Category: English

Seven days after my daughter disappeared, I took an entire preschool hostage. I had all 27 students and their two teachers locked inside a classroom. I made my demand to the police: for every half-hour they failed to find my daughter, I would kill one of the children. The preschool director was on her knees, a sobbing, hysterical mess. “It’s not my fault your daughter’s missing! Why should these other children have to pay for it?” I glanced at my watch. “You have twenty-nine minutes. Find my daughter. Now.” I knew she was here. Somewhere in this building. 01 Five minutes ago, the director’s tone had been far more arrogant. I leaned against the classroom door, the children inside still playing, blissfully unaware. Only the two young teachers stared at me, their eyes wide with terror. Outside, the director was still pounding on the door. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Your kid’s disappearance has nothing to do with me! Open this door! School lets out soon!” I frowned, pulled a cobbled-together pistol from my pocket, and without a word, fired a single shot into the ceiling. The pounding stopped. The director stumbled back, her voice a trembling whisper. “You’re… you’re serious? This is a federal crime! Do you have any idea what they do to people who kidnap children? They’ll put you away forever!” I let out a cold laugh, stroking the metal of the gun. “Then you’d better call them. You’re not the one I need to talk to.” Five minutes later, sirens wailed in the distance. A calm, gentle male voice called out. I recognized it. Officer Miller from the local precinct. He tried to reason with me, his voice a placating balm. “Leah, please, stay calm. We’re doing everything we can to investigate your daughter’s disappearance. Just let the children go, and we can talk this through, okay?” I gripped the pistol tighter, a bitter laugh bubbling in my throat. My daughter, Lily, had been gone for seven days without a single trace. What was there to talk about now? How many years I’d get in prison? I shouted back, my voice echoing across the playground. “I want to see my daughter! If I don’t see her in thirty minutes, you’ll have a body to show for it!” The playground was now a sea of flashing lights and yellow police tape. Parents, hearing the news, had formed a frantic, weeping mob just beyond the barricade. The police were stretched thin, trying to contain the surging crowd while keeping a wary eye on me. Officer Miller was sweating, I could hear it in his voice. This was far above his pay grade. The tactical unit and SWAT were on their way. Until then, his job was to keep me talking. “Leah, we understand how you feel, but the children are innocent. You used to be their teacher. How can you hurt them?” My biggest regret in life was ever taking a job at this preschool. If I hadn’t, Lily would still be with me. I checked my watch again. “Twenty-eight minutes left,” I said, my voice flat. “I assume you don’t want any casualties.” “We’re doing our best,” he pleaded, “but we can’t just find her in a matter of minutes!” I roared back, my voice cracking. “I told you, she never left this building! Find her here!” 02 Sunshine Meadows was a private preschool, small and self-contained. Three two-story buildings and two small playgrounds. The day Lily vanished, I searched every inch of this place myself. Nothing. When I demanded to see the security footage, the director claimed the cameras were broken. What a convenient coincidence. I knew, right then, that she was involved. Later, I snuck back into the security office. I watched the footage from the surrounding cameras for hours. And I confirmed it. My daughter never left the preschool grounds. But where could she be? It was a question that had gnawed at me day and night. “We’ve already sent teams to search the premises,” Officer Miller called out, trying to placate me. “You have to trust us.” But I knew he didn’t believe me. The police had already searched the school multiple times and found nothing. The parents outside were a chaotic mix of fury and desperate pleas, their voices merging into a maddening roar that scraped at my last nerve. “Your kid is missing, what does that have to do with us? Go kidnap the director, not our kids!” “Please,” a woman wailed, collapsing to her knees at the police line. “I’m begging you, let my daughter go… she’s so fragile, her asthma… I’m on my knees…” The crowd’s anger was boiling over, some of them shouting for the police to just shoot me. I grabbed the school’s portable megaphone. “I don’t want to kill anyone,” my amplified voice boomed across the yard. “I just want to know where my daughter is.” Twenty-five minutes. The tactical teams would be here by now. Snipers were probably already in position. I took a deep breath. “Director,” I called out. “You know, don’t you? Where is my daughter?” Every eye turned to the woman cowering in the corner of the office. She gritted her teeth. “How would I know? Leah, stop acting like a rabid dog and blaming everyone!” She paused, then a malicious sort of realization dawned on her face. “Maybe she ran away from home! Maybe she went to find her father…” She looked straight at the police. “That ex-con husband of hers should be out of prison by now, right? I bet you anything, he’s the one who took her!” 03 “Absolutely not!” The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them. Officer Miller seized the opening. “We’re trying to contact your husband, Luke, but we haven’t been able to reach him.” “Leah, we will find your daughter. I promise you, we will spare no expense. Just release the children. Think about Lily. If we find her, do you want her to see you like this? Do you want her to know both her parents are criminals?” For a second, my resolve wavered. A small, red rubber ball rolled to a stop at my feet. A little girl called out, her voice bright and innocent, “Teacher, can you kick it back?” I steadied myself, gently tossing the ball back to her. These children had no idea what was happening. They were still so full of life. Could my Lily still be playing so happily? I couldn’t bear to think about it. I glanced at the time. “Eighteen minutes left,” I called out, my voice cold again. “Have you found anything yet?” 04 The negotiation had failed. Officer Miller sighed, stepping back as his colleagues took their positions. The top negotiators from the state had arrived. This standoff was now a city-wide crisis, with news vans and live-streaming vultures swarming the scene like flies to blood. The order had come down from the top: no harm to any of the children. If necessary, they were cleared to take me out. But Miller still held onto a sliver of hope. His gut told him I wasn’t a hardened killer, just a desperate mother pushed to the brink. “Did you get the security footage?” he asked his tech team. “Did the kid ever leave the building?” A younger officer replied, “We’ve recovered the deleted files, sir. There’s no sign of Lily Carter leaving the preschool.” Miller was stumped. Could I be right? Was Lily still here? But where could she be? The classrooms, offices, kitchen—they’d all been searched. What were they missing? His teams did another sweep. Nothing. “This is impossible!” one of his men exclaimed in frustration. “It’s like the kid just grew wings and flew away! There are cameras everywhere, no blind spots!” A thought sparked in Miller’s mind. “Are there cameras in the restrooms? Check the restrooms!” The preschool’s restrooms were inside the main building. And Lily was last seen near Classroom B. The very classroom where I was holding my hostages. My voice cut through the air again. “Fifteen minutes. Are you all completely useless? You can’t even find one little girl.” 05 I leaned against the wall, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “You guys would turn a city upside down for a politician’s stolen briefcase, but a living, breathing child vanishes for seven days, and you have nothing?” My accusation was met with a moment of strained silence from Officer Miller. “Leah,” he said slowly, “what if your daughter is closer than you think?” I froze, not understanding him. I had searched this room, the closets, the attached restroom, every single corner. She wasn’t here. “This whole area is covered by cameras, except for the restroom. That’s the only blind spot. We think your daughter was taken from there.” “Leah, give yourself up! Let us handle this. We will find out what happened.” The restroom. The restroom. I pictured its layout. It was a simple, unisex bathroom with two small stalls and a tiny ventilation fan high on the wall. I stared in its direction, a strange feeling prickling at the back of my neck. Something was wrong with it, but I couldn’t put my finger on what. I licked my dry lips. “Ten minutes left. I only care about results. Find my daughter, or they all die with her.” Officer Miller closed his eyes. I knew what was happening. The lead detective was giving the signal to the sniper: take the shot at the first clear opportunity. “If my daughter disappeared from that restroom,” I shouted, “then there must be a hidden exit, right? I hope you find it soon. Even if you arrest me, it’ll be worth it.” I had suspected it myself. That Lily had been taken through the restroom. But that would require a secret door, and it would leave a trace. I was just an ordinary woman. What I couldn’t find, I had to entrust to the professionals. I lowered my gaze. So far, everything was going according to plan. The second hand on my watch swept relentlessly onward. I beckoned to a little girl. “Mia,” I said with a thin smile. “Want to play a game with Teacher Leah?” 06 Five minutes left. The police were still wasting their breath. “Leah, don’t do anything rash!” Miller’s voice was hoarse. “Every officer in the city is looking for your daughter. Not just us—citizens, volunteers, they’re all helping! It’s not too late. Your daughter will need her mother when we find her!” “One minute left. It seems you’ve failed.” I ripped open the curtains, using little Mia’s body as a shield, and drew a knife across her throat. The little girl didn’t even make a sound. Her head just slumped to the side. A spray of crimson splattered across the clean window pane. I retreated back into the shadows, my voice broadcasting over the megaphone, impossibly calm. “The first child is dead. Your inefficiency is to blame.” Outside, a wave of shrieks and sobs erupted from the parents. It had happened so fast, most of them couldn’t even tell which child it was. Cold sweat trickled down my back. Even hidden behind the wall, I knew a sniper’s scope was trained on my head. Officer Miller slammed his megaphone onto the ground, his voice raw with fury. “You’re a monster! I don’t care what your excuse is, killing an innocent child is unforgivable!” “I’m telling you, you’re surrounded! Give up now!” So, the gentle approach was over. Now came the threats. I wasn’t rattled. “Officer, I’ve rigged this entire building with explosives. If you don’t want to see a much higher body count, you’d better find her. Fast.” “I swear, the moment you find my daughter, I will surrender. I won’t hurt another soul.” 07 The word “explosives” made Officer Miller feel faint. They couldn’t call a madwoman’s bluff. Even if they took me out, I could detonate the bombs with my last breath. “Who the hell is she?” he demanded of his team. “How does a preschool teacher get her hands on guns and explosives?!” Someone explained, “She has a PhD in ordnance engineering. After her husband went to prison, she moved back to her hometown and took the teaching job.” Miller’s head throbbed. “What was her husband in for?” “Manslaughter. He was released seven days ago. His current whereabouts are unknown.” He got out seven days ago. His daughter disappeared seven days ago. Could it really be a coincidence? Did Luke Carter kidnap his own daughter? They had no time to speculate. They had to find Luke, but more importantly, they had to find Lily. The clock had started on a new thirty-minute countdown. Suddenly, there was a shout from the restroom in the adjacent, empty classroom. “We found something! There’s a hidden passage in here! And there’s a child!” Miller’s head snapped in that direction. He saw one of his officers emerging, carrying a small, frail child, and clutching a broken piece of a child’s smartwatch. His eyes widened. It was the same model as Lily’s. The crowd screamed. Miller rushed forward, throwing his jacket over the rescued child. He grabbed the megaphone. “Leah, it’s over! We can let them go now! We’ve found your daughter!” I peered through the peephole. I saw the child wrapped in the police jacket. A small arm dangled limply, and on the wrist was the same pink smartwatch I had bought for Lily. My heart hammered against my ribs. I wanted to throw the door open, to run to her. My hand was on the doorknob when my phone vibrated in my pocket. I glanced at the message, and my blood ran cold.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393901”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

In the third month of the cold war with my A-list actor boyfriend, we were invited onto a reality show and told to call the person we love most. Out of spite, he called his assistant, Hannah. The internet went wild. I dialed an unknown number, a call to my mother in another world. The internet ridiculed me. Hamilton sneered. “You’re an orphan. What mother? You’re so pathetic you’d hire an actress to play your own mom.” I said nothing. As he watched me with that mocking expression, I ran to the window and jumped. The System had just told me. All I had to do was die in this world. Then I could finally go home and be with my mom again. 1. “To stoop so low you’d hire an actress to play your own mom… you have no shame.” Host, if the body in this world dies, you can return home. The two voices echoed in my mind at the same time. I stared blankly ahead, lost for a moment. Hamilton, however, thought I was looking at him and let out a contemptuous laugh. “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you don’t have a single person you love most? Are you that much of a failure?” His words triggered a wave of laughter from the crew. I was the only one not laughing. He wasn’t wrong. Ever since I arrived in this world and accepted the mission to win him over, my life had revolved around him. To complete the mission as quickly as possible and get back home to cure my mother, I never had time to make friends. I could only rely on him. I was like a fragile vine, clinging to him for survival. The internet had even dubbed me “the world’s clingiest girlfriend.” During the years he loved me most, Hamilton would hold me and make promises. “Anya, I’ll be with you for the rest of our lives. We’ll never be apart.” I believed him. Until the first time I walked in on him and Hannah kissing. He’d explained it away impatiently, his eyes fixed on Hannah’s flushed cheeks. “It was just a dare from a game, can you stop being so paranoid? There’s nothing between us. Don’t make it sound so sordid.” We had a huge fight. Then, three months ago, I found them again, emerging from the bathroom together in bathrobes. I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. He didn’t even bother with an explanation this time. Instead, he deliberately wrapped his arm around Hannah. “All you do is argue, argue, argue. Can’t you learn to be sweet and obedient like Hannah?” In that moment, I finally understood. It was over. This mission… I couldn’t do it anymore. Fortunately, the System didn’t force me to continue. It readily agreed to cancel the mission and even promised to uphold its end of the bargain: to cure my mother. With that, I had nothing left to hold me back. The System’s voice echoed in my mind again. Host, your mother asked me to tell you that she misses you very much. A sharp pang hit my nose, and my eyes instantly welled with tears. That’s right. I did have someone I loved. My mom. And I missed her so, so much. “I want… to go home,” I mumbled, my voice choked with emotion. Hamilton froze, a flicker of remorse in his eyes, but his words were still sharp. “Anya, your acting skills are getting better and better…” I pretended not to hear him. I stood up and walked quickly toward the window. Amid the panicked shouts of the crew and the crash of falling camera equipment, I leaped from the windowsill. I was done with Hamilton. I was done with our five years together. I just wanted to go home. 2. I woke to the sterile smell of antiseptic. For a moment, I thought I’d made it back. But before the joy could even register, a familiar voice shattered my hope. Unfortunately, I hadn’t died. “Anya, you’re going to threaten me with suicide just because I called Hannah? All I did was say a few words to you! And you were the one who started the fight!” “If you really wanted to die, you should have picked a higher floor! A three-story fall won’t kill you. What’s with the act?” Hamilton’s eyes were bloodshot. I stared at him, stunned into silence. Before I could speak, the door opened and Hannah rushed in, her face streaked with tears, looking as if she might collapse at any moment. “Anya, I’m so sorry. Hamilton was just trying to get a rise out of you, to make you jealous. That’s the only reason he called me. I’ll disappear. I won’t bother you two ever again.” With that, she gave Hamilton a look filled with sorrow and reluctance, then turned to leave. She’d only taken a few steps before Hamilton grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. His expression was grim. “This isn’t your fault. Why are you leaving? Don’t cry. I’ll have Anya clear your name.” He turned back to me, his gaze turning to ice. “Anya, because your little stunt was broadcast live, Hannah is being crucified online. You have to make a statement and explain that she’s innocent. She doesn’t deserve to be dragged into your mess.” He continued, his voice hardening. “Everywhere she goes, people are calling her a homewrecker because of what you did. You need to apologize to her. You were in the wrong this time, and I’m not going to enable you.” I almost wanted to laugh. But none of this drama mattered anymore. I tossed my phone to him, my face a mask of calm. “Fine. Post whatever you want.” My voice was flat. “I just want to go home now.” The System immediately responded: Soon, Host. Very soon. I closed my eyes again, shutting them out. “Get out. Both of you, get out.” 3. Hamilton hesitated for a moment, but he didn’t leave. He expertly unlocked my phone and quickly typed out a clarification statement. When he handed the phone back, his eyes were clouded with a complex emotion. “Anya, after all these years, your lock screen is still that same photo.” I didn’t speak, just glanced at the screen. It was a picture of Hamilton and me holding a birthday cake, our smiles radiant and full of love. I felt a pang of nostalgia. Back then, he wasn’t a famous actor. He was running from audition to audition, working as an extra. For my birthday, he’d scraped together all his money to buy me an expensive, beautiful cake. “Anya, thank you for sticking with me,” he had said. “From now on, I’ll buy you the most beautiful, most expensive cake every year. We have to be together forever.” He became famous and kept his promise. But somewhere along the way, the cakes and gifts became cold and sharp. They no longer tasted sweet. All that was left was a lingering, bitter aftertaste. I spent a week in the hospital, my mind consumed with finding another way to die. The day I was discharged, Hamilton came to pick me up. A crowd of his fans had gathered at the entrance. They started shouting the moment they saw me. “Go to hell, Anya! Why didn’t you just die when you jumped?” “Such a manipulative, green-tea bitch!” “And you have the nerve to slander Hannah? You’re the real homewrecker! Who knows how many producers you slept with to get where you are!” The words went in one ear and out the other. After all these years, I was used to it. Hamilton always thought I was strong, good-tempered, and resilient. He’d praised my thick skin more than once. The truth was, I was just numb from the pain. So hurt that my face no longer showed it. We finally managed to shake the fans, and Hamilton’s car pulled up in front of me. The passenger window rolled down, revealing Hannah’s slightly flushed face. “Anya, hurry, get in! Your haters will be back any second. Don’t get us caught in the crossfire, haha.” She stuck her tongue out, grinning like a cat that had gotten the cream. Hamilton wasn’t angry at all. He just smiled at Hannah, his eyes filled with an unconscious softness. The passenger seat, once exclusively mine, had been redecorated. It was now filled with small cosmetics, a makeup mirror, and Hannah’s favorite bunny-eared plushie and snacks. These were all things Hamilton had forbidden me from bringing into his car. He’d claimed they could damage the interior or be misinterpreted by the paparazzi. Looking at it now, I realized the truth. It was never about the car. It was about who he loved. But it didn’t matter. I took two steps back, hailed a taxi, and went back to the small apartment I was renting. 4. I sold most of my belongings and donated the money to a charity for underprivileged children. Just as I was preparing to slit my wrists with a shard of porcelain, the doorbell rang. Hamilton stood outside, his face dark, with a red-eyed Hannah trailing behind him. “Anya, are you determined to keep fighting with me? I honestly don’t understand what I did to upset you this time!” He let out a sigh, his gaze heavy as he looked at me, a hint of helplessness in his eyes. “Fine. It’s your birthday today, so I won’t argue with you. I bought you a cake. I came to celebrate with you.” Hannah blushed and stammered out a “Happy Birthday.” My gaze, however, was fixed on the necklace she was wearing. Hannah touched it, a sweet smile on her face. “Hamilton gave it to me. I liked it the moment I saw it. He said it was just a little trinket, so he let me have it.” Hamilton nodded, walking into the room and sitting down as if he owned the place. “It was old anyway. It was just sitting around. If Hannah likes it, she can have it. Besides, I never really liked it.” I froze, stunned for a moment. That was a matching couple’s necklace we had bought when we first got together. It was only a few hundred dollars, not particularly fancy, but he had treasured it. “I’m going to keep this forever! It’s a symbol of our love, it’s special. If I ever lose it, you can punish me by never letting me see you again, okay?” Every year on his birthday, he would wear that necklace with me. Last year, he stopped. I didn’t ask why. I just never imagined it would end up around Hannah’s neck. 5. When the cake box was opened, Hamilton froze, a flicker of panic in his eyes. I stopped his hand as he tried to close the lid. I saw the four words written in frosting: Happy Wedding. Happy wedding, to Hamilton and Hannah. “They… they must have made a mistake. Anya, you’re not angry, are you? It’s just a cake. We can just scrape the words off.” Hannah’s face paled, but when Hamilton wasn’t looking, her eyes were filled with a triumphant provocation. “Anya, I’m so sorry. I messed up. It’s my fault for not giving the baker clear instructions. I’m so, so sorry. I really didn’t mean for this to happen.” She started to cry, her shoulders shaking. The guilt on Hamilton’s face vanished, replaced by a wave of protectiveness. He gently wiped her tears away, murmuring soft, comforting words. When he saw that I wasn’t speaking, his expression soured. “Anya! Hannah is already crying, why are you being so cold? It’s just a cake! I can just buy you another one.” “Can you stop being so petty? Besides, wasn’t it your little suicide stunt that got her harassed online in the first place? She’s already emotionally fragile, and she made the effort to come celebrate with you. Why do you have to be so difficult?” I rubbed my temples, weary. My heart felt nothing. Hamilton was right. It was just a cake. A flawed one. But was the cake the only thing that was flawed? “Hamilton, let’s break up.” He stood frozen, staring at me in disbelief. I didn’t wait for him to respond. My face was pale, my voice weak. “I’m going home. We won’t be seeing each other again. I wish you two a long and happy life together.” Crash. The water glass slipped from Hamilton’s hand and shattered on the floor. He just stood there, stunned, searching my face for any sign that I was lying. Finally, his voice came out, raw and hoarse. “Go home? Where would you go besides my place? You don’t have a home! Anya, can you stop this? You have no parents, no family, where could you possibly go?” “If you don’t want to apologize, just say so. I won’t force you. But you can’t just throw the word ‘breakup’ around like it’s nothing!” I shook my head weakly. My body was growing heavy, my vision blurring at the edges. Panic finally seized him. Just as I was about to collapse, he rushed forward and caught me in his arms. In his haste, he kicked over the black trash can. The pool of blood I had already let spilled out, staining the floor crimson. My arm, with its freshly cut wrist, slammed onto the hard floor, sending a jolt of pain through me. “Ah! Blood! So much blood!” Hannah shrieked. “Anya! Are you insane?! Anya, who told you to kill yourself! What kind of sick game are you playing now! ANYA!” His voice was fading. Hamilton. Let’s never meet again. Not in this lifetime, or the next.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393918”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Cathy, my fiancé Ethan’s true love, saved his father with a bone marrow donation. The Northwood family didn’t just thank her—they worshipped her. She became their saint; I became the stain on their perfect story. While she was celebrated as the “Angel of Ashton City,” showered with mansions and luxury cars, I lay in my room, coughing blood, my back covered in deep purple wounds. While she glowed with health, I could barely stand. When I needed medical care, our joint account had been emptied—to buy Cathy designer handbags. When I showed them my donation certificate, their gratitude turned to rage. “Cathy risked her life,” Ethan’s mother snarled, slapping me. “You’re a disgrace.” I died on their engagement day, hearing the celebration through hospital walls, my heart full of hate. Then I woke up—reborn—on the day the hospital called to say I was a match for Ethan’s father. This time, I’d choose differently. This time, I’d marry the one man the Northwoods feared most: their sworn enemy, the blind CEO they’d ruined. 1 The sterile, antiseptic smell of the hospital corridor filled my lungs. The single sheet of paper in my hand, the report confirming the “successful bone marrow match,” felt as heavy as a tombstone. The memory of that thick needle piercing my spine, again and again, sent a phantom shock of pain through my nerves. I smiled. Then, before the doctor’s astonished eyes, I tore that single sheet of paper—the one that held the Northwood dynasty’s fate—into a shower of confetti and tossed it into the trash. I swiped open my phone, blocked the hospital’s number, and deleted it. My fingers flew across the screen, dialing a number I had only ever seen in headlines of the financial news. A name I had admired from afar but never dared to approach. Edward Howell. The heir to Howell Industries, the man whose empire and eyesight had been destroyed by the Northwoods’ machinations. The line connected almost instantly, met with a wall of dead silence. I didn’t waste time on pleasantries. “Mr. Howell,” I began, my voice steady, “my name is Sophia Hayes. I’m Ethan Northwood’s fiancée. I have the core project data and fatal security vulnerabilities for Northwood Industries for the next three quarters. I want to make a trade.” His breathing on the other end remained calm, as if I’d just offered him the weather report. “What kind of trade?” “Marry me,” I said, each word a deliberate, sharp-edged stone. “I’ll be your wife, and this corporate intelligence will be my dowry. I have only one condition: give me your protection and your resources. I want to see the House of Northwood burn to the ground.” The silence on the other end stretched for a full thirty seconds. I thought he was going to hang up, dismissing me as a lunatic. Finally, he spoke. His voice was a low, resonant baritone. “City Hall. Thirty minutes.” The line went dead. It was all business, cold and efficient, without a single wasted word. Holding the freshly printed marriage certificate—the paper a startling, almost violent shade of red—was the first moment this new life felt real. That afternoon, my phone rang. It was Ethan, his voice crackling with an unfamiliar fury. “Sophia! Where the hell have you been? We found a match for my father, but the hospital said they can’t reach you!” “Oh,” I replied, my tone placid. “I was busy. I got married.” “What?!” His roar nearly shattered my eardrum. “Are you insane, Sophia? What kind of game are you playing at a time like this? Get your ass back here, right now! Don’t you forget who pays your bills and gives you the life you have!” A small, cold laugh escaped my lips. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Ethan. My name is Sophia Hayes. And as of this morning, the name next to mine on a marriage certificate is Edward Howell.” The other end of the line fell dead silent. Then, his mother snatched the phone, her voice a shrill shriek. “You venomous bitch, Sophia! Are you trying to kill us all? How could you marry that blind cripple? You ungrateful viper!” I hung up. I’d heard enough. Less than an hour later, Ethan’s retaliation came. He called an emergency press conference. In front of the cameras, he looked haggard, his face a mask of profound sorrow. “My fiancée, Sophia Hayes,” he began, his voice breaking, “in a fit of pique, has chosen this moment—the moment she learned my father’s life was in her hands—to not only refuse to donate her bone marrow, but to spitefully run off and marry my greatest business rival.” He paused, letting the tragedy sink in, his eyes pleading with the cameras. “I cannot fathom how a person can be so cold, so heartless. To put a petty grudge before a human life… I stand before you today to apologize. To apologize for my father’s fate, and for ever loving such a treacherous woman.” It was a masterful performance. The narrative of the devoted son, betrayed by a cruel fiancée, exploded across the internet. I became the villain: cold-blooded, vindictive, monstrous. I stared at the news on my phone, calmly adding this new, public hatred to the very top of my revenge list. The Howell estate was as dark and imposing as a fortress. The moment I stepped through the gates, I felt the suffocating weight of its history. A butler, a man well past fifty, intercepted me. His demeanor was polite, but his eyes were filled with undisguised suspicion. “Miss Hayes,” he said stiffly. “Mr. Howell is waiting for you in his study. Your luggage will be brought to the guest room after it has been… sanitized.” I nodded, saying nothing, and walked toward the study. Edward Howell sat behind a massive oak desk. He wore a pair of dark sunglasses that obscured the upper half of his face, yet I could feel his gaze on me, sharp and analytical. The silence in the room was a physical presence. My ex-fiancé, Ethan, had never commanded this kind of intimidating power. After a long moment, he finally spoke. “The Northwood project vulnerabilities. I want the details.” I didn’t answer immediately. Instead, I walked closer, stopping just before his desk. “Mr. Howell, have you been experiencing increased pressure behind your eyes recently? Accompanied by intermittent migraines and nausea?” His head tilted toward me. I couldn’t see his expression, but I knew his guard was now fully raised. “What are you trying to say?” “They’re classic side effects of the kind of nerve damage you sustained. Medication only offers temporary relief,” I said, weaving my own past agony into a plausible fiction. “A… friend of mine went through a similar ordeal after a bone marrow transplant. She discovered that applying gentle pressure to specific acupressure points around the orbital bone, combined with a warm compress, can significantly alleviate the nerve pain. Would you like to try?” Edward remained silent. The butler, however, stepped forward. “Miss Hayes! Mr. Howell’s health is managed by a team of the world’s leading specialists. Your input is not required!” I ignored the butler, my focus entirely on Edward. “And yet, those leading specialists haven’t cured your blindness, have they? My method is risk-free. It will only take five minutes.” Another long, tense silence stretched between us. Finally, he gave a subtle, almost imperceptible nod. I moved around the desk to stand behind him. Drawing on the muscle memory of a thousand nights spent soothing my own pain, I found the pressure points with practiced ease. The moment my fingertips touched his temples, his entire body went rigid. I paid it no mind, applying a steady, gentle pressure. Five minutes later, I withdrew my hands. “How do you feel?” He didn’t answer. He simply waved a hand, and the butler, understanding the silent command, bowed and exited the room, closing the heavy doors behind him. We were alone. “The resources you asked for, you’ll have them,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “The study downstairs is yours to use. What you can unearth is up to you.” It was the first seed of trust. That night, using the limited access he’d granted me, I anonymously packaged the core code vulnerabilities of “Starlight Innovations,” a key subsidiary of Northwood Industries, and sent it to a handful of the most aggressive financial news outlets. In my past life, that same vulnerability had cost the Northwoods nearly a billion dollars. The next morning, the news broke. Starlight’s stock plummeted the second the market opened, triggering a massive panic sell-off. Ethan’s first call was to Cathy. He had no idea his phone was now bugged, courtesy of my new husband’s resources. “Cathy, baby, don’t worry,” he said, trying to sound confident. “This is nothing. It’s obviously that blind bastard Edward Howell, trying to play dirty. Does he really think these cheap shots can take me down? He’s pathetic!” On the other end, Cathy’s signature sweet, innocent voice was a balm to his ego. “Ethan, please don’t be angry. I know you can handle this. But… about Sophia… now that she’s married to him, do you think she’ll tell him things? About our family?” “Her? What does she know?” Ethan scoffed, his voice dripping with contempt. “She’s a brainless socialite who only knows how to shop. I’m just using her to piss off Howell. She’s a useless pawn in his house now, nobody cares about her. You’re the one that matters, Cathy. You just focus on getting strong. Dad needs you.” I listened to their conversation, a cold smile touching my lips as I switched off the recording. A useless pawn? Excellent. A hunter’s greatest advantage is prey that feels perfectly safe. As I had predicted, Ethan’s father’s condition took a sharp turn for the worse a few days later. The Northwood family was thrown into chaos. I “helpfully” arranged for an anonymous tip to be sent to them, along with a forged lab report suggesting that Cathy was, in fact, a potential match. Instantly, all their hopes, all their pressure, landed squarely on Cathy’s slender shoulders. Soon, the news was all over the society pages: The Northwoods were hosting a grand charity gala to thank the community for its support, and to publicly honor the “great sacrifice” of their savior, Miss Cathy. I saw the announcement and knew their plan immediately. They were building a public altar, a stage of moral high ground from which Cathy could not possibly descend. They would force her hand in front of the entire city. It was a magnificent play, a drama of “selfless love.” I contacted the team Edward had assigned to me. “I want you to fan the flames. Make the story go viral. The headline should be: ‘#Angelic Beauty to Donate Again for Love; Northwood Heir Pledges His Life in Gratitude#’” “I want every person in this city talking about it. I want every camera, every microphone, pointed directly at Cathy’s innocent, perfect face.” Edward’s resources were formidable. Overnight, Cathy became a legend. A living saint, willing to risk her own health for the man she loved. On the night of the gala, I arrived on Edward’s arm, dressed to kill. My appearance silenced the room. Ethan and his mother stared at me, their eyes like daggers. “You have the audacity to show your face here?” his mother hissed, her voice a low, vicious snarl. “You’ve shamed our entire family! Look at Cathy, and then look at yourself. You’re not fit to even breathe the same air as her!” I ignored her, gliding directly toward a pale, visibly anxious Cathy, who was clinging to Ethan’s arm. “Cathy, congratulations,” I said, raising my champagne flute with a brilliant smile. “Soon to be the next Mrs. Northwood. The whole city is calling you an angel. It’s all so moving. It makes a selfish, ordinary person like me feel quite inadequate.” The color drained completely from Cathy’s face. Her knuckles were white where she gripped Ethan’s jacket. “Sophia… please don’t say that… I… I’m just doing what I have to do.” Ethan pulled her protectively behind him, glaring at me. “That’s enough, Sophia! Cathy is still recovering. Stop tormenting her and get out!” The show was about to begin. Ethan took the stage, delivering a heart-wrenching speech about Cathy’s “noble sacrifice.” The spotlight found her, and a hundred cameras zoomed in. She was trapped. To refuse now would be to admit she was a fraud, a heartless performer who would let a man die. With tears in her eyes, she nodded meekly amidst a thunderous, adoring applause. “I… I’ll do it.” The room erupted. But the climax came during the “formality” of the pre-donation physical. To demonstrate the authenticity of the event, the Northwoods had brought in notaries and a medical team to perform a preliminary screening on stage. The result came quickly. The doctor, holding the report, looked deeply uncomfortable. “Mr. Northwood… I’m sorry,” he announced to the silent, expectant crowd. “But according to this preliminary screening, Miss Cathy’s physiological markers, especially her hematopoietic stem cell activity, are completely unsuitable for donation. A forced donation would not only be useless to the patient, it would pose a grave danger to Miss Cathy’s own life.” The ballroom fell into a stunned, absolute silence. The collective gaze of the city’s elite shifted from adoration to confusion, then from confusion to suspicion. A woman who wasn’t even a viable donor had put on a city-wide spectacle of self-sacrifice? The Northwood family’s grand gesture had just become a city-wide joke. Their reputation was in tatters. Later that night, I saw them in the parking garage. For the first time, I saw Ethan shove Cathy’s hand away from him. “Why didn’t you say anything?!” he raged. “Why let it get this far if you knew your body couldn’t handle it? Now my entire family is a laughingstock because of you!” “I… I thought I could… Ethan, I really wanted to save your father…” she sobbed, her tears flowing freely. But the damage was done. Once a crack appears in a perfect facade, it can never be truly repaired. The Northwoods’ public humiliation was a delightful overture to my symphony of revenge. But they weren’t finished. Desperation turns men into beasts. A week later, I was reading in the garden of the Howell estate when a sharp pain exploded at the back of my neck. My world went black. I don’t know how long I was out. When I woke, the acrid smell of disinfectant filled my nose, making me gag. I was lying on a cold, metal table. My wrists and ankles were bound tightly with thick leather straps. The blinding, shadowless lamp of an operating room glared down at me. Several figures in surgical masks and white coats surrounded me, their eyes cold and clinical, as if looking at an object, not a person. The door to the room opened. Ethan and his mother walked in. The charming, grief-stricken mask Ethan wore for the public was gone, replaced by a look of crazed, venomous hatred. His mother, the once-immaculate socialite, looked utterly deranged. “You’re awake, you worthless bitch,” she sneered, stepping forward and striking me hard across the face. “Did you think marrying that blind man would save you? You were born because of us, and you’ll die for us! Your life belongs to the Northwoods!” I didn’t struggle. I just stared at Ethan. He walked slowly to my side, a file in his hand. He slapped it onto my chest. It was my original, authentic bone marrow match report. They had found out. “Sophia,” he said, his voice dangerously soft, a stark contrast to his mother’s shrieking. “I never imagined. You’ve been playing us from the very beginning.” There was no guilt in his eyes, only pure fury at my deception. “The one person who could have saved my father… it was you all along.” He leaned in, his face inches from mine. “You had a good laugh, didn’t you? Watching us beg Cathy, watching my family become a joke. You must have enjoyed that.” I stared back at him, my silence fueling his rage. He bent closer, his lips brushing my ear, his whisper a venomous secret. “You wanted revenge, didn’t you? Well, now you’ve got it.” He straightened up and addressed the surgeon. “Prepare for live extraction.” The doctors moved without hesitation, picking up the long, brutally thick aspiration needles that had been laid out in preparation. My heart seized. The memory of that agony, of being pierced over and over, flooded my senses, and I began to struggle violently, the leather straps cutting into my wrists. “No… you can’t…” Ethan slammed his hands down on my shoulders, his grip like steel, threatening to crush my bones. His face was twisted into a mask of cruel, ecstatic triumph. “Oh, we can,” he said. “This is how you will atone, Sophia. As the former daughter-in-law of this family, this is your penance.” He pointed at me, a grand gesture to his mother, to the doctors, as if presenting a holy sacrifice to a dark god. “Her purpose, her entire value from this day forward, is to be my father’s medicine. We will use her marrow to save his life. It is her sacred duty. Her redemption.” One of the doctors approached, the needle glinting under the surgical lamp. He lowered it toward my back. The cold tip of the needle pressed against the skin of my lower back. I could feel its sharp point seeking the gap between my vertebrae. Despair, thick and suffocating, wrapped around me. My life’s only purpose, it seemed, was to be a medicine.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393934”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My five-year-old daughter needed emergency heart surgery, but my wife—the Chief of Cardiothoracic Surgery, no less—was about to leave for her protégé’s academic symposium. I was on my knees, sobbing, begging her to save our daughter’s life. She hesitated, then refused. “A short delay in Sunny’s surgery won’t matter,” she said, her voice strained. “But this is a make-or-break moment for Patrick’s career.” She didn’t know that less than two hours after she walked out that door, our daughter would breathe her last in my arms. That night, her precious protégé posted on his Instagram story: “My hero and mentor, Dr. Reed, always there when I need her most, breathing new life into my career.” I was just… tired. So tired. It was time to let these two soulmates have each other. … “Evelyn, for God’s sake, open your eyes and look at our child! If we wait any longer, she’ll lose her only chance!” I pleaded, my voice cracking. “Is your daughter’s life worth less than some presentation by your favorite resident?” Evelyn’s gaze flickered away, but she wrenched her hand from my grasp. “Don’t you dare use our daughter as an excuse to be jealous, Liam. It’s not like we’re canceling the surgery. What could possibly happen in one day?” I stared at our daughter, Sunny, lying on the hospital bed, her breath as faint as a whisper. A tidal wave of rage and despair threatened to pull me under. Evelyn was a top specialist in her field; she knew better than anyone that every second we delayed was a gamble with death. We were literally in a race against the reaper. But Evelyn wouldn’t even glance at me kneeling on the cold, sterile floor. Her heart was set, her mind made up. She was leaving. Just then, as if sensing the finality of the moment, Sunny, who had been drifting in and out of consciousness, shed a single tear. It broke me. I lunged forward, grabbing the hem of Evelyn’s pants like a drowning man. “I’m begging you. For whatever our marriage ever meant, for our daughter… please, save her. After this is over, I’ll give you what you want. I’ll walk away and let you be with Patrick, I swear…” A small crowd had gathered at the door—Evelyn’s colleagues, a few wide-eyed interns. They were stunned into silence by the scene. They saw the little girl fading, they felt the tragedy unfolding, but no one else had the skill to perform this surgery. Only Evelyn. A sharp crack echoed in the room as her hand connected with my cheek. “How many times do I have to tell you? Patrick and I are just mentor and mentee! Is your jealousy so consuming that you’d stoop to slandering us in public?” “This symposium is critical for his future,” she hissed. “I have to be there.” Patrick, seeing his cue, began to put on a show. “Liam, I know this is a lot to ask,” he said, his voice thick with false tears. “But Evelyn is my guiding light in this field. This presentation… it means everything to me!” “But this is a life! Your own child’s life!” I roared, all dignity forgotten, clinging to Evelyn’s coat like a scrap of hope. “Please, just do the surgery. Give her a chance to live!” Amid the chaos, the sharp, piercing shriek of the heart monitor cut through the air. Sunny’s blood pressure was plummeting. I scrambled toward the bed, my world narrowing to the sight of my daughter’s chest heaving in short, desperate gasps. Evelyn seized the opportunity. She broke free from my grip, barked orders at a couple of interns to check on Sunny, and then, unbelievably, motioned for several of the experienced nurses to follow her to the symposium. In the end, it was just me, engulfed in an abyss of hopelessness, and two frantic, overwhelmed interns. “Stop making a scene,” Evelyn’s voice cut through my haze, cold and distant. “Her condition has been unstable for a while; this is to be expected. But this is Patrick’s last chance to get his fellowship recognized!” “Don’t overreact. This is normal. I’ll operate as soon as I get back.” With those final, impossibly cruel words, she was gone. I watched her and her entourage disappear down the hall, the sound of their confident footsteps a death knell. I made one last, desperate attempt, grabbing a passing doctor by the arm. “Please,” I begged, “please help my daughter.” The doctor looked pained, unable to meet my eyes. “Dr. Reed’s orders… The entire department has to be at the conference. Please don’t make this difficult for me…” From down the hall, I could hear their voices—Evelyn and Patrick, laughing about something. Here, in this room, my daughter’s breathing had changed. It was shallow, then deep, then stopped altogether for a few seconds before starting again. Cheyne-Stokes. I knew what it was. It was the sound of the end. Tears streamed down my face as I leaned in close, pressing my ear to her chest, trying to catch her last words. “Daddy,” she whispered, her voice barely there. “Does… does Mommy not want me anymore…?” I didn’t have the courage, or the right, to answer. All I could do was hold her, my body wracked with sobs. “Daddy’s here, sweetheart. Daddy will always be with you. You’re going to be okay, I promise.” And just like that, surrounded by my tears and the helpless apologies of two young interns, my five-year-old daughter’s life came to an end. It had been twenty minutes since Evelyn left. One of the interns, his face pale with guilt, looked at me. “We did everything we could…” A bitter, broken laugh escaped me. “You did. You stayed. You have more integrity than she ever will. For that… thank you.” The other intern, unable to hold it in any longer, spoke up. “Liam… Dr. Kent, he specifically scheduled the conference for today. And he made attendance mandatory for the entire department. I… I’m afraid this might have been intentional.” 2 The news didn’t surprise me. Not really. I just felt a profound emptiness as I numbly pulled out my phone and dialed Evelyn’s number. This was it. The last goodbye. As her mother, she deserved to see her… one last time. She rejected the call several times before finally picking up, her voice a furious whisper. “Liam, have you completely lost your mind? We’re supposed to have our phones on silent in here! Do you have any idea how important this is?” she hissed. “It’s like you’re actively trying to sabotage Patrick’s career.” I held Sunny’s hand, feeling the last traces of its warmth fade into the cold. My voice was quiet, but every word was laced with agony. “If you have a shred of humanity left, Evelyn, if you want to be able to sleep at night for the rest of your life, you’ll come back to the hospital now.” “How long are you going to hold our daughter over my head?” she snarled, and then the line went dead. The dam of my grief broke. I collapsed over Sunny’s small, still form and wept. The intern’s eyes were red. He placed a tentative hand on my shoulder. “Liam… Sunny was lucky to have you as a father.” “What Dr. Reed and Dr. Kent did today… it was beyond wrong.” I had always been a joke among the other doctors’ spouses. Some pitied me, the stay-at-home dad; others disdained me. Now, none of it mattered. I had nothing left to fear. With a trembling hand, I smoothed Sunny’s hair, her face so peaceful it looked like she was only sleeping. I forced the words out past the lump in my throat. “Get me the consent forms… for organ and tissue donation. If even one part of her can help another child live, see the world… then my Sunny didn’t die for nothing.” The remaining nurses looked on, their faces etched with a sorrow that went beyond professional duty. I signed the papers, and then the world went black. … When I woke up, it was dark outside. Evening had fallen. I fumbled for my phone. The screen lit up, and the first thing I saw was a new post from Patrick. It was a picture of him and Evelyn on stage, both in their white coats, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist. They were beaming. The caption read: “Thank you to my incredible mentor for her unwavering support. She gave my career a new life when I needed it most!” A chill spread through my chest, colder than any winter night. I struggled to get out of bed. A nurse rushed to my side. “Mr. Hayes, please, you need to rest. The donation procedure is complete. Sunny… her body is still here. You can see her tomorrow, say your final goodbyes.” I thanked her softly. I couldn’t face it. Not yet. I just wanted to disappear. But fate is a cruel mistress. As I was leaving the hospital, I ran right into them. Evelyn and Patrick, returning from their triumph. Patrick was practically glowing, radiating smug satisfaction as he clutched a trophy for “Outstanding Young Physician.” My eyes locked on the gleaming gold in his hands. A butcher, who’d built his career on malpractice and academic fraud, lauded as a hero, all thanks to the woman beside him. And my daughter… my Sunny had to die for this. For this cheap, glittering prize. The irony was so sharp it physically hurt. A cold, bitter laugh escaped me. I wanted to launch myself at him, to tear that fraudulent smile off his face, but my body was a hollow shell, devoid of strength. This tragedy was my fault, too. I should have known, from the moment Evelyn started defending him, humiliating me for him, that she was no longer my wife. That she had stopped being a mother to our child. My refusal to let go had led to this. My presence instantly soured her mood. Her face hardened. “So, how was the big conference?” I sneered, the words tasting like ash. “Did you find a moment to announce your sordid little affair to the medical community?” Evelyn’s face flushed with anger. “You’re not an academic doctor, Liam. You could never understand how important today was for Patrick’s future.” Patrick, the master of theatrics, immediately put on his wounded expression. “Evelyn, please. I don’t want to see him misunderstand you because of me. He’s just lashing out because he’s worried about Sunny…” “If my presence is really causing this much trouble,” he added with a sigh, “I can just leave St. Jude’s and find a job somewhere else.” That was all it took. Evelyn turned on me, her voice sharp with fury. “Don’t you push it, Liam! Patrick was kind enough to operate on Sunny before. Are you really going to let your jealousy ruin the career of a brilliant surgeon like him?” Her words reignited my rage. “His ‘kindness’? You mean when he used our daughter as a guinea pig right out of med school? When his ‘mistake’ nearly killed her on the table and destroyed any chance she had of being cured?” The grief and fury were too much. I swayed, the world tilting around me. 3 Evelyn faltered, a flicker of guilt in her eyes. “He was just a resident then, his experience was limited… I just wanted him to get exposure to a rare case like hers.” Tears welled in my eyes. “You, her mother, a leading authority in the field… you let a rookie practice on our daughter?” Her voice hardened again, her brief moment of weakness gone. “Why can’t you ever stick to the point, Liam? All you do is use our daughter as a pawn in your jealous games. Have you no shame?” “I left two doctors with her, didn’t I?” she snapped. “Why are you making such a big deal out of nothing?” She had spent this entire day, this entire year, propping up Patrick with her authority and reputation. She hadn’t spared a single ounce of genuine concern for me or for Sunny. How could she possibly know that our daughter was already gone? Patrick chimed in, his voice soft and defensive. “I was new then… Sunny’s condition was so complex. I didn’t mean to make a mistake during the surgery…” That was it. I couldn’t listen to another word from this monster who treated human life like a stepping stone. I lunged at him. But Evelyn was faster. She slapped me, hard, positioning herself between me and her protégé. “Liam, I have forgiven you time and time again for using our child as a weapon,” she seethed, “but if you try to destroy Patrick’s future, I will never forgive you!” My cheek burned, but it was nothing compared to the searing pain in my heart. Evelyn knew. Of course she knew Patrick had screwed up. But she would always, always choose to believe him. She would protect him, even if it meant her own flesh and blood paid the price. Patrick shot me a look from behind Evelyn’s shoulder—a venomous, triumphant smirk. “Maybe Liam’s just jealous that I’m a doctor too,” he mused, twisting the knife. “So he’s trying to ruin my reputation with these lies…” I raised my tear-filled eyes and glared at him, a look that promised retribution. Evelyn sighed, a sound of pure exasperation. “Instead of building a career, you spend all your time obsessing over me. It’s pathetic, Liam.” The mention of my career, the one I’d put on hold for years to care for Sunny, made something inside me snap. “Shut up,” I roared, cutting her off. “You, of all people, have no right to judge whether I’m a good father.” She just stared at me, unmoved, as if I were merely a hysterical, jealous husband throwing a tantrum. She turned back to Patrick, her voice softening. “We’re civilized people, doctors. Let’s not stoop to the level of an uncultured brute like him.” She then fixed her cold gaze back on me. “Liam, I’m going to be mentoring Patrick for the next few months as he prepares for his fellowship. Don’t waste your energy on these pathetic games.” I watched them walk away, their backs straight and proud, and a mouthful of blood surged up my throat. It was the taste of pure, unadulterated heartbreak and rage. Sunny’s last, faint words echoed in my ears, a haunting refrain. Daddy, does Mommy not want me anymore? And I had done nothing. I had Sunny buried in a quiet corner of the cemetery. And Evelyn, true to her word, vanished. The promises she’d made to me, to our child, were forgotten, erased as if they’d never existed. In a strange way, I felt a sense of relief. My daughter didn’t need a mother like that to tarnish her memory. The texts from Patrick, however, kept coming. Taunting photos. Under the guise of an “academic retreat,” he and Evelyn were traveling the world. They made no effort to hide their affair, posing like a happy, carefree couple. Kissing in a hot spring one day, holding hands on a beach the next. But they no longer had the power to hurt me. I was already numb.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393951”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The day I married Isabella, the boy who stole my life killed himself. Two years later, that death shattered us. She blamed me—the true heir—for Lucas Blackwood’s demise. I despised her for mourning the impostor who’d lived my life. For a decade, we were each other’s torment. Curses, hatred, a home choked with venom. It ended in an earthquake. As the world collapsed, she shielded me, her spine snapping under the wreckage. Dying, she whispered, “If I’d known he’d die, I’d never have brought you home. “Then, softer: “If we get another life… let me be your only family.” I died in the aftershocks anyway. But when I woke, I was back—on the day she first took me to the Blackwoods. This time, she stopped me, trembling. “Aaron… the son they lost twenty years ago… it isn’t you.” … Isabella blocked my path before the grand iron gates of the Blackwood estate, her face a mask of conflict and grim determination. I said nothing, my mind flashing with the phantom memory of steel and concrete crashing down, of her blood-soaked back, of the words she’d whispered against my ear. “If I had known he would die, I never would have brought you home.” So, this was her choice. Given a second chance, she chose to abandon me from the very beginning. Fine. The last life was a ten-year sentence in a marriage built on torment. She despised me, I resented her, and we tortured each other day and night until death was our only release. The thought of severing it all at the root… it was a relief, a weight lifting from my soul. I met her gaze and gave a calm, simple nod. “Okay.” A flicker of shock crossed Isabella’s face. The entire speech she’d clearly prepared died on her lips. “What did you say?” she asked, the question a knee-jerk reaction. “I said, I understand,” I repeated, my voice even. “If it was a mistake, then it’s over. Thanks for the ride, but I should head back to campus.” I turned to leave. Her hand shot out, grabbing my arm. “Aaron!” She cried out my name, a note of panic creeping into her voice. “What is this attitude? You’ve always wanted to find your family! Now I tell you it’s not them, and you just give up? Just like that?!” I looked back at her, a bitter laugh threatening to escape. She’d concocted this whole lie precisely so I would give up. Now that I was doing exactly what she wanted, she was unsatisfied. “What else did you expect?” I countered. “Unless you’re lying to me right now. Unless I am the real Blackwood heir.” The panic in her eyes flared, her grip on my arm tightening unconsciously. She looked away, hiding her expression. “This ends here. You are not to mention this again, and you are not to go anywhere near the Blackwood family.” “I get it.” I pulled my arm free, rubbing the red marks her fingers had left on my wrist. “I won’t bring it up. I won’t go near them. Are you satisfied now, Isabella?” She stared at my empty hand, a flicker of loss in her eyes, as if something precious had just slipped through her grasp. She had no idea. I was reborn, too. This time, I would not walk through those gates. I would not become the Blackwood heir. And I would never, ever be her husband. She wanted to protect her childhood friend, to keep his perfect world intact. And I was going to hand it to her on a silver platter. “I’m leaving.” Without another glance, I turned and walked toward the bus stop. Her voice, laced with frustration, chased after me. “Stop! I’ll drive you back.” Isabella didn’t take me back to my dorm. Instead, she drove straight to a luxury high-rise in the heart of the city. I watched the streetlights blur past the window, a cold sense of recognition washing over me. In our previous life, this was our home after we married. It held our tenderest moments and bore witness to our slow, agonizing descent into a couple consumed by hatred. The car glided to a stop. She unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to me. In the dim light of the parking garage, her expression was unreadable, but her tone was softer now, no longer as sharp as it had been at the estate gates. “Get out. We need to talk.” I followed her into the apartment. The decor was just as I remembered—a sleek, minimalist design in cool tones, much like her: elegant and distant. Only this time, I felt none of the heart-fluttering affection I once had. She tossed me a bottle of water from the fridge, then walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows and lit a slender cigarette. The pale smoke swirled around her, a misty veil separating us. “Aaron, I know you’re upset.” Her voice, muffled by the smoke, was heavy. “I didn’t handle the situation with your family well. But Lucas… his mental state is fragile. He can’t handle any more shocks.” Always Lucas. I looked down, twisting the cap off the bottle and taking a long swallow. The cold water slid down my throat but did nothing to quell the bitter tide rising in my chest. She’d said the same thing in our last life. She’d told me Lucas had a self-destructive streak, that his mind was a fragile thing, and that I needed to be gentle with him after I was welcomed into the family. And I’d listened. I’d let him have her undivided attention. I’d met his childish provocations with retreat and silence. And in return, he’d used his own suicide to sentence our marriage to a decade of hard time. Seeing my silence, Isabella must have assumed I was still sulking over my lost family. She sighed and stubbed out her cigarette. She walked over to me, tilting her head up slightly to look at me on the sofa, her eyes soft with a placating light. “Don’t be angry with me, okay?” Her voice was a velvet murmur as she reached out, her hand covering mine where it rested on the water bottle. “I admit, I messed up today. I got your hopes up for nothing.” “Whatever you want as compensation, just name it. If it’s in my power to give, it’s yours.” She paused, her tone growing earnest. “But the Blackwoods… let’s just forget about them for now, alright?” She was humbling herself, her love for me practically spilling from her eyes. I could see it clearly—she was terrified I would be angry, terrified I would leave her. But that love was conditional. It required the sacrifice of who I was. I met her gaze and felt a sudden, weary urge to laugh. “There’s nothing I want.” I calmly pulled my hand from under hers. The light in her eyes dimmed for a second. “Don’t worry. Even if the Blackwoods begged me to come back, rolling out a red carpet paved with their fortune, I wouldn’t give them a second look.” I added, “And you don’t need to apologize. You don’t owe me anything. In fact, let’s just end this between us.” Isabella’s brow furrowed, and she straightened up abruptly, her expression icing over. “End it? Aaron, are you trying to punish me? Because I wouldn’t let you join the Blackwoods, you’re trying to blackmail me?” She leaned over me, planting her hands on the sofa on either side of my body, trapping me in the scent of her perfume and lingering smoke. “I only told you not to go back to them! I never said I wanted to break up! We can be just like we were before. No—I’ll be even better to you than before!” I looked at her, overcome with a profound exhaustion. She thought that by stripping away my identity as the “true Blackwood heir,” we could go back to the beginning, that our love could continue unscathed. She didn’t understand. The root of our tragedy was never about whether I returned to the Blackwoods or not. “Isabella,” I said, gently pushing her away as I stood, creating a much-needed space between us. “I’m tired. I want to go back.” Without looking at her again, I walked to the door. This time, she didn’t try to stop me. … In the days that followed, I threw myself into preparing my applications to study abroad. Soon enough, an offer letter arrived from a university overseas. My departure was set for next month. The day before I was due to leave, two men in black suits intercepted me as I was leaving the library. “Mr. Sterling, Ms. Vance would like to see you.” I was forced into a car that sped through the city, finally stopping at a skyscraper that overlooked the entire riverfront. “Ms. Vance is busy. Please wait here.” A bodyguard escorted me into a glass-walled room before turning, leaving, and locking the door behind him. The room offered a stunning panoramic view, its main wall a single, massive pane of glass. Directly across from me, in the sky garden restaurant on the adjacent rooftop, a lavish birthday party was in full swing. The guest of honor was Lucas Blackwood. Dressed in an expensive suit, he was the center of attention, surrounded by a crowd of admirers. And standing right beside him, adjusting his bow tie and gazing at him with undisguised tenderness, was Isabella. I watched as she took Lucas’s hand for the first dance. They spun, drew close, and whispered to each other, looking for all the world like a perfectly matched couple. The guests applauded, their faces beaming with approval. A laugh, sharp and humorless, escaped me. What a fool I’d been in my past life. To throw away my entire existence for a woman who never truly loved me—was it worth it? I closed my eyes, trying to block out the searing image. But another memory forced its way in: Isabella’s mangled face during the earthquake, the trembling of her spine as she shielded me. She hated me, but she had also saved me. That debt was a giant, invisible net, trapping me, leaving me unable to move. I don’t know how long I sat there, but eventually, the party began to wind down. The door behind me creaked open. I turned. Lucas stood in the doorway. A triumphant smirk played on his lips as he sauntered toward me. “Aaron,” he began, standing over me, looking down his nose. “How does it feel? Watching the woman you love throw a party like this for me.” It clicked. The bodyguards weren’t sent by Isabella. They were his. He wanted to crush any hope I had left. He didn’t need to bother. This time around, I felt nothing for her. I remained silent, my gaze cold and steady. My lack of reaction seemed to infuriate him, his smile twisting into a grotesque sneer. “You think staying silent makes you noble? Let me tell you something. What isn’t yours, you will never have!” He leaned in close, his voice a venomous hiss. “Do you know? If you hadn’t shown up, Isabella and I would have been engaged by now! You ruined everything!” “Are you done?” I asked coolly. “If you are, please let me leave.” My detached attitude made him tremble with rage. Suddenly, he pulled a dagger from his jacket pocket, its blade glinting menacingly in the light. My heart seized. “What are you doing?” “Doing?” Lucas sneered, a crazed look in his eyes. “I’m going to show Isabella what you’ve driven me to! I’m going to make her see that as long as you exist, I’ll never know a moment of peace!” Before I could react, he raised the dagger and dragged it across his own wrist. He looked at me, a twisted smile on his face, and then screamed at the top of his lungs. “Please, just leave me alone! I’ll give you anything, why are you trying to kill me?!” The sound of frantic footsteps echoed from outside. Isabella burst in first, pulling a whimpering Lucas into her arms, her face a storm of fury. Lucas sagged against her, his face pale, and pointed a trembling finger at me. “Isabella… he told me he was the real Blackwood son… that I don’t deserve any of this… He told me I should just die…” Isabella’s head snapped up. Her eyes, when they met mine, were blazing with a terrifying fury. “Aaron,” she bit out, her voice dangerously low. “Did I not warn you to behave yourself?” “Today is Lucas’s birthday. It was supposed to be his happiest day of the year, and you’ve completely destroyed it!” I stared at her, my heart sinking inch by inch into an icy abyss. She had forgotten. Today was my birthday, too. Lucas and I were born on the same day, in the same month, of the same year. One of us was born to the heavens, the other, to the dirt. She immediately ordered her bodyguards to restrain me. Then, she threw a military-grade combat knife onto the floor in front of me. Her words were merciless. “For every drop of blood he’s lost, you’ll give back double.” I stared at her in disbelief. “Isabella, are you insane?!” I began to struggle violently, but she gave her men a curt nod. A searing pain shot up my arm as the blade bit into my flesh. Warm blood gushed out. I grunted, cold sweat beading on my forehead as I bit down hard on my lip, the coppery taste of blood flooding my mouth. A second cut, then a third… I lost count of the wounds, the pain dissolving into a dull, throbbing numbness. The world started to blur at the edges. I looked at Isabella’s cold, impassive face, at the faint, triumphant smirk on Lucas’s lips as he hid in her arms. My heart, what was left of it, died completely. “Enough.” Isabella finally spoke, stopping the bodyguard. “Take him to a hospital when you’re done.” With that, she swept Lucas into her arms and strode out of the room without a backward glance. I collapsed into a pool of my own blood, my consciousness fading. Just before I blacked out, I thought I saw the earthquake again. This time, Isabella wasn’t shielding me. She was just standing off to the side, watching coldly as the rubble swallowed me whole, her eyes devoid of any emotion. Isabella, I thought. The life I owed you… we’re even now. When I next opened my eyes, the sterile scent of antiseptic filled my nostrils. Isabella was sitting by my bed. Seeing me awake, her eyes lit up. “I’m sorry,” she said suddenly. I froze. “Last night… I was too harsh.” She looked down, her voice laced with regret. “I was so angry, I lost control. I…” “And?” I cut her off, my voice flat. “Are you saying you regret it?” Her head shot up, her lips parting as if to say something, but all that came out was a sigh. “Aaron, don’t talk to me like that.” Her voice softened. “I know you hate me, but Lucas… he almost died.” “You don’t have to apologize, Isabella,” I said, meeting her eyes. “Just consider us even now.” “Even?” She frowned, not understanding. “Yes.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “In our past life, you saved me in that earthquake. This time… I’ve paid you back with my own blood. We’re square.” The words hung in the sterile air. The sound of her chair clattering to the floor was deafening as she shot to her feet. Her lips trembled, her pupils constricting in utter shock.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393967”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

At St. Jude’s Home for Children, a wealthy couple came to adopt. They wanted my brother and me. My ten-year-old brother, Leo, held my five-year-old hand tightly. He pointed to a boy standing by the door, a scruffy kid clutching a dirty rag doll, looking a little lost in his own world. “Hey, Lily,” Leo said, his voice soft. “Why don’t you play with him for a minute? I’ll come get you when it’s time to go.” I watched his back as he walked away, a knot of fear tightening in my stomach. I instinctively ran after him. But I stopped short at the door to the director’s office. Through the glass, I saw him holding another girl’s hand. Maya. He was pleading with Mrs. Gable, the director. “Maya’s really good, and she listens,” he was saying, his voice earnest. “Please, let her take Lily’s place. Let her be adopted with me.” I froze, my hand hovering over the doorknob, my world tilting on its axis. The dirty little boy from the doorway shuffled over to me, his eyes wide and serious. He gently took my hand. “We need a little sister at my house,” he said, his voice clear and simple. “You can come with me.” 1 Watching my brother walk away, a deep sense of unease settled over me. Ever since our parents died and we’d ended up here, Leo and I had been inseparable. He’d promised we’d be adopted together. He said it was the only way he could be sure no one would bully me. I looked at the scruffy boy who only seemed to talk to his doll, and a shiver of fear ran down my spine. After a moment’s hesitation, I turned and bolted in the direction Leo had gone. I found him in the director’s office. He was holding Maya’s hand, his back to me, speaking to Mrs. Gable. “Maya’s really good, and she listens. Please, just let her take Lily’s place and come with me.” Mrs. Gable looked troubled, her brow furrowed. “Leo, honey, Lily is your sister. She’s your family. Are you sure you want to give her up? I’m afraid you’ll regret this one day.” My brother shook his head, his voice firm and unwavering. “Lily’s so smart and pretty, she’ll find another good family. But Maya… she only has me. I have to look out for her.” My nose stung. Tears welled up in my eyes and started to fall, hot and fat, down my cheeks. But he was all I had. Mrs. Gable glanced at Maya’s face, at the faint, silvery web of scars that traced across her cheek, and spoke honestly. “I’m not sure the Walters will agree to this.” Leo pulled Maya closer, into a protective hug. “They’ll agree,” he insisted. “They only ever really wanted to adopt me anyway. Taking Lily was just a bonus. Swapping her for someone else won’t make a difference to them.” Finally, Mrs. Gable sighed and nodded. “Alright. I’ll ask them.” I clung to the window frame, watching my brother and Maya hug each other, their faces alight with joy. I couldn’t understand how everything had gone so wrong. The scruffy boy had been watching me from the doorway. He finally seemed to make up his mind and trotted over. He took my hand, swinging it gently. “We need a little sister at my house,” he repeated, tilting his head happily. “You can come with me.” My lip trembled. I snatched my hand away. “Don’t touch me! My brother would never leave me. I’m not going with you.” The boy frowned, his expression serious as he shook his head. “Nope. Your brother doesn’t want you anymore. I heard the whole thing.” A sob tore from my throat. “You’re lying!” I cried, shoving him away. “I’m going to go ask him myself, right now.” 2 Inside the office, Leo was smiling gently at Maya. “From now on, we’re family,” he said softly. Maya’s lips curved into a happy smile, and she nodded vigorously. “Yeah. You’re the best brother, Leo.” He patted her head affectionately. I burst through the door and ran at them, shoving Maya away from him with all my might. “Get away from him! He’s my brother!” Maya stumbled back a few steps before catching her balance, her face a mask of hurt. “Lily!” Leo gasped, rushing to Maya’s side. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?” Maya just shook her head silently, but a huge, glistening tear welled in her eye, threatening to fall. Leo spun around to face me, his expression clouded with disapproval. “Lily Sterling! Who taught you to push people like that? Is that what I’ve taught you?” A wave of injustice washed over me, but I choked back the sobs. “Why are you replacing me?” I demanded. My brother had the grace to look guilty, his eyes darting away from mine. That only fueled my anger. I pointed a trembling finger at Maya. “Trading your own sister for her? Is that something a real brother does? What would Mom and Dad say if they could see you now?” Leo’s mouth opened and closed. Finally, a flash of anger crossed his face. “Why are you so selfish?” he shot back, his voice rising. “There are so many kids here waiting for a home. Does our family have to take up two spots?” I didn’t know how to answer that. I just stood there, my eyes wide, tears streaming down my face. Just yesterday, Mr. and Mrs. Walters, a rich couple, had visited the orphanage. They saw Leo and me, thought we were beautiful children, and were touched that we were brother and sister. They wanted to adopt us both. Leo had been ecstatic. He’d told me we’d never be separated. He’d even excitedly started packing my favorite toys and blankets. And Maya… she was the daughter of my mom’s best friend. They had been on the same flight. Her mom didn’t make it either. So she came to St. Jude’s with us. She had always orbited Leo, complaining about how lonely it was to be an only child. Leo had been nice to her, sure, but he’d always said that I was his number one, that no one could ever come before me. Just yesterday, I’d seen him comforting her. “Don’t worry, Maya,” he’d said. “Someone will come adopt you soon, you’ll see.” But he’d been quiet and moody after that. That night, just before we went to sleep, he’d asked me, “Lily, do you think… when we leave and Maya is all alone… do you think someone might bully her?” A spike of alarm went through me. I wrapped my arms around his arm. “No way. Mrs. Gable won’t let them.” He was silent for a few seconds, then spoke again. “But what if the people who adopt her aren’t nice?” Panic flared in my chest, and my voice rose without my meaning it to. “Mrs. Gable will check on her! Leo, that’s not our problem.” 3 Leo nodded distractedly and rolled over to sleep. But I knew. I knew he was worried about Maya. My mom’s best friend had been a single mother. Our families were close, so we saw them all the time. And while Maya had always been clingy with Leo, he hadn’t been especially close to her before. He always used to say that a brother’s special love was reserved for his sister, and that was me. But a person’s feelings aren’t just dictated by blood. When Leo was eight, a man tried to grab him. It was Maya who saw it happen. It was Maya who fought back. She’d latched onto the kidnapper’s car door and refused to let go, getting dragged for what felt like a mile before people on the street finally realized what was happening and called the police. She saved him, but she was badly hurt. The road rash and deeper cuts left scars all over her body, even her face, that never truly faded. My own memory of it is fuzzy, just flashes of her screaming in a hospital room. After that, kids at school started calling her “monster face.” And after that, Leo started taking care of her, worrying about her. My mom would always say, “Maya is our family’s hero, Lily. We have to be grateful.” At first, I’d nod along, not fully understanding. “Maya is our hero. We have to be nice to her.” But gradually, Leo’s attention shifted more and more to her. If he got me a gift, he had to get one for her, too. Once, he managed to get his hands on a limited-edition action figure I really wanted, but he gave it to her instead. Panic set in. He was my brother. My own brother. And so, I started to hate Maya. I hated her for always stealing my brother from me. One day, when no one was around, I confronted her. “Stay away from my brother,” I warned. “He doesn’t even like you.” Maya leaned in close, her voice a low whisper right next to my ear. It felt cool and slick, like a snake I’d seen on TV, and it made me shiver. “Too bad,” she hissed. “Your mom said I’m like a daughter to her now. That makes Leo my brother, too. And I’m going to hang out with him. Every. Single. Day.” I snapped. I shoved her to the ground and raised my fist. “If you come near him again, I’ll hit you.” Her lip trembled, and her eyes filled with tears. Just then, Leo walked out of his room. It was the first time he ever got truly angry with me. “Lily, why are you being so selfish?” “We’ve spoiled you rotten!” 4 After that, I hated her even more. She never said a word, but somehow, she had stolen everyone’s attention. I didn’t know what to do, except that I just wanted her gone. My parents grew more and more disappointed in me, and Leo grew closer and closer to Maya. But we were still family. They just thought I needed more discipline. No one ever imagined a plane crash would take my parents away. When we got to the orphanage, I became even clingier with Leo. He was the only family I had left. No one could take him from me. He promised me again and again that he would never leave me, and begged me to stop picking on Maya. But he didn’t know. After Maya got hurt, she changed. She became… strange. She’d always have her head down, looking at me with this creepy, hateful glare from under her hair. And I knew for a fact that he was secretly saving his candy and milk rations for her. I couldn’t make myself like her. But I never, ever imagined he would give my spot, my chance at a family, to her. Maybe it was because I was crying so hard. Leo’s expression softened, and he stepped forward to wipe my tears. “Don’t cry, Lily. We’re brother and sister. That will never change, for our whole lives. But Maya is different. She has no one. And she’s so fragile… it’ll be hard for her to find a good family. If I abandon her too, what will she do? Don’t worry, I’ll ask Mrs. Gable to find another great family for you.” I was trembling all over. I reached for his hand instinctively. “Brother, please don’t leave me.” He turned his head away, unable to look at me, and gently pushed me out of the room. I didn’t understand all of his words, but I understood one thing. He was really leaving me. 5 Outside the door, the scruffy little boy was still there, clutching his dirty doll. When he saw me come out, his eyes lit up. “Did you check? Your brother doesn’t want you, right?” His words just twisted the knife in my already broken heart. I covered my face with my hands and started to wail. The boy tugged on the hem of my shirt, pulling me gently towards the exit. “It’s okay. I’ll take you home.” I was crying so hard I couldn’t see straight, just letting myself be pulled along by his gentle force. A few moments later, we were out on the street. Suddenly, I heard a shout that cut through my sobs. I looked up. “Where have you been? Your father and I have been worried sick!” “If something happened to you too, I don’t think I could survive it!” A beautiful woman in a purple dress was hugging the little boy, her eyes red. The boy used one hand to wipe her tears and the other to hold onto me. “Mommy, I found a sister,” he announced happily. “Don’t be sad anymore.” I took two steps back, scared. Leo had told me never to leave the orphanage alone, that bad people took little kids. The woman looked at me, completely baffled. “Honey, where did you find this child?” The little boy turned and pointed proudly back at St. Jude’s. “In there! There were lots of sisters, but I picked the prettiest one!” A man standing behind them, his face grim, snapped, “That’s enough of this nonsense.” The two of them brought me back. Mrs. Gable was pacing anxiously in the foyer. “Lily! Why did you run off by yourself?” I burst into fresh tears and threw myself into her arms. “Mrs. Gable, my brother doesn’t want me anymore!” She stroked my head lovingly before turning to thank the couple. The little boy, however, started kicking his legs and shouting. “She’s the sister I found! No one can take her away!” He was carried, struggling, back to their car. I could see his face pressed against the window, leaving a smear of dirt and fingerprints on the clean glass.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393983”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

In the third year of my marriage to my arch-nemesis, a new intern accidentally spilled water all over the marriage certificate he kept on his desk. Panicked, she rushed it to the city records office to get a replacement. But the clerk told her the certificate was a fake. I went back to the office to confront my husband, Liam. Only to find him pressing the intern against the door, kissing her. “I fought with her for five years,” he murmured, “but I’ve been secretly in love with you for ten.” “Our real marriage certificate? I have it locked away safely in a vault.” Even when the intern pushed me down the stairs and my head split open, Liam just stood there, watching coldly. He pulled the intern into his arms, shielding her from the sight. “Don’t look,” he whispered. “You can’t stand the sight of blood.” Later, due to a delay in treatment, I suffered a cognitive impairment. When I opened my eyes again, my memory was stuck in the year I hated him the most. 1 Two days after the surgery, Liam finally showed up. I was sitting up in my hospital bed, joking with a young nurse. The moment he walked in, my smile vanished. “What are you doing here?” Liam’s gaze lingered for a moment on the bandage on my forehead. He sneered. “Katey’s been worried sick about you for two days, and you’re just in here playing sick?” Before I could process his words, he strode forward and yanked on my IV line. The needle was ripped from my vein. I sucked in a sharp breath of pain. Blood spurted from the back of my hand, and the nurse next to me shrieked, rushing to apply pressure. When my senses returned, I slapped Liam hard across the face. “Did you die a violent death in a past life? Is that why you’re so full of rage?” I spat. “Are you blind? Can’t you see the damn gauze on the back of my head?” Back when we were new hires, Liam and I were at our worst. He called me rigid and boring; I said he was worse than a dog. Our greetings consisted of creative insults aimed at each other’s parents. The slap snapped Liam’s head to the side. He stared at me, completely stunned. He was speechless, but I wasn’t finished. Once the bleeding stopped, I glared at him, ready to have security throw him out. But the nurse’s next words froze me in place. “Mr. Hayes, could you please sign here on the line for Ms. Sterling’s next of kin?” Before Liam could even react, I snatched the clipboard from her. “What are you talking about? What makes him my family?” I trailed off, my eyes fixed on the form. On the line labeled “Spouse,” his name was written in clear, block letters: LIAM HAYES. Liam saw my stunned expression and rubbed his temples. “I know you’re angry with Katey, but her mother is sick. Her dying wish is to see her daughter married.” He sighed. “Katey and I grew up together. I was the most logical choice. I’ll divorce her later.” My movements were stiff as I fumbled for my phone. The contact pinned to the top of my messages, labeled “Hubby,” had Liam’s unchanging profile picture. In our company’s group chat, the new intern, Katey, had just posted, her profile picture a matching half of a couple’s photo with Liam. 【Getting married next month, everyone’s invited to our wedding!】 The photo she attached was deleted a second later, but not before I took a screenshot. It was a wedding photo. Liam was looking at her with such tenderness in his eyes. The chat was exploding with shocked messages, but I couldn’t bring myself to read them. My own photo album didn’t have a single picture of me and Liam together. The doctor had told me the impact had caused some side effects. I had lost the last five years of my memory. I was still reeling from the fact that I was apparently married to my sworn enemy, and now I was staring at his wedding photos with someone else. Just then, a new message popped up. It was from my friend who works at the records office. “You asked me to look up Liam Hayes. He registered a marriage a year ago.” “The spouse’s name is Katey Evans.” “That fake certificate you brought in didn’t have an official seal. It’s not legally valid.” That last sentence felt like a knife twisting in my gut. My head throbbed, a chaotic mess of feelings I couldn’t place. A wave of residual emotion I didn’t understand washed over me, making my nose sting. My silence seemed like an admission to Liam. He frowned and reached for me. “You…” He looked at a loss for words. Of course. We had fought for so long, always at each other’s throats. The idea of me falling for him was utterly absurd. I let out a slow breath. When I looked up again, my face was calm. “Don’t you know office romances are against company policy?” 2 Our conversation was cut short by a call from Katey. Liam’s attempt to explain was derailed by the sound of her crying. He left with a hurried, “I’ll be back,” and never returned. I discharged myself from the hospital and packed my things alone. The young nurse couldn’t stand it, helping me while she complained. “He admits he’s your family but then disappears when you need him.” She was indignant, but I didn’t care. Luckily, I never changed my passwords, so my phone was still usable. I found my new address in my notes app and took a cab. As I was leaving my new apartment building, the man at the bakery on the corner called out, “The usual?” On a strange impulse, I nodded. A moment later, I was holding two buns. Cabbage filling. I hated cabbage. The second I walked into the office, a coworker sidled up to me. “Bringing Mr. Hayes his buns again?” Before he finished speaking, the bag was snatched from my hand. Katey’s face was beaming. “Oh, Sienna, these cabbage buns are my favorite!” Her cloyingly sweet tone made me frown. I snatched the bag back and handed it to my coworker. “These are for you,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Just be careful not to get any of that fake sweetness on them.” He froze, but before he could react, Liam was there. He pulled a red-eyed Katey behind him and looked down at me. “Just because Katey and I have the same taste, you have to pick on her?” The other employees, who had been gathering to watch, fell silent at his words, their expressions shifting as they looked between the three of us. After all, the two main characters in this drama had become the office’s hottest topic yesterday. My silence stretched on for too long. Someone was about to step in and defend me, but Katey’s sobs started first. Tears streamed down her face, a picture of perfect misery. “I didn’t know you started liking this flavor after I left,” she whimpered. “When I saw the familiar wrapper, I thought they were for me.” Liam shot me a warning look before gently wiping her tears away. My eyes were glued to the watch on his wrist. I had seen a matching one—a woman’s version—on the nightstand at home. By the time I tuned back in, Katey was delivering her final line. “If it bothers you, sister, I can apologize.” The saccharine act was so over the top it was almost impressive. I blinked. “Then apologize.” Katey choked on her next sob, the tears instantly drying up. I, on the other hand, felt a smile spread across my face. I pointed to my ID badge. “You’re an intern. Are you sure you want to make an enemy of a department manager?” I said, emphasizing the word “manager.” “I know you’ve got a big mouth, but you don’t have to use it to talk out of your ass.” According to company policy, Katey should have been fired for her affair with a manager. It was Liam who had taken the fall, accepting a demotion to protect her. I sighed. I couldn’t understand his stupidity. Last night, I’d gone through every single one of our chat logs. We had been in a secret relationship for three years. He had never made us public. Seeing him protect Katey like this now filled me with a complex mix of emotions I couldn’t name. But my expression remained neutral. I put on a pleasant face, picked up a box of his things, and handed it to him. “Time to move to your new desk, Liam.” 3 I had no intention of quitting. I wasn’t the one at fault, so why should I leave? But as I was leaving work, Liam stopped me. His expression was complicated. “Are you still angry?” he muttered. “I didn’t know you were being discharged today. I never meant for Katey to post the invitation in the group chat. It was an accident.” I glanced at him, my words sharper than I intended. “You’re so good at passing the buck, it’s a shame you’re not a chef.” I added, “Seriously, do you think I’m three? How ‘accidental’.” It had been a while since I’d spoken with such venom. Liam was taken aback. He looked at me, then seemed to remember something. “How’s your injury?” The back of my head was still bandaged. I hesitated. I was about to tell him about the memory loss just to get him to leave me alone when Katey ran up and linked her arm through his. “You promised you’d have dinner with me. I’ve been waiting forever.” The distraction was obvious, but it worked. Liam’s attention shifted. He mumbled something about her not causing a scene, but his feet were already turning in her direction. Before he left, he tossed a small box at me. Inside was a necklace with a diamond the size of my pinky nail. I closed the lid as if it were burning my hand and started to go after him, but then I saw Katey turn her head. She casually revealed the massive diamond ring on her finger. “I’ve been wearing the ring you proposed with in front of my mom this whole time,” she said sweetly. “Mom says we should all go see her this weekend.” I instinctively looked down at my own ring finger. It was bare. I was still standing there long after their car had driven away. A coworker passed by. “Finally getting rid of that Katey girl,” she said. “She’s caused nothing but trouble.” I grunted in agreement, my eyes on the file in my hand. Katey had been assigned to Liam’s team as an intern. Now that he was demoted, his responsibilities had been transferred to me. The first thing I did was terminate her contract. I thought for a moment, then sent Katey a message. The reply was a picture: a hand with a diamond ring, holding a bouquet of roses, the cuff of a man’s suit just visible in the corner. I sent a question mark. A moment later, a new message from Katey appeared in the company group chat. “I don’t understand why some people feel the need to interfere in other people’s relationships.” “My last announcement was a warning. But some people just don’t get the hint.” A few people replied with popcorn emojis. I just scoffed. If she wasn’t going to listen to reason, then neither was I. I blocked Katey and removed her from the group chat. A moment later, my phone lit up with a message from Liam. “Why did you kick Katey out of the group? Can you stop throwing tantrums?” When I didn’t reply, he threatened, “Add her back. Don’t make me call you out in front of the whole company.” He was so sure I wouldn’t defy him over something so small. But I just typed back a few sentences. “Didn’t the doctor tell you, as my next of kin? I lost the last five years of my memory.” “Forget just insulting you to your faces. I’ll carve it on your tombstones when you’re dead.” “And don’t worry, you’ll be joining your dear Katey soon enough.” Then, I opened my family group chat, tagged my brother, and sent a message. 【Your sister’s in trouble at her own company. Get your ass over here, stat.】

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394002”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

During an interview, my ex-husband Jacob was asked, “A man like you—surely you have few regrets?” He gazed into the camera. “My only mistake,” he said smoothly, “was loving the wrong woman—a viper who bore me a heartless daughter.” Then, smiling, he added, “But fate gave me Vera and the child she carries.” That night, as Jacob dined with Vera, a news bulletin interrupted: “Police found two bodies in East Mountain—a woman, 25-30, and a child under five. Both were brutally murdered…” Vera’s fork froze. Jacob dismissed the TV. I stood before them, gripping my daughter’s hand, coldly smiling. She stared at the dark screen, then asked, “Mommy, why were we on TV?” 01 Vera’s lips trembled, and a fine sheen of sweat broke out on her forehead. Jacob’s handsome brows furrowed in concern. “What’s wrong, Vera? Are you feeling unwell? Is the baby kicking up a fuss again?” Vera took a deep breath, put down her fork, and forced a smile. “No… no, I’m fine. That news report just… startled me.” Jacob let out a sigh of relief, gently placing his hand over hers. “It’s alright. I had Mrs. Gable turn it off. We won’t watch news like that anymore. It’s not good for you to get stressed while you’re pregnant.” He stroked her hand. “My Vera. Still so kind-hearted.” Kind-hearted? I stared at Vera’s ashen face and wanted to laugh. Jacob was my ex-husband. We met in college, a whirlwind romance that led to marriage right after graduation. And Vera… Vera was my best friend from the orphanage where we grew up. When Vera couldn’t find a job after college, I asked Jacob to give her a position at his company. I never imagined that one act of kindness would ultimately lead to my own death, and my daughter’s. Our daughter, Bella, was three when she was kidnapped. The kidnappers called our home, but Jacob was working late and wasn’t answering his phone. I had no choice but to take the ransom money and go to the location they gave me. When I arrived at the abandoned warehouse on East Mountain, I found Bella’s small body covered in bruises. The moment she saw me, she burst into tears, crying out for her mommy. My heart shattered. I scrambled forward and wrapped her in my arms, then bowed my head to the kidnappers, begging. “Please, I didn’t call the police. I brought the money. Please, just don’t hurt my daughter. I’m begging you.” But they didn’t want money that day. They wanted our lives. They tore my fingernails out, one by one. They doused me in acid, bottle after agonizing bottle. The last one, they forced down my throat. Bella screamed and pleaded beside me, her voice raw and heartbreaking, but the searing fire in my own throat kept me from making a sound. By the end, there wasn’t an unblemished piece of flesh left on my body. As I lay dying, Vera stepped out from the shadows. She stood over me, arms crossed, her eyes filled with a chilling disgust. “If you have to blame someone, blame your own good luck,” she sneered. “What makes you so much better than me? Why did you get to marry the great Jacob Brodie while I was stuck as a secretary at his company? So what if I slept with him? Do you know what he told me? He said he would never marry me. Hah! How pathetic.” “Eleanor, weren’t we best friends?” she continued, her voice dripping with venom. “You’ve had your good life. It’s time you made way for me.” She turned to the kidnappers. “Get rid of them. Take them up the mountain. And be careful. Don’t let anyone find them.” When Jacob discovered we were missing, he searched for us like a man possessed. But Vera was ready. She presented him with a collection of forged photographs and faked chat logs, even fabricated records of large withdrawals from the company accounts. She told him I had been in love with someone else for years, that I’d only married him for his money. She told him I hadn’t been kidnapped—I’d run off with my lover, taking the company’s money and our daughter with me. Vera was my only friend. I had told her everything. Jacob believed her without question. He called off the search. He fell into a deep depression, and Vera became his constant companion, the comforting presence who saw him through his darkest days. They fell in love. They got married. And now, Vera was pregnant. And my body, and my daughter’s, had finally been found. 02 Vera pushed her bowl away. “Jacob, I can’t eat anymore. I’m tired. I think I’ll head to bed early.” He suspected nothing. He took her hand and led her to the bedroom. “Alright, let’s get some rest. I don’t have much on at the office tomorrow, so I can spend the day with you.” My daughter and I were pulled along with them, two invisible specters floating into their room. Ever since our deaths, we’d been bound to Jacob, unable to leave his side no matter how hard I tried. I had no choice but to watch, day after day, as he and Vera played out their sickeningly sweet love story. Vera was six months pregnant now, the curve of her belly prominent as she lay on the bed. Jacob carefully pressed his ear to her stomach. “Hey there, little one. It’s Daddy. Mommy’s not feeling well today, so you be a good baby, okay? No mischief.” The tender scene made my spectral eyes burn. I thought death was supposed to end the pain, but for three years, every time I witnessed a moment like this, my heart still ached with an agony that left me breathless. Bella tugged on my hand, her soft voice choked with tears. “Mommy, is Daddy going to have another baby?” Her lip quivered. “Daddy’s a liar. He promised he only wanted me. He lied.” I knelt and pulled her into a tight embrace. I wanted to comfort her, but the words wouldn’t come. How could I comfort my three-year-old daughter when I couldn’t even comfort myself? The next day, Vera slept until noon. Jacob stayed home with her, forgoing work. When she finally woke, his handsome eyes crinkled with a smile. “You’re awake. How about we go out for a bit? The nursery isn’t finished yet. We can pick out a few more things.” Bella and I were forced to follow them out the door. At the city’s largest department store, Vera was instantly captivated by the adorable baby items, her mood lifting as she browsed. Jacob stood beside her, his arm around her waist, commenting on each of her choices. To any onlooker, they were the perfect couple. A sales assistant smiled at them. “You two make such a lovely pair. A handsome man and a beautiful woman. Your baby will be absolutely gorgeous.” I looked away, unable to watch anymore. But as I lowered my gaze, I saw my daughter standing forlornly in the toy section, her eyes fixed on a Barbie doll. She reached for it again and again, her small, translucent hand passing straight through the plastic. Finally, her hand dropped to her side, and fat, silent tears rolled down her cheeks. Just then, Jacob’s voice rang out. “This one, that one, and all the others we looked at. Wrap them up and have them delivered to the Brodie residence.” Vera laughed playfully. “Why are you buying so many toys? The baby won’t be able to play with them for ages. You’re just wasting money.” Jacob’s gentle gaze fell to Vera’s stomach. “My child deserves the best of everything in the world. He doesn’t have to play with them, but I have to buy them.” I quickly turned to my daughter. She had seen it too. She stared at her father, then at the sales assistants busily packing up the toys. Her little head drooped. I couldn’t see her face, only her small shoulders, shaking with silent sobs. I rushed to her side and heard her whispering to herself. “Daddy doesn’t love Bella anymore… Daddy doesn’t love Bella anymore…” She repeated the phrase over and over, the brokenness in her voice squeezing my heart like a vise. The hatred I felt for Vera surged, becoming a tidal wave of pure rage. Thief! That’s what Vera was. A thief. She didn’t just steal my life and my husband. She stole my daughter’s life. She stole my daughter’s father. Suddenly, Jacob’s phone rang. As he listened, his brow furrowed deeper and deeper. “Hello, is this Mr. Jacob Brodie? This is the East District police precinct. We’ve discovered two bodies on East Mountain, and we have strong reason to believe they are your ex-wife, Eleanor Vance, and your daughter.” “Sir, are you available to come down to the station?” 03 Jacob didn’t speak for a long moment, his brow knitted in confusion, as if he couldn’t process what he’d just heard. Vera looked at him, concerned. “Jacob? What is it?” He seemed to snap back to reality, his voice turning cold as he spoke into the phone. “Scammers are getting creative these days. Don’t you know who you’re calling?” “You have the wrong number. I don’t know anyone named Eleanor Vance.” With that, he hung up. Perhaps connecting the call to last night’s news report, Vera’s face went pale. “Jacob, who was that? Why would they mention Eleanor?” He locked his phone, his tone breezy. “Nobody. Just a spam call. Ignore it.” He probably didn’t even notice the tightness in his own voice, or the slight tremor in the hand holding his phone. Vera tried again. “But—” He cut her off. “Enough. Let’s not talk about such unpleasant things.” He forced a smile. “Come on. I’ve booked dinner on a luxury cruise tonight. We won’t go home. I’ll take you out, clear your head.” Vera hid her unease and managed a weak nod. After dinner in the ship’s top-deck restaurant, Jacob led Vera out onto the deck. She leaned against the railing, tilting her head back to feel the cool night sea breeze. “Jacob, I feel so happy,” she murmured. “When I was a little girl in the orphanage, I was bullied all the time. I used to wish a prince would come and rescue me. I’d marry him, and we’d have a home of our own.” She looked at him, her eyes shining. “I feel like my dream has come true. I have you, and our baby. I finally have a family.” Jacob stood behind her and wrapped his arms gently around her waist. The sight burned my eyes. Through a blur of tears, I saw Jacob as he was when he first confessed his love for me. Back then, he was the sole heir to the Brodie Corporation, and I was a parentless orphan paying my tuition with student loans. Yet, for six months, he pursued me relentlessly. Faced with my repeated rejections, the eighteen-year-old boy had stood before me, his face flushed. “Ellie, I know you have walls up. But can you please, just once, trust me? I’ll cherish you. I’ll give you a home.” His voice cracked with emotion. “You’re not alone anymore. You have me.” The stars were so bright that night, just as bright as they were now. But the boy’s eyes, full of a nervous, anxious hope, burned even brighter. I don’t know if it was the starlight in his eyes or the sincerity in his voice that finally broke through. But on that day, I nodded. Vera’s voice pulled me back to the present. “Jacob, thank you for giving me a home.” The arms around her waist suddenly went rigid. When he didn’t respond, Vera turned in confusion to look at him. Jacob was staring at her face, his expression unreadable. After a long silence, he spoke, his voice barely a whisper. “Vera… did Ellie really run off with another man?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394019”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

A freak accident connected me to my younger self from ten years ago. The girl—bright-eyed and in love—whispered excitedly: “I saw Charles’s hidden ring! Will he propose? Will we be happy forever?” Silently, I turned on my camera. Weak from my miscarriage, I shuffled to the hospital door. Down the hall, Charles embraced a tearful Emily—the woman who’d just hit me with her car. “Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I’ll hire the best lawyer. The baby’s father never even showed up anyway.” He didn’t know that father was him. My younger self paled as realization dawned. “So,” I asked softly, “still want this future?” Only heavy silence answered—and I knew: this was God’s second chance. 1 I was in the hospital for three days. Not a single call from Charles to ask if I was okay. When I finally returned to our home, Lynden Villa, he was just stepping out of the shower. Seeing me, he gestured vaguely toward a gift box on the coffee table. “Clara, I’m sorry. I’ve been stuck in meetings overseas these past few days. I’ve been neglecting you.” He offered a lazy smile. “This is for you. A little something to make up for it.” His apology was as hollow as the gift—a trinket that was merely a complementary piece to the necklace Emily wore. I just nodded, tossing the box aside without a second glance. The last couple of days, Charles seemed to be in a remarkably good mood. He came home unusually early and even brought me a slice of mango cake. “I don’t like mango.” My rejection didn’t seem to faze him. “Oh. I just assumed all women liked sweet things like mango.” The moment he said it, the voice of my younger self crackled through my earpiece, laced with disbelief. “How could he forget? I’m allergic to mangoes…” The first year we were together, I had a severe allergic reaction after accidentally drinking juice with mango in it. I broke out in hives, struggled to breathe, and was rushed to the emergency room. He had sat by my bedside then, sobbing like a child, repeating over and over again, “Clara, I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault… I swear I’ll remember everything you can and can’t eat from now on!” How many years had it been? Everything had changed. It wasn’t that I hadn’t considered divorce. But the Vance and Blackwood family businesses were so deeply intertwined, a clean break was nearly impossible. Charles would never agree to it. “Clara, I’ve got an early start tomorrow. I won’t be sleeping at home tonight.” Charles meticulously styled his hair, spritzed cologne on his collar, and grabbed his jacket, leaving without a backward glance. I knew what was happening tomorrow. The annual company gala. I hadn’t attended in two years. This year would likely be the same. 2 But the next morning, Charles’s assistant, Alex, showed up at my door with a gown. A surprising, almost unheard-of gesture. It was a size too big. Not my style, not my fit. But Alex was insistent, rushing me to get changed. When I arrived at the grand estate where the gala was being held, the looks from the employees were a mixture of surprise, curiosity, and, most of all, pity. In the powder room, I overheard their hushed whispers. “If the boss is still married to Clara, doesn’t that make Emily Hayes the other woman? She’s so shameless about it!” “Keep your voice down! If she hears you, you’re finished. Mr. Grant just mentioned that Emily wasn’t as competent as Clara, and the boss fired him on the spot. Even threatened to run him out of Port Sterling!” Mr. Grant was one of the company’s founding pillars. And Charles had cast him aside for Emily without a second thought. I lost the heart to listen any longer and made my way into the ballroom. Charles’s eyes widened in shock when he saw me. Emily was standing beside him, wearing a gown that perfectly complemented his tuxedo. The triumph in her eyes was unmistakable. I understood instantly. The ill-fitting dress had been her doing. Charles steered Emily toward me. “Clara, this is Emily Hayes, a student I sponsor. She’s a brilliant pianist—just won the national gold medal yesterday.” His admiration for her was raw and undisguised. Emily playfully tapped his chest. “Oh, stop. Clara’s the real genius. I was using her old piano, and I still can’t make it sing the way she did.” Charles just smiled, ruffling her hair with a tenderness that made my stomach churn. “You’re too modest.” He then turned to me, his tone casual, almost an afterthought. “By the way, Clara, I gave the grand piano from the house to Emily. You can’t play anymore, so it was just collecting dust.” “Fine,” I said. It was just an 18th birthday present from him. If Emily wanted it, she could have it. 3 I watched them, clinging to each other. There was a time when Charles wouldn’t let any woman other than me within arm’s length. Now, Emily was the glaring exception. He acted like a teenager with his first crush, even getting into a fistfight with a business partner to defend her honor. And I, like a fool, had thrown myself in front of him to stop it. A shard of shattered glass had sliced through my right hand, severing the ligaments. After countless surgeries, my fingers could no longer command the keys of my beloved piano. Charles raised an eyebrow, about to say something more, but a sudden gasp cut him off. In a flash, he shoved me aside, catching Emily as she stumbled. He gave her a light pat on the backside, feigning anger. “I told you not to wear those heels. See? Now your ankle’s twisted.” Emily buried her face in his chest, but her eyes were on me. She mouthed the words silently, a cruel smirk on her lips. “You’re pathetic, Clara Vance.” Everyone in the company knew about their affair. The weight of their pitying stares was suffocating. I fled the ballroom, seeking refuge in the cool night air of the garden. From a shadowed corner, I heard the rustle of clothing and a woman’s soft moan. “Honey… who do you like more? Your little kitten, or that Clara?” Charles’s breathing grew heavy. “She’s like a dead fish in bed. How could she ever compare to my feisty little fox?” His voice was thick with desire. “And that face of hers… she was pretty when she was young, I guess. Now, I can’t even bring myself to kiss it.” That was my husband. Tearing me down just to turn on another woman. My younger self had heard it all through the earpiece. After a long, crushing silence, she hung up the phone. 4 Back at home, a friend from my conservatory days sent me a video. [Clara, do you know this student? Her style is so much like yours.] In the video, Emily sat at a piano, playing the very piece I had composed for Charles as a gift. The piece that had just won her a national gold medal. The original manuscript was with Charles. Without hesitation, I packaged the video, along with a comparative analysis of clips from my previous works, and sent it all to a journalist I trusted. Almost overnight, Emily was engulfed in a plagiarism scandal. When Charles found out, he immediately used his position as my husband to issue a public statement in her defense: As Clara Vance’s husband of ten years, I can confirm that while my wife has composed many brilliant pieces, this is not one of them. Emily Hayes is a student I sponsor and a remarkably talented pianist in her own right. The Blackwood Corporation’s legal team will pursue action against any and all parties spreading these baseless rumors. Shortly after, Emily posted a photo of the manuscript. Some people bought it, but many remained skeptical. That evening, Charles came home, yanking off his tie in frustration. His tone was not of a request, but a command. “Clara, I need you to release a statement. Confirm that the piece was written by Emily.” My fists clenched. For the first time, I fought back. “Charles, I will not help a thief legitimize the theft of my work!” His response was a sharp, stinging slap across my face. “Clara, wake up! You’re just a cripple who can’t even play anymore. What good are these compositions to you now? It’s an honor for you that she can play your music.” The world swam before my eyes. He snatched my phone and began typing out the statement, posting it online under my name. I watched his fluid, practiced movements and suddenly, a bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Charles, do you even remember what that piece was? It was my wedding gift to you.” He froze, a flicker of panic in his eyes before he masked it with a cold resolve. “It’s just one song. You can write countless more. But Emily is young. Her career can’t be tainted by this.” I smiled faintly, whispering to myself, “You heard him, didn’t you?” Charles was too busy cleaning up his mistress’s mess to notice. Through my earpiece, I heard my younger self take a deep, steadying breath. Her voice, when it came, was firm and resolute. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I won’t be accepting Charles’s proposal.” “If this love is doomed to turn rotten, then I would rather never have had it at all.” 5 Charles confiscated all my electronics, turning our luxurious villa into a gilded cage. As if to keep an eye on me, he started coming home for dinner every night. We would sit in silence across the large dining table, with him playing the part of the attentive husband, placing food on my plate as if the ugliness between us had never happened. My gaze fell to his left hand. His ring finger was bare. The wedding band he had worn for nearly a decade was gone, leaving only a faint, pale mark on his skin. He noticed me looking and instinctively touched the spot, his expression shifting. “Must have lost it in the shower a few days ago,” he said, a little too quickly. “We can pick out a new pair for our tenth anniversary.” “Alright,” I agreed, still clinging to the foolish hope that we could end this with some dignity. At the jeweler’s, when the consultant prepared to measure my finger, I stopped her. Instead, I gave her Emily’s ring size. I was waiting in the private viewing room when Emily herself appeared. She watched Charles, who was completely absorbed in selecting the perfect diamond, and her face tightened with a jealousy she couldn’t hide. “This is just a marriage of convenience,” she hissed. “Charles loves me! Do you want to bet? One phone call from me, and he’ll leave you here in a heartbeat.” How could I not believe her? When my grandfather was on his deathbed, one call from Emily had been enough to pull Charles away. He disappeared for three days, without a word. My grandfather passed away still asking for him. That night, Charles booked out an entire restaurant. The air was filled with the soft melody of a string quartet. The special ringtone he had set for Emily shattered the tranquility. His face tensed. “It’s just work. Not important,” he lied, but I saw his Adam’s apple bob as he fought to control himself. His eyes were dark, clouded with a barely concealed lust. “Clara, something urgent came up at the office. I have to go, but you have to wait for me here. I have a surprise for you.” I didn’t answer. He didn’t need one. The clock struck midnight. Fireworks exploded over the river, a spectacular, custom display lighting up the night sky. The very show Charles had once promised would be mine alone. At the same moment, a video arrived on my phone from Emily. Through the floor-to-ceiling window of a dark bedroom, the brilliant colors of the fireworks illuminated the scene within. I could clearly see Charles and Emily, tangled together in a passionate embrace. On their entwined hands, the new rings I had just “chosen” glinted in the explosive light. I walked over to the vase of imported roses on the table and dumped them into the trash. Ten years ago, my younger self had just refused his proposal. Charles. This time, we were really over. For good.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394039”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The city’s elite knew my nightly ritual: hunting for my husband, Asher Thorne, who slept in a different woman’s bed each night. He hated me for driving his first love to her death. I hated him for refusing to look at me for a decade. We were caged animals, tearing each other apart. But when a truck careened toward us, he shielded me with his body, coughing up blood but smiling. “My debt is paid,” he gasped. “Next life… let me go. I miss her.” I crawled from the wreckage, refusing to die with him. Later, I stood before my father. “I’ll marry into the Bartlett family.” This time, I’d give Asher what he wanted—his freedom, his love. All of it. 1 The grand crystal chandelier in the ballroom came crashing down again. But this time, Asher Thorne, the man I was supposed to save, shoved me out of the way. A flicker of relief crossed his face. The next second, to my horror, he was swallowed by a shower of shattering crystal. The deafening crash was followed by a wave of screams that ripped through the ballroom. I stared, numb, at the blood blooming across the pristine white carpet. I understood. He had been reborn, too. In our last life, I saved him. But I wasn’t fast enough to save myself. The chandelier had crushed my leg, leaving me with a permanent limp. I used that injury, that debt, to force him to marry me, even though I knew his heart belonged to my stepsister. This time, he chose to be buried under a ton of glass and steel rather than owe me anything. They carried him out on a stretcher, a bloody mess. Well-meaning guests pushed me towards the ambulance. “Go on, Vivienne! Asher needs you right now!” The words were a dagger in my heart. I turned and pushed my stepsister, Chloe, towards the open doors instead. “You go.” She gave me a surprised look, but before she could speak, the paramedics shut the doors and the ambulance sped away. The guests stared at me, bewildered. “Vivienne, why aren’t you going? He was trying to save you.” “Exactly! You two grew up together. How can you let someone else be with him at a time like this?” I didn’t answer. I just watched the ambulance disappear into the night. Twice now, he had chosen such a brutal way to sever our connection. I couldn’t understand it. What was it about me that he found so repulsive? After the disastrous gala, I returned to the family mansion. “You want to take Chloe’s place and marry into the Bartlett family?” my father asked, thinking he’d misheard. He knew how much I despised Chloe, the illegitimate daughter who had stormed into my mother’s hospital room during her final days. She’d stood over my dying mother and sneered that the one who isn’t loved is the real homewrecker. It was the final blow that broke my mother’s will to live. “Just yesterday you were swearing you’d marry Asher Thorne or no one,” he reminded me. I paused, avoiding the question. “Chloe came to you again today to try and break the engagement, didn’t she?” My father’s expression tightened. In our last life, around this time, Julian Bartlett, the sole heir to the Bartlett fortune, had a car accident that left him paralyzed from the waist down. The Bartletts were not a family to be trifled with. Breaking the engagement at a time like this would bring ruin upon our entire family. After a moment of thought, his face grew grave. “The wedding is next month. You can change your mind anytime before then.” I hid a bitter smile. He was thrilled. He had always preferred the sweet-talking Chloe to me. If it weren’t for the fear of being seen as a man who mistreated his late wife’s only child, he would have forced me into this marriage from the start. By the time I left his study, my phone was blowing up with messages. Everyone assumed Asher had been injured saving me. Even if it was just for show, I had to go see him. When I pushed open his hospital room door, he was propped up against the pillows, a thick bandage wrapped around his forehead. Chloe was sitting by his bed. When he saw me, his voice softened. “Chloe, could you give us a minute?” She nodded obediently, murmuring a timid, “Sister,” as she passed me. The door clicked shut, and the room fell silent. His eyes scanned my legs, and a visible wave of relief washed over him. My mouth filled with a bitter taste. He was checking to make sure I didn’t have a broken leg to hold over his head this time. Seeing his pale, bloodless face, a lump formed in my throat. “Does it hurt…?” “Vivienne.” He cut me off, his voice weak but firm. “I saved you. Can you do one thing for me in return?” My heart sank. “What is it?” He took a deep breath. “Don’t force Chloe to marry Julian Bartlett. Your mother’s death had nothing to do with her. She was just a child.” My hands, hanging at my sides, clenched into fists. He hadn’t changed at all. He still thought I was forcing Chloe into a marriage with a disabled man out of spite. I managed a brittle smile. “Asher, you’re always so presumptuous.” He frowned, confused. “What do you mean?” He wanted to ask more, but I turned and left, giving him no chance. I wasn’t going to tell him that I was the one getting married now. I would let him wonder, let him worry, let him toss and turn in his hospital bed. I would let his heart hang in suspense. Until the day I married Julian Bartlett, he would suffer right alongside me. 2 A week later, I stood in front of a mirror, wearing the bespoke wedding gown from the Bartletts. I couldn’t bring myself to smile. In our last life, Chloe had worn this very dress when she jumped from the eighteenth floor of a skyscraper, dying right in front of Asher and me. It was the beginning of a decade of mutual torment. After the fitting, I went home and began to burn everything that connected me to Asher. My hand paused when I found a brightly colored beaded bracelet. We were just kids, playing house. Asher had gotten down on one knee, holding out this bracelet like it was a diamond ring. “This is our promise,” he’d said, mimicking the actors on TV. “When I grow up, I’m going to marry you.” The memory was so sweet that a small smile touched my lips. I slipped the bracelet onto my wrist without thinking. I was pulled from my thoughts by the butler, who informed me I had a guest. Asher was sitting in the parlor, the bandage still on his forehead. He sat ramrod straight, like he was here for a negotiation. “Vivienne,” my father said, his expression complicated. “Asher has come with a very generous offer from the Thorne family.” Several documents were spread across the table. Property deeds, project transfer agreements, even a stake in the Thorne family’s core business in the city. I scoffed. “Is this a marriage proposal, Mr. Thorne?” Asher looked up, his voice raspy. “Whatever the Bartletts can give your family, the Thornes can give more. Just call off Chloe’s engagement, and we can sign these today.” It was practically his entire net worth. He was really willing to risk it all for her. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep the bitterness down. My father looked at me. “Vivienne, what do you think?” I stepped forward and coolly pushed the documents back across the table. “This alliance was decided long ago. To back out now, just because the Bartlett heir has had an accident… our family cannot afford to be known as dishonorable.” “Vivienne!” Asher shot up, grabbing my wrist. “Why do you have to interfere? You know what Julian Bartlett is like now! You’ll be the death of Chloe!” “Her death?” I yanked my arm free, my laugh sharp and humorless. “Her very name is the result of her mother sleeping her way into this family. A bastard child who has lived the life of a princess for years. Now she’s being asked to fulfill a promise, and you call that pushing her to her death? I don’t care if Julian Bartlett is disabled. Even if he were dying tomorrow, she would still have to walk down that aisle!” A soft sob came from behind the decorative screen. Chloe ran out, her eyes red and puffy. Asher’s face paled. He looked at me in disbelief. “You knew she was listening?” I tilted my head. “Of course.” Those words were for both of them. I hated her. If she hadn’t killed herself in our last life, leaving a permanent thorn between us, Asher and I might have had a chance. He ground his teeth. “When did you become so vicious?” He threw the words at me like stones before turning and chasing after her. My breath caught in my throat. I tilted my head back, forcing back the sting in my eyes. I thought the drama was over. But later, Asher cornered me in the garden. I don’t know what Chloe told him, but his eyes were blazing with fury. “Vivienne, she may be your stepsister, but she truly sees you as a sister. Your mother’s death was not her fault! How old was she? She has felt guilty about it to this day! I don’t understand how your mother, who was such a kind woman, could have given birth to such a cruel, selfish daughter!” SMACK. The force of my slap sent his head snapping to the side. My hand was trembling. “Asher Thorne,” I seethed, “you have no right to talk about my mother.” On her deathbed, my mother had entrusted me to him. And in return, he had turned his affections to the very person who had caused her so much pain. “I’m telling you now, I will never back down. If she has to die, she’ll die at her own wedding!” My words were like a lit match to gasoline. “Enough!” he roared. His eyes were bloodshot as he glared at me, and I met his gaze without flinching. It was just like old times. But then, his expression softened. His eyes fixed on the colorful bracelet on my wrist. “…You kept it.” My heart lurched. The thorns I had so carefully erected around myself retracted. He was right. I didn’t want to repeat the mistakes of our past life. I let out a breath. “Asher… actually, I’ve decided to take…” Before I could finish, he lunged forward and ripped the bracelet from my wrist. The colorful beads scattered across the stone path with a series of sharp clicks. “Don’t use the past to manipulate me,” he snarled. “I won’t let you destroy Chloe! Vivienne, just you wait.” I stood frozen for a long time. Finally, I knelt and began to pick up the scattered beads, one by one. Tears fell, silent and unnoticed, onto the cold stone. It’s better this way, I told myself. A clean break. There shouldn’t be anything between us anymore. 3 In the days leading up to the wedding, the rumors started. “Did you hear? Vivienne is forcing her stepsister to marry that cripple from the Bartlett family.” “How could she? All for a few hundred million in investments.” “No wonder Asher Thorne has been avoiding her. He must have seen her for who she really is.” I sat at an auction, pretending not to hear. Then, Chloe appeared, greeting me with a cheerful smile. “Sister, what a coincidence! What are you doing here?” I gave her a cold look. She either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Oh, and about those rumors…” she said, her brow furrowed with fake concern. “Don’t worry, I’ll clear things up for you. After all, you’re the one who’s actually marrying into the Bartlett family…” The wedding was just days away. It was time she was told about the change of plans. I took a sip of champagne, a cynical smile on my face. “Aren’t you the one who started those rumors? What’s there to clear up?” Her innocent expression vanished, replaced by a cold hardness. “So what if I did?” she whispered, her voice dripping with venom. “It was supposed to be me from the start. The rumors aren’t exactly wrong, are they? All these years, playing the dutiful daughter for Father, the gentle soul for Asher, the gracious lady for everyone else. It makes me sick. You’re just like your mother. You both act so virtuous, but underneath you’re just a pair of hypocritical, conniving bitches.” I raised my hand to slap her, but my wrist was caught in a viselike grip. “Vivienne? What do you think you’re doing now?” Asher had appeared behind me. He shoved me, hard. I stumbled back, my high heel twisting, and I fell to the ground. My champagne flute shattered, sending shards of glass flying. “Sister!” Chloe cried out, rushing to help me up. “Don’t touch her! It’s all broken glass, you’ll get cut,” Asher said, pulling her back. But then he stepped forward and offered me his hand. I gritted my teeth and slapped it away, pushing myself up from the floor. My palm was sliced open, and the pain made my hand tremble. “Asher, she just insulted my mother. She called my mother a…” The words were too vile to repeat. He awkwardly withdrew his hand and turned to Chloe with a frown. Tears welled in Chloe’s eyes as she shook her head pitifully. “I didn’t… I just told her you came with me… I don’t understand why she would lie about me like that.” The doubt in Asher’s eyes vanished, replaced by a cold disgust. “You’re becoming more and more repulsive,” he said to me. “To frame Chloe, you’d even use your dead mother.” He took a step closer, looking down at my bleeding hand. “Look at yourself. You’re no different than a bitter, scorned shrew.” A wave of nausea washed over me. The auction’s opening announcement sounded, saving me. I shoved past Asher and returned to my seat. I had more important things to do today. Asher bought Chloe several small trinkets—a brooch, a hair clip. He was acting like he’d brought her here for a day of fun. Then, the final item was brought to the stage. “A jade pendant from the Qing Dynasty. Starting bid, five million.” I was about to raise my paddle when a gasp went through the crowd. “Mr. Thorne has lit the lantern!” I whipped my head around to see Asher staring at me, his eyes cold and hard. Whispers erupted around us. “Is he trying to outbid Vivienne?” “I heard they had a falling out over the Bartlett marriage. I guess it’s true.” I bit my lip, forcing back the wave of hurt and betrayal. This jade pendant was my mother’s most treasured dowry gift. The family had been forced to sell it when we were on the brink of bankruptcy. Now, finally, it was back. He knew what it meant to me. After the auction, I cornered him in the parking garage. “Why?” Before Asher could speak, Chloe jumped in. “Sister, I’ve been having nightmares lately, and I thought a protective amulet might help.” She glanced at me timidly. “But if it makes you unhappy, I can give it to you.” Asher frowned, pulling her behind him. “Chloe, you don’t have to do that.” He glared at me. “It’s because you always back down that she keeps pushing you.” I laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “I’m pushing her? Or are you two pushing me?” I pointed a trembling finger at Asher. “You knew that was my mother’s. How could you help her take it from me?” “Why do you think she’s having nightmares?” Asher retorted. “It’s because you’re forcing her into this marriage! She’s terrified! All she wanted was a symbol of peace. What’s wrong with that?” He paused, looking away. “Besides, it belonged to your mother. She was such a kind soul. I’m sure she would want her spirit to watch over Chloe.” What? The world went black for a second. The next thing I knew, my palm was stinging. I had slapped him, hard. Chloe gasped and rushed forward, clutching the jade pendant. “Sister, I’m sorry… please don’t be angry. I’ll give it back to you… Please don’t blame Asher…” She made a show of handing the pendant to me, but before I could take it, it slipped from her fingers and shattered on the concrete floor. The air froze. Chloe burst into tears, frantically trying to pick up the pieces. “How did this happen… Sister, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Asher pulled her up, afraid she would cut her hands. I stared at the broken jade, my body trembling. The world around me faded into a dull roar. The last thread of my control snapped. I ran to my car, jumped in, and slammed my foot on the gas. The engine roared to life. I aimed the car directly at Chloe. Her face went white. She screamed, her act of contrition forgotten, and scrambled backward. Asher’s eyes widened in horror. “Vivienne, are you insane?!” he roared, pounding on my window, trying to get me to stop. “If you kill her, I’ll hate you for the rest of my life!” I glared at him, then stomped on the accelerator. The car shot forward. Chloe screamed, crawling desperately across the pavement. Just as I was about to hit her, Asher’s SUV slammed into my car from the side. The world spun, and my vision was filled with the spiderweb crack of the windshield. Then, everything went red. Through the haze of pain, I saw Asher stumble out of his car. The last thing I heard before I lost consciousness was his desperate, heartbroken scream. “Vivienne!” I woke up to the stark white ceiling of a hospital room. Asher had kept a vigil by my bedside for seven days and seven nights. When he saw me open my eyes, a flash of joy lit up his face. Just then, his phone buzzed. It was the special ringtone he had set for Chloe. The light in his eyes died. He turned to me, his voice raspy and cold. “Vivienne, your mother asked me to look after you before she died, and I’ve never forgotten that. But if you ever try to hurt Chloe again, I won’t hesitate to destroy you myself. That cripple from the Bartlett family doesn’t deserve her. I will stop this wedding. Don’t interfere. This is your last chance.” He answered the phone and walked out without a backward glance. I slowly turned my head, letting the tears fall freely. On the pillow beside me lay the jade pendant, its pieces painstakingly joined together with gold. Because of my “accident,” the wedding was postponed for two weeks.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394055”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel