Category: English

I loved wearing short white skirts, my wardrobe was perpetually a soft mix of pink and white, and everyone always said I was sweet and obedient. He dyed his hair red, was rebellious, and had a terrible temper. He was my older brother’s best friend. Every time we met, I would hide behind my brother to greet him. Distant and reserved. No one knew I liked him. 1 During the summer break of my sophomore year in college, my parents went traveling, so I had no choice but to stay at my brother’s apartment. At this hour, my brother was at work, but I knew his apartment passcode. Rolling my suitcase, I opened the door, only to hear someone inside speaking with a cold sneer. “Why don’t you let your unborn sibling play instead?” “What I mean is, you might as well go back into the oven and be remade.” A familiar voice. I stopped in my tracks. I recognized it. It was him. Arthur was my brother’s best friend. They had hung out since middle school, and I knew they had always been close. But I didn’t expect him to be living in my brother’s apartment. Arthur started playing esports in high school, and after retiring, he became a gaming streamer. That voice just now—he was definitely cursing out his teammates on stream. I understood immediately because I watched his streams every day. I was his top donator. No one knew. I softened my movements and went to the room my brother had prepared for me. It was still a cozy room in pink and white hues, filled with plushies. I didn’t plan to go over and bother him, but before I could finish unpacking, someone knocked on the door. Turning around, I saw Arthur leaning lazily against the open doorway, his narrow eyes glancing my way. “Didn’t you say you were arriving tonight?” Obviously, my brother had given him a heads-up but hadn’t told me. I didn’t know why, but facing him always made me feel a bit guilty. Maybe it was because I liked him. “My roommates all left early, so I changed my ticket.” I have mild social anxiety, but I also like being around people. Arthur pulled out his phone and glanced at it. Three o’clock. He raised an eyebrow. “Hungry?” He had always treated me like a younger sister, taking care of me just like my actual brother did. I nodded. “I’ll order takeout in a bit.” He let out a scoff. “Your Brother Arthur is standing right here, and you’re going to order takeout?” “You actually know how to cook?” I looked at him with bright eyes, a bit pleasantly surprised. I always thought he was lazy and had no interests other than gaming. Arthur lifted his chin. “Wait here.” 2 To be honest, I didn’t have high hopes for Arthur’s culinary skills until I saw a fragrant bowl of scallion oil noodles on the dining table. “You actually cooked.” I sat down reservedly, feeling a bit embarrassed yet surprised. He gave a short laugh. “Eat up. I’m going to go rank up.” I ate the noodles he cooked, watching him take long strides and cross the room in two or three steps. For the past six months, while I was at school, I could only watch him in his stream. Other female fans could brazenly call him “Hubby.” But even typing those two words made my face turn red. I felt like a hopeless case. He was streaming upstairs, and I was downstairs, eating noodles while secretly opening his stream. He had just restarted his broadcast, and fans in the chat were asking where he went. Unlike his usual cold and arrogant demeanor, he raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly. “I was afraid the silly cat at my friend’s house would starve to death.” He deliberately lowered his voice, so I hadn’t heard it at all downstairs. The chat was curious about how cute the kitten must be for him to be in such a good mood after feeding it. He lowered his eyes, clicked to start a game, and gave an ambiguous smile. “It’s pretty cute.” His voice came through the phone, making my heart pound wildly. Where was there a cat? It was just me. 3 My brother came back that evening, looking exhausted and apologetic as he said to me, “I have to fly to the US tomorrow for a business trip. I’ll hang out with you when I get back.” Then he turned to Arthur, telling him to take good care of me. I saw him casually say “Hmm,” his back to us as he continued cooking. My brother was still telling me to stay up late less, but I couldn’t hear a word of it. The thought of being alone with him for half a month made me lower my head, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervousness. “Arthur, take good care of my sister, or I’ll kick you out when I get back.” “I’ll starve her,” he retorted to my brother in a mean voice. My brother laughed out of exasperation, walked over, and pretended to hit him. The two of them bantered for a bit. I sat at the dining table, watching them laugh. I felt a bit envious of my brother. I didn’t think I could act so naturally around him. When I woke up the next day, my brother had already left. Looking at the worried messages he left on my phone, I washed up and went downstairs to make some instant noodles. Halfway through eating, Arthur came downstairs. My brother had mentioned before that he had terrible morning sickness. Seeing him looking full of hostility and annoyance, I swallowed my greeting and silently buried my head in my noodles, not daring to make a sound. “Little Chloe, you’re not very polite.” I blanked for a moment, looking up under his dissatisfied gaze with an embarrassed smile. “Morning.” He leaned in, gave it a look of disgust. “No nutrition. Wake me up tomorrow to cook.” It was as if he specifically came down just to say that to me, and as soon as he finished, he went back upstairs. I looked at his tall, lean back in confusion. Did he specifically come down just to snap at me? But Arthur always had a bad temper, so I didn’t think much of it. At noon, Arthur came downstairs with messy hair to cook. Hearing the noise in the living room, I spoke up apologetically, “Sorry, Arthur, for troubling you.” He scoffed, not even turning his head as he snorted coldly, “Not even calling me Brother. Watch out, I might starve you.” I chuckled quietly from behind. Arthur was fierce, but his bark was worse than his bite. “You wouldn’t.” His back seemed to stiffen for a moment. Then he brought the dishes over and said in a fierce tone, “Get your ass over here and eat.” 4 He was fierce, but his cooking was delicious. Coming down to eat on time every day was the only interaction I had with him these past few days. Even though I hadn’t said many words to him, I was incredibly happy. I got to see him every day. When he cooked wearing an apron, I would prop my chin up and watch from behind, secretly raising my phone to take a picture of his back. I didn’t have any photos with him, only some large group photos from my brother’s gatherings. I kept all of them, along with the occasional sneaky photos from over the years. My finger tapped lightly, the screen flashed, paused, and the flash went off. I was terrified, frantically turning my phone around as he looked back. “What are you doing?” He held a spatula in his hand, his handsome face looking very grumpy. I stammered, raising my phone slightly. “S-selfie.” I didn’t know if he believed it, but he frowned at me for a good while before turning back to continue cooking. I breathed a sigh of relief and quickly turned off the flash on my phone. Damn it, when did I turn the flash on? I was still feeling frustrated and guilty, not daring to look up. So I also didn’t see him send a message to my brother. “Is your sister complaining about me?” A reply came instantly. “Chloe is very well-behaved; she wouldn’t complain.” He snorted and retorted, “Not well-behaved at all.” She sweetly called everyone else “Brother,” except for him. The other side seemed exasperated, pausing for a moment before replying. “Is it really true what they say, that you hate Chloe?” “Everyone likes her and says she’s sweet. You’re the only one who thinks she isn’t.” The food was ready. He plated it and placed it on the table. The girl, looking very soft in her pink and white pajamas, obediently served herself rice under his gaze, then blinked at him. As if asking if she could start eating. He chuckled and spat out one word. “Eat.” I smiled at him, picked up a piece of cola chicken wings, and praised him enthusiastically. “Arthur, the cola chicken wings you make are really delicious.” I deliberately softened my voice, which somehow sounded a bit like acting cute. A bit embarrassing. We weren’t close enough for me to act cute with him. The corners of his lips seemed to tilt up, but his tone was still fierce: “If it’s delicious, then hurry up and eat. Why all the nonsense.” Like a cat with its fur standing on end. I was surprised to find that Arthur actually really liked being praised. 5 Just when I thought Arthur and I were getting along a bit better because of my compliments, I saw him coming downstairs impatiently in the evening. Seeing me actually downstairs, the hostility between his eyebrows seemed to dissipate a bit. “Going out for a bit. I’ll bring you dinner back tonight.” He twirled the car keys in his hand and explained to me. His hands were long and handsome. My gaze lingered for a second, and I nodded obediently. Arthur glanced at me, seemingly very satisfied with my obedience, his steps even becoming a bit lighter. When he came back that night, he brought me a rice bowl dish. He hurriedly went upstairs to stream, his expression still looking a bit poor. I was a bit curious, but didn’t dare ask, so I opened his stream. I heard him turn on his camera with a dark face. He stayed silent for a moment before telling the chat, “Company request. Playing duos today.” He was very skilled and always streamed solo, carrying the team single-handedly. Occasionally, he would play duos with former teammates or male streamers he was close with. Before the fans and I could react, an account with a cute pink avatar suddenly invited him to team up. He accepted without batting an eye, but his expression was still very poor. The female streamer on the other end turned on her mic, her voice sweet and sugary. Fans in the chat explained that she was also a streamer in the gaming section. I didn’t watch other gaming streamers besides him, so it was normal that I didn’t know her. But he was playing duos with another girl. Even knowing it was his job, I was still a bit unhappy. The game started, and I listened to them talk while eating. Actually, it was just the female streamer talking the whole time; he completely ignored her. The female streamer had quite a few fans. Seeing his terrible attitude, they started cursing him in the chat. “Our Frosty is so sweet. Why is this straight guy giving her attitude?” “Feeling bad for Frosty.” “Taking my Frosty away, stay away, you grumpy guy.” The chat was a complete mess. The female streamer didn’t seem affected. She was still acting cute, asking him to let her have the blue buff, and her character had even run over to him. But he took the blue buff without a change in expression and went to the side lane to help gank without looking back. The chat rolled even faster. He glanced at the screen and said sparingly: “You having the blue buff is useless.” His own fans were all laughing, typing “hahaha” and calling him a straight guy, while the female streamer’s fans were going crazy with anger. Many of Arthur’s old fans knew that he had a sharp tongue and did whatever he pleased, so they weren’t surprised that he didn’t give up the blue buff. It was exactly the kind of thing he would do. The chat was cursing so viciously. I couldn’t stand it and threw a bunch of special effect gifts. The chat started saying things like “Long time no see, top donator sister.” He glanced at it twice and said coldly, “Thanks for the gifts.” I kept my head down, eating the food he brought back, and smiled, my eyes curving, when I heard his “thanks.” One game ended quickly. I don’t know if the female streamer noticed his overly cold attitude, but she made an excuse and said she was done playing. His expression slowly softened after the female streamer left. Anyone with eyes could see how much he disliked her. The chat was full of “hahaha,” asking if he didn’t like soft girls. Arthur usually wouldn’t respond to these, but today he looked at the chat and paused for a second. “I like them.” The chat paused for a moment, then started scrolling even more vigorously. “Like what!” “So you do like soft girls?!” “Then why were you so mean to Frosty.” He scoffed. “Does that even count as a soft girl?” He thought of the girl downstairs. She ate slowly, much like the videos of rabbits or hamsters eating that he scrolled past online. Very well-behaved. None of them ate as well as he did. It was just that she was occasionally disobedient, afraid of him, and wouldn’t call him “Brother.” So he likes soft girls. My mind was a mess, thinking of countless possibilities that made the corners of my lips curl up. But if he liked me, how could he be so indifferent? A couple of days ago, my brother even sent me a message, worried that our relationship wasn’t good, telling me to hang around him less. I sighed and threw the empty takeout box into the trash can. 6 A couple of days later, he made breakfast and was about to go out again. He said the same thing, that he would bring lunch back for me. I wanted to say that I could actually just order takeout, but he didn’t even give me a chance to speak. He just left after saying that. I had some snacks for lunch. Later, feeling a bit bored while waiting, I wanted to play a game for a while. As soon as I logged on, I received many team invitations. I accepted my roommate’s. I didn’t expect that after I joined, she pulled a senior from our club in as well. The senior was a nice guy and took good care of us, but I could tell he was interested in me. I usually avoided him, rejecting him both explicitly and implicitly. I didn’t expect to run into him again today. “I haven’t played a game with Chloe yet.” The senior smiled and turned his mic on first, and my roommate immediately clicked start. The senior’s gaming skills were good. After he got a triple kill, my roommate and I smiled and praised him. “Triple kill! You’re awesome, Senior.” The apartment door clicked open. Just as I finished speaking, I locked eyes with Arthur, who was walking in carrying takeout boxes. From the phone, the senior was still modestly saying it was nothing special, and then a clear voice came through: “Chloe, come get the blue buff.” I saw Arthur’s face visibly darken. He raised an eyebrow and placed the takeout boxes in front of me. I said “No need” into the mic and quickly turned it off. “You’re back.” He gave a cold laugh. “Obviously.” I smiled awkwardly. He suddenly leaned in and asked, “Little Chloe, are you dating someone?” It was out of nowhere, but I felt his words were dangerous. I hastily shook my head, not wanting him to misunderstand. “I’m playing with my roommate and a senior. We’re all friends.” He seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, reached out and messed up my hair, warning me fiercely: “Better not be. If you are, watch out, I’ll tell your brother.” My heart was beating very fast. After he went upstairs, the senior and my roommate asked me on my phone why I stopped talking. I inexplicably looked down and smiled, turned on the mic, and told them I wasn’t playing anymore. I felt like he cared about me a little bit. 7 That evening, after dinner, Arthur suddenly asked me if I wanted to play a game together. I was stunned. Besides the times when my brother was around and dragged us both to play, I hadn’t played alone with him before. Plus, he usually streamed after dinner. “Aren’t you streaming?” He leisurely poured a glass of water. “I am. Do you mind?” Didn’t his fans all say he had no taste, that he didn’t even like soft girls like Frosty? He was going to show them who really had no taste. I was very nervous, but the opportunity was rare. “I don’t mind.” He went upstairs, and I followed him with my phone. My heart was thumping. It was my first time in his room. Clean and tidy. He set up his equipment in a moment, then told me he started the stream. I hid in a spot the camera couldn’t see and softly said “Hmm.” I felt an inexplicable sense of shyness. Like we were dating behind the fans’ backs. Even though we weren’t yet. His mic picked up sound very well. The fans must have heard and asked if there was someone else with him. “Yeah, carrying my friend’s sister today.” I didn’t know what the chat was saying, but I heard him chuckle. I really wanted to click into his stream and take a peek, but I didn’t dare. The game started. His rank was very high. Afraid of being cursed at by my teammates, I picked a support hero. This entire game, I experienced both tension and a magical feeling. Listening to his clear voice talking to me for the whole game. “Follow me.” “Take the blue buff.” “I’ll come pick you up.” “Don’t be afraid, wait for me.” Was it because I was sitting next to him? I actually felt that the person who was usually cold in the stream was exceptionally gentle. When the game ended, he took a moment to look at the chat, seemingly in a very good mood. The sister is way sweeter than that female streamer! “You guys are right.” Is it really a friend’s sister? It’s not a girlfriend? “Yeah, friend’s sister.” Friend’s sister. I gripped my phone tightly, and the little bit of secret joy I couldn’t hold back just now instantly vanished. 8 Before heading back to my room after playing, I composed myself and told him he didn’t need to get up specially to make breakfast for me tomorrow morning. Arthur had just turned off his equipment. He looked back and gave me a deep look. “Why?” I didn’t dare look at him. I grabbed my phone and ran out. “No reason, just felt it was too much trouble for you.” Everything was fine while we were playing the game just now. Arthur watched the girl’s retreating figure and frowned imperceptibly. When I went downstairs the next day, as expected, I didn’t see anyone. That tiny bit of hope in my heart instantly plummeted to the core. He had always been rebellious. I had never seen Arthur be so obedient. I lowered my eyes, feeling a bit disappointed. “What are you dawdling for? Eat.” Just as I was slowly walking to the kitchen door, he pushed the door open, his bony, handsome hands steadily holding a bowl of noodles. I couldn’t help but show some joy. “Why did you…” Before I could finish, he reached out and pressed me down into a seat at the dining table. “How much do you hate me, Chloe?” His tone was very bad, as if he was suppressing anger. I turned to look at him. “I don’t.” How could I possibly hate him. He fiercely messed up my hair and placed the bowl of noodles in front of me with a thud. The sound wasn’t loud, but the action was scary. He did it on purpose. “Do you know how expensive my hands are? Cooking for you every day and you’re still complaining.” He was acting fierce. I softened my voice, feeling wronged: “I wasn’t complaining…” “If you weren’t complaining, why did you say that last night?” They had finally gotten a little bit closer, and she was knocking him back to square one again. Arthur was not one to admit defeat. When playing games, making a comeback against the wind was what excited him the most. The same went for her. He had always preferred to finish things quickly. But with her, he was slow and cautious, terrified that if he showed even a little bit, she would run away. “You’re tired from streaming, and you have to get up to cook for me instead of catching up on sleep.” “It’s exhausting, Arthur.” Besides a bit of pique last night, I really did feel it was hard on him, and there was no need for him to get up so early just to cook for me. Hearing this, he let out a scoff, leaned down, and pinched my cheek fiercely. “I want to.” He was always like this, looking fierce but actually not using any force at all. I covered my face and dodged, pursing my lips with a bit of distaste. “Learning bad habits instead of good ones.” My brother had loved pinching my cheeks since we were kids, making me cry several times but never tiring of it. He got better as we grew up, but occasionally he would still pinch my cheeks to tease me. He had always just watched the two of us siblings mess around from the side. I didn’t expect him to pick this up too. Arthur smiled and went upstairs. “See you at noon, Chloe.” I hummed an acknowledgment and buried my head in the noodles. I also hid the corners of my lips that were curving up. I liked him even more.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394660”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I recorded a show until the middle of the night, and when I got home, I found my dog was stolen. I immediately checked the security footage. I saw the “Crown Prince” of the Capitol City elite circle sneaking into my house late at night, slipping a leash on my dog, and running off. When you’re so mad you’re speechless, you really do just laugh. Later, while filming a reality show, the Prince had someone bring the dog over, saying it was there to keep its mom company. My arch-nemesis, Chloe, snatched the leash first. She even claimed she was Chips’ mom and that she and the Prince were madly in love. I called Arthur right then and there: “When did Chips get a new mom?” 1 The night my dog was stolen, I pulled Arthur’s number out of my blocked list and FaceTimed him. Expecting me to contact him, he had kept his phone close by. He picked up instantly when the call came through, then haughtily turned his head away from the camera: “Hmph! Didn’t we say whoever crawls back first is a dog? What are you calling me for!” I looked at Chips, who was lying next to him eating treats: “Would I have contacted you if you hadn’t come to my house to steal my dog? “Do you know what breaking and entering and theft of personal property means?” Arthur is the beloved grandson of the Vance family matriarch, pampered since childhood, reckless and arrogant. He leaned back on the sofa, petting Chips’ head in a good mood: “I brought my son home, what law did I break?” I reminded him: “I’m the one who bought Chips!” Arthur smirked, his thin lips curving: “But I’m the one who hand-fed him since he was two months old. If you want to see Chips, come home.” I was exhausted after a full day of filming and couldn’t be bothered to argue: “I’ll give you a million dollars, Chips is mine!” Hearing this, Arthur shot up from the sofa like a Husky whose tail had been stepped on, instantly bristling: “Chloe, you really are something else!” He angrily hung up the video call. A few minutes later, Arthur deliberately posted a photo of himself and Chips on Twitter, with the caption: [Secretly stole my son away from his girlfriend.] I scoffed: “Childish!” 2 Early the next morning, before I was even fully awake, my manager dragged me out to film a reality show. Last night, not long after Arthur hung up, he shamelessly called back again. The excuse was that Chips missed his mom. Sleepily leaning against my seat, I habitually opened the trending topics to take a look. I didn’t expect the top three trending searches to all be about Arthur. #PrinceAndChloeSecretlyOfficial!# #ChloeRespondsConfirmingRelationship# #ChloeRegretsBullyingThePrincess# I laughed when I saw the last hashtag. Who came up with this title? Aren’t they embarrassed? Princess? Then I must be the Queen! Ever since Chloe debuted, every time she trended, she had to drag me down to elevate herself, branding me with the reputation of stealing her resources. Following the netizens’ comments, I clicked on Chloe’s Twitter. Her latest tweet was a selfie from last night, wearing a sexy nightgown: [Boohoo, my doggie was taken away by his daddy, I’m so lonely all by myself.] The timestamp was half an hour later than Arthur’s tweet. Chloe even @’ed him. The trending topic exploded that night, with many verified accounts retweeting it. Some netizens even edited completely unrelated videos of the two of them together. [Holy crap, my two favorite people are actually together!] [Three months ago, paparazzi caught them skiing together in Aspen. The Prince denied he went with Chloe back then, but now he’s eating his words, haha.] [The Prince is so humble in front of our precious Chloe, reduced to stealing the doggie in the middle of the night just to see him, haha.] Me: “??” Did Arthur steal Chloe’s dog last night too? But didn’t she say in an interview before that she was afraid of dogs and would never keep one in her life? 3 I glanced at the comment section. A netizen asked her: [Are you and the Prince really together?] Chloe didn’t reply. A few minutes later, she liked several highly popular comments blessing her and the Prince with a long and happy life together. This directly solidified the rumors of her being with Arthur. [Our precious Chloe has made it so obvious and you’re still asking. The commenter above must be a hater sent by Chloe’s camp.] [Just asking makes me a hater? If they’re really together, what’s there to hide? I think it’s fake and she’s just clout-chasing!] [Chloe definitely has her reasons for not admitting it directly. Stop being so passive-aggressive.] [When it’s okay to go public, our precious Chloe will definitely be the first to say it on Twitter. Haters, get lost!] The netizen, angered by the attacks, ran over to Arthur’s comment section and asked: [Mr. Vance, is Chloe really your girlfriend?] Arthur quickly replied: [Who said that! Who said that! I don’t even know her!] Chloe’s fans were unhappy: [If our precious Chloe knew you said that, she would be very sad.] Arthur immediately clapped back: [Why should I care if she’s sad or not? Besides, I’m eating vegetarian lately, don’t bring your ‘precious meat’ around me!] These comments were quickly upvoted to the top. Netizens immediately threw the screenshots into Chloe’s comment section: [Stop clout-chasing. The Prince said he doesn’t even know Chloe. She really knows how to flatter herself.] The next second, she was besieged by Chloe’s fans: [We already said it’s not convenient to go public right now! The Prince obviously has to deny it!] [Didn’t a certain pop star deny it at first a few days ago, and then after going public, they livestream their PDA all day long?] My manager also saw the trending topics. She looked grim: “You and Chloe debuted at the same time, and you both have the ‘independent young star’ persona. Your two fanbases have always been at odds, tearing each other apart. “Now that she’s hooked up with Mr. Vance, I’m afraid she’s going to crush you from now on.” I felt my brain was about to fry. Chloe really dared to do anything for clout. To actually impersonate Arthur’s girlfriend. Seeing me zone out, my manager comforted me: “Don’t worry too much. In the future, I’ll try to arrange your schedule to avoid Chloe. Today is the last episode of the show. Keep your distance from her and don’t get into conflicts.” 4 The RV parked at the filming location. As soon as I stepped out, cameras were pointed at me, recording. [Chloe’s dark circles are so heavy. She must have lost sleep all night after seeing Chloe and the Prince go public last night, haha.] [The expression on her face is so sour. She’s probably dying of jealousy.] [Did Chloe’s fans forget to brush their teeth this morning? Why do their mouths stink so much!] [If Chloe dares to steal resources from Chloe again, the Prince will blacklist her in a heartbeat.] [From now on, the Prince will personally hand-deliver resources to our precious Chloe.] I arrived at the filming villa. The other guests were all clustered around Chloe, sucking up to her. This show was called Fall in Love with Me. There were four female and four male guests, and it was a live broadcast. Everyone had to live together for three days and two nights. As soon as the show started, the director pointed the camera at Chloe and asked if her and the Prince’s post last night was a public announcement. “Um, about that…” Chloe said coyly, “Everyone will know when the time comes~” The director didn’t want to let this wave of traffic go and continued asking: “Then can Chloe tell us what happened last night? Was the Prince showing off his love by posting late at night?” Chloe feigned anger and stamped her foot: “He insisted on bringing the doggie to keep me company while filming. I disagreed, so he childishly sneaked the doggie away while I was working.” I watched Chloe’s immersive performance, looking at her in shock. How could she weave such an elaborate tale without blushing or skipping a beat? I couldn’t help but ask: “In an interview before, you said you were bitten by a dog when you were a kid and would never keep a dog for the rest of your life.” 5 Chloe looked down, smiled, and turned to the camera: “I originally thought I’d never keep a dog again in this lifetime, but he gave me an overwhelming sense of security and made me accept doggies again.” [Our precious Chloe smiles so sweetly. If this couple isn’t real, I’ll never believe in love again.] [How jealous is Chloe of our precious Chloe? She even remembers exactly what she said in an interview. So disgusting.] [Can the Prince please blacklist Chloe already!!] The director watched the viewer count in the livestream skyrocket. He rejoiced inwardly; the ratings for this episode were secured. He was just preparing to dig deeper into how Chloe and the Prince met. An assistant jogged over and whispered a few words in his ear. The director nodded, his eyes turning into slits as he smiled at Chloe: “Chloe, the Prince sent you a gift. He said it’s here to keep mom company while filming.” Someone among the guests exclaimed: “Could it be that the Prince sent the doggie over?” 6 As soon as these words were spoken, someone immediately chimed in: “Chloe is so lucky! The Prince dotes on you so much~” Chloe was slightly taken aback, gently pinched her fingertips, and lowered her head: “Oh my, stop it you guys. I’ll go out and take a look first.” The director suggested everyone go together. As everyone came out of the villa, we saw a staff member holding an Alaskan Malamute on a leash. A message from Arthur popped up on my phone: [Wife, the old man called me in for an emergency meeting. Can you take care of Chips? I’ll pick him up tonight.] My eyelid twitched, and I replied: [I’m livestreaming a show right now. Why did you bring Chips here? [I know what you’re up to. Take him back immediately!] Arthur sent me a picture: [I’m at the company.] I locked my phone screen and took a deep breath. How could he get to the company in just a few minutes? Chloe looked left and right: “Is it just the doggie?” “Mr. Vance said he had something urgent at the company and had to leave first. He asked me to hand the dog over to its mom.” With that, the staff member handed the leash to Chloe. The Alaskan’s coat was shiny and thick, blowing in the gentle breeze. The guests couldn’t resist reaching out to pet him. “Chloe, what’s the name of the doggie you and the Prince are raising?” The person speaking was Liam, an artist recently signed by Vance Media, known for his “pretty boy” persona. Chloe’s ears suddenly turned red: “This… how can I say it.” 7 Seeing this, everyone started teasing: “Whoa, Chloe is embarrassed! Now I’m really curious what the name is.” “Hehe, I bet the name is definitely related to Chloe.” With everyone chiming in, Chloe cleared her throat amidst the teasing and said: “Alright, I’ll tell you guys. He insisted on naming the doggie Meatball, because he loves to eat meat.” Liam looked envious: “Force-fed another mouthful of PDA. I can’t film this show anymore.” [The Prince loves our precious Chloe so much! Even naming a dog revolves around her.] [Force-fed PDA the whole time, please spare us single dogs. I’m so jealous.] [This Alaskan Malamute looks so beautiful. It’s obvious Chloe takes great care of it daily.] The corners of my mouth twitched in speechless annoyance. Did Chips agree to change his name? Sharp-eyed netizens caught my expression and immediately launched an attack. [What’s with Chloe’s expression? She’s probably dying of jealousy.] [Jealous of what? Is it wrong to be speechless when Chloe says something disgusting?] [Chloe is definitely thinking about how to steal the Prince away from Chloe.] [This time she can only dream. The Prince only likes Chloe. No random nobody can just snatch him away.] Chloe beamed with joy upon hearing Liam’s words. She led the Alaskan towards the villa. But the dog sat there, unmoving. Looking around, as if searching for something. [Mommy-chan, where are you~ Watashi smells you.] Chloe smiled somewhat awkwardly at the camera: “Meatball, let’s go.” The Alaskan haughtily turned his head away. This scene was inexplicably similar to Arthur. Thinking of this, I couldn’t help but smile. Hearing my voice, Chips tried to break free from the leash in Chloe’s hand. [Ahhhh, as expected of the doggie raised by Chloe and the Prince. That head-turn is too cute, I’m going to die from the cuteness!] [Can Chloe’s fans stop forcing the compliments? The doggie hasn’t even given Chloe a single glance.] [Hahaha, I’m dying of laughter. Chloe’s fans, come out and see. Why isn’t the Prince’s dog familiar with your Chloe?] [What nonsense are you haters spouting! If the doggie isn’t familiar with our precious Chloe, could he be familiar with Chloe? Our precious Chloe is the Prince’s official girlfriend.] [Yo yo yo, hilarious. Has the Prince officially announced it? Calling her the official girlfriend already, be careful it doesn’t turn into a joke in the end.] [Honestly, it looks like the Alaskan wants to go to Chloe.] [I spit on that! If Meatball likes that bitch Chloe, I’ll eat shit doing a handstand!] I sneered at that comment and waved at Chips: “Chips, come here.” As soon as the words fell, everyone’s gaze instantly fixed on me. When Chips saw me, his tail wagged like a helicopter rotor. He wanted to run to me, but was restrained by the leash. He whined anxiously, his front paws constantly scratching the ground. 8 Chloe tightened the leash with an ugly expression: “Chloe, what did you do to Meatball?” Seeing Chips uncomfortable, I took a large stride over. [Hahaha, dying of laughter. Calling him Chips, do you see him wanting to go over?] [Anyone who isn’t blind can see he wants to go to Chloe. That commenter above, I suggest you stop watching the show and go see an eye doctor.] [Chloe is so disgusting. Scheming against a dog just for traffic.] [Who’s scheming? Chloe hasn’t even touched the doggie.] [If Chloe didn’t do it, then why does Meatball want to go to her?] [You should ask your idol that! Why is the dog she raised unfamiliar with her, but wants to cuddle with my Chloe~] [Chloe’s fans are triggered. The dog doesn’t even bother giving Chloe a single glance.] Feeling somewhat humiliated, Chloe loudly scolded the dog: “Meatball, if you don’t behave, Mommy won’t buy you treats anymore.” With that, she yanked the leash again. The Alaskan ignored her completely and barked excitedly at me. The smile on Chloe’s face faltered. She grabbed the leash with both hands and kept pulling, forcing the dog to go with her. Chips’ neck was being choked tightly, but she acted as if she couldn’t see it. I snatched the leash from Chloe’s hands and said coldly: “He doesn’t know you. No matter how much you pull, he won’t go with you.” Chloe looked as if she had heard the biggest joke in the world. She reached out, speaking passive-aggressively: “Chloe, I know you like to steal my things, but please give the doggie back to me. If Meatball misbehaves, I will naturally teach him a lesson. Are you sure you want to steal my dog in front of millions of viewers?” I sneered: “Did you really raise him?” Chloe’s face wasn’t looking good, and she spoke angrily: “What else? Are you trying to say you raised this dog?” The atmosphere on the set became tense. 9 Chips couldn’t sense it. He wagged his tail happily, jumping around me. I reached out and patted his head, meeting Chloe’s glare that looked like she wanted to eat me alive, and said clearly: “Listen carefully, this Alaskan Malamute’s name is Chips. NOT. MEATBALL!” [Hahaha, I’m dying. Is this Chloe sleepwalking? The things coming out of her mouth are crazy.] [I bet her next sentence will be that she’s the doggie’s mom, and the Prince’s girlfriend.] [To be fair, the doggie seems to be more familiar with Chloe. He doesn’t seem to recognize Chloe at all.] [And the doggie had absolutely no reaction to the name Meatball, but started wagging his tail when he heard Chips.] [Chloe must have used some trick. The tweet Chloe posted last night directly @’ed the Prince. Would anyone but the official girlfriend dare to do that?] [The commenter above makes sense too. I’ll stay quiet for now and see what happens.] [No way, no way!! Chloe’s expression just now was so scary. Does she have a vendetta against this dog?] [I saw Chloe choking the Alaskan desperately…] [I saw it too.] [I seriously doubt Chloe is the dog’s owner at all.] 10 Almost immediately after I finished speaking, Chloe pointed at me and loudly accused: “What Chips? His name is Meatball! “You usually steal my roles, steal my endorsements, and steal my screen time on variety shows. I let all that slide. But now you even want to steal the dog I raised. “After the last episode aired, Arthur wanted to blacklist you, and I was the one who put in a good word for you. Now it seems you’re not worthy of sympathy at all!” The director signaled for the cameras to focus on Chloe and me. He had a premonition that this show was definitely going to be the biggest hit of the past few years. Chloe publicly admitting to being the Prince’s girlfriend. Two top young stars going head-to-head. Chloe about to be blacklisted by the Prince. Any of these topics was enough to stir up massive engagement. Seeing the hype had peaked, the director forced a smile to smooth things over: “Actually, Alaskans all look pretty similar. Why doesn’t Chloe take a closer look? I often mistake other people’s dogs for my own too.” He used his eyes to remind me that this was a live broadcast. I scoffed: “Look at Chips right now. Do I look like I mistook him?” The director looked down. Chips was sitting by my feet, so happy his eyes were squeezed into slits. He learned this fawning look from Arthur’s Husky. The director: “…” [Chloe is such a bitch. Can’t she see the director is deliberately giving her a way out? She’s actually refusing to take it. So speechless.] [If you’re speechless, go learn sign language. Didn’t you see the doggie sticking to Chloe?] [Holy crap! Chloe finally admitted her relationship with the Prince. Wishing you and the Prince a long and happy life together.] [Our precious Chloe, don’t cry, don’t cry. I will always support you.] [Feeling sorry for our precious Chloe. Who knows how Chloe bullied her before, making her break down and yell while filming.] [Everyone, hurry to Mr. Vance’s Twitter comments and tell him to come quickly and stand up for our precious Chloe. Our precious Chloe looks like she’s about to break.] Chloe suddenly reached over to grab the leash. She ended up yanking the collar right off Chips’ neck. Sensing danger, Chips immediately took a defensive stance and let out a warning growl at Chloe. Chloe’s eyes reddened in disbelief.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394661”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Ever since I was little, I was an obedient and well-behaved girl. At thirteen, when my mother decided she didn’t want to raise me anymore and coldly told me to get out, I obediently packed my two bags of clothes and left. Right after kicking me out, she told my aunt, “She’s just a burden. How am I supposed to remarry if I have to drag her along?” My aunt tried to persuade her, “She’s your own flesh and blood, no matter what. If you raise her now, she’ll take care of you when you’re old.” My mom couldn’t have cared less. “Chloe has always been obedient. She listens to whatever I say. Even if I don’t raise her now, when I’m old, all I have to do is call her, and she’ll come running back to serve me hand and foot.” I carried my two bags of clothes to my dad’s house. My dad didn’t want to raise me either; he didn’t even want to let me in the door. He told me, “Chloe, it’s not that Dad doesn’t want to raise you, but I’m getting married soon. Your stepmother said we’re going to have our own baby, and I really can’t afford to raise you.” Finally, he added, “This isn’t my fault. You’re my daughter. Whether I raise you or not, when I’m old, you still have to take care of me. It’s the law of nature.” My parents always thought I was obedient, sensible, and completely incapable of rebelling. But they didn’t know me at all. I was never a good girl; I was a rebel who was just very good at pretending! 1 My parents got divorced because I was a girl. My deeply patriarchal grandmother went crazy and forcefully threw my custody to my mother. Saying things like “a little girl should be with her mother.” My mom had no choice but to reluctantly take me in and bring me back to my grandmother’s (her mother’s) house. The following year was bitterly miserable. I had to get up early every day to cook for the whole family, and when I got home from school at night, I had to do all the laundry. If I didn’t finish the laundry, I wasn’t allowed to sleep. My mom didn’t care how hard I worked. She nagged in my ear every day: “Your grandparents are animals, and you don’t even have my last name. Why should I raise you! I’m keeping you by my side now, so you should be eternally grateful to me. If I tell you to die, you have to die!” Every time I listened to her vent her anger with these roars, I would meekly nod: “Mom, I will be eternally grateful to you. If you tell me to die today, I’ll hang myself tomorrow. I will absolutely not be a burden to you.” Seeing how submissive I was, she would always nod in satisfaction, a look of triumph in her eyes. I could endure anything. When my grandmother called me a useless wretch who only knew how to eat, I just kept my head down and stayed silent. My grandfather only liked my aunt’s son. No matter how much my cousin hit me, my grandfather would only praise him: “Good hit! My grandson is so strong. When he grows up, he’ll definitely be a general. Not like your sister, she’s a purebred loser.” And I never argued back. Whether I was beaten or scolded, I never fought back. Not because I was stupid, but because I knew deeply that rebellion was useless and would only bring more torment. I thought if I swallowed my anger like this, my mom would definitely raise me until I was an adult before kicking me out. Facts proved I was wrong. My mom fell in love. Her new boyfriend clearly told her that he would absolutely not raise a piece of baggage like me. Once they got married, they were going to have their own biological child. Faced with a choice between love and me, my mom didn’t hesitate for a second and immediately chose to abandon me. She pointed at my nose and told me to get out: “Do you know how hard it was for me to raise you for thirteen years? Do you know how much I sacrificed for you? Now your mother is finally heading towards a happy harbor, don’t even think about delaying me.” Her words sounded ridiculous to me. It was as if I was the one who forced her to sleep with my dad and get pregnant. “Can’t I stay at Grandma’s house?” I asked her. My mom rolled her eyes at me: “If you don’t eat or wear clothes, I’ll let you stay at Grandma’s house!” How could a person not eat or wear clothes? I understood what my mom meant; she just didn’t want to raise me anymore. I always knew in my heart that she would abandon me sooner or later, I just didn’t expect it to happen so fast. “Pack your things now and leave this place! I don’t care where you go, just never come back.” Her voice was laced with a warning as she said this. Just like before, I didn’t argue, I didn’t cry or make a fuss, I didn’t even ask another question. I just obediently nodded, turned around, and walked into that tiny, broken, dirty side room piled with junk that belonged solely to me. I simply packed my luggage, which consisted entirely of old clothes. I found two plastic garbage bags, stuffed all the clothes inside, and carrying the two heavy bags, I slowly walked out of the room, inching my way out the front door step by step. As soon as I crossed the threshold, my mom couldn’t wait to slam the door shut with a loud “BANG.” I tightly gripped the plastic bags, not going downstairs immediately. 2 My grandmother’s family lived in a dilapidated apartment complex built in the 1990s. The doors were flimsy and covered in flyers. If someone inside spoke a bit loudly, people outside could hear them clearly. Standing at the door, I heard my aunt trying to persuade my mom: “Sis, no matter what, she’s your own flesh and blood. Kicking her out this early, how is she supposed to survive?” “I don’t care how she survives.” My mom couldn’t care less. “As long as she doesn’t spend my money, she can survive however she wants.” My aunt’s voice rose a little: “Don’t be stupid. Raise her until she’s eighteen and then kick her out. When you’re old, she’ll be able to take care of you.” I clearly heard my mom let out a sneer, her tone full of disdain: “You don’t understand. Chloe doesn’t have that kind of vindictive personality. Even if I kick her out now, when I’m old and call for her, she’ll still come and serve me hand and foot.” My aunt sounded a bit surprised: “Really?” “Of course it’s true. Anyway, I’m getting married soon.” My mom said, “My husband said he’ll take care of me, and the child we have together. He doesn’t want a burden like Chloe. If you try to stop me again, you go raise her.” Hearing that, my aunt immediately fell silent. Carrying my two bags of clothes, I quietly went downstairs. Alone, braving the wind, I walked two and a half miles to my dad’s house. My dad lived in an urban village, squeezed into a tiny courtyard house with my grandparents. I knocked hard on the courtyard gate for a long time before I heard my dad cursing as he slowly walked out of the house and opened the gate. But as soon as he opened it and saw clearly that it was me standing outside, holding two bulging plastic bags, the expression on his face instantly collapsed, as if he had just seen a debt collector. “Why are you here?” He blocked the doorway, refusing to let me in, not even willing to let me take a peek into the courtyard. I hadn’t seen my dad since my parents divorced. Seeing him again today, I realized he was even fatter than before. Standing outside the gate, I briefly explained my situation and begged him to raise me for a few years so I could continue my studies. Hearing this, my dad’s face instantly turned black: “Don’t come here and ruin my life! Your dad is getting married soon, the date is set. If I take you in, let alone get married, your grandparents will beat me to death.” As soon as he finished speaking, my grandmother’s voice suddenly exploded from the courtyard. Just like in my memory, she opened her mouth to curse, and whenever she cursed, she would scream at the top of her lungs. “Jinx! You’re a jinx just like your mother! Seeing my son doing well, you ran over to mess things up for him! Give up on that idea! As long as I’m alive, I will absolutely not let you in this house!” My grandfather chimed in with a few words: “Although her last name is Vance, at the end of the day, we never did a paternity test. Who knows, she might be a bastard.” Baskets and baskets of ugly words were thrown out. I stood outside the gate, listening expressionlessly. No sadness, no anger, no argument. Only the force gripping the plastic bags tightened a bit. My dad said earnestly: “Chloe, why don’t you go to an orphanage? Anyway, it’s impossible for me to raise you.” Orphanages absolutely don’t accept children with both parents still living. If I could get into an orphanage, I wouldn’t be here wasting my breath with him. After confirming that he couldn’t possibly raise me, I took a step back, ready to leave. Just as I turned around, he suddenly spoke again: “No matter what, we are biological father and daughter. The civil code clearly states that when you grow up, you must pay me alimony!” I sneered internally. He refuses to pay a single cent of child support, but he’s already scheming for alimony. After dropping that line, my dad closed the gate. I was once again left alone in the world outside. I looked down at the two bags of old clothes, sighed silently, and said flatly: “I have to survive.” 3 It wasn’t my fault that the two of them abandoned me. I didn’t have time to be sad, and I was too lazy to complain about anything. I just wanted to survive. I stood by the road, thought deeply for half an hour, and mapped out a path to survival for my future. Carrying the two bags of old clothes, I continued walking down the road until I reached a police station and walked straight in. The police station was very quiet, with only a few officers busy at their posts. My eyes quickly swept the room and locked onto the officer with the kindest face. Without a moment’s hesitation, I walked quickly up to him and dropped to my knees with a “thud.” “Officer, please, I beg you, save me! My mom and dad both don’t want to raise me anymore. I’m only thirteen, no one will hire me to work. I want to survive,” I said earnestly. My sudden kneeling instantly drew the attention of everyone in the police station. The kind-faced officer was startled. He quickly bent down and carefully pulled me up from the floor. His tone was sincere: “Little girl, get up, let’s talk about this slowly.” After I stood up, five or six officers had already gathered around, their faces showing concern. Seeing everyone gathered, I took the opportunity to explain my recent ordeal and predicament to them, word for word. After listening to my story, the concern on the officers’ faces gradually turned into sympathy. At this moment, an older female officer with a gentle aura walked up to me and gently patted my shoulder. “Little girl, don’t worry, don’t be afraid. According to the law, your parents have an obligation to support you. If they insist on not raising you, it’s the crime of abandonment, and they can be sentenced to prison.” I only found out later that this female officer’s last name was Miller, and the kind-faced officer’s last name was Davis. Officer Davis comforted me: “I’ll call your parents right now and summon them to the station. Whether they remarry or not, they can’t escape their parenting responsibilities!” Just as he pulled out his phone, I spoke up and stopped him: “Sir, I didn’t come here to force them to continue reluctantly raising me. Even if they take me home, I’ll only suffer endless torment.” Neither my mom’s house nor my dad’s house was my house. Forcing them to continue raising me would only result in endless humiliation and torture. Everyone present, besides me, was an adult over twenty. They naturally understood what I was saying, but they were also very helpless. As the saying goes, even an upright official finds it hard to settle family quarrels. Given my current predicament, the only solution was probably to force them to continue raising me. I hadn’t shown much emotion from the very beginning, and right now I was very calm: “I came here because I want you to take up this abandonment case. I want to get a police report receipt for ‘guardians failing to fulfill their support obligations’.” Without any hesitation, I laid out all my plans and my ultimate goal. “After getting the police report receipt for their failure to support me, I also want to get a certificate designating me as a de facto unparented child.” “Then I will go to court to sue my parents, asking the court to revoke their guardianship, and appoint the civil affairs department as my guardian. Finally, send me to an orphanage, where they will raise me until I’m eighteen.” I had memorized this entire process long ago. I had only stolen money once in my life. I secretly took five dollars from my mom’s pocket to go to an illegal internet cafe. I went there not to surf the web, and definitely not to play games. I just wanted to find out exactly how a child like me, with both parents living, could get into an orphanage. Officer Davis looked at me deeply: “You are a very calm and smart child.” I gave a bitter smile, my gaze slowly sweeping across every police officer present, my voice carrying a hint of pleading. “I beg you to help me. I am absolutely unwilling to be raised by either of them again. If I’m taken away by my dad, I’ll most likely be beaten to death by my grandmother. If I’m taken away by my mom, she’ll torture me to death sooner or later.” After these words were spoken, a brief silence fell over the police station, and everyone’s face was solemn. A moment later, Officer Davis spoke up first: “Okay, I’ll help you! I will handle all the necessary documents and the matters related to suing your parents and revoking their guardianship. I won’t let you face it alone.” Hearing these words, my eyes instantly welled up. I instinctively wanted to kneel down again to thank him, but Officer Miller pulled me into a tight hug. She gently patted my back, her voice gentle yet powerful: “It’s okay, little girl. Everything will pass. You are only thirteen, yet so calm and brave. When you grow up, no matter what difficulties you encounter, they won’t be able to knock you down.” Later, I was temporarily placed in a children’s rescue center. The rescue center was responsible for my food, clothing, housing, and transportation, so I didn’t have to worry about going hungry or cold anymore. The next time I saw my mom and dad was at the courthouse entrance. 4 As soon as they saw me, their faces were filled with hostility. They rushed up cursing and pointing at my nose, launching into a barrage of insults. Especially my mom, she looked like she wanted to stab me right then and there. The fact that I was suing them made her feel incredibly humiliated. In her logic, she could abandon me and torture me as she pleased, but I absolutely could not blow this matter up, and certainly couldn’t let outsiders know about her heartlessness. “Chloe Vance! You ungrateful wretch! I didn’t know you were this capable, daring to sue your own parents!” My mom glared at me with wide eyes, angrily rebuking: “If this were ancient times, an unfilial daughter like you would definitely be dragged to a pond and drowned alive!” My dad started threatening me as soon as he opened his mouth: “Don’t think that suing me will get you any benefits! You know my temper. If you push me over the edge, I’ll do anything! Beating you to death would be getting off easy. If I really go all out, I’ll sell you abroad and make you wish you were dead!” Faced with their endless stream of insults and vicious threats, I remained calm throughout, not offering a single word of rebuttal. It wasn’t until they cursed themselves dry and couldn’t think of any new words that I slowly opened my mouth to explain: “Did you guys not understand? I’m suing you to revoke your guardianship, not to force you to keep spending money to raise me.” When I said this, the hostility on their faces instantly froze, and a clear look of confusion flashed in their eyes. Obviously, they didn’t know what “revoking guardianship” meant at all, and thought I ran to the court to sue them to force them to pay up and continue raising this burden of a child. I tilted my head up slightly, looking at them calmly, and explained word by word. “Haven’t you two always wanted to get rid of me completely? As long as you cooperate with me and insist in court that neither of you is willing to raise me, the court will agree to revoke your guardianship.” “When that time comes, I’ll be sent to an orphanage. I’ll live in the orphanage from then on, and I will never bother you again, nor will I spend a single cent of your money.” Hearing this, the expressions on their faces finally began to soften. My dad spat impatiently: “You brat, why didn’t you say so earlier! Made me worry for nothing, thinking I’d have to keep paying child support and delay my remarriage!” The corner of my mouth hooked up slightly, revealing a perfectly obedient, shallow smile. My tone was soft, yet every word poked right at their desires: “Aren’t you two still counting on me to take care of you and bury you when you grow old? If the orphanage doesn’t take me in, and you’re not willing to spend money to raise me, I won’t even live to grow up. When that time comes, who will provide for you?” As soon as my words fell, they shared a very knowing look. From the depths of their eyes, I could clearly see a gleam of secret joy. I knew too well what they were rejoicing about: they wouldn’t have to spend a dime raising me, and later, when I grew up, I would still obediently provide for them. In their eyes, this was simply a highly profitable deal. Why wouldn’t they do it? “Fine! Got it!” My mom still didn’t give me a good look, her brows tightly knitted: “But you have to swear that when I’m old, you must provide for me well!” I agreed without hesitation, my tone sincere and obedient: “Do I even need to swear? Mom, don’t you know me? When you’re old, as long as you call me, I will definitely run to your side immediately, serve you meals and dress you, and I will absolutely not let you suffer a bit.” Seeing this, my dad quickly stepped forward, afraid of being left out: “And me! Chloe, you can’t forget your dad. When I’m old, you have to serve me the same way!” “I won’t forget either of you,” I said clearly, though my eyes remained completely flat. With my guarantee, and fully understanding that going to court this time would only benefit them without any drawbacks, they finally agreed to cooperate with me. My dad and mom certainly didn’t “disappoint” me. When it came to things that benefited them, they didn’t need any urging from me; they would try their absolute best on their own. In court, no matter what the judge asked, my dad steadfastly refused to take me, even saying he’d rather go to jail than raise me. My mom did the same. Ultimately, the court ruled according to the law, revoking the guardianship of both my parents, and authorizing the civil affairs department to exercise guardianship on their behalf. I also successfully secured my eligibility to enter the orphanage, finally and completely breaking free from them. 5 From the moment I stepped through the gates of the orphanage, my dad and mom completely disappeared from my world, without a word of goodbye, nor a hint of reluctance. I wasn’t sad at all; instead, my heart achieved an unprecedented sense of peace. Growing up in an orphanage meant, at the very least, I could live safely and normally, without being simultaneously humiliated and exploited. Days passed plainly. While in high school, I was fortunate enough to be sponsored by a kind-hearted person who not only paid all my tuition but also provided my living expenses. Later, when I got into college, she never interrupted her support. I always kept this kindness in my heart and never forgot it. After graduating from college, I worked two jobs a day, lived frugally, and after a year, finally saved up over ten thousand dollars. I transferred all this money to the kind person who sponsored me, wanting to repay her kindness over the years. But she didn’t accept the payment; instead, she blocked me completely. Before blocking me, she left me with just one sentence: “If you’re truly grateful to me, then live well. When you’re capable in the future, go sponsor other children who are as struggling as you once were, and just pass this kindness on.” It was this very sentence that gave me endless strength, making every single day of my future full of drive. My college major was radio and television directing. In my second year after graduation, relying on my own hard work, I got into a film crew. Starting from the most basic director’s assistant, I took it step by step, slowly clawing my way up. Just like that, after struggling in film crews for five years, I finally got an opportunity to direct a short drama independently. Relying on my years of accumulated experience and precise control of the story’s pacing, I successfully led this short drama to top the traffic charts on a major streaming app, achieving fame in one fell swoop. Since then, offers poured in. In just three years, I achieved financial freedom. Not only did I buy my own apartment in a mid-to-high-end complex downtown, but I also accumulated a considerable amount of savings. I thought life would just continue smoothly like this forever. I never expected that on the day I was about to turn thirty, I would see my mom again. That day, returning home from work, as soon as I reached the main gate of the complex, I saw a familiar yet unfamiliar figure. My mom was standing at the gate of the complex. Whenever someone passed by, she would scream at the top of her lungs: “My daughter Chloe Vance lives in this complex! If you see her, tell her that her biological mother is looking for her!” It had been over ten years since we last saw each other. She had aged significantly, with strands of white hair, but her personality hadn’t changed at all; she still had that unreasonable, domineering and arrogant look. I slowed my pace and slowly approached her. When she looked up, she immediately recognized me, her tone instantly becoming urgent, mixed with a somewhat rightful command: “Chloe! You’re finally back! Quick! Hurry up and help me curse out these two security guards! I already told them I’m your mother, the biological mother of an owner in this complex, but they adamantly refuse to let me in. It’s simply too outrageous!” The access control in our complex has always been strict. Anyone who is not a resident of the complex, without an owner personally vouching for them, the security guards will absolutely not let them pass. Those two security guards were also very responsible. No matter how my mom yelled, they didn’t let her into the complex. The security guards’ responsible attitude completely enraged my mom. In her eyes, being stopped outside the complex by security was an insult to her. Listening to her accusations, I just gave a soft sneer, ignoring her anger. I turned my head and waved my hand at the two security guards, signaling them to step away first. The two guards understood, nodded slightly, turned around, and went back into the security booth. Seeing that I not only didn’t help her curse the security guards, but actually made them leave, and then thinking about how I had never proactively contacted or looked for her after achieving success and fame, a burst of anger instantly ignited in her. Her voice instantly rose a few octaves: “Chloe Vance! I am your mother! Do you have any conscience left? Do you know how hard I worked to raise you this big? Now that you have money and are successful, you don’t recognize people anymore? Are you just going to watch your biological mother be humiliated by these two security guards at your own doorstep? Are you even human?” She was still the same as before, excelling at using morality and family ties to emotionally blackmail me, thinking I was still that cowardly, timid little girl from back then who could only obediently listen to her and let her manipulate me. Thinking that as long as she cried, made a fuss, and accused me, I would compromise and submit. I looked at her quietly, without any expression on my face, and just lightly replied to her with three words: “Who are you?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394662”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When Arthur’s car blocked the neighbor’s driveway, I grabbed the spare key to move it. He had just left for a three-day conference in the capital. Sitting in the driver’s seat, the navigation screen was still illuminated, displaying his recent history. One specific address was repeatedly searched and even saved as a favorite. “Mia’s Cozy Nest: Moonbay View, Building 7, Unit 1, Apt 901.” I swiped the screen, my fingertips turning icy. For the past six months, there were consistent records of him driving there, always with return trips past midnight. And yet, he had told me he’d been busy with late-night work dinners lately. I took pictures of all the records and dialed my father-in-law’s number. “Dad, Arthur has been going to the Moonbay View area a lot recently. Do we have any relatives living there?” The line was silent for a few seconds before my father-in-law’s tense voice came through: “Don’t panic. I’ll be right there.” … Less than half an hour later, the doorbell rang frantically. My father-in-law stood outside. Usually impeccably dressed in his suit, today, his collar buttons were fastened incorrectly. “Where is he?” His sharp eyes scanned me. I handed him my phone, the screen facing him directly. “Moonbay View, Building 7, Unit 1, Apt 901. Dad, do you know where this is?” “Arthur said he had work dinners every Wednesday and Friday.” My father-in-law’s eyes fell on the screen, and his face instantly turned a sickly green. He didn’t reply, but his hand trembled imperceptibly. “Maybe… it’s a colleague’s house. There are a lot of young people at his company…” “Dad,” I retrieved the phone and looked straight into his eyes. “Do you honestly think any male colleague would name their home ‘Mia’s Cozy Nest’?” It was as if all the strength had been drained from him. He slumped onto the shoe bench, raising a hand to cover his eyes. “That bastard!” His voice was hoarse. “His mother mentioned something last month, saying he was getting too close to a female colleague…” He looked up, his eyes bloodshot. “Chloe! It’s my fault for not raising him right! I’ll handle this for you!” “Dad, this isn’t something you can fix now.” I pulled out a tissue and handed it to him. “I want an explanation.” “What are you planning to do?” He suddenly grabbed my wrist, his grip surprisingly strong. “If this gets out, his career is completely ruined!” “Why didn’t he think about his career when he was doing it?” My voice was ice-cold. “Don’t worry, I won’t go to his office and make a scene.” I walked over to the balcony. The city lights were just starting to flicker on. “Didn’t he go to a conference? Perfect. I have some time to pay a visit to this ‘Mia’.” “No!” My father-in-law immediately stood up, blocking my path. “It’s too dangerous for you to go alone! That kind of woman is capable of anything!” “Is she going to eat me alive?” I looked at him. “Dad, I’m not going there to pick a fight. I just want to see it with my own eyes, so I can completely give up hope.” He stared at me, his expression complex. Finally, he let out a long sigh and released my wrist. “Fine, if you’re going, I’ll go with you! I want to see exactly what kind of trash she is!” “You can’t go.” I stopped him. “If you go, is it to clean house on the spot, or to plead for leniency on his behalf?” “Either way, it’ll only escalate things and make him feel we haven’t left him any dignity.” “Then what do we do? Just watch helplessly?” “What does Arthur care about the most? His reputation, and his position as Deputy Director.” I took out my phone and scrolled through my contacts. “What do you think would happen if I sent an anonymous package with these navigation records and that address to the ethics committee?” “Don’t you dare!” My father-in-law snatched my phone away. “Do you want to ruin his entire life?” “He’s the one who ruined my life first!” I stared intently into his eyes. “Dad, tell me, if his rival, Gary, got his hands on this information,” “Could Arthur still keep his Deputy Director seat?” My father-in-law’s face instantly went deathly pale. His grip loosened, and the phone dropped onto the sofa. I picked it up and put it back in my pocket. Chapter 2 “I won’t actually send it, but Arthur needs to realize that his most prized possession is currently in jeopardy.” I grabbed my purse and headed for the door. “Where are you going?” “Moonbay View.” I opened the door. “Don’t worry, I won’t go inside.” “I just want to know the name of the owner of Building 7, Unit 1, Apt 901.” “And then?” “And then, I also found something else in his car.” I paused. “A receipt for prenatal multivitamins, bought at a pharmacy last month.” “What?” My father-in-law shot up, barely able to stand. “Chloe, you… explain clearly.” I pulled up the photo of the crumpled receipt and showed it to him. “Last month, he told me he was accompanying his boss on an out-of-town inspection trip.” “Dad, tell me, who was he really accompanying to a prenatal checkup?” Looking at the photo, my father-in-law stood frozen, unable to utter a single word. I stepped out, leaving his heavy breathing behind the closed door. The metallic elevator doors reflected my expressionless face, but my eyes were terrifyingly cold. My phone chimed. It was a message from Arthur: “Honey, arrived at the hotel. This conference is very important; I’ll call you tomorrow. Love you.” I slowly replied: “Okay. I have some good news to tell you too.” Charging into Moonbay View unprepared would only alert the snake in the grass. I dialed my sister, Sarah’s, number. “Sarah, Arthur might be seeing someone.” The line went dead silent: “Do you have proof? That bastard!” I told her about the navigation records and the receipt. “Send me the address. I’ll get someone to run a background check on the owner, pull property management records, check everything possible.” “Okay.” “What’s your plan? A direct confrontation?” “No,” I said, “We will confront him, but not yet.” “I need to know who this woman is and if he’s been hiding assets.” “When I kick him out, I’m going to make sure he leaves with absolutely nothing.” My sister chuckled on the other end: “That’s my girl, Chloe! Leave this to me.” “I’ll get you the owner’s info, access logs, and financial statements, clear as day.” “Hold your ground. Don’t let him suspect a thing.” “He’ll be back in three days.” “More than enough time. Wait for my update.” Hanging up, I walked back into the living room. My father-in-law was still sitting there, looking like he had aged ten years. “Chloe…” “Dad,” I cut him off. “Stay out of this, and don’t tip Arthur off. I’ll handle it myself.” He opened his mouth to speak, but then waved his hand dismissively, his face etched with exhaustion. For the rest of the day, I acted as if nothing had happened, even cooking dinner as usual. My father-in-law barely ate, his eyes constantly darting toward me. In the afternoon, my sister’s message arrived. “Got it. The owner is Mia Sullivan, 26, single.” “She’s a Deputy Director at a partner company working with Arthur’s department.” “Parking lot footage: every Wednesday and Friday night.” “Mia’s red Macan is parked right next to Arthur’s car. The times match perfectly.” Several blurry but discernible screenshots from the surveillance cameras followed. It was Arthur! And a photo of Mia, clinging to his arm, smiling radiantly. I replied: “Keep digging, especially regarding the money.” I decided to go see Moonbay View for myself. I told my father-in-law I was going for a walk. He nodded, his expression complicated. Arriving at the complex entrance, I parked my car on the street. Not long after, a flashy red Macan pulled up. The window rolled down, revealing Mia. She had exquisite makeup on and seemed to be talking to someone on the phone, a smirk playing on her lips. Sitting in my car, watching her disappear into the underground parking entrance, my blood ran cold. I texted my sister: “I saw her. Track their joint expenses, especially any money he’s transferred out behind my back.” My sister replied quickly: “Don’t worry! I’ll dig everything up! Are you… holding up okay?” I typed two words: “I’m fine.” When your heart dies, your mind actually becomes clearer. Now, it’s their turn to suffer. Chapter 3 I drove home expressionlessly. My father-in-law immediately came to meet me. “Chloe, did you… see her?” “Yeah, I saw her car.” I changed my shoes, my voice flat. “I’m tired. I’m not going to eat.” I walked into the bedroom, locked the door, and let myself collapse onto the bed. Tears flowed freely onto the pillow. For these five years of marriage; For the innocent ones kept in the dark; For the promise of a lifetime together that I once believed would come true. When I had cried myself dry, I got up and splashed my face with cold water. The woman in the mirror had bloodshot eyes. I told myself: Chloe, this is it. Tears are useless. He would be back in two days. I turned on my laptop and started organizing everything. Navigation screenshots, owner information, surveillance photos, pictures of Mia… Everything encrypted and backed up. My sister’s messages kept pouring in. “Found out they frequently visit a high-end sushi restaurant. Every Wednesday or Friday, there’s a record of Arthur’s spending.” “Mia posted a watch on her social media. It’s the same model as the one you gave Arthur last year, just a different color.” “The purchase date matches.” “No hotel records. Looks like their long-term love nest is that apartment at Moonbay View.” “Working on breaching his bank statements now. He’s very cautious.” Looking at all this, my heart was numb. This wasn’t a momentary lapse in judgment; this was a meticulously maintained second life, a second home. The next day, under the guise of organizing his documents, I entered his study. Hidden in a compartment of his old briefcase, I found a USB drive I didn’t recognize. Plugging it into the computer, there was only one encrypted folder. I called my sister, and she immediately got someone to hack it remotely. Half an hour later, the folder opened. Inside were transaction records for a stock account. My sister’s call came in immediately, her voice suppressing anger: “Arthur used a joint investment account we set up after marriage and cashed out over $900,000 over the past six months!” “The funds went through several third-party accounts before finally landing in Mia’s!” “He used that money for the down payment on the Moonbay View apartment! The apartment is solely in Mia’s name!” Gripping the mouse, I was shaking with rage. Nine hundred thousand dollars! That was the money we had planned to use to upgrade to a bigger house! I was completely and utterly disillusioned with him. That evening, I went to the supermarket and bought the freshest ingredients. My father-in-law watched me carry in bags of groceries: “Chloe…?” “Arthur comes back tomorrow. I’m making a welcome-home dinner,” I said calmly. His lips moved, his cloudy eyes looking at me with a mix of guilt and helplessness. All the pieces were in place. The evidence, the lawyer, and my dead heart. Welcome home, Arthur. The next afternoon, Arthur returned. I got busy in the kitchen. The aroma of sweet and sour spare ribs filled the house. The dining table was set with several of his favorite dishes. My father-in-law sat in the living room, silently reading the newspaper. His eyes kept darting toward the kitchen, unable to sit still. The sound of a key turning came from the entryway. “Honey, Dad, I’m home!” Arthur dragged his suitcase in, sporting a travel-weary but eager smile. He changed his shoes and walked straight to the kitchen, opening his arms to hug me from behind. I happened to pick up a plate of food and turned around, perfectly dodging him. I wore a flawless smile: “You’re back? Go wash your hands, dinner’s ready.” He seemed to pause for a second, but my movement was so natural he didn’t think much of it. “Alrighty! My wife is the best!” He smiled and walked toward the dining table, reaching out to grab a spare rib. “Wash your hands first.” My tone was gentle, betraying nothing unusual. “Yes, yes, ma’am!” He went to the bathroom in an excellent mood. My father-in-law stood up and silently helped serve the rice, not looking at his son once. At the dinner table, the atmosphere was bizarrely harmonious. Arthur was starving. He ate heartily while talking non-stop about the “amusing anecdotes” from the conference, full of vivid details and solid logic. I listened quietly, smiling, nodding, and serving him food, playing the role of the perfect wife. My father-in-law barely touched his chopsticks, just keeping his head down and sipping soup. When dinner was over, Arthur leaned back in his chair with satisfaction. “I’m so full! Home-cooked meals are the best!” He looked at me, his eyes full of warmth. “Thanks for your hard work, honey.” I put down my chopsticks, picked up a napkin, and slowly wiped my mouth. The smile on my face faded away bit by bit. I looked straight at him. “Full?” I asked, my voice very soft. “Hmm? Yeah, I’m full.” He noticed the change in atmosphere, and his expression slowly grew serious. “If you’re full, let’s talk.” “Talk about what?” “Let’s talk about Moonbay View.” I looked at him. “Building 7, Unit 1, Apt 901.” The smile on Arthur’s face froze, like a wax statue instantly solidifying. The warmth in his eyes rapidly faded, replaced by a flash of panic, which he quickly forced down. “What are you talking about?” He tried to cover it up with a lighthearted tone, reaching out to put his arm around my shoulder. “What bay? I just came back from a conference, and my wife has already learned how to speak gibberish?” I shifted slightly, dodging his touch. “Arthur, drop the act.” My voice wasn’t loud, but it echoed clearly in the dead-silent dining room. “I saw the navigation history. ‘Mia’s Cozy Nest,’ the first address in your favorites. Very thoughtful.” All the color drained from his face instantly. Beside him, my father-in-law slammed his teacup onto the table. Scalding tea splashed out, but he remained completely oblivious. “You bastard! Explain yourself!” My father-in-law’s cane struck the floor hard, making a dull thud. Arthur’s gaze darted back and forth between my icy face and his father’s furious one, beads of fine sweat breaking out on his forehead. He knew denial was useless now. “Dad, Chloe, listen to me…” He stood up urgently. “It’s not what you think! Mia… Mia is just a colleague from a partner company. It’s not easy for her, striving alone in the big city. She got sick, and I… I just dropped by to check on her, to help out a little!” He sounded guilty even to himself, his voice growing quieter. “Dropped by?” I sneered, taking my phone from my pocket. I opened the photo album and placed a surveillance screenshot in front of him. In the photo, he was intimately holding a young woman’s arm as they walked into the lobby of Moonbay View. “Every Wednesday and Friday, you just ‘dropped by’? And every time, you ‘dropped by’ until midnight before coming home? Arthur, do you think I’m an idiot?” Arthur stared at the photo, his pupils shrinking violently, completely speechless. He probably never imagined that in just three short days, I would have gathered so much evidence. “You… you investigated me?” Ashamed and angry, his voice involuntarily rose, trying to regain control by questioning me. “You know exactly what you’ve done,” I didn’t back down, meeting his gaze. “I…” He was momentarily lost for words, looking to his father for help. My father-in-law was trembling with anger, pointing a trembling finger at him, unable to speak. “Arthur, how could you do this to Chloe? How has our family ever wronged you?” Arthur took a deep breath, seemingly deciding to throw caution to the wind. He pulled out a chair and sat down, his tone carrying a hint of impatience: “Fine, I admit it, I am with her. But Chloe, we’ve been married for five years, do you even know what passion is? Life is like a stagnant pool; I needed some excitement, is that a crime? I never thought about divorce; I still want this family!” “Family?” I felt like I had heard the biggest joke in the world. “You built a ‘cozy nest’ outside, and you’re talking to me about family?” “It was just… a moment of weakness!” He argued. “A mistake any man could make, do you really have to blow this out of proportion?” “A mistake any man could make?” I slowly stood up, walked over to him, and looked down at him. My shadow completely enveloped him. “So, accompanying her to a prenatal checkup and buying her pregnancy multivitamins, are those also mistakes any man could make?” I enunciated every word, my voice clear and ruthless. Arthur jerked his head up, his eyes filled with disbelief and terror. He looked as if he had been struck by lightning, frozen stiff. My father-in-law’s hand, leaning on the table, gave way, and he fell backward. Luckily, he was caught by the back of the chair, preventing him from falling to the floor. He gasped for air, pointing at Arthur, his face full of despair. “You… you animal!” Chapter 5 The air seemed to freeze. Arthur’s face turned from pale to a sickly, ashen gray. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. That face, which I was once so intimately familiar with, was now written with panic and disgrace. He knew the last shred of his cover had been ripped away. “Chloe… I…” His Adam’s apple bobbed, his voice as raspy as sandpaper. “I was wrong… give me one more chance. I’ll break it off with her, I’ll break it off with her right now!” He shot up, trying to grab my hand, forcing a look of remorse onto his face. I took a step back, avoiding him. “A chance?” I looked at him, my eyes devoid of any emotion. “From the moment you took the money we had saved for a new house and transferred it out, transaction by transaction, to buy her that ‘cozy nest,’ your chances were used up.” Those words hit like a sledgehammer, slamming hard into the hearts of both Arthur and my father-in-law. “What money?” My father-in-law, leaning on the table to stay upright, asked with a trembling voice. “Dad, you probably don’t know yet,” I turned to my father-in-law, stating the facts calmly. “Behind my back, he cashed out $900,000 from our joint account in batches and transferred it to Mia to pay the down payment on that apartment at Moonbay View. The property deed only has Mia’s name on it.” “Nine hundred thousand!” My father-in-law’s vision went dark, his cane clattering to the floor. He lunged forward, raised his hand, and using every ounce of his strength, slapped Arthur fiercely across the face. The sharp smack was exceptionally harsh in the quiet living room. “You spendthrift! You animal!” My father-in-law’s lips turned purple with rage. He pointed at him and cursed, “That was money the two of you worked so hard to save! How dare you!” Arthur’s head snapped to the side from the blow, half of his face rapidly swelling and turning red. He seemed stunned by the slap, or perhaps the shame and anger completely washed away his reason. He turned his head back, glaring at me with bloodshot eyes. There was no longer a trace of remorse in his gaze, only venom. “Chloe! You’ve been ruthless! Just for a divorce, you investigated everything so thoroughly! Are you really in that much of a hurry to dump me?” “You forced my hand,” I replied coldly. “Divorce? Fine!” He gritted his teeth, forcing the words out. “But let me tell you, you won’t see a single cent of that $900,000! The house is in her name, the money has been spent! You have no proof! Even if we go to court, you won’t win! I’ll make sure you leave with nothing!” He had completely torn off his disguise, revealing his ugliest side. Looking at him like this, the last remaining sliver of attachment in my heart turned to ash. I laughed, a somewhat desolate laugh. “Arthur, do you really think you did it so cleanly that you can deny everything?” I took a stack of documents from my bag, gently placed them on the dining table, and pushed them toward him. The top document was the stock account transaction record exported from that encrypted USB drive, showing every cash-out clearly. Below it was the flow of funds chart my sister’s contact had put together. Even though it had passed through several third-party accounts, the final arrow pointed clearly to Mia’s bank account. “Is this enough?” I asked. Arthur’s eyes were glued to the stack of papers, his body trembling uncontrollably. His proud “flawless plan” had become a joke in front of me. “If it’s not enough,” I paused, my voice growing colder, “I’ve also prepared a ‘special gift’.” I took out my phone and played an audio recording. It was a complete recording of our entire conversation at the dining table just now, including his own admission of his relationship with Mia, his confession that it was just a moment of weakness, and his admission that he didn’t want a divorce. “Tell me, if I give this recording, along with this evidence of the money trail, to your rival Gary, or send an anonymous package to the ethics committee reporting you for ‘lifestyle issues’ and ‘unexplained wealth,’ do you think you can still keep your Deputy Director seat?” Arthur’s face instantly turned as pale as a sheet of paper. Like a trapped beast, he stared at me, his eyes filled with fear and resentment.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394663”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

While I was out shopping, my phone suddenly started buzzing non-stop. 【You’ll go to a hotel with someone just for a little money, do you have no shame?】 【I’m warning you, we’re getting married very soon. Stay away from my husband.】 【If this happens again, I’ll expose you all over the internet.】 I quickly typed an explanation: 【Hello, I think you have the wrong person?】 As soon as the message was sent, a glaring red exclamation mark popped up. The other party had blocked me. I stared at the screen for three seconds, my head full of question marks. Excuse me, lady? You’re getting married, why are you blocking me? I’m the bridal makeup artist your husband paid in full!! 1 I turned into the mall’s rest area, sat down, and started venting to my best friend, Mia. 【Mia, you will not believe what just happened to me!】 【My client checked her husband’s phone, cursed me out thinking I was his mistress, and then just blocked me!】 Mia quickly sent a string of voice messages: “No way? You do bridal makeup every day, and you still managed to get mistaken for a mistress by the bride?” “This girl must be having a severe case of pre-wedding anxiety, just biting anyone she sees, huh?” I felt like crying as I replied to her: 【How was I supposed to know!】 【I haven’t even met her or her husband!】 【Her husband added me on WeChat out of nowhere, paid in full upfront, and asked me to do the bride’s makeup.】 “So what are you going to do now? You already took the money; you can’t just not show up on the wedding day, right?” “If she can’t find a makeup artist then and accuses you of taking the money and running, what happens to the reputation you’ve worked so hard to build as a freelancer?” 2 Those words hit me where it hurts. I’ve been a freelance makeup artist for almost five years, relying entirely on word-of-mouth and referrals from old clients. If I mess up this job, the loss would be huge. I sighed and reopened the chat where I was blocked. Although I was blocked on WeChat, there were other ways. I clicked on his profile picture and opened his personal info. Sure enough, his WeChat ID was his phone number. I quickly dialed the number, and it was picked up almost immediately. “Hello, is this Mr. Smith?” “Hello?” A female voice answered, her tone cautious. My heart sank. It sounded like the bride herself. But on second thought, that’s fine. Since she answered the phone, this was the perfect opportunity to clear things up. “Hello, you must be Mr. Smith’s fiancée, Ms. Johnson, right?” “I didn’t get a chance to explain on WeChat earlier, but I’m the makeup artist your husband hired—” Before I could finish, it was like a powder keg exploded on the other end. “You still have the nerve to call?! “Did you not hear a single word of my warning?!” I held the phone slightly away from my ear, which was ringing. “You’ve misunderstood. I called to say that your husband hasn’t told me the wedding venue yet, I—” “Have you no shame? Are you that desperate for a man?” Her voice was shrill and fast, not giving me a chance to get a word in. “You know we’re getting married soon, and you’re still throwing yourself at my husband! “I’m warning you, don’t think I don’t know what you’re scheming! “Are you planning to sneak in on the wedding day and steal the groom? “Let me tell you, no way in hell!” I took a deep breath, trying to interject while she caught her breath: “Please listen to my explanation, I am the makeup artist your husband hired—” “Explain what?!” She cut me off directly, her voice rising another octave. “I’ve seen plenty of shameless mistresses like you! You’re disgusting!” “No, I’m really not—” “Get lost!” “Beep—beep—beep—” The call disconnected. I sat frozen in the chair, holding the phone, unable to process what just happened for a long time. In all my life, this was the first time I had been ruthlessly cursed out twice in a row. It took me a while to recover. I gritted my teeth and pressed dial again. No matter what, this needed to be cleared up, otherwise, it would be a disaster on the wedding day. But this time, it only rang once before an automated voice said: “The number you have dialed is currently busy, please try again later.” I refused to give up and called again a minute later. Still busy. Again. “The number you have dialed cannot be reached at this time.” Great. Blocked on WeChat, blocked on the phone. I looked at my phone, unable to laugh, unable to get angry. So, I received full payment, and now I don’t even have the right to speak to my employer. 3 This situation gave me a massive headache. I slumped in the rest chair, staring blankly at my phone screen. Maybe I should just let it go. This thought popped up uncontrollably. If worse comes to worst, I’ll just refund the money and drop the job. I can’t risk the reputation I’ve built over years for a measly $400. I opened the chat history with Mr. Smith and scrolled up, trying to see if there was any other contact information. As I scrolled, I remembered. He was the one who added me. After I accepted his friend request, he immediately called me on voice chat. He said he saw the bride’s makeup at a wedding a few days ago, thought it looked great, and wanted to hire me for full-day bridal makeup. Even when I explicitly stated that my rates were significantly higher than average and quoted him $400. He didn’t hesitate at all. He immediately said no problem, price wasn’t an issue. He added that the wedding date was set for the end of this month, but the hotel was still being finalized. Once it was settled, he would send me the address and specific itinerary right away. Then, I could just go directly to the bridal suite at the hotel to do the makeup. Having been in this industry for five years, I’ve met quite a few grooms who thoughtfully handled wedding arrangements, so I didn’t think anything was weird. I just repeatedly reminded him on the phone that he absolutely had to send me the hotel address and the bride’s preferences at least three days in advance so I could prepare the appropriate makeup products and hair accessories. He readily agreed, promising he wouldn’t delay anything. As soon as we hung up, the $400 was transferred over. I accepted the money and replied: 【Received, I will definitely be at the hotel on time.】 And then there was nothing. He didn’t contact me again, and I didn’t ask. After all, he said the hotel wasn’t booked yet, so rushing him was useless. Until today, when his fiancée, Ms. Johnson, inexplicably cursed me out and blocked me. I glanced at the date in the top right corner of my phone. Today is the 23rd. I remember he said on the phone that the wedding is on the 28th. Doesn’t that mean… it’s in five days?! My head was buzzing. I was so shocked by being cursed out earlier that my mind was full of exasperation. Only now did I realize the wedding date was right around the corner! I shot up from the chair. $400 is a small matter. But in five days, if there’s no makeup artist, then what happens to this bride’s wedding…?! Given her current state, it’s absolutely impossible she prepared a backup makeup artist. And since it’s peak wedding season, there’s no way she can find a reliable makeup artist in three days. A once-in-a-lifetime wedding, if she has to do her own makeup and hair… that wedding is completely ruined! 4 Although I felt stifled, emotions are emotions, and work is work. Even if I don’t take this job, I have to find Mr. Smith, refund the money, and clear things up. I took a deep breath, sat down, and calmly sorted things out. First, to find him, I needed to figure out how he found me. He said he saw my makeup on a bride at a wedding a few days ago and asked the host for my contact info. That was twenty days ago. That means the wedding he attended should have been roughly a week before that. To be safe, I decided to look back over the past month. Fortunately, last month wasn’t peak wedding season, so I didn’t have that many couples. I opened my client files, found those dozen or so clients, and messaged them individually on WeChat. 【Sorry to bother you! Just wanted to ask if any friends asked about makeup services at your wedding last month?】 【A client named Smith said he found out about me through your wedding, so I just wanted to verify~】 I waited the entire afternoon. Everyone’s reply was either “No” or “Don’t know him.” I felt a bit discouraged. I scrolled through my WeChat Moments, trying to dig up some clues from my memory. But honestly, in our line of work, we see so many faces on the wedding day. Aside from the couple… I couldn’t match any names to faces. Just as I was thinking, a WeChat message popped up. It was Leo. His fiancée had done a makeup trial with me before, and their wedding was set for next month. I clicked to open it. 【Hey Chloe, my wedding is canceled. You don’t need to refund the deposit. Sorry for the trouble.】 5 I stared at the message, stunned for two seconds. The wedding was canceled? What a shame. I remember when his fiancée came for her makeup trial, he came with her. He was bustling around, getting her water, his eyes completely focused on her. Only after chatting did I find out that he had been chasing this girl since high school. But she always had someone else in her heart. It wasn’t until that person was about to get married that she finally turned around and saw this fool who had waited ten years for her. I was quite moved when I heard that and told him he had to treat her well. His eyes crinkled into a smile, and he said, “Of course, Chloe. I waited ten years, finally got her, I will definitely treat her well.” And now he’s telling me it’s canceled? I sighed. Just as I was about to reply with a comforting cliché, something flashed in my mind. Wait. The time of his fiancée’s makeup trial… seemed to be right before Mr. Smith contacted me? I quickly scrolled up through our chat history. Leo’s fiancée came for her makeup trial on the 1st of this month. And Mr. Smith added me on WeChat on the 2nd. —Right on each other’s heels. Leo and Mr. Smith look to be about the same age. Maybe Leo really did recommend me! I typed a line and sent it: 【Leo, is it okay to ask if you know a groom with the last name Smith?】 【His WeChat profile picture looks like this.】 【[Image]】 Message sent, I stared at the screen, full of anticipation. About two minutes later, Leo replied. 【Yeah, I know him. What’s up?】 I sat straight up. 【Is he getting married on the 28th of this month?】 Leo’s side showed “typing…” For a long time, he finally sent one message: 【Chloe, how did you know?】 【Did my fiancée tell you?】 【What else did she say to you?】 I stared at these three messages, my fingers hovering over the screen, not knowing what to reply for a moment. Why did this suddenly involve his fiancée? I instinctively typed a line: 【Didn’t you recommend Mr. Smith to come to me for a makeup trial?】 6 I was just about to hit send when my finger suddenly stopped. Wait. Wait, wait, wait. This didn’t seem that simple. I tried hard to recall and think. I suddenly remembered that Leo’s fiancée looked very sad the day of her makeup trial. I casually asked her then, “What’s wrong? Pre-wedding jitters?” She shook her head and said it was nothing. Later, halfway through the makeup session, she suddenly spoke up: “Chloe, tell me, if someone liked you for ten years, would you marry him out of being moved?” I was drawing her eyeliner at the time, and my hand jerked, almost drawing it crooked. I said, “You shouldn’t be asking me that; you should ask yourself.” She didn’t say anything else. After the makeup was done, she looked in the mirror for a long time. Her eyes were a little red, but finally she smiled and said, “It looks great, thank you, Chloe.” I thought she was touched at the time. Thinking about it now… That look in her eyes didn’t seem like she was touched. It was regret. It was a farewell. It was “I know I should let go, but I’m still a little sad.” And the very next day after her makeup trial, that Mr. Smith added me on WeChat. He said then that he saw a bride’s makeup at a wedding, thought it looked great, and asked the host for my contact info. But I just checked. That wedding simply never existed! I gripped my phone, my head buzzing. And that person who made Leo’s fiancée wait for years, who was finally getting married soon… couldn’t be… Mr. Smith, could it? No way. No way, no way, no way? So, the reason Mr. Smith came to me was because… that afternoon, Leo’s fiancée met with him? 7 【Chloe?】 The phone buzzed again. Leo’s message popped up, carrying a hint of cautious urging. I took a deep breath, suppressed those messy speculations, and typed on the screen: 【I was busy just now, only have time to reply now.】 【It’s nothing, I just lost contact with this guy. You two are about the same age, and our town isn’t that big, so I thought I’d ask you to test my luck. I didn’t expect you two actually knew each other.】 After thinking about it, I still couldn’t suppress my curiosity. Like being possessed, I tested the waters: 【Leo, you and this Mr. Smith were high school classmates, right?】 After sending it, I stared at the “typing…” indicator, my heart beating inexplicably fast. A few seconds later, Leo replied. 【I didn’t know him originally. I met him because he’s my fiancée’s childhood friend; we had dinner together a few times.】 Childhood friend. And the wedding dates for both couples were so close. All those messy speculations in my head seemed to slowly be confirmed. I couldn’t help but sigh: No way, I actually ran into such a melodramatic plot? No, no. Now is not the time to eat melon (gossip), it’s time to figure out how to contact Mr. Smith! I shook my head, throwing those gossipy thoughts away. 【Leo, I have a situation here, I’m not afraid to tell you even if you laugh at me.】 【This Mr. Smith booked me for bridal makeup earlier, but his fiancée mistook me for a mistress trying to intervene and blocked all my contact info.】 【The wedding is in a few days, and I have absolutely no way to contact him now.】 Leo replied very quickly: 【His fiancée comes from a wealthy family and has a rather fiery personality. Please bear with it, Chloe.】 Bear with it. I smiled bitterly, thinking to myself, I was cursed at until my ears rang, and I’m supposed to ‘bear with it’. But I couldn’t say that to Leo, so I kept typing: 【Leo, do me a favor.】 【Act as a middleman for me. Ask him for a bank account number so I can refund this money to him.】 【Given this awkward situation, I don’t want to do this job anymore.】 The other side showed “typing…”. Still typing. Typing for a long time. I stared at that status bar flashing, feeling a bit nervous. This request was indeed too presumptuous. His own wedding was canceled, he must be in a bad mood, and here I am asking him to pass along a message… Just as I was about to say “forget it, it’s fine,” Leo’s message popped up. 【I’ll help you, Chloe.】 I opened the transfer interface and refunded the $100 deposit Leo had paid previously via the original payment method. Then I sent a message: 【Leo, I’ve refunded your deposit. Thank you so much for doing me this huge favor. I’ll treat you to dinner sometime.】 This time he replied quickly: 【Chloe, it’s no trouble at all, don’t mention it.】 【Wait for my news.】

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394664”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

From the moment the ink dried on our marriage license, my husband drew a line down the center of our lives—an invisible, impenetrable border. He claimed it was his mysophobia, a clinical obsession with cleanliness. His son, Henry, inherited the trait, flinching as if burned whenever I so much as brushed against his sleeve. For twenty-seven years, father and son occupied the pristine bedrooms, while I slept on a cot in the drafty sunroom. We existed in parallel, never intersecting. It wasn’t until I was burning up with a fever of 104, lying delirious on that narrow cot, that the reality of my life truly settled in. Through the thin drywall, I could hear them. I heard the rustle of sheets, the heavy sighs, the sharp sounds of their disgust. They could hear my ragged breathing, my moans of pain. They simply chose not to care. I struggled to sit up, desperate for water. My trembling hand knocked the glass from the nightstand, sending it shattering against the hardwood. A second later, Silas’s voice boomed from the hallway, not with concern, but with raw irritation. … 1 “Nora, are you done yet? It’s the middle of the night! Can’t a man get some peace?” Then Henry’s voice, a younger echo of his father’s cruelty: “I told you a thousand times not to use my glass! Do you have zero boundaries?” In a fit of rage, they stormed out of the house, slamming the front door, leaving me alone in the silence. Three days later, I died in that cramped sunroom. My soul, untethered and aching, drifted to my stepson. I watched them in a restaurant, Silas and Henry, laughing as they served food to Silas’s ex-wife, Camille. In that moment, hovering above their happy reunion, I finally understood. Their “boundaries,” their obsession with hygiene—it was never about the germs. It was a demarcation line. A wall built solely to keep me out. Given a second chance, I knew one thing for sure: I was done with walls. I opened my eyes and found myself back on the day of the wedding. A heavy oak door separated the hotel lobby from the Grand Ballroom, dividing the world into two distinct realities. I stood on the inside, the hum of the reception and the clinking of champagne flutes behind me. On the other side of the door stood Silas. And wrapped in his arms was Camille—his ex-wife, his muse, the one who got away. She was kissing him with a desperation that spoke of a history I could never touch. When she finally pulled away, her voice broke. “Do you really have to marry Nora? The seamstress?” Silas pulled her tighter, his frame trembling, leaking a tenderness he had never once shown me. “Nora is suitable,” he whispered, his voice pragmatic and cold. “She’s good with the boy. She’s domestic.” He stroked her hair. “You’re different, Camille. You shouldn’t be trapped in the drudgery of marriage, worrying about bills and groceries. The stage is where you belong. You’re meant to shine.” I stood there, frozen, a voyeur at my own funeral. I watched Silas ruthlessly calculate my value—a utility, a buffer—so he could protect Camille’s dreams. The memory of my previous life washed over me. I remembered dying alone on the cold floor of the sunroom. The resentment and the physical pain of my final moments wrapped around my heart like barbed wire, squeezing until I couldn’t breathe. Then, Camille looked up. She saw me standing in the doorway. A flicker of contempt passed through her eyes before she masked it with fragility. She tugged at Silas’s lapel, her voice dropping to a whisper. “But… will you touch her?” Silas stiffened. He took her hand, pressing it to his chest, his eyes crinkling with a doting smile. “Aside from you, the thought of looking at anyone else makes me sick.” Camille smiled then, a victorious, radiant thing. Her pale pink cashmere coat made her skin glow like porcelain. I looked down at myself. My white blouse was washed thin, my black trousers practical and dull. The cheap red plastic corsage pinned to my chest, bearing the word Bride, looked grotesque. Without a word, I reached up and ripped the corsage off. The pin pricked my finger, but I didn’t flinch. I tossed it into a trash can in the corner. I turned on my heel and walked into the banquet hall. Henry, Silas’s seven-year-old son, spotted me immediately. His eyes, usually indifferent, flashed with hatred. He raised his cup of steaming hot cocoa and hurled it at me. The heavy ceramic mug struck my forehead with a sickening thud. Scalding brown liquid drenched my hair and dripped down my face, ruining everything. But before I could react, Henry opened his mouth and wailed. “Get out! Just get out!” “You’re a homewrecker! I don’t want you to be my mom! You aren’t good enough!” Silas, hearing the scream, burst through the doors. He saw the red marks on his son’s hand where the hot liquid had splashed back. Instant fury ignited in his eyes. He shoved me hard. His voice was ice. “Nora, is this how you take care of a child?” 2 I wasn’t expecting the shove. I lost my balance and crashed to the floor, my palm landing squarely on the shards of the broken mug. Sharp, stinging pain shot up my arm. Camille rushed in behind him, weeping beautifully. She threw her arms around Henry, sobbing as if her heart were breaking. She looked at me over the boy’s shoulder, her eyes wet but gleaming with malice. “Nora… today is your big day. If you don’t want Henry and me here, we’ll leave. I’ll take him and go.” She sniffled, playing to the crowd. “I can’t fight you. I won’t fight you. I surrender. But the child is innocent…” Suddenly, the room shifted. Dozens of judgmental eyes bored into me. The whispers started low but grew like a brushfire. “Did you hear that? I wondered how a factory girl like Nora landed a senior engineer like Silas. She’s a homewrecker.” “She’s not even married yet and she’s already abusing his son.” “Shameless. How does she have the nerve to throw a wedding?” Silas heard them, too. He stood there, his face dark, staring at the cocoa dripping from my hair and the blood on my hand. He frowned, but he didn’t move to help. I wiped the sticky liquid from my eyes and slowly stood up. My gaze locked onto Henry. He glared back, nestled safely in Camille’s arms, shouting with a practiced ferocity. “It’s you! You chased my mommy away!” “You made them break up! I hate you, you bad woman!” I looked at the boy calmly. Then, a short, dry laugh escaped my lips. Tears followed, unbidden, hot and fast. In my past life, I raised him for twenty years. Twenty years. I took him from a sallow, malnourished toddler and nurtured him until he walked across the stage at his college graduation. The cocoa he just threw at me? I bought that by skipping meals, saving every cent so he could have his treats. You’d think even a dog would show a shred of loyalty after twenty years of kindness. But when Henry got married in my last life, the first thing he did was seat Camille at the head table. He looked me in the eye, devoid of guilt, and said, “Aunt Nora, birth matters more than bread. It’s my wedding. My mom sits in the seat of honor.” “If you’re unhappy about it,” he added, “don’t come.” So I didn’t go. But the grief lodged in my chest like a stone. I developed a fever, which triggered my asthma. I coughed through the nights, alone. When I took one of Silas’s cough pills, he screamed at me. “Nora! How many times have I told you not to touch my things?” “The whole bottle is contaminated now. Take them. I hope you choke on them.” He threw the bottle at my face. Even in sickness, Silas needed to draw his line. Father and son—a legacy of selfishness and cold blood. I shook the memory away and looked at Silas. “Silas,” I said softly. “Aren’t you going to explain?” “Are you going to tell them who really destroyed your marriage? Was it me? Or was it her—” “Nora!” Silas’s voice cracked like a whip. He grabbed my arm, yanking me toward him, his eyes void of anything resembling affection. He lowered his voice to a lethal hiss. “Nora, if you still want to sign those papers, you will leave my ex-wife out of this. How are she and Henry supposed to hold their heads up? Today, right now, you are going to make a promise in front of everyone.” “Otherwise, I can’t guarantee there will be a wedding to finish.” He straightened his jacket, cleared his throat, and turned to the guests, instantly regaining his composure as the aloof, respected engineer. “Thank you all for coming to celebrate with Nora and me.” “Please, for my sake, let the past stay in the past. But to move forward, I need Nora to make a few promises in front of you all, to ensure the harmony of our home.” “First, she will resign from the garment factory immediately.” 3 “Second,” Silas continued, his voice projecting to the back of the room, “she must devote herself entirely to caring for Henry. Without Camille’s express permission, Nora will not have children of her own.” “Third, even after we are married, she must respect my privacy. She needs to understand that I require space and distance.” “Nora, can you agree to these three things?” The room erupted in gasps. It was the 1980s. People didn’t use words like boundaries or personal space the way they do now. But Silas’s meaning was brutally clear: Unless his ex-wife allowed it, I was to be barren. I was to be a celibate wife. It was laughable. He wasn’t looking for a partner. He was hiring a live-in nanny who not only worked for free but subsidized the household expenses. In my previous life, Silas waited until after the wedding to tape these rules to the wall. The day after we married, I moved out of the master bedroom and onto the cot in the sunroom. I stayed there for twenty-seven years. But this time, Camille’s tears had short-circuited his logic. He was desperate to humiliate me, to cement my status as the grasping stepmother so Camille could shine as the tragic victim. I looked at Silas cold. He stared down at me with arrogance, his eyes urging me to submit. He was certain he had me trapped. My heart turned to ice. How had I endured this man? How had I swallowed this twisted version of a marriage year after year? Right. In the past, he forced me to quit my job. I lost my financial independence. I had to survive on a fifty-dollar monthly allowance, documenting every penny in a ledger. If the numbers didn’t add up, Silas would stare at me with disappointed silence—a daily, grinding emotional violence that made me walk on eggshells. But not this time. I yanked my arm from his grip. The warmth left my eyes completely. “I can’t make those promises.” Silas’s face darkened instantly. He stared at me, stunned. He hadn’t expected a refusal. He knew how desperate I was for a family, how I had agreed to this humiliating “wedding first, license later” arrangement just to please him. He had promised that once Henry accepted me, we would make it legal. He delayed it for half a lifetime. I eventually stopped asking. A wave of bitterness and old grief crashed over me, making me tremble. I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing the emotion down. When I opened them, my voice was quiet but steel-hard. “Silas, the wedding is canc—” “Nora!” Silas barked, panic flashing in his eyes. “Think very carefully before you speak!” Before I could finish, Camille dropped to her knees in front of me, clutching Henry. She wept loudly, a performance for the ages. “Nora, it’s all my fault. Blame me.” “Please, as one woman to another, just be good to Henry. I promise I’ll never disturb your family again!” Her theatrical collapse terrified Henry. He screamed, lunging at me. He grabbed a silver fork from a nearby table and stabbed it wildly toward my face. “Bad woman! You hurt my mommy! I hate you!” “Daddy, hit her! Kill her!” The fork grazed my cheek, dangerously close to my eye. I threw my hands up to block him. Henry, unbalanced by his own rage, stumbled backward. He fell into Camille’s arms, and they clung to each other, a tableau of victimhood. Slap! Before I could process what happened, Silas’s hand connected with my face. 4 “Nora! How can you be so vicious?” The slap was full-force. I hit the floor hard, my ears ringing, my cheek burning. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. Silas paused, looking at his hand. For a split second, regret flickered in his eyes. But it vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by righteous anger. “If Henry has a single scratch on him, I will destroy you!” “Apologize!” Camille looked up, tears clinging to her lashes like diamonds. She shook her head weakly. “No, Silas. I don’t need an apology.” “I just want her to sign the paper. I just want security for our son. Please, Nora?” I looked at her from the floor. My gaze was arctic. I enunciated every word. “In. Your. Dreams.” Silas’s face contorted. “Camille is on her knees begging you! What more do you want?” “Don’t push your luck, Nora!” I wiped the blood from my lip and smirked up at him. “Silas, if you love Camille so much, why don’t you just remarry her?” Panic flashed through Silas’s eyes. The crowd, which had been murmuring against me, suddenly went quiet. The logic hung in the air, undeniable. The only sound was Camille’s jagged breathing. “It’s my fault… I shouldn’t be here… I should have just died the day we divorced…” “Nora, don’t blame Silas. Don’t hate Henry. I’ll go. I won’t ruin your marriage.” Wailing, Camille scrambled up, abandoned her son, and ran out of the hotel. Silas snapped. He scooped up Henry and sprinted after her. At the door, he turned back, his glare venomous. “Nora, if anything happens to Camille because of this, you’ll pay.” “And as for the marriage license? You can wait until your next life!” I sat on the floor, feeling like a puppet whose strings had been cut. My mind was a blank static. I don’t know how long I sat there. A draft from the open door finally made me shiver, bringing me back to the present. The hall was empty. Just the debris of a disaster. The red “Double Happiness” characters pasted on the stage backdrop seemed to be mocking my stupidity. I stood up, smoothed my clothes, and walked out. I headed straight for the garment factory’s administrative office. When I handed in my resignation, Mr. Henderson, the plant manager, frowned. “Nora, are you sure?” “With the economy changing, if you leave now, it’ll be hard to get back in.” “And… with the engineer… with Silas…” The wedding fiasco had traveled fast. Everyone knew. My face was swollen, throbbing with heat. I gave him a bitter smile. “Mr. Henderson, I’m not doing this out of spite.” “And Silas? He won’t stop me. Believe me.” He looked at the handprint on my face and sighed. He signed the release papers and my letter of recommendation. “The factory will always be home, Nora.” I took the thin sheets of paper, my eyes stinging. I nodded, unable to speak. As I walked out of the office, I ran straight into Silas. He was radiating cold fury. He marched up to me, grabbed me by the collar, and tried to drag me toward the exit. “You’re coming with me. You’re going to apologize to Camille!” “I wrote up the guarantee. You sign it, and I’ll give you one more chance to be my wife!” I saw the paper in his hand—the list of demands. Rage, hot and blinding, flooded my vision. I snatched the paper and tore it into confetti. I fought against his grip. In the struggle, the strap of my purse snapped. My belongings spilled onto the dirty concrete floor. Silas shoved me backward, his voice booming. “Nora! What the hell is wrong with you—” His eyes snagged on something on the ground. His voice died in his throat.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394637”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My husband is a kept man, but no one in my family would ever dare breathe a word of it to his face. Because I protected him like my life depended on it. When my best friend made a fleeting joke about him marrying into money, I cut her off entirely. When my father tried to use my husband’s financial dependence to control him, I didn’t speak to my father for three months. When my husband felt suffocated working under the umbrella of my family’s empire, I quietly bought a tech firm, rebranded it, and installed him as the CEO so he could play the big boss. Today was his mother’s fiftieth birthday. I had rushed through my morning meetings, planning to catch a quick nap at my private pied-à-terre in the city before heading to the luxury hotel to celebrate her. I had spent an entire week meticulously planning the gala, inviting everyone who mattered. I had barely closed my eyes in the quiet dimness of my apartment when a hand suddenly twisted into my hair, violently dragging me off the mattress and onto the hardwood floor. “You shameless whore! You dare sleep with my husband? Look at you, you piece of trash!” “If I don’t rip your face off today, my name isn’t Vera!” 1 A hand yanked my scalp backward, forcing my chin up. I found myself staring at a circle of looming figures. “Vera, look closely. Is it her?!” “It’s this cheap bitch. I saw her getting into my husband’s car yesterday with my own two eyes. I’d recognize that face even if she were burned to ashes.” “Her apartment gate code is my husband’s birthday. I knew it!” The searing pain radiating from my scalp made me wince, but more than anything, I was profoundly disoriented. The women standing over me were dressed for a country club brunch. The one leading the pack—Vera—was wearing a flowing, immaculate Zimmerman maxi dress. She had long, perfectly blown-out hair and the kind of face that usually looked innocent. But right now, her eyes were so contorted with venom that she looked monstrous. This was absurd. I was just taking a midday nap in my own private sanctuary. Somehow, a group of strangers had broken in and mistaken me for a mistress. I have always despised infidelity. Figuring that this woman had simply lost her mind out of grief over a cheating husband, I decided not to escalate things. I looked up at her, my voice cold and steady. “You have the wrong person. This is my apartment. Get out right now, or I’m calling the police.” The moment the words left my mouth, Vera’s hand cracked across my cheek. “You slut! Are all mistresses this arrogant now? You want to call the cops?!” Her blonde friend standing next to her scoffed, her face flushed with self-righteous fury. “Caught red-handed and still no shame. Disgusting.” “If she had an ounce of shame, she wouldn’t be sleeping with a married man. Everyone knows how much Vera and her husband love each other, and this rat just had to ruin it!” “Just looking at her makes me sick!” And then, the kicking started. Blows rained down on my ribs, my back, my shoulders. After a flurry of vicious kicks, my face was bruised and my nose was bleeding. I curled into a ball, terrified to provoke them further. Women blinded by this kind of mob-fury were capable of anything. I swallowed the metallic taste of blood, gritting my teeth. “You have completely misunderstood. I am married. My husband and I are very much in love. I would never be a mistress.” I pointed a shaking finger toward the console table. “There’s a framed photo of me and my husband right there. I’m not lying to you.” Vera glanced at the silver frame. She let out a sharp, breathless laugh. Pulling her phone from her designer bag, she shoved the screen inches from my bloody face. Her jaw tightened. “Then take a good look at my husband. Look familiar?” The breath left my lungs. My eyes widened in absolute, paralyzing horror. My voice trembled as I stared at the screen. “That… that’s impossible. They just look alike. It can’t be… My husband’s name is Harrison.” “What a coincidence,” Vera sneered. “My husband’s name is Harrison, too. The CEO of the Harrison Group.” The Harrison Group. The company I had bought and handed to my husband. Something deep inside my mind fractured like fragile glass. My body went completely limp against the floorboards. I stared at the photo of Harrison and Vera, their arms wrapped around each other on some sun-drenched beach, and my vision blurred with hot tears. I couldn’t process it. The man in that photo was Harrison. My Harrison. The man I had loved with everything I had. We had been college sweethearts. It was love at first sight freshman year, followed by four years of quiet, beautiful simplicity. Just as we were talking about marriage, Harrison’s mother was diagnosed with a terminal illness. My father—a ruthless billionaire who controlled half the city’s real estate—approached Harrison privately. My father promised to pay for the experimental treatments and secure his mother’s future, but on one condition: Harrison had to sign an ironclad prenuptial agreement, sever his own ambitions, and essentially marry into the family as a kept man, a silent accessory to the Hastings empire. Harrison hadn’t hesitated for a single second. He agreed. Because of that sacrifice, I had spent my entire marriage feeling like I owed him. I owed him his pride. I owed his family. That was why I never allowed a single soul, not even my own father, to mention the terms of our marriage. It was why I bought his parents two sprawling luxury estates in the suburbs so they could live in comfort. I worried he would feel emasculated in my father’s boardroom, so I bought him his own company, letting him play the titan of industry. I nurtured his ego. I gave him everything, completely and unconditionally. I had foolishly believed that a love given entirely would be returned entirely. I was wrong. Now, Vera was holding a photo, telling me that Harrison had been cheating on me. And from the look of it, for a very, very long time. The throbbing pain in my ribs snapped me back to the present. I closed my eyes, a hollow, freezing emptiness settling in my chest. “Leave,” I whispered, my voice completely dead. “Get out of my house. I won’t press charges for what you did today.” This was between me and Harrison now. Vera had been played by him, just like I had. I didn’t want to destroy her. But my mercy was a foreign language to her. Vera grabbed my jaw, her perfectly manicured nails digging into my skin. She smiled, a terrifying, manic thing. “You spend my husband’s money, you live in the apartment my husband bought for you, and you won’t press charges?” she hissed. “Fuck you. If I don’t destroy your pretty little face today, my entire life has been a joke.” 2 I looked into her wild eyes, opening my mouth to explain, but I only managed a single syllable. Crack. Her palm struck my face with explosive force. White stars burst across my vision, my head snapping to the side. Before I could even draw a breath, a backhand caught me on the other cheek. The blinding pain wiped every rational thought from my mind. The blonde friend pointed a finger at me, practically spitting as she yelled, “You’re young, you’re pretty, and you chose to be a home-wrecking whore! You seduce married men for a living. If we don’t teach you a lesson, you’ll think you can walk all over us!” She looked around the apartment, her eyes gleaming with malice. “Harrison really spares no expense for you, does he?” I had been sheltered and pampered my entire life. I had never known physical violence. But trapped under their heels, I could only swallow the blood in my mouth and try to reason with them. “I bought this apartment myself,” I gasped, holding my ribs. “It has nothing to do with Harrison. Yes, Harrison is married. But he married into my family three years ago. You’ve been lied to.” I had to tell the truth to stop the beating. I thought the revelation would make Vera pause. Instead, she threw her head back and let out a piercing, hysterical laugh. “A kept man? A trophy husband? Harrison’s company is worth hundreds of millions! Do you think I’m a fucking idiot?!” Her friends immediately chimed in. “Mr. Harrison runs that company with an iron fist. A kept man? Yeah, right.” “I’ve never heard of an heiress letting her trophy husband run an empire by himself.” “Look at her trying to spin the story and call Vera the mistress. This bitch is pathological!” I swallowed the rising bile in my throat. “If you don’t believe me, call him right now. Ask him.” “Spit it out,” Vera snarled. “You just want me to call him so he can rush over here and save you. Do I look stupid to you? Harrison is only with you because you’re a shiny new toy. The first thing he did when his startup took off was call me. I am the only woman he actually loves.” Vera’s voice grew shrill. She stood up, her eyes darting around the apartment. A flash of madness crossed her face, quickly replaced by raw, ugly jealousy. This apartment was just my midday retreat, but I had designed it myself. Every inch of molding, every piece of custom Italian furniture, every vintage vase was hand-selected. It breathed quiet, old-money luxury. Vera kicked me hard in the chest, knocking the wind out of me. She turned to her friends, her voice lethal. “Trash the place. Take whatever you want. Consider it a bonus for coming with me today.” The women descended like vultures. At first, they were just tearing into my closet, grabbing my Birkins and Chanel bags. Then, the frenzy took over. They began smashing lamps, ripping the silk curtains, pulling drawers out and dumping them. Whatever they couldn’t fit in their bags, they shattered against the walls. The sanctuary I had built was reduced to a war zone in minutes. My chest ached with a deep, suffocating sadness. Suddenly, I saw Vera grab a heavy pair of fabric scissors from my desk. She was eyeing the small silver locket resting on my nightstand. Panic, cold and sharp, pierced through the physical pain. “Don’t touch that,” I choked out. I scrambled to my knees, reaching out frantically. “Give it back to me!” That locket was not just jewelry. It was a St. Christopher medal, custom-made and blessed. My mother had bought it with her life. When I was nine, I contracted a severe strain of meningitis. I was in a coma for weeks. The doctors had gently told my parents to make funeral arrangements. My mother, broken and desperate, refused to accept it. She drove to a remote mountain sanctuary. To prove her devotion, she walked the final three miles up the mountain in a freezing, twenty-degree blizzard. She slipped on the ice, her knees bleeding, her hands frostbitten, just to reach the chapel and have that silver amulet blessed for my protection. Whether it was a medical anomaly or a miracle, I woke up. But the exposure and exhaustion destroyed my mother’s lungs. She developed severe pneumonia and never recovered. Before she died, she pressed the cold silver into my small hand, making me promise to never take it off. It was my anchor. It was the last piece of my mother’s soul in this world. I never let anyone touch it. “You want it so bad?” Vera sneered, holding it up by the delicate chain. “Then I definitely have to break it.” “No!” Before I could reach her, Vera yanked the chain with both hands. The silver links snapped. She threw the pendant to the floor and crushed it beneath her designer heel, grinding the silver into the hardwood. I stopped breathing. The world went perfectly, terrifyingly silent. My mother’s life. “You are an animal,” I whispered. And then, fueled by a grief so primal it blinded me, I lunged upward and slapped Vera across the face with everything I had. “You dare hit me?!” Vera shrieked, clutching her cheek. “Beat this bitch until she can’t breathe!” The women swarmed me. I was kicked back down, curling into a fetal position as designer heels stomped into my spine, my stomach, my head. They grabbed whatever wasn’t bolted down—books, glass paperweights, picture frames—and hurled them at my body. Within minutes, I was a broken, bloody mess. I could barely keep my eyes open, the edges of my vision turning black. Breathing in ragged gasps, I looked up at Vera through the blood matting my eyelashes. “Vera,” I whispered hoarsely. “You are going to regret this for the rest of your life.” Vera sneered, pressing the sharp heel of her shoe directly into the back of my hand, twisting it until I cried out. “Still running your mouth? I don’t know about my regrets, but I know you’re about to experience yours.” She looked at her friends. “Drag her out.” The women grabbed my arms and legs, hauling me out of my beautiful, ruined apartment, and dragged me toward the elevator. 3 We hit the ground floor, and Vera stood over me, issuing her next command like a queen presiding over an execution. “Strip her!” The words barely registered before I felt a dozen hands tearing at my clothes. The silk of my blouse ripped. Buttons popped and scattered across the pavement. “Everyone, come look!” Vera screamed to the passing residents of my luxury building. “Look at the filthy mistress living in your building! She’s a stain on this whole neighborhood!” People began to stop. Phones were pulled out, camera lenses staring at me like cold, unblinking eyes. “I’m not a mistress!” I screamed, my throat raw. “Please, call the police! Help me!” Vera’s foot lashed out, catching me square in the mouth. My head cracked back against the concrete. The taste of copper flooded my tongue, thick and warm. Two of my teeth had been knocked loose. I choked on my own blood, my cries reduced to pathetic, wet whimpers. Seeing the sheer brutality of it, a bystander finally stepped forward. “Hey! You can’t just beat people like this, that’s assault.” Vera’s blonde friend instantly spun on the woman, pointing a manicured finger in her face. “Oh, look! Another whore rushing to defend her own kind! Let me guess, you’re sleeping with someone’s husband too?” The bystander, intimidated by the aggressive mob, took a step back and walked away, not wanting to be the next target. Vera’s smile widened, intoxicated by the power. “Take a good look, everyone! This is what happens when you destroy a family!” She reached down and violently tore the last remnants of my undershirt away, leaving me exposed to the cold air and the flashing cameras. A collective gasp rippled through the small crowd. “Oh, you have the nerve to be a homewrecker, but you’re too shy to show it off?” Vera mocked, kicking my hands away as I desperately tried to cover my chest. “Move your hands. Look at this body. No wonder she knows how to steal men.” She grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my bloody, swollen face up for the cameras. “Make sure you get high definition. I’m posting this everywhere. I want the whole country to see what a cheap slut looks like.” She clicked her tongue. “Shame her face is totally ruined now.” Vera had completely lost her mind. Her hysterical, jagged laughter echoed off the glass facades of the apartment buildings. She turned to her friend. “AirDrop me the videos. I’m sending them to Harrison right now. I want him to see what his little pet looks like in the dirt.” As she pulled out her phone, the blonde friend snatched my cracked phone from my discarded purse. She held it out to Vera. “Ness, look. The bitch’s dad just texted her. It says the whole family is already at the Waldorf Astoria.” The friend squinted at the shattered screen. “Harrison is there too.” My phone was locked with Face ID, and my face was far too swollen to unlock it, so she could only read the notification banners. Vera’s face twisted into a grotesque mask of realization. “So her dad is a pathetic pimp, too? Handing his own daughter over to Harrison just to get a piece of his money?” She tossed my phone aside. “Change of plans, girls. We’re going to the Waldorf. I am going to expose this whore right in the middle of the lobby. Let’s see how her dad likes having his reputation skinned alive in public.” No. My father’s heart condition had been worsening for months. He couldn’t handle the shock of seeing me like this. Adrenaline fought through the pain. I thrashed violently, trying to claw my way away from them. But my resistance only fueled their sick adrenaline. Laughing like hyenas, they grabbed my limbs, lifted my bruised, half-naked body into the air, and threw me into the trunk of Vera’s SUV. The heavy lid slammed shut, plunging me into total darkness. 4 Today was my mother-in-law’s fiftieth birthday. To give Harrison face, I had personally called in favors from the city’s elite to attend. The ballroom at the Waldorf Astoria was packed with wealth and influence. As the SUV pulled up near the hotel entrance, the blonde friend pointed out the window. “Ness, look. Isn’t that Mr. Harrison at the valet stand? I thought you said he was away on a business trip?” Vera’s eyes darkened with possessive fury. “That bastard. He lied to me just so he could sneak around with this little slut.” She gripped the steering wheel tight. “God, I can’t wait to see the look on his face.” “Ness,” one of the quieter friends murmured nervously. “There are a lot of high-profile people here. Isn’t this going to embarrass Mr. Harrison? Maybe we should—” Vera whipped her head around, glaring at the woman. “Are you backing out? Need I remind you that all of your husbands work for my Harrison? I could make one phone call and have them all blacklisted from the industry.” She smirked. “Today, I am forcing Harrison to make a choice.” The blonde sycophant immediately jumped in. “Duh. And obviously he’s going to choose you, Ness. You’re carrying his baby!” “Exactly. One is his pregnant, beautiful first love, and the other is a naked, beaten whore. It’s not a hard choice. Mr. Harrison needs to cut this trash out of his life permanently.” Vera pulled the car right up to the sweeping driveway of the Waldorf. Standing by the grand doors, greeting guests, Harrison recognized the SUV. He froze. As Vera stepped out, her white dress fluttering in the wind, all the color drained from his face. He jogged over to her, his voice a frantic, hushed whisper. “What the hell are you doing here? I thought I told you to go to Paris for the week!” Vera looked at him, her eyes dripping with toxic jealousy. “If I went to Paris, I wouldn’t have caught you playing house with your little whore, would I?” Harrison stared at her, completely lost. “What whore? What are you talking about?” Vera smirked. She grabbed his arm, pulling him to the back of the SUV, and popped the trunk.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394654”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When my mother became the CEO, she threw her husband and son away like yesterday’s trash to build a lavish love nest with the one who got away. And yet, my poor father spent his days and nights hoping she would have a change of heart. Even as he lay dying, her name was the last thing on his lips. Unable to watch him leave this world anchored by such a heavy regret, I swallowed my pride and dialed her number. “How many times do I have to spell it out for you?” she snapped, her voice dripping with impatience. “Make an appointment with my assistant!” I looked at my father’s desperate, fading eyes and pleaded, “Victoria, please. Dad won’t last much longer. I’m begging you to just come and look at him one last time. Give him peace.” Seeing that I wouldn’t back down, she lashed out. “Will my presence magically bring him back from the brink? What is he even holding on for? If he’s going to die, he should just get it over with! Stop wasting my time!” The line went dead. And with that dial tone, my father entirely gave up his will to live. He passed away, swallowing a sorrow so deep it fractured my soul. I gently reached out and closed his vacant eyes. “In the end, she got exactly what she wanted.” 1. Directly across the street from the hospital, the marching band of St. Jude’s Preparatory Academy was playing, the air thick with the sound of cheering and celebratory fireworks. They were throwing a massive graduation gala. The star of that gala was Spencer Pierce—my mother’s beloved adopted son, who had just been crowned the state’s National Merit Scholar. Basking in the envious gazes of the city’s elite, my mother—acting in her dual capacity as a major board member and the proud mother of the valedictorian—stood on stage, beaming as she pinned a medal to Spencer’s chest and handed him a massive scholarship check. The noise and the triumph belonged to them. Just two blocks away, inside a sterile hospital room, there was only a suffocating silence. My father had left this world steeped in regret. He hadn’t even wanted to close his eyes. A few nurses and the attending doctor bowed their heads deeply toward me. “We did everything we could. We are so incredibly sorry for your loss.” The doctor hesitated before handing me a stark white mortality declaration. “Is there any way… could your mother come down to sign this?” I took the clipboard, the pen feeling like a lead weight in my hand, and signed my own name on the family line. “She’s not available,” I said, my voice hollow. “She’s across the street at the prep school. Attending a gala.” The doctor’s mouth opened slightly in shock, but a nurse beside him quickly nudged him, shooting him a warning look. She had experienced my mother’s absolute cruelty firsthand just hours prior. That morning, when my father’s condition rapidly deteriorated, that same nurse had stayed by my side without leaving for a second. My dad knew his time was up. He finally forced out the words he had been burying for years. “Connor… I want… I just want to see your mother. One last time.” I couldn’t bear to see him leave with that crushing disappointment, so I gritted my teeth and made the call. And she had said, “Will my presence magically bring him back from the brink? What is he even holding on for? If he’s going to die, he should just get it over with! Stop wasting my time!” The nurse, bless her heart, had been furious. She snatched the phone from me to make one final, desperate plea. “Ma’am, Thomas Davis is in critical condition. The doctor has issued the final notices. We need you—” “You just want money, don’t you? The Davis family is rotten to the core. The father is a pathetic loser who can’t stand on his own two feet, and the son is a delinquent street rat. How dare you even call me.” Then, she hung up. When I tried to call back, my number had already been blocked. “Forget it,” my dad had whispered, his breath rattling. “Seeing her… I suppose it doesn’t matter anyway.” He looked at me, his vision clouding over. “Connor… don’t hate your mother.” Two solitary tears slipped from the corners of his eyes, and with a final exhale, my father said goodbye to this world. I gently brushed my hand over his eyelids, closing them. “Dad, I’m sorry. But I can’t not hate her.” 2. My dad used to be a brilliant doctor of internal medicine. During a joint medical outreach program years ago, his hospital sent him to an elementary school to run physicals for the kids. My mother, a teacher there at the time, happened to overhear one of my dad’s colleagues teasing him—joking about how a guy whose father was the CEO of the massive Davis Enterprises was slumming it as a public hospital physician. That very day, my mother made it her mission to get his number. Within a week, she ruthlessly broke off her engagement to her fiancé and began relentlessly pursuing my dad. They say a woman’s pursuit is like piercing through paper—effortless. Add to that the fact that my mother was stunning, with the polished allure of a movie star, and it only took a few months before they rushed to the courthouse to get married. After the wedding, my grandfather pulled strings to get her a corporate role at Davis Enterprises. She climbed the ladder fast. After she gave birth to me, she was transferred to corporate headquarters as a director. Eventually, my grandfather fell ill and had to step down. My mother seamlessly slid into his seat as CEO. The day my grandfather died, my mother entirely dropped the act. The mask shattered, revealing the monster underneath. “Let me be completely honest with you, Thomas,” she had said, standing in our living room with ice in her veins. “The only reason I married you was because your daddy ran the board. Now he’s dead. Your family has nothing left to offer me. There is absolutely zero reason for me to stay.” My dad broke down, begging her not to tear our family apart. Unbelievably, my mother turned it around on him. “When you stole me away, did you ever stop to think about the agony you caused another man?” “Donovan gave up his own future for me fifteen years ago. He had to let me go. Do you know how many times he tried to end his own life over the years? If I hadn’t been there to stop him, he’d be in the ground. You can’t be this selfish, Thomas. I gave you the best years of my youth. What more do you want? Are you really going to stand in the way of true love?” That was the moment my father realized the woman he cherished more than his own life had never loved him at all. He let go. He stepped aside so my mother could be with her “one that got away,” Donovan Pierce. The very next day, my mother used Davis family money to buy a sprawling estate for Donovan, a “compensation” for having abandoned him. She eagerly adopted Donovan’s teenage son, Spencer, and used her corporate leverage to pull him out of his failing public school and drop him right into the most elite honors program at St. Jude’s. As for me? Simply because Spencer offhandedly mentioned he “didn’t want to see my face in the hallways,” my mother forcibly transferred me out of St. Jude’s and threw me into Southside High—the absolute worst, most notoriously underfunded public school in the city. My dad was terrified my future would be destroyed. He went to her office multiple times to fight for me. Her response? She claimed I was mediocre anyway. She said the only reason I ever got into St. Jude’s was because of her influence, and she explicitly blacklisted me from every other decent school in the district, ensuring no one else would take me. My old homeroom teacher from St. Jude’s used to sneak me advanced placement tests in the evenings. Every time he handed me a stack of papers, his eyes would well with pity. “The valedictorian of his class, forced to study in a dump like this. What kind of mother destroys her own flesh and blood?” Then he’d shake his head, sighing bitterly. “And that adopted golden boy of hers, Spencer? The kid is practically illiterate. Your mother ordered all his teachers to pass him, but you can’t polish dirt. God, what a mess.” My chest would tighten. I’d duck my head, thank my mentor, and sprint back to my cramped bedroom to furiously work through the equations. She wanted to bury me in the mud. But I refused to let myself rot. “Connor Davis? Your father’s remains have been cremated. Please come to the front desk to receive the urn.” The wooden box was so small, so perfectly square. I stood there staring at it, unable to process how my father—the giant of a man who used to carry me on his shoulders, my immovable mountain—had been reduced to this tiny, confined space. I wiped the tears from my face and took him home for the last time. The road to heaven is long, Dad. Don’t forget the way back home. Early the next morning, I packed a bag, preparing to head to the cemetery to pick out a burial plot. The moment I opened my front door, two burly men in cheap police uniforms were blocking my path. “Connor Davis? We received an anonymous tip that your father, Thomas, helped you cheat on your SATs and college entrance exams. You’re coming with us for questioning.” Their faces were hardened and mean. They didn’t stand or speak like real cops. My dad wasn’t even in the ground yet. There was no way I was going quietly into the back of an unmarked car. “Sure, Officers,” I said smoothly. “Let me just tie my shoe.” I crouched down, pretending to fiddle with my laces. The second they glanced away, I bolted. I barely made it out of the apartment complex before they caught up to me. The two of them tackled me onto the concrete, pinning my face to the asphalt. “Little punk thinks he can play games with us? Let’s see you run now!” One of them pulled back his heavy steel-toed boot and brought it down viciously on my kneecap. I heard the sickening, unmistakable crack of splintering bone. “Ahhhh!” Instantly, the veins in my neck bulged. I writhed on the pavement, screaming in blinding, white-hot agony. One of them ran up to my apartment and came back down. “Thomas isn’t there. Just throw the kid in the car and let’s go.” They dragged me to a windowless, concrete room. Four blank white walls. The two men sat across from me at an iron table. “Connor, do you know why we brought you here?” Their act was embarrassingly amateurish, and I had zero interest in playing along. I clamped my mouth shut and glared at them. “You know how this works. Confess now, and it goes easy on you. So spit it out—how did you cheat on the exams?” “I didn’t cheat!” Hearing that, one of them stood up, unholstering a heavy nightstick. He stepped into my space, looming over me. “We did a full background check. A street rat from a garbage school like yours doesn’t pull a near-perfect score. You better start talking, kid, before I make you talk!” He slammed the baton down onto the table right in front of my chest. The recoil was so violent the stick slipped from his grip, the heavy rubber end snapping up and smashing directly into my forehead. My father’s death had happened so fast. I hadn’t had time to process it, hadn’t had time to breathe. The immense pressure building inside my chest chose this exact moment to violently detonate. I screamed right back into their faces, “What the hell is wrong with my school?! Are you saying the kids there are handed a death sentence the day they enroll? That we don’t deserve to get high scores? That we don’t deserve a way out? That we don’t deserve a future?!” “You want proof of my scores? Fine! I’ll give it to you. But you tell Victoria she’s going to regret this for the rest of her miserable life!” I unzipped my blood-stained backpack, reached inside, and pulled out the crisp, embossed acceptance letter from MIT. “Here is your damn proof!” Before they could even react, I ripped the letter in half. Then into quarters. I tore it into absolute shreds and threw it into the air like confetti. “Holy shit, the crazy bastard just ripped up an MIT acceptance letter!” “Do me a favor,” I spat, blood trickling down my brow. “Tell Victoria the letter is gone. I’m not going to college anymore.” The two men stared at each other, completely bewildered. After a silent exchange of panicked looks, one of them finally stepped out into the hall to make a frantic phone call. 3. Inside the ballroom of the city’s most exclusive country club, Victoria Croft was hosting a lavish gala for Spencer. Her phone buzzed. It was the hired thug, his voice panicked. “Ms. Croft, the kid tore up his acceptance letter! He said he’s not going to college!” Victoria couldn’t have cared less whether I went to college or died in a gutter. She gripped her champagne flute tightly. “What about the proof? Did he admit to the cheating? Did you get the recording?” “No, the kid is tough. He won’t crack. We didn’t get anything.” “Then try harder,” she hissed. “Make it hurt. I don’t believe for a second he won’t break.” “Ms. Croft, we shattered his kneecap and he still didn’t say a word. I think he knows we’re not real cops. What do we do now?” Conscious of the wealthy donors milling around her, Victoria kept her voice at a venomous whisper. “You absolute useless idiots. You can’t even handle a teenager? Where is Thomas?” “He wasn’t at the apartment when we got there. Ms. Croft… what if this kid goes to the real cops?” “I am his mother,” Victoria sneered. “If he dares go to the police, I’ll have you break his other leg.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. Anything involving Thomas and Connor was always an exhausting, humiliating stain on her perfect life. She often daydreamed about the two of us getting into a fatal car crash, just so she could finally have some peace and quiet. Donovan noticed her tense posture and slipped his arms around her waist from behind, pressing a kiss to her neck. “Tell me,” he murmured smoothly. “Who’s upsetting my beautiful girl? Just say the word and I’ll take care of them.” The heat of his breath immediately melted Victoria’s temper. She leaned back against him, pouting. “It’s just those two useless Davis losers. They always find a way to ruin my mood.” “Well, I have some bad news,” Donovan sighed. “Those two idiots I hired couldn’t squeeze a confession out of the boy. I told them to just let him go.” Victoria spun around, alarmed. “Why would you let him go? If he won’t talk, you beat it out of him! Or just forge some evidence and force his thumbprint onto it!” “Victoria, he’s going to the same city for college as our Spencer. Spencer is a sensitive, gentle boy. Connor is a thug. He’ll bully our son to death.” My mother looked at him, surprised by the intensity of his malice. Donovan quickly caught himself and softened his tone. “That’s part of it, yes. But mostly… I did this to protect you, my love.” “Connor goes to a slum of a high school. It’s a miracle if a single kid from there gets into community college, let alone MIT. When the board of education sees a fairy tale like that, they’re going to investigate. And when they look closely at him, they’ll look closely at you. It will drag your name through the mud.” He brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “My darling, you bled to get the CEO seat. I won’t let some delinquent ruin your empire. That’s why we needed to get a confession first. If you proactively threw him to the wolves, the public would praise you for your integrity. You’d be a hero.” Victoria pouted. “But you let him go. Now what?” “Don’t worry,” Donovan cooed. “I’ll find another way to get the evidence.” Victoria looked up at him, her eyes misty with adoration. “You’re always protecting me. I love you so much.” 4. The two thugs dumped me on the asphalt in front of the emergency room doors, shouting a final warning to keep my mouth shut or Victoria would ruin me. A security guard saw me crawling across the pavement and rushed over with a wheelchair, rushing me straight to orthopedics. The surgeon held up my X-rays, his face grim. “Connor, your knee is completely shattered. The bone is splintered. You need a total knee replacement surgery immediately. Where are your parents? I need them here to sign the consent forms.” “They can’t come,” I rasped, gripping the armrests. “My dad just passed away. Can I sign it myself?” “No, you’re not eighteen yet. It has to be a legal guardian.” Right on cue, my phone rang. It was my mother. “Where the hell is Thomas?!” she barked through the speaker. “I’ve called him a dozen times and he’s ignoring me! Where is he hiding?” “I told you three days ago he was dying. He’s dead, Victoria. Did you finally get what you wanted?” “Connor Davis, is this how Thomas taught you to speak to your mother?” she mocked. “With an attitude like that, no wonder you have to cheat to get into MIT. Who would ever believe you earned it?!” “Listen to me clearly, you little brat. I am going to find out exactly how you and your father pulled off this fraud, and I am going to personally hand you over to the authorities!” The surgeon standing next to me was completely speechless. It took him a moment to process the sheer vitriol before he leaned in toward the phone. “Mrs. Davis? This is Connor’s doctor. Your son’s knee is severely fractured and requires emergency surgery. Can you please come down to the hospital?” “Do I sound like I have the time?” she snapped. “And you have the wrong person. I am not his guardian.” “But Connor said…” “Did he say his father is dead? Doctor, let me give you a piece of advice. Those two are pathological liars and grifters. Don’t believe a word that comes out of their mouths.” She shifted her venom back to me. “Connor, you went through all this effort to fake an injury just to make me feel guilty? Keep dreaming. Even if you and Thomas died right in front of me, I wouldn’t bat an eye.” She hung up. The harsh beep echoed in the sterile room. The doctor let out a long, heavy sigh. “Doctor,” I said, my voice dead calm. “Just treat me as an orphan.” He didn’t argue anymore. The next morning, they wheeled me into the operating room. When I woke up, the surgeon stood at the foot of my bed. “Connor, once you finish physical therapy, you’ll be able to walk completely normally. But… you can never play competitive sports or do any intense physical activities again.” I didn’t feel an ounce of regret. Because for the first time, there was titanium in my body. A piece of me was completely my own. I wasn’t entirely made of the flesh and blood that monster had given me anymore.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394638”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On the day of my wedding, my fiancé’s young assistant deliberately took a pair of fabric shears to my custom bridal gown. Furious, I demanded she pay for the damages. She dropped to her knees, sobbing violently. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. I know it’s all my fault, but this dress… it’s too expensive. I could never afford to replace it. Please, I’m begging you, let me off the hook just this once!” I stared at the jagged, deliberate cuts slicing through the silk organza, a cold laugh escaping my lips. “If you can’t pay for it, then we’ll let the police handle it.” Before I could dial, my fiancé snatched the phone from my hand and smashed it against the floor. He pulled the weeping girl into his arms, shielding her against his chest. Then, he whipped out a sleek credit card and threw it hard. It smacked sharply against my cheek. “It’s just money, isn’t it? Take it. Take the money and get the hell out!” … I gave him a cold, hollow smile and said, “Fine.” I turned my back on them. Later that afternoon, I would go to a clinic and terminate my three-month pregnancy. But in that immediate moment, the wedding had to be canceled. When the announcement echoed through the grand hall, a stunned, deafening silence fell over the hundreds of assembled guests. I walked out of the venue, my face a mask of absolute calm. Carter chased after me, his fingers closing around my arm like a vice. “Nora, do you have any idea what kind of event this is? If you want to throw a childish tantrum, now is not the time!” His tone was ice. His grip was bruising, his fingers digging in so hard I felt my bones might snap. I paled from the pain and looked back at him. The sheer impatience and disgust written across his handsome face stung my eyes. There was a time when, no matter what happened, Carter’s first instinct was always to side with me. To protect me. But not today. Faced with my perfectly justified anger, the woman he chose to protect was someone else. I wrenched my arm out of his grasp, a sarcastic laugh bubbling up my throat. “Do you know what kind of event this is? It’s our wedding. Mia hacked my dress to pieces, and instead of backing me up, you accuse me of throwing a tantrum? Are you out of your mind, Carter?” Carter’s brow furrowed tightly. He reached for me again. “Mia is twenty-two. She’s fresh out of college. How is she supposed to pay for a dress like that? I’ll have someone bring you a replacement right now. The ceremony starts in twenty minutes. Just make do for now, okay?” I was so angry I could barely breathe. “Make do? This is my wedding. I designed that gown with my own hands. I spent six months meticulously crafting it, and now that she’s destroyed it, you don’t even reprimand her, but you want me to make do? Based on what?” Carter rubbed his temples, the exhaustion and annoyance in his voice thickening. “Then what do you want me to do?” “We’ve spent months planning this. The guests are here. And you’re just going to call it off? Nora, you’re twenty-six years old. Can you stop being so damn reckless?” “Do you think you’re still like Mia? That you’re young and have all the time in the world to waste?!” Even as the hostility hung between us, the cruel words from a man I had loved so deeply still physically hurt. My chest ached so badly I could hardly draw a breath. From any objective standpoint, I was the victim here, wasn’t I? So why was every single word out of his mouth dripping with blame for me? I had been suspicious of Mia for months. She joined the company in September. By the time I even knew she existed, she had already been promoted to Carter’s executive assistant. They went to the office together. They traveled for business together. When Carter’s friends brought back souvenirs from Europe, Mia always got a share alongside me. I had asked about it. I had fought about it. But Carter always brushed it off, claiming it was just normal mentorship. She was a young girl navigating the corporate world for the first time, and his instinct was just to look out for her. Back then, he had handed me his phone, leaving it unlocked for me to scroll through their texts. He told me Mia was clumsy, always losing things, and that he was actually looking for an excuse to transfer her to a different department. I had trusted Carter. Of course I did. Until one evening, while Carter was having dinner with me and my brother, we stumbled upon Mia being pressured to drink by an aggressive client at the hotel bar. Right in front of my family, Carter completely lost his composure. He sprinted over and physically beat the client—a man he had spent two months buttering up for a massive contract. Seeing Carter with bloodshot eyes, shoving Mia behind him to shield her… that was the moment the ground shifted beneath my feet. After that, I started visiting the office more frequently. More than once, I walked into his suite to find the door shut and the two of them laughing inside. The sound of that soft, intimate giggling made my stomach drop every single time. I would push open the door, and the laughter would instantly die. Mia would scramble off the edge of Carter’s desk—or off his lap. “Oh, Mrs. Preston, please don’t misunderstand. I tripped, and Mr. Preston was just catching me…” “Get out.” After Mia scurried away, I gave Carter an ultimatum: transfer her or fire her. For the first time in our ten years of knowing each other, Carter blew up at me. “She’s a kid, Nora! She’s innocent. Why would you project such filthy intentions onto her?” “You’re older, you’ve been around the block, but could you please stop using your own twisted insecurities to judge everyone else?” “You just have too much free time on your hands. That’s why you’re constantly paranoid, constantly picking fights. When does it end?!” His face, twisted in defensive rage back then, perfectly mirrored the face looking at me right now. Over the last six months, every argument we had circled back to Mia. Eventually, I stopped fighting. Whether he was driving her home, or rushing out at midnight to bring her cold medicine, I just stopped caring. And today, I no longer wanted to marry him. “I’m not something you can find on a discount rack, Carter. And I sure as hell am not going to wear a makeshift dress to a makeshift wedding.” “Since Mia is so precious to you, why don’t you just give her the wedding?” I stared at him, my eyes tracing the familiar lines of his face. It felt like only yesterday that we were wildly, unconditionally in love. Does love really have such a short expiration date? Apparently, when faced with a younger, prettier woman, it spoils overnight. When the heart dies, it’s time to let go. “We’re getting a divorce, Carter. I’m twenty-six, and I’m done wasting my life on a man incapable of basic loyalty.” With that, I shook off his hand without a second of hesitation and walked away. “Nora!” Carter shouted my name at my back. “Everyone in Boston knows you’re my woman! You’re pregnant with my child! If you don’t marry me today, who else do you think is going to want you?!” My steps faltered for a fraction of a second. Then I pushed the heavy oak doors open and walked out into the air. Something smashed against the doors behind me, accompanied by Carter’s muffled cursing. “Please welcome the bride…” The muffled sound of the officiant and the swell of orchestral music drifted from the hall. The wedding proceeded without me. I sat on a bench blocks away, pulling up the live stream of the “Wedding of the Century” that all the local media was covering. To the sweeping notes of the piano, Carter appeared at the end of the aisle, holding the hand of his bride. It was Mia. She wore a pristine white gown, her hand resting delicately on Carter’s arm, a radiant, triumphant smile on her face. The second I got a clear look at the dress, the tears I had been choking back finally spilled over. It was my dress. The gown I had designed. The one I had bled over, spent a fortune on, and dedicated six months of my life to perfect. Now, it was draped over another woman’s body. She was walking down my aisle, holding my husband, playing the bride at my wedding. My vision blurred, heavy tears splashing onto the glowing screen of my phone. The stubborn pride I had clung to all afternoon completely shattered. Mia’s dress had been altered. The jagged slashes in the silk had been meticulously gathered and stitched into delicate, asymmetrical bows. The dress hadn’t been ruined beyond repair. It wasn’t an impossible problem to fix. He just hadn’t wanted to fix it for me. The moment I encountered a crisis, his only solution was to demand that I swallow my pride and “make do.” Sitting there, I finally allowed myself to accept the truth. Carter didn’t love me anymore. His heart had already moved on. I locked my phone and started walking slowly down the edge of the road. The highway stretched out endlessly ahead of me. Cars whipped past, carrying strangers rushing toward their destinations. I was the only one abandoned, shrinking into a dark corner of the world, getting smaller and smaller until I felt like I was disappearing. The moon hung high above, casting a cold, pale light over the pavement. Suddenly, I remembered a night exactly ten years ago. Under this exact same moonlight, an eighteen-year-old Carter had looked at a sixteen-year-old Nora and promised he would protect her for the rest of his life. Ten years. I thought we would always be us. I never imagined our story would end on the exact day it was supposed to culminate. The bride standing next to him at the altar wasn’t me. My phone buzzed relentlessly in my purse. I pulled it out and answered. “Nora, where are you?” The second I heard my brother’s voice, a tidal wave of grief crashed over me. I broke down entirely. “Harrison…” Our parents had died in a plane crash. I was only six; Harrison was ten. We were left in our grandfather’s care. When I was sixteen, Grandfather passed away. Harrison went overseas for his MBA, and I was taken in by the Prestons. My relationship with Carter bloomed in the quiet corners of that sprawling estate, born from proximity and shared secrets. But his parents never approved. They believed someone of Carter’s pedigree deserved a girl with old money and a pristine lineage. Not a destitute orphan with zero social capital. They went so far as to tamper with my college applications, ensuring I was routed to an obscure state school hundreds of miles away. But Carter. My Carter. He threw away his acceptance to an Ivy League university, secretly altered his own applications, and followed me to the middle of nowhere. Left with no other choice, his father finally pulled strings, transferring us both to a prestigious design academy in the city. God, Carter truly loved me back then. His blatant, unapologetic favoritism for me was a spectacle for the world to see. Everyone knew Carter Preston worshiped the ground his girlfriend walked on. In college, I discovered a natural gift for bridal design. Harrison sent me seed money, and I designed my first commercial gown, making my first real paycheck. I used that money to launch my own studio, build my own brand, and finally earn the right to stand beside Carter as an equal. We had carried each other through a decade of our youth. Today, that chapter was permanently closed. I walked under the moonlight for a long, long time. If the moon could break its promise, then it was time for me to let go, too.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394639”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Every single breath I took in that house had a price tag. Fifty cents for a glass of juice. A dollar for a hot shower. On the afternoon of my tenth birthday, I emptied my pockets of the sticky, crumpled dollar bills and silver coins I’d earned from hauling bags of crushed soda cans to the recycling center. “Dad, I want to buy a slice of birthday cake. No frosting, just the plain sponge. Is one dollar enough?” My father, Richard, looked down at me, his brow furrowing in distaste. “It’s two dollars. If you don’t have the money, you go hungry. It builds character. It teaches you independence.” I swallowed the hollow ache in my stomach. With my only dollar, I bought ten minutes of screen time on my mother’s iPad to watch a cartoon, just to feel like a normal kid for a fraction of an hour. But right in the middle of the episode, a bank notification dropped down from the top of the screen: Transfer Successful: $10,000 added to dependent card. Memo: A little pocket money for my precious boy. I stared at the screen until the letters blurred. I finally understood. The strict ledgers, the price tags, the lessons in “independence”—they were reserved strictly for me, their biological daughter. Early the next morning, before the sun had even touched the manicured lawns of our gated community, I walked out the front door. I didn’t get far before a rusted van idled by the curb. A man with a jagged scar across his cheek rolled down the window and asked if I wanted a piece of candy. I clutched the straps of my worn backpack, looking at him with wide, timid eyes. “How much does the candy cost?” He blinked, clearly taken aback. “It’s free, kid.” I reached out, took the bright plastic wrapper, and without a second of hesitation, climbed into the back of a van I knew was never coming back. 1 “Mister… does it cost money to ride in this car?” I asked, my small fingers nervously twisting the candy wrapper. “I had a dollar from selling cans, but I spent it watching cartoons.” The man with the scar threw his head back and laughed. It was a harsh, scraping sound. “Free! It’s all free, kid! Uncle Jax is taking you to a great place. From now on, eating and sleeping won’t cost you a dime.” A heavy, breathless sigh of relief washed over me. “So, Uncle Jax… are you going to sell me to someone else to be their daughter?” Jax chuckled, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. “Something like that. We’re finding you a new home.” My eyes lit up in the dim, stale air of the van. “In my new home… will I have to pay for drinking water?” Jax slammed on the brakes slightly, turning to stare at me. “You pay for water at your house?” “Yeah,” I nodded earnestly. “Twenty cents for tap water. Thirty cents if I want it warmed up. Fifty cents for juice.” “Jesus Christ,” Jax muttered, shaking his head. “I’ve been in the trafficking business for fifteen years, and I ain’t never seen a hustle that dark. Who raised you, Ebenezer Scrooge?” I didn’t know who Ebenezer Scrooge was. All I knew was that my mother, Valerie Croft, was the CEO of a publicly traded tech conglomerate. She was famous for her generosity. She wrote million-dollar checks at charity galas without blinking. I leaned my head against the cold, hard metal of the van’s interior. I watched through the dirty window as we drove further and further away from the mansion. … Meanwhile, back at the Croft estate. A gourmet breakfast spread was laid out on the massive marble dining table. Preston, my adopted brother, sat at the head of the table. Richard smiled warmly, serving him a plate of organic brioche French toast topped with imported berries. Valerie didn’t look up from her tablet. “Preston’s private piano lessons need to be renewed for the semester, don’t they? I’ll have my assistant wire the fifty grand.” “Thanks, Mom!” Preston beamed, his eyes crinkling with perfect, practiced sweetness. He turned his head, glancing at the empty chair near the kitchen door. My chair. The place where I usually sat, watching them eat. If I wanted a bite, I had to pay cash upfront. “Huh? Where’s Sally?” Preston asked, his voice dripping with faux innocence. “She’s going to be late for school. Is she throwing a tantrum again?” Richard frowned. Usually, by this hour, I would have polished everyone’s shoes and mopped the hardwood floors just to earn enough for a slice of toast. He dropped his silver serving spoon, his face darkening. “Is she giving me an attitude just because I didn’t let her buy that cake yesterday?” Valerie let out a cold, dismissive laugh, swiping to the next page of the Wall Street Journal app. “She’s spoiled. Let her skip two meals, she’ll learn. Go fetch her, Richard. Otherwise, today’s breakfast price is doubled.” A few moments later, Maria, the housekeeper, hurried into the dining room. She was clutching an iPad to her chest, her face pale. “Mr. Croft, Mrs. Croft… you need to see this.” Valerie took the tablet. On the screen, the security footage played in black and white. A tiny figure, carrying a frayed, secondhand backpack, slipping quietly out of the wrought-iron gates. Richard slammed his palm against the marble. “Unbelievable! She thinks she can just run away?” “How much money does she even have on her? Where could she possibly go?” Valerie’s eyes went flat and cold. She locked the iPad screen. “Don’t bother looking for her.” “She has no money. No survival skills,” Valerie sneered. “She’ll starve for a day out there, and then she’ll come crawling back, crying at the gates. And when she does, the re-entry fee to this house is going to be ten thousand dollars.” … But an entire day passed. And I never came back. 2 Richard’s face was drawn tight with fury. “A whole day! She is deliberately trying to defy me!” He paced the expanse of the living room. “Honestly, raising a stray dog would be more rewarding. You throw a dog a bone and it wags its tail. But her? I put all this effort into building her character, forcing her to be independent, and she treats me like the enemy!” “Maria!” Valerie called out, rolling her eyes. “Enough of this. Clear out her bedroom.” “Clear it out?” Maria froze. “But ma’am, when the young miss returns, where will she sleep?” Valerie’s gaze was glacial. “Tear down the wall between her room and the guest suite. We’ll expand it into a proper music studio for Preston.” “As for where she’ll sleep when she gets back…” Valerie took a sip of her espresso. “There’s still that storage closet in the basement, isn’t there? The rent is cheap. Five dollars a night. She should be able to afford that.” Preston’s eyes sparkled. “Really, Mom? I get the mega-studio?” “Of course, darling.” Valerie looked at him, her coldness melting into absolute adoration. “When has Mommy ever lied to you? You are my precious boy. You deserve the absolute best.” … Miles away, a filthy blindfold was ripped from my eyes. The pungent smell of rust, stale beer, and damp earth hit my nose. I was in an abandoned warehouse. Several men in grease-stained clothes were playing poker around a folding table. When they saw Jax walk in with me, they threw their cards down. “Damn, Jax. Premium merchandise this time,” a man with rotting, yellowed teeth leered, reaching out to pinch my cheek. Instinctively, I flinched and pulled away. Smack! The yellow-toothed man backhanded me across the face. Pain exploded across my cheek, hot and sharp. “Who told you to dodge, you little brat!” I fell hard onto the concrete floor. The metallic taste of blood seeped into the corner of my mouth. But I didn’t cry. I just lay there, staring dead into his eyes. “Ooh, look at the glare on this one.” The man laughed, pulling back his heavy work boot to kick me in the ribs. “Enough.” Jax caught the man’s shoulder, shoving him back. “Cut it out. This one’s completely healthy. We’re gonna get top dollar for her.” Jax crouched down until he was eye-level with me. “Listen to me, kid. You’re here, which means you play by our rules.” He pointed toward the darkest corner of the warehouse. “You see that cage?” It was a massive, rusted iron dog crate. Inside, three mangy, aggressive dogs paced back and forth, growling. “If you don’t listen, you sleep in there with them. If you listen, you get fed.” I slowly wiped the blood from my chin with the back of my hand. “How much to sleep in the cage?” I asked. Jax froze. The entire warehouse erupted into booming, ugly laughter. “Holy shit! Jax, is this kid mentally challenged?” the yellow-toothed man cackled. “She wants to pay to sleep in a dog cage? Ha!” Jax shook his head, staring at me like I was an alien. “It’s free, kid. Free lodging.” “And the food?” I asked, my voice steady. “Also free.” I nodded. I pushed myself off the ground, dusted off my knees, and walked straight toward the rusted iron bars. “Then I’ll sleep there.” As long as it didn’t cost money, anywhere was fine. Back at the mansion, sleeping in that tiny, unheated bedroom cost me two hundred dollars a month in rent. This place was filthy. It smelled like wet fur and decay. But it was free. I crawled into the cage, pulling my knees to my chest, making myself small as the dogs sniffed at my shoes. The men’s laughter echoed off the high corrugated ceiling. I knew they were laughing at my stupidity. But as I sat there in the dark, my heart felt lighter than it had in years. To me… anywhere in the world that didn’t demand coins for my existence was paradise. … That evening, the Croft estate finally received a phone call from the police. “Is this Valerie Croft? This is the precinct.” Valerie was in the middle of a Zoom call with her board of directors. She sighed, deeply annoyed. “Speaking. What is it?” “We found a backpack belonging to your daughter, Sally Croft, abandoned by a drainage canal on the outskirts of the city. We need you to come down and identify it.” Valerie’s tone was impeccably flat. “I do not have the time right now. I am in the middle of a vital executive meeting. When it concludes, I will dispatch my assistant.” The officer on the line was stunned into a brief silence. “Ma’am, this is your biological daughter. She could be in grave danger! You need—” “Officer.” Valerie cut him off sharply. “She is throwing a temper tantrum. She ran away from home to get attention.” “Furthermore, my time is currently valued at hundreds of thousands of dollars an hour. I am not going to waste it driving across town for a dirty backpack.” “Besides,” she added with a dry scoff, “we live in a civilized society. What exactly do you think is going to happen to her?” 3 Inside the police precinct, Officer Ramirez slammed the receiver down so hard the plastic cracked. “Is she even human?!” Ramirez seethed, her hands trembling with rage. “Her ten-year-old kid is missing, potentially dead, and she says looking for her is a waste of time?!” Detective Harrison leaned against the desk, taking a slow drag from his cigarette. “Did you run a background check on this Valerie Croft?” “Yeah. Richest woman in the city. Renowned philanthropist. Donates millions to children’s charities every year.” Ramirez let out a bitter, venomous laugh. “Philanthropist? More like a sociopath. She bleeds money for strangers to look good, but won’t spare a second for her own flesh and blood!” “Where did you say you found the bag?” “By that foul drainage river on the west side. Inside, there were just a few cracked textbooks and… this.” Ramirez pulled out a clear evidence bag. Inside was a small, spiral-bound notebook. The pages were warped and waterlogged, the ink bleeding at the edges. She opened to the first page. Written in shaky, childish handwriting: January 1st, 2026. Two strawberries: Owe $1.00 One plain piece of toast: Owe $0.50 Flushing the toilet (twice): Owe $0.40 Watching TV for 10 minutes: Owe $1.00 Ramirez read the entries aloud, her voice breaking. Her eyes swam with tears. “What kind of hell… what kind of absolute hell was this little girl living in?” Detective Harrison crushed his cigarette into the ashtray, his jaw locked tight. “Open a criminal investigation. Right now. This isn’t just a missing person’s case anymore. This is severe, systematic child abuse.” “Send a squad to the Croft estate. If they refuse to cooperate, put them in cuffs.” At the Croft mansion, Richard was standing in front of a gilded mirror, adjusting the lapels of a freshly delivered bespoke tuxedo. They had a high-profile charity gala to attend tonight, and he was taking Preston to introduce him to the city’s elite. The doorbell rang. Maria opened the door, and a team of uniformed officers shoved past her, led by Detective Harrison. “Richard Croft. We suspect your daughter, Sally, has been the victim of human trafficking, and that she has been subjected to severe, prolonged abuse within this household. You’re coming with us.” Richard was frog-marched out the front door and shoved into the back of a squad car. Preston stood at the top of the grand staircase, bursting into perfectly timed tears as he dialed Valerie’s private number. In the abandoned warehouse, I had survived my first twenty-four hours in the cage. It wasn’t bad. The scraps they threw me were greasy and cold, but they filled my stomach. And they didn’t cost a dime. When Jax was in a good mood, he even tossed me a piece of leftover steak. I was quiet. I was obedient. I never cried, I never screamed, and I even helped them pour kibble for the dogs. Those three aggressive mutts were now sleeping with their heads resting on my sneakers, wagging their tails when I pet them. But the strange peace didn’t last. A woman arrived at the factory. She wore heavy perfume and a sharp, tailored coat. “This is the premium stock you were bragging about?” she asked, her voice raspy from cigarettes. Jax practically bowed to her. “Madam Mae, take a look. The kid’s completely healthy. Quiet, too. You can beat the hell out of her and she doesn’t make a peep.” Mae stepped up to the cage and grabbed my chin through the bars, tilting my face to the harsh light. “Age?” “Ten,” I answered flatly. “A bit old for the adoption market,” Mae muttered, her brow furrowing. “Whatever. I’ll take her.” I knew what this meant. I was being moved to a new home. I looked at Mae, my heart pounding, and asked the only question that mattered: “Ma’am… does the new house have free food?” Mae blinked, thoroughly confused. Then, a slow, dark smile spread across her red lips. “Free? Little girl, there is no such thing as a free lunch in this world.” My chest tightened. I had to earn money again? Was it going to be like the mansion? Polishing shoes, scrubbing toilets, begging for scraps in exchange for copper coins? A heavy, suffocating despair anchored itself in my chest. At that exact moment, across town, Valerie Croft was sitting in the precinct’s interrogation room. She was staring at the waterlogged notebook inside the plastic evidence bag, a look of profound boredom on her elegant face. “What exactly is this supposed to prove? It proves my daughter has a strong head for economics and meticulous bookkeeping skills.” “My daughter lives in a twenty-million-dollar estate. She rides in armored SUVs. She attends an elite prep school. You call that abuse?” “Don’t you officers have actual criminals to catch? Why are you harassing my family over parenting techniques?” Detective Harrison slammed both hands on the metal table, getting right in her face. “Valerie! Read the damn page! ‘Owe Mom $1,000 for interrupting her phone call while mopping the floor.’ You look me in the eye and tell me that is not psychological torture!” Valerie faltered for a fraction of a second. She remembered that day. Her stock portfolio had taken a sudden dip, she was furious, and she had screamed at Sally just because the mop bucket made a splashing sound. A microscopic sliver of unease prickled the back of her neck, but she quickly buried it under a mountain of arrogance. “It was a joke. The child is simply too literal, too sensitive.” “We are done here. I am posting bail for my husband. When you find the brat, call my assistant.” She grabbed her designer coat and stood up to leave. But before she could reach the handle, the heavy door was violently thrown open. Officer Ramirez stood in the doorway, her face the color of chalk. “Detective! We found her!” “Where?” “At… at an underground clinic on the south side.” Ramirez’s voice was shaking violently. “The syndicate… they were in the middle of a procedure.” “What procedure?” “Organ harvesting.” For the first time in ten years, the mask of ice on Valerie Croft’s face shattered into pure panic. 4 Deep in the rotting underbelly of the city. The shrieking of police sirens tore the night wide open. Valerie sat in the back of a speeding squad car, her perfectly manicured hands gripping the wire mesh separating the front seats. “Drive faster!” she screamed at the officer at the wheel. “If something happens to my daughter… I will ruin your life! I’ll have your badge!” The cruiser slammed to a halt in front of a boarded-up storefront. “Freeze! Police!” Valerie sprinted out of the car, following Detective Harrison as he kicked the heavy metal door off its hinges. They tore through the dimly lit, moldering front room and breached the back office. In the center of the room sat a single, blood-stained surgical table under a blazing halogen light. Several people in filthy medical scrubs were already pinned to the linoleum floor by the raid team. But the operating table was empty. There was only a fresh, vivid puddle of blood. It hadn’t even begun to dry. “Where is she?!” Detective Harrison roared. He grabbed one of the underground surgeons by the collar, hauling him up and pressing the barrel of his Glock directly against the man’s temple. “Where the hell is the kid?!” The surgeon shook uncontrollably, his eyes rolling back in terror. He raised a trembling finger and pointed toward the back window. “She… she ran…” “Ran?!” “The anesthesia… it was wearing off too fast. She woke up… she bit me right to the bone, and she threw herself out the window…” Valerie rushed to the smashed window. Beneath it raged the brutal, churning rapids of the city’s concrete spillway. The water was dark, violent, and deafening. “Search the banks! Get choppers in the air now!” Harrison bellowed into his radio. Valerie’s knees buckled. She jumped? Into that water? How could a ten-year-old child survive that current? Just then, a tactical officer jogged into the room, dripping wet. “Detective! We found this on the concrete embankment downriver!” He held up a heavy-duty plastic ziplock bag. Inside was a piece of paper and a few crumpled, blood-smeared dollar bills. The paper was covered in jagged, frantic handwriting. Mom, Dad. I’m gone. I did the math. Over the past ten years, my total debt to you is exactly $35,200. The lady said a cornea sells for $50,000 on the black market. I’m leaving it for you to clear my debt. Keep the change as interest. From this moment on, I owe you nothing. In this life, and the next, I resign from being your daughter. Valerie stared at the note. The letters seemed to detach from the page and float in front of her, mocking her. She finally understood. Sally hadn’t been throwing a tantrum. She hadn’t run away for attention. She had left to settle her account. She had paid off her “family debt” with her own eye. “No… no, it’s not possible…” Valerie’s hands began to shake violently. “Who did she give it to?! Who is the woman?!” She lunged at the terrified surgeon on the floor, grabbing him by the scrubs and shaking him with manic strength. “Tell me! Where is her eye?! Do you have it?!” The doctor sobbed, blood leaking from where Sally had bitten him. “We… we didn’t do it… she took the scalpel… she did it herself… she slashed her own eye…” “What?!” The world around Valerie ceased to exist. “She did it herself?” She stumbled backward, her designer heels slipping on the bloody floor. She collapsed onto the linoleum, the stench of iron and bleach filling her lungs. Two thick, muddy tears carved their way through the flawless makeup on her cheeks. Right then, Harrison’s radio crackled to life. “Detective! Traffic cams just got a facial recognition hit! A little girl, matching the description, face covered in blood. She was spotted out by the southside crematorium.” The crematorium? Valerie shot up from the floor, her mind spiraling into absolute hysteria. Why would she go there? “Move! To the crematorium!” She bolted out the door, moving faster than the tactical officers. Her brain was a mess of static and pure terror. She only knew one thing. If that “account” was truly settled… she would lose her daughter forever.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394640”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel