned. “Well… it’s the truth. You do tie me up.” “Yes. It’s all true. I’m ugly, I’m poor, and I’m a monster. In your eyes, I’m the villain of your story.” I didn’t yell. I didn’t even sound angry. I just sounded hollow. Rylan went quiet. He followed me the rest of the way home with his head down, not saying another word. As we walked, I stole glances at him. He was striking—easily the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen. But the black hoodie he was wearing was a cheap, twenty-dollar find from a discount bin. It was pilling at the cuffs. It matched the one I was wearing. He was right. If a wealthy socialite had bought him, he’d be draped in silk and living in a penthouse. I couldn’t blame him for hating me. 9 When we got back to the apartment, I didn’t reach for the restraints. I didn’t lecture him about running off. I showered, went straight to the bedroom, and locked the door behind me. My mind was racing, but for the first time in a year, it wasn’t about Rylan. Knock. Knock. Knock. In the middle of the night, a voice drifted through the door. “Maddie? Are you awake?” “What do you want, Rylan?” “Open the door. I want to talk to you.” I stayed under the covers, staring at the wall. I must have drifted off, because when I opened my eyes again, a dark silhouette was standing by my bed. Rylan had found the spare key. He stood there, perfectly still, watching me. I sat up, pulling the duvet to my chest. “What are you doing?” Rylan’s throat worked as he swallowed hard. His tail flicked nervously behind him. “About earlier…” “I’m sorry.” The words came out in a rush, as if they burned his tongue. I yawned and waved a hand dismissively. “Fine. I forgive you. Now get out.” He didn’t move. I patted the pillow beside me. “What, do you want to sleep here?” Despite his hatred for me, we’d slept in the same bed every night for a year. Even when we fought, we shared the space. Now that I was pushing him away, he seemed lost. Rylan climbed in, shedding his hoodie. His arms found their usual place around my waist, his tail curling tentatively around my ankle. “I’m exhausted. Just go to sleep.” I shifted, creating a deliberate gap between our bodies. Rylan stiffened. “Oh, come on. You think I want to be touching you?” I moved even further away, toward the very edge of the mattress. Rylan let out a frustrated growl. “Fine! You’re being so dramatic today!” He yanked the covers over his head and turned his back to me.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394762”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

He glanced at me once, then immediately dropped his eyes back to his phone. He hadn’t even been in the chair long enough to warm it up, but he’d already scrolled through three social media feeds, replied to two texts, and asked the waiter to refill his water. I sat across from him, my menu still closed. “So… what do you do for a living?” I tried, breaking the silence. “Hmm?” He didn’t even look up. “Tech. Mostly startups.” Then, his phone buzzed. He picked it up right in front of me. “Hey man, don’t even get me started—” He lowered his voice, but in a small ramen shop, every word carries. “My aunt set it up. Said she was a ‘great catch.’ A catch? Look, man—” He paused. I looked at him. He didn’t look back. “—Next time, you’ve gotta vet them for me. She didn’t even send a photo. I had no idea what I was walking into until I got here.” 1. He hung up, his expression unchanged. He even offered me a quick, practiced smile. “Sorry about that. Work emergency.” I nodded. I knew then that this dinner was a dead end. But I was here, and I didn’t want to be the one to make things awkward. I opened the menu. “What are you in the mood for?” “Whatever’s fast,” he said, leaning back and placing his phone face-down on the table—a gesture of temporary mercy. “I’ve got something else to get to, so let’s keep it simple.” He’d been there ten minutes and was already checking for the exit. I ordered two appetizers and a main. He didn’t even glance at the menu. When the food arrived, he shoveled a few bites of rice into his mouth, his chopsticks never once touching the spicy green beans I’d ordered to share. “And you?” he asked casually, like a guy making small talk with a stranger at an airport gate. “What’s your deal?” “Product Manager. Fintech.” “Oh,” he said, chewing. “Lots of overtime, I bet.” “It varies.” The conversation died there. He set his chopsticks down and tapped his phone screen to check the time. “Listen, I’ve got a thing I can’t miss. I’m gonna head out.” Twenty-two minutes. I’d checked my watch. He stood up before his jacket was even fully off his shoulders. “Look, let me…” He patted his pocket, the universal gesture of someone pretending to look for a wallet. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it,” I said. He didn’t insist. “Cool. Well, thanks. See ya.” He reached the door and took another call. This time, he didn’t bother lowering his voice. He probably thought he was far enough away. But the distance from the door to my table was barely twenty feet. “…Nothing to talk about. Totally average, dressed like she was heading to a board meeting—zero sex appeal. I don’t know what my aunt was thinking, settting me up with someone so… bland.” My chopsticks froze mid-air. The green beans were blistered and fragrant, the steam still rising in salty clouds. I set my chopsticks down. I called the server over and paid the check. For both of us. Fifty-eight dollars. By the time I walked out of the restaurant, he was long gone. The street was quiet. The late March wind had a bite to it, and I realized I’d forgotten my coat in my rush to not be late. I passed a storefront window. My reflection stared back. Short hair, a crisp button-down, dark trousers, a leather tote. I did look like I was at work. I shifted my gaze and kept walking. My phone vibrated. A text from my Aunt Sarah. “Joanna, how’s it going with Kyle? His dad is a huge real estate developer. Very well-off family.” I didn’t reply. Then, a text from my mother. “Your aunt went to a lot of trouble to set this up. Please be on your best behavior.” A third text, also from Mom. “You’re thirty-two, Jo. Stop being so picky. Just make it work.” I shoved the phone into my bag. The wind picked up. At the subway entrance, I paused for a moment. A young couple sat on a nearby bench; the girl was tucked into the boy’s shoulder, and he was shielding her from the draft with his arm. I walked down the stairs. Swiped my card. Entered the station. Three months later. Monday morning, 9:00 AM. I opened my inbox to find the HR department’s intern placement list. Product Department: I was assigned two. The first: Mia Chen, undergrad, Stanford. The second— My finger stalled on the trackpad. Kyle Virgil. Male, 25. MBA candidate, University of Chicago. The headshot was a standard professional photo. Square jaw, thick brows, a sharp, clean hairline. The last time I’d seen him, he’d been wearing a grey turtleneck with a tiny loose thread at the cuff, and his eyes had never left his phone. It was him. I looked at the face on the screen and slowly leaned back in my chair. Three months ago, he couldn’t finish a meal with me. Three months later, he was going to have to call me “Ms. Olivia.” I closed the email and opened today’s project roadmap. 2. My mother found out how the date went the next morning. Not from me, but from Aunt Sarah. “Eleanor, Kyle’s side said… it’s not a match.” I was eating breakfast in the kitchen, listening to my mother on the phone in her bedroom. The walls were thin enough that I heard every word. “Why not?” Mom asked. “Kyle said Joanna… doesn’t really know how to present herself. Said she was a bit too ‘plain.’” Sarah didn’t use the word ugly, but “too plain” was loud enough. Mom hung up and walked into the kitchen. I kept my head down, staring at my oatmeal. “What did you wear yesterday?” “A blouse.” “Which one?” “The blue one. With the collar.” Mom let out a sharp sigh. “I’ve told you a thousand times, Jo. Dress up for these things. You never listen.” I put my spoon down. “Mom, it wasn’t the clothes.” “Then what was it?” I didn’t say anything. “Look at your cousin Riley. Every time she leaves the house, she’s polished. Hair done, makeup on. And you? You spend all year looking like you’re about to file taxes—” “I was going to work.” Mom glared at me. “Don’t get smart with me. He’s a catch. His family owns half the commercial real estate in the city—” “Mom, he took a phone call in the middle of dinner to tell his friend I was unattractive.” Mom blinked. Just once. “Men say things. Don’t take it so personally. They’re visual creatures. If you just put in a little effort—” “I don’t want to ‘put in effort’ for someone like that.” “Then you’ll be alone for the rest of your life!” My spoon clinked against the bowl. I stood up and took it to the sink. Behind me, my mother said something quietly, but it cut through the air like a knife. “If you were more like Riley, I wouldn’t have to worry so much.” I turned on the faucet. I let the water run over the bowl. Slowly. My cousin Riley was twenty-seven, married for three years, with a toddler. She was Sarah’s daughter. Sarah bragged about her to anyone with ears: “Our Riley hit the jackpot. Her husband is a VP at Chase, and she gets to stay home and raise the baby. She’s living the dream.” At the family dinner for Easter, we were all there. Thirteen of us at the big table. Riley sat near the head of the table with the baby, the center of the universe. “Riley, the baby is getting so big.” “He has his father’s eyes.” “Riley is so lucky. Such a perfect life.” No one asked me anything. Until midway through the ham, my Uncle Jim, having had a few glasses of wine, turned to me. “So, Jo. You’re thirty-two now, right? Any lucky guys on the horizon?” The table went silent for two beats. “Not right now,” I said. “No rush, no rush,” Uncle Jim said. “It’s good for girls to be independent these days—” Sarah cut him off. “No rush? She’s thirty-two. Last month I set her up with a literal prince of a guy, and he thought she was—” She stopped herself, catching my eye. “—Well, he thought they weren’t compatible.” I took a bite of my potatoes. “Joanna is just… too focused on her career,” Sarah told the table. “Always working late, never spends a dime on a nice dress. Men look at one thing first, and that’s the face—” “Aunt Sarah,” I said, setting my fork down. “I’d really rather not discuss this here.” The table went quiet again. My mother kicked my foot under the table. “Your aunt is just trying to help,” she hissed. Riley was across from me, cooing at her baby. She didn’t look up, but I saw the corner of her mouth twitch. After dinner, I went to the kitchen to help clean. I was the only one at the sink. The laughter from the living room drifted in—everyone playing with the baby. The soap suds piled up on the back of my hand. I washed the plates as slowly as possible, because I knew that once I was done, I’d have to go back out there. Back to where Sarah would keep talking. Back to where Mom would keep nodding. Back to where my relatives would look at me with that unbearable pity. On the drive home, Mom stared out the passenger window. “Your aunt means well.” I drove in silence. “Don’t be mad because she tells the truth. A woman over thirty… if you don’t hurry—” “Mom.” “Just one more thing.” She looked at me. “With your personality, and your… look… if you don’t learn to compromise, who’s going to want you?” My grip tightened on the steering wheel. Only for a second. A red light appeared. I slowed to a stop. I watched the taillights in front of me—perfect, glowing red circles. “I got promoted to Lead Product Manager last month,” I said. Mom turned her head. “How many people do you manage?” “The product group, plus the external contractors. About thirty people total.” Mom made a small noise of acknowledgment. Then she said: “What good is a promotion? Can a promotion take care of you when you’re old?” The light turned green. I pressed the gas and kept driving. 3. Monday morning, 9:15 AM. Product Weekly. I projected my slide deck, presenting last week’s metrics and this week’s roadmap to the twelve people in the room. Data, bottlenecks, ownership—I wrapped it up in twenty minutes. The Director, Mr. Henderson, sat in the back. As the meeting broke up, he clapped me on the shoulder. “Jo, keep an eye on the version 2.0 timeline. I need the master schedule by Wednesday.” “On it.” “By the way, two interns started today. They’re assigned to your pod. Get them spun up; mid-term evals are at the end of the month.” “Got it.” I went back to my desk. Beth, the senior-most PM in the department, walked over with her coffee. Beth was thirty-eight, brilliant, and intentionally avoided management because she “didn’t want the headache.” But everyone knew a project didn’t move unless Beth blessed it. “New interns?” Beth asked. “Reporting on Wednesday.” “What’s the pedigree?” “One Stanford undergrad, one UChicago MBA.” “MBA?” Beth raised an eyebrow. “Those types are usually just here for the resume padding. Prepare yourself.” “I know.” “You’ll be fine. The intern you had last year got the highest score on the final defense. HR is still singing your praises.” I smiled. I turned to my computer and found seventeen unread messages in the project Slack channel. This was my world. From nine to six-thirty. Schedules, reviews, cross-departmental friction, bug priorities, PRDs. I managed thirty people’s workloads. My strategy last year saved the firm four hundred thousand dollars in vendor costs. My interns had a 100% hire-back rate. None of those things had anything to do with my face. But in my mother’s eyes, and in my aunt’s mouth, the weight of all those achievements was less than a coat of mascara. 10:00 PM. I got home after a long day and grabbed a package from the lobby. I opened the front door to find a sticky note on the fridge. My mom’s handwriting. “Soup’s in the fridge. Your aunt found another one. 37, divorced, no kids, civil engineer. Info is on the coffee table.” I walked over to the table. A single sheet of paper. Photo, height, salary, assets. In the top left corner, Sarah had scrawled in blue pen: “This one isn’t too picky. Don’t screw it up again.” I flipped the paper over, face down. I went to the kitchen and had a bowl of soup. The soup was warm. Mom had made it and put it away, knowing I’d be late. That was her. She’d make you soup, and then leave a resume for a husband right next to it. She loved me, but her love was a blueprint for a person I wasn’t. I washed the bowl. Dried my hands. Checked my phone.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394763”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel