Category: English

“I took Raine in when she had nothing. I taught her how to play the long game in a negotiation, how to be a shark in the boardroom. And then, I watched her star rise until it eclipsed my own. They say the first thing a blind man does when he regains his sight is throw away his cane. So, I wasn’t surprised when I overheard her telling a friend: “Finn? He’s… rigid. A little dull. And let’s be honest, he’s not exactly young anymore.” 1 I stood outside the door to the VIP lounge, a dry itch scratching at the back of my throat. I could picture it perfectly: the way her eyes, the color of stormy skies, would narrow just slightly, the careless, dismissive tilt of her head as she said the words. I was the one pushing for something that was never meant to last. Asking a soul that young, that bright, to pause its flight for me. Perhaps because I’d been bracing for this exact moment for years, the feeling wasn’t sharp agony. It was a dull, quiet ache, overshadowed by the strange relief of a weight finally settling. The other shoe had dropped. The only question left was how to extricate myself from this… arrangement. This sponsorship that had curdled into something I no longer recognized. It had to be clean. And it had to be final. Unable to formulate a plan, I walked down the hall to the men’s room and lit a cigarette, my reflection a stranger under the harsh fluorescent lights. The man in the mirror wore a well-tailored coat, but two strands of hair, meticulously styled with pomade that morning, had fallen across his forehead in my rush to get here. I saw the fine lines at the corners of my eyes that no amount of expensive moisturizer could erase. The longer I was with Raine, the more I felt it. The seven years between us weren’t just a number; they were a chasm. She was a bonfire, burning with the brilliant, fierce light of youth. And I had already crossed the threshold into my thirty-fifth year, a place of quiet embers and carefully managed energy. My stamina, my drive… they just couldn’t keep up. A bitter, self-deprecating smile touched my lips. After a moment, I stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray by the door, waving the smoke away from my coat. Then I walked back to the lounge and pushed open the door. 2 The cacophony of laughter and shouting died in an instant. Only the music, a throbbing bassline with a tragically soaring vocal, continued to bleed from the speakers. My eyes found her immediately. She was lounging on a plush velvet couch, one arm draped casually over the back. A handsome kid was tucked into her side, nestled close. He had positioned himself like a young predator, his arm forming a possessive circle, marking his territory. I recognized him from the file I’d run. Leo. In person, he was leaner than in his photos, radiating a golden, sun-kissed confidence. He blinked, his expression a mixture of confusion and curiosity as the vibe in the room shifted. “Finn? Mr. Cole? What are you doing here?” someone I vaguely knew stammered out. Someone else scrambled to turn off the music, fumbling with the controls and accidentally cranking the volume higher. The soulful, remixed pop song now echoed through the room, making the scene feel even more absurd. Finally, one of the drunker guys just yanked the plug from the wall. Total silence. The air crackled with awkwardness. My presence, as always, was an intrusion on their world, a stark reminder of a life they hadn’t yet begun to imagine. I offered a practiced, easy smile, lifting my wrist to check my watch. “It’s getting late. I finished up at the office early and figured I’d come pick Raine up.” My gaze flickered to her. She seemed frozen for a second, a small frown creasing her brow. The hand she had resting on the kid’s shoulder moved, covering his eyes as he stared at me. Leo just pouted, leaning his head against her shoulder in a gesture of playful defiance. An intimacy that felt utterly natural, completely oblivious to my presence. Her silence was the only answer I needed. She was young. She was allowed to be thoughtless. And I… in a few days, I would be thirty-five. The dignity of adulthood kept my smile in place. “Actually,” I added, “something just came up at the office, and I have to head back. I ordered some food for you all. It should be here soon. Don’t drink too much on an empty stomach.” “Thanks, Mr. Cole…” Leo, hearing the respectful tone from the others, chirped in brightly, “Thanks, Mr. Cole! Hey… that name sounds familiar. Are you the old guy Raine was talking about?” He slapped his hands over his mouth in a caricature of shock, his eyes crinkling with mischief. “Oh, my God, sorry. You’re not as old as she made you sound. Definitely got that whole… distinguished vibe. Actually, maybe ‘Mr. Cole’ is better, you know? Has that silver fox ring to it.” The boy was so young that even his malice had a certain clumsy charm. Still, the casual, toothless attack found a chink in my armor, and a tiny splinter of pain lodged itself there. It was bearable. Nothing like what it could have been. A wave of exhaustion washed over me. I lowered my eyes, lighting another cigarette, the small ritual a familiar comfort. After a long drag, I met Raine’s gaze. “Raine,” I said, my voice quiet but firm. “Clear the room. We need to talk.” 3 Her hand fell away from Leo’s face. Her gaze, dark and unreadable, swept over me. She knew that tone. It was my final offer. Perhaps she was genuinely afraid I might do something to her new boy toy. She was silent for a beat, then rose to her feet. “Everyone, out.” “Raine, come on…” Leo whined, not ready to give up. Raine shot him a look, her voice dropping to ice. “Get out.” The boy shot me a venomous glare before trailing out of the room with the others. The moment the door clicked shut, a heavy sigh escaped my lips. I watched her through the haze of smoke, a silhouette just three steps away. Not too close, not too far. A perfect, calculated distance. The same distance that had been between us when we first met. She would never know how far I had traveled to reach her that day. She’d been wearing clothes that were clean but faded from a hundred washes, her head bowed over a sink full of dirty dishes. Her hands were raw and swollen from the hot water, the kind of cold-weather damage that cracks and bleeds. I walked up to her. The girl looked up, her eyes wary, like a cornered animal. “Do you want to come with me?” I’d asked. Back then, I was just starting out, my own finances stretched thin. But I put on an air of wealth, terrified she’d see the desperation peeking through the seams of my ill-fitting suit. Raine’s pupils dilated, her chapped lips pressed into a thin line. “I’ll pay for your tuition,” I’d said. “You can focus on school.” I was young and arrogant, believing, like my own father, that love and money were two sides of the same coin. I’d placed our entire relationship on that transactional scale, only realizing years later that it had tainted everything, reducing a genuine impulse to a sordid cliché. My inexperience blinded me to the painful struggle in her eyes. When she finally smiled at me, I was just ecstatic that I could help someone I was… drawn to. She signed the contract. A sponsorship agreement. But we both knew what it really was. Only with time, as I navigated the brutal landscape of the corporate world, did I begin to understand the bitterness and humiliation that must have been coiled beneath that smile. Pain, I learned, can have a delayed reaction. And the chasm between us grew wider with every passing year. I still instinctively transferred half of every bonus I ever made into her account. But I knew she never touched it. She was earning more than I was now. A rising star in her field, a titan in the making. I saw her name in the headlines all the time. 4 “Raine.” I heard my own voice, distant and strained. She didn’t react, her dark eyes fixed on me. “This Saturday, our contract expires,” I said, my tone gentle, controlled. “Until then, I don’t want to see a repeat of tonight.” Still, she said nothing. Over the years, she had grown quieter and quieter with me. The space between us filled with unspoken things. We were like courteous strangers sharing a home. Finally, she spoke. “Smoking is bad for you. You promised me you’d quit.” I nodded, extinguishing the cigarette. She bent down, pulled a tissue from her purse, dampened it with a bit of water from a glass on the table, and took my hand. She held my wrist, carefully and methodically wiping the ash from my fingertips. “The contract is ending,” Raine said, her voice low. “Are you going to renew it this time?” I pulled my hand back. “No. It’s time for you to be free.” “Your birthday is this Saturday.” I shook my head, managing a small laugh. “I’m too old for birthdays.” She watched me with those dark, impenetrable eyes. I could no longer read what was happening behind them. After a silence that felt heavy enough to suffocate, she asked, “You’ve been counting down the days, haven’t you?” It wasn’t an accusation. It was a statement of fact. A fact she already knew. I nodded. Once the contract was over, we could finally escape this twisted, unhealthy dynamic. We could go our separate ways. Whether her path was smooth or rocky, it would no longer have anything to do with me. “Okay.” Just as I expected. She agreed without a fight. The truth was, when I first started counting down the days, it was with a different plan in mind. I’d imagined that once the contract was dissolved, I would finally confess everything. I would lay my wretched, sincere heart bare before her. But now… now I knew her happiness was more important. As she’d said, I wasn’t young anymore. I couldn’t hold a free soul captive for my own selfish desires. Raine stepped forward and adjusted the collar of my coat. “Are you coming home now?” I gestured to my phone. “No, something came up at work. I have to go back.” She gave a flat, emotionless “hmm.” “I can give you a ride,” she offered. “No, you’ve been drinking. Besides, I drove.” “Okay,” she said. She let her eyes fall. “I thought you were coming to get me.” I turned back to her. “What?” Raine repeated herself, her voice perfectly even. “I thought you were coming to take me home, Finn.””

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394358”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My mother forgot me on my fifth birthday. It happened after the accident—the one that stole her memories and left her wandering, lost, until some drifter from the edge of town coaxed her into his shack and kept her. That’s how I came to be. The day it all fell apart, the police finally arrested him for what he’d done to the other women in town. In the chaos, they figured out who my mother was, and the whole story spilled out into the open. The grandparents I never knew existed pulled up in a gleaming black sedan. They rushed to my mother, and the three of them collapsed into a mess of tears and choked sobs. All the noise, all the emotion—it was like a key turning in a rusted lock. Something inside her clicked back into place. And the mother who, just that morning, would have fought a bear for me, shoved me away with a look of pure horror. “I… I don’t have a child.” My grandfather’s eyes swept over me, cold and dismissive, before he turned back to comfort her. “It’s okay, Anna. You don’t have to claim it,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “Michael’s been waiting for you. You two can finally get married.” He stroked her hair. “The children you have with him… they’ll be our family’s real little princesses.” I stared at the woman I loved more than anything, my small world tilting off its axis. 1 My mother’s eyes were the eyes of a stranger. They terrified me. The whole town, it seemed, had gathered in a circle around us, their whispers like the rustling of dry leaves. “That’s her, the simple one he picked up…” “Lord, the things he did to her. The beatings…” “And that thing is the result… a little bastard…” A state trooper knelt down, his voice gentle. “Anna, you’re the victim here. We’re going to make sure he pays for what he did. But this little girl is your daughter. The law says you have to take care of her.” My mother flinched as if his words were hot pokers. She shook her head, frantically. “No… No! I don’t have a child! I don’t!” Her voice was a shrill, cracking violin string. I thought of the two hard-boiled eggs she’d pressed into my hands that morning. I knew she’d gone door-to-door, begging, just so I could have a birthday present. She’d peeled them with her chapped fingers and popped one into my mouth so fast I started to choke. She’d panicked then, her hands a clumsy flurry as she patted my back. She couldn’t mean it. All these people were just scaring her. I stumbled toward her on unsteady legs. “Mama,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “It’s me. It’s your Wren.” I fell to my knees and pressed my forehead to the cold, hard-packed dirt, again and again. A desperate, silent prayer. She was the only thing I had. But she looked at me like I was a ghost. Her leg shot out, the heel of her boot connecting hard with my shoulder. The impact sent me sprawling backward, a sharp pain lancing through my shoulder blade. “Get away from me! Don’t you touch me!” she screamed, her face a pale mask of terror. “You’re not my daughter! You’re a nightmare! You’re my shame!” Her voice dropped to a horrifying whisper. “I look at you and I want to die.” My grandfather immediately wrapped his arms around her, shielding her. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he murmured, stroking her back. “We’ll forget all about it. You and Michael will have other children.” He turned to a man standing nearby. “Take the child to a county home. An orphanage.” The trooper stepped forward. “Sir, that’s not legally possible. The mother is present. She has a legal obligation to provide care.” My grandfather’s jaw tightened. He said nothing more, just helped my mother to her feet and guided her toward the black car. Panic seized me. I didn’t know what an orphanage was, but I knew I couldn’t lose my mother. I scrambled up from the ground, my whole body aching, and ran after that big, shiny car. The road was rutted and uneven, forcing the car to move slowly. I pumped my little legs as hard as I could. When I fell, I clawed my way back up and kept running, tears and dirt streaking my face. My lungs burned. My legs gave out. I collapsed onto my knees but kept going, crawling, my hands scraping against the gravel. I could not be left behind. The car stopped. My grandfather got out, his face a thundercloud. “What do you think you’re doing? Get lost!” I just sobbed, unable to speak, and kept dragging myself forward. The trooper walked over, sighing. “Sir, look… legally, this child is your granddaughter. You have to take her with you for now. You have to figure out a proper arrangement. You can’t just leave a kid this small on the side of the road.” My grandfather glanced at the growing crowd of onlookers, then at my mother, who was curled up in the back seat, weeping. He shot me one last look of pure disgust, then turned and got back in the car without another word. The engine rumbled to life. The car started moving again, but slower this time. I wiped my muddy face with the back of my hand and used the last of my strength to follow the cloud of dust it kicked up. I had no idea where I was going. I only knew my mother was in that car. 2 Even moving slowly, the black sedan was too fast for me. It rounded a bend and disappeared from sight for a second. My heart seized in my chest, and I forced my legs to move faster. I tripped and fell again, skinning my knees and palms, but I scrambled up without a thought for the blood. People on the street stared, pointing, but I didn’t care. All I could see was the car. All I could hear was my own ragged breathing and the frantic drumming of my heart. I don’t know how long I ran. It felt like something was about to explode in my chest, and the back of my throat tasted like salt and blood. Finally, the car pulled to a stop in front of a big, beautiful, quiet house. It had clean white walls and a dark roof, surrounded by a tall iron gate. It was grander than anything I had ever imagined. I practically dragged myself to the entrance, my body trembling with exhaustion. Sweat and grime were glued to my skin. I gripped the cold iron bars of the gate, gasping for air. The world spun, and black spots danced in my vision. My grandfather got out of the car, his brow furrowed in a permanent scowl of revulsion. “Damn leech,” he muttered. “Bad luck.” He strode over, not to help me, but to shove me away from the gate. I lost my balance and fell backward, the back of my head cracking against a hard, sharp stone. A sickening thud, a spike of blinding pain, and then the warm stickiness of blood trickling down my neck. Just then, the beautiful iron gate swung open from the inside. A man in a crisp, clean shirt rushed out. He looked kind, gentle. He ran right past me, lying crumpled on the ground, and straight to my mother as she stepped out of the car. “Anna. You’re back. You’re finally back.” He pulled her into a tight, desperate hug. My mother’s body was rigid. She kept her head down, trying to shrink away from his touch, her face a miserable canvas of shame and panic. “No, don’t…” she whispered. The man only held her tighter, his voice thick with emotion but firm. “Shhh, it’s over. It’s all over now. We’ll get married. I’ll protect you. We’ll have the most beautiful little girl in the world…” My grandfather added, his voice cold, “Michael, don’t you worry. Anna will be fine now. As for this…” he shot a glance at me like I was something he’d scraped off his shoe, “I’ll take care of it. Get rid of it. She won’t be upsetting Anna anymore.” Get rid of it? Even though I didn’t fully understand, the words hurt like a physical blow. Watching my mother in that man’s arms, hearing them talk about their “beautiful little girl,” a new wave of panic washed over me. Ignoring the throbbing pain in my head and the dizziness, I used my hands and feet to scramble up from the ground and lunged toward my mother. “Mama, I’m your daughter too! Please don’t leave Wren, please…” Before I could get close, my grandfather’s face hardened. He reached out and, with a grunt of effort, slammed the heavy iron gate shut. My fingers were curled around the bars. The massive weight of the gate crashed down on them. A sickening, soft crunch echoed in the sudden silence, followed by a wave of agony so intense it stole my breath. I heard my own bones snap. I screamed and yanked my hand back. My fingers were bent at unnatural angles, already swelling into a grotesque, purplish mess. The pain was a living thing, pulsing and white-hot. I couldn’t breathe. The gate was locked. Through the cold iron bars, I watched the man named Michael wrap his arm around my mother, his back to me, and lead her toward the beautiful house. My grandfather followed them without a single glance in my direction. I was locked out. The sky began to darken. A cold wind whipped at my sweat-soaked clothes, and I started to shiver. The blood in my hair dried, pulling at my scalp with a dull, throbbing ache. My hand was a swollen club of agony. I was cold and hungry and hurt. I huddled in the corner by the iron gate, watching the warm lights flicker on inside. I cried softly, whispering “Mama” over and over again. But no one came. Eventually, the tears ran out. My strength was gone. Darkness swallowed me whole, and I fainted. 3 I don’t know how long I was out. When I woke up, the wound on my head had formed a crusty scab that pulled with a dull ache. I was cold and desperately hungry, curled into a tight ball at the foot of the gate, staring at the house. A whole day passed. No one came out. My stomach twisted with hunger pangs, and my throat was as dry as dust. I saw a stray dog digging in a nearby trash pile, pulling out a foul-smelling bone. I was so hungry I crawled over, wanting to snatch it away. The dog bared its teeth, a low, threatening growl rumbling in its chest as it shielded its prize. I was scared, but the hunger was worse. I reached out a trembling hand. The dog lunged. I recoiled, watching it run off with the bone. I could only sit there, silent tears tracking paths through the dirt on my face. Just then, the iron gate clicked behind me. I whipped my head around. An old woman was walking out. It was my grandmother. Her eyes took in my filthy, wretched state, and her brow tightened. There was no pity in her face, only a deep, profound disgust. “You’re still here? Like a stray dog with mange.” Her voice was as hard and cold as the stone I’d hit my head on. “If you’re going to die, do it somewhere else. Don’t dirty our property. And don’t you dare upset Anna again.” I looked at her face, so similar to my mother’s, and I suddenly remembered the mother I knew before. The one who wasn’t all there, who would eat tree bark herself just to give me the scraps she’d begged or stolen. The one who would hold me tight, humming tuneless songs in her hoarse voice, patting my back with her rough, clumsy hands. “Grandma,” I rasped, the tears stinging my chapped lips. “I’m hungry. I want to see Mama. Just for a second…” “See her? She goes crazy every time she sees you! Are you trying to push her into her grave?” I dropped to my knees. Ignoring the pain in my head and hand, I began knocking my forehead against the hard ground, again and again. The newly formed scab on my head split open, and warm blood trickled down my nose, blurring my vision. “Please, Grandma, please. Just one look. I’ll be good after, I’ll leave, I promise…” I begged between sobs, my blood staining the pavement. Maybe she was frightened, or maybe she just figured me dying on her doorstep would be even worse luck. “Fine! Stop it! Get up!” she snapped impatiently. “One look. Then you get the hell out of here.” She made me stand far back as she opened the gate. I stumbled after her into the bright, warm house. It smelled clean and sweet, nothing like the drafty, rotting shack I’d come from. In the living room, the man, Michael, was sitting beside my mother, speaking to her in a soft, gentle voice, trying to make her smile. But her eyes were empty, her whole body lifeless. I took a shaky breath and whispered, “Ma…” The moment she saw me, her eyes flew wide. She grabbed her head and let out a bloodcurdling scream. “AAAHHH! Get it away! Make it go away! Don’t let it touch me!” She trembled violently, her eyes wild and unfocused. Then, she lunged, aiming her head straight for the wall. “Anna!” Michael and my grandfather screamed in terror, scrambling to grab her and hold her back. She thrashed in their arms, her cries ripping through the house. “Let me die! Just let me die!” My grandfather, holding her tight, cried out to my grandmother, his voice breaking, “My God, what has been done to my daughter? What kind of hell did she endure?” My grandmother rushed to them, and the three of them clung to each other, a tangle of weeping family. I was frozen in horror. I took a step back and bumped into a small table, knocking over a vase. It shattered on the floor with a sharp crack. The crying stopped instantly. My grandfather’s head snapped around. His red-rimmed eyes, full of fury, locked onto me. “It’s you,” he hissed, pointing a trembling finger. “You’re the curse. Why did you have to show up? Why didn’t you die out there? Are you going to be happy when you’ve finally driven her to her grave?!” He was shaking with rage. “Do us a favor and let our family have some peace! Just go! And never, ever come back! I am begging you! Do you want me to get on my knees? Will you finally leave us alone if my entire family begs you?” He started to bend his knees, as if to kneel before me. My grandmother and Michael grabbed him, holding him up. My grandfather’s breakdown. My mother’s madness. The cold, desperate hatred in their eyes. The tears just fell, one after another. 4 I stumbled forward and, with my good hand, tried feebly to help him up. “Grandpa… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” It was all I could say. When I couldn’t lift him, I let go and backed away. Then, I knelt. I looked at my mother, my grandfather, my grandmother, and the kind man holding him up, and I bowed my head to each of them, knocking my forehead solidly against the floor. The sound was a dull thud, and my wound split open again, but I couldn’t feel the pain anymore. “I’m sorry, Mama. I’m sorry, Grandpa, Grandma. I’m sorry, sir.” I repeated it over and over in a hoarse whisper. “I’ll go now. I’ll go, and I’ll never come back.” I knew then, with a certainty that settled deep in my bones, that my mother was truly gone. I tried to stand, to walk out, but my legs were made of cotton and wouldn’t hold me. That’s when my grandmother’s voice came from behind me. It sounded exhausted, maybe even a little pitiful. “Forget it… It’s the middle of the night. Where would you go? Just… stay for now.” A tiny flicker of light sparked in the darkness. That night, they made me a small bed on the floor in a corner by the front door. The floor was hard, with only a thin blanket underneath me. The pain in my head and hand throbbed, and my stomach ached with hunger. No one brought me any food, and I was too afraid to ask. It was cold. I curled into a ball but couldn’t sleep. Late in the night, I heard hushed voices coming from one of the rooms. It was my grandfather and Michael. “…have to send her away. The sooner the better. I think Anna’s had a complete breakdown. She can’t take another shock.” “I know… but where? The county homes, the paperwork…” “I made some calls. I have a distant cousin back home, a Mrs. Gable. We’ll give her some money, have her raise the child…” “I guess that’s the only way… It’s tough on the kid, though…” “Tough?! Is anyone’s life tougher than my Anna’s?! My daughter… my baby girl that I held in my arms… what that bastard did to her… forced her to… to have… When I think about the life she was living all those years, it feels like a knife in my heart.” Michael’s voice was choked. “Dad, don’t… It’s over. I’ll take care of Anna now. We’ll have a new life. We’ll have our own children.” Their words faded into the sound of muffled, heartbroken sobs. Their grief was like a hammer, striking me with every sound. And then I remembered. Every night, the man who kept us would drag my mother from our mattress into the other room. She wouldn’t come back until morning, often bruised and bloody. I would hear her awful cries, mixed with the angry shouts of different men. I would beat my fists on the locked door, trying to save her, but I could never get it open. Then one time, the man lost all his money playing cards and said he was going to sell me. My mother held onto me, terrified. Finally, like she’d made some terrible decision, she started nodding frantically at him, pointing toward the door and making desperate, pleading sounds. After that night, my mother started going out on her own every evening. The man never had to drag her again. She always came back dirty, smelling bad, her eyes emptier than before. But she would secretly press a little treat into my hand—a piece of candy, half a cookie. Then she would hold me and shake uncontrollably. I didn’t understand then. I was just glad the beatings had lessened, and I had more treats. But now, hearing my grandfather’s words, the broken pieces of my memory clicked together. To keep me from being sold, my mother had forced herself to do something she hated. Something horrible. Every time she looked at me now, she was seeing that dark, suffocating nightmare all over again. I suddenly felt like my entire existence was a mistake. A monstrous grief swallowed me whole, a pain a thousand times worse than the throbbing in my head, the ache in my stomach, or the cold seeping into my bones. I couldn’t breathe. I got up, moving like a sleepwalker, and felt my way toward the kitchen. There was only one thought in my head: I am wrong. I shouldn’t be alive. If I disappear, Mama will get better. Grandpa and Grandma and Michael won’t have to be so sad anymore. The kitchen was dark. My hand brushed against something cold and hard on the counter. A knife. I gripped the handle, the chill of the steel making me shiver. In the darkness, I saw two images of my mother. The first, her eyes shining as she handed me a birthday egg. The second, her eyes wild with madness and despair as she looked at me today. Mama. I’m so sorry. I closed my eyes and pushed the knife against my body with all my strength.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394375”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My wife, Isabella, signed over half of her shares in the family company to an intern. An intern named Kevin. He wasted no time flaunting it on his private social media, a smug post for all our circle to see. “A huge thank you to my incredible boss for believing in me! Finally got my hands on some real equity. Muah~” The words hit me like a physical blow. I couldn’t speak. My fingers fumbled as I dialed Isabella’s number. “You gave away your shares?” I asked, my voice dangerously low. Isabella’s tone was breezy, almost careless. “Oh, Joshua, Kevin isn’t just some random person. Think of it as a… performance incentive. Besides,” she added with a light laugh, “it’s just one company. We have plenty.” A cold fire began to burn in my gut. “You have ten minutes,” I said, enunciating each word with chilling precision. “Get those shares back.” She hung up on me. Three minutes later, every single supplier for Harrison Corp—her family’s empire—simultaneously terminated their contracts. If she enjoyed giving away companies so much, I didn’t mind helping her give the whole damn thing away. 1 With their entire supply chain in freefall, the Harrison family patriarch, old man Harrison himself, panicked. He arrived at my estate in his wheelchair, a rare and desperate visit. “Joshua,” he began, his voice raspy with age and anxiety, “did that foolish girl Isabella do something to upset you?” He looked at me, his eyes pleading. “Don’t you worry, my boy. I’ll teach her a lesson she won’t forget! If she’s not to your liking, I have ten other granddaughters. Pick one! Any one you like!” He gripped the arms of his wheelchair. “Just… don’t take it out on the company. An old man’s heart can’t take this kind of stress.” I calmly lifted a cup of coffee to my lips, letting the silence hang in the air before I spoke. “For a pretty boy, your granddaughter was willing to throw away a fortune. Half her stake in the company, gone, just like that.” I met his gaze. “Tell me, shouldn’t I be angry?” The old man’s face went rigid. His cane slammed against the marble floor with a sharp crack. “That spendthrift brat! How dare she! Joshua, you have my word. I’ll make her get those shares back this instant!” He left in a storm of fury. It wasn’t long before my phone started ringing. Isabella. I ignored it. Twenty more calls followed, one after another, until I finally blocked her number. Less than five minutes later, she burst through my front door, her face a twisted mask of rage. “Joshua Kensington! Have you lost your mind?” she shrieked. “It was a small piece of one company! Is that worth all this? Was it really necessary to get Grandpa to cut off my allowance? When did you become so… so vindictive?” I was genuinely surprised. Vindictive? This was the same woman who, not so long ago, had curled up in my arms, whispering shyly that she loved me. The transformation was staggering. I rolled a smooth, polished obsidian worry stone between my fingers, its coldness seeping into my skin, a welcome anchor in the storm of my anger. “Every share, every asset we own, is marital property, Isabella. You gave it away without my consent. Did you think of me at all?” I paused, my voice dropping to a near whisper. “You have ten minutes. Get the shares back, or I swear I will burn the entire Harrison empire to the ground with you in it.” Fear flickered in her eyes. She knew I wasn’t bluffing. “You’re a monster,” she muttered, but the fight had gone out of her. After a moment of tense calculation, she sighed. “Fine.” Her gaze fell, and a glint of silver shimmered at the corner of her eye. A tear. I knew the script. This was my cue to rush over, to hold her, to wipe away her tears and tell her everything would be okay. In the past, I would have. But now, I just turned my attention back to the documents on my desk. We’d been married a year, and she couldn’t even respect the most basic boundaries. She had earned my silence. The shares were transferred back quickly. Most of my anger subsided with their return. The rest of it vanished after I walked into her dressing room and systematically smashed every piece of her jewelry. The glittering graveyard of diamonds and pearls scattered across the floor was, in its own way, beautiful. I took a picture and sent it to her. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson.” She didn’t reply. She didn’t come home that night. I knew she was protesting, throwing a tantrum in her own way. But for the first time, I found that I no longer cared. 2 In an attempt to court new investors, the Kensington and Harrison families co-hosted a lavish business gala. It was a critical evening, the culmination of months of work. And Isabella, in her infinite wisdom, had put Kevin in charge of managing it. The result was an absolute catastrophe. The CEO of a major tech firm, a man I’d personally courted, was seated in the last row like an afterthought simply because he’d worn a designer shirt instead of a full suit. A venture capitalist who was prepared to pledge a fifty-percent stake in a new project was literally barred from entry by an overzealous security guard following Kevin’s muddled instructions. One by one, our most important guests walked out, their faces etched with disappointment and disgust. I couldn’t believe it. How could Isabella entrust such a vital event to a complete novice? I shut the gala down immediately and began the humiliating process of calling each slighted executive to offer my personal apologies. I was in my office, composing a message, when the door was kicked open with such force it slammed against the wall. Isabella stood there, her beautiful face contorted with fury. “Joshua, what the hell is wrong with you? How could you humiliate Kevin in front of everyone like that?” she screamed. “I know you have a problem with him, but to sabotage him publicly? You’re disgusting!” She stood there, in my office, in front of my staff, and trampled all over my authority. Her face was so full of venom, I couldn’t reconcile it with the woman I had married just a year ago. My assistant, hearing the commotion, rushed in, trying to gently steer Isabella away. Isabella shoved her back. “Get your hands off me,” she snarled. “Do you have any idea who I am? You don’t have the right to touch me.” I cleared my throat, a quiet sound that cut through her tirade. My assistant immediately stepped back. There was no need to lower myself to her level. “Who are you?” I asked coolly. “From the way you’re acting, I’d assume you were my enemy.” I leaned back in my chair. “You know Kevin’s capabilities. Do you honestly believe he was qualified for this job?” She was struck speechless, her mouth opening and closing, but no words came out. She just stared at me, cornered. “You,” I said, pointing a finger at my assistant. “Tell us. What exactly happened at the gala tonight?” As my assistant recounted the litany of failures—the insulted guests, the logistical nightmares, the catastrophic mismanagement—Isabella’s face grew darker and darker. Her eyes darted around the room, and her hands twisted the hem of her designer dress into a knot. But her pride was the last thing to die. “It was Kevin’s first time,” she insisted, her voice tight. “He’s inexperienced, yes, but he’s incredibly capable. This was a learning experience. He’ll know what to do next time.” Her naivete was so profound it was almost comical. I let out a short, bitter laugh. “A learning experience? Do you have any idea how much money, how much goodwill, you just lit on fire to ‘train’ him?” I stood up, my patience gone. “Get out. I don’t want to see you right now.” We had spent six months preparing for this night, and Kevin had demolished it in three hours. She stood there, her face pale, hesitating. Just then, Kevin himself appeared at the doorway. His eyes were red-rimmed, and he tugged pathetically at Isabella’s sleeve. “It’s all my fault,” he whimpered, a masterclass in feigned misery. “I’m always causing trouble for you, getting you dragged into things.” He looked up, his expression a perfect blend of vulnerability and defiance. “I know I’m not good enough. It’s okay. I’ll resign. I won’t make things difficult for you.” His performance was flawless. Anyone would have felt a pang of sympathy. Isabella’s features softened instantly. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, her voice a gentle coo. “Don’t worry. As long as I’m here, no one will dare touch you.” She then shot me a look of pure hatred, as if I were the villain in this twisted little drama. A bitter taste filled my mouth. For a man she’d known less than three months, she was willing to declare war on her own husband. 3 To appease the furious investors, I had Kevin officially removed from all project management roles. Under immense pressure from her grandfather, Isabella relented. But her version of relenting was to immediately take Kevin to a high-end real estate office, determined to buy him a lavish gift as compensation. They toured the most expensive development in the city, the exclusive Riverside Estates. Kevin’s eyes glittered with greed as he walked through one opulent mansion after another. He finally stopped in front of a sprawling villa overlooking the river. He feigned a bashful reluctance. “Oh, Bella,” he said, using her pet name, “this villa is stunning. But… do I really deserve something like this? It’s so expensive. I don’t want you to spend so much on me.” For someone who claimed he didn’t deserve it, his feet seemed cemented to the ground. Isabella, glowing from his fawning, was about to wave her black card and buy the most luxurious property on the lot when the sales manager politely intervened. “I’m very sorry, Ms. Harrison, but this particular villa has already been reserved by Mr. Kensington.” “Reserved?” Kevin blurted out, his mask slipping for a second. “So what? I want this one today. I’d like to see who dares to try and take it from me.” “Is that so?” a cold voice cut in from behind them. “Then by all means, let’s see who dares to take what belongs to Joshua Kensington.” When Kevin saw me, his face fell. A flicker of pure malice crossed his features before he quickly rearranged them into a mask of tearful martyrdom for Isabella’s benefit. “Mr. Kensington is right,” he said, his voice trembling. “A person like me could never deserve a house like this. No matter how hard I work, I’m just a wage slave. We’re worlds apart, him and I.” He turned to Isabella, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Bella, please, don’t fight with him over me. I’ll let Mr. Kensington have the villa.” With just a few sentences, he’d painted me as the villain and himself as a magnanimous saint. Isabella, predictably, exploded. “We are all human! Why should you be treated as less than him?” she cried, rounding on me. “He works so hard, and you do nothing but persecute him! You heartless capitalist, you’re not worth a fraction of what he is!” Her face was a stranger’s now, her anger a weapon aimed directly at my heart. “You fought me over the shares, and now you’re fighting me over a damn house? For a man of your stature, you’re unbelievably petty, Joshua!” she spat. “You’re a greedy, grasping snake!” The irony was breathtaking. She was the one trying to take what was mine, yet she called me greedy. A thief crying foul. My voice was ice. “Whether it’s the company shares or this villa, I paid for them with my own money. They are not up for debate.” I took a step closer, my eyes locked on hers. “And don’t you forget, even that black card in your hand… I gave it to you.” The hand holding the card trembled. Her chest heaved with suppressed fury. Her resentment for me was a palpable thing in the room. But whatever affection I once had for her had curdled into something cold and hard. When we married, her eyes shone like stars. She’d told me I had shown her a world she’d never known and that she would love me forever. Her sincerity had moved me, and I had poured everything into our marriage—my support, my resources, my connections. I had single-handedly elevated the Harrison family into the upper echelons of society. I loved her, so I gave without expecting anything in return. I never imagined I was just nurturing a viper in my own home. 4 Isabella didn’t get the villa. That was the final straw. She didn’t move out—that would have been too much for her grandfather to bear—but she moved into the guest wing of the house. Our war was now cold and silent. We lived under the same roof, ate at the same table, and worked in the same world, but we never spoke a single word. One morning at breakfast, her phone rang. It was Kevin. His voice was choked with sobs. “Bella, please, you have to help me,” he cried. “I don’t know what to do! My life is over!” Isabella’s entire demeanor softened. “Shh, it’s okay,” she soothed. “Tell me what happened.” “I don’t know what Mr. Kensington told your grandfather,” Kevin wept, “but the old man just had me fired. And Mr. Kensington… he put the word out. He told everyone that if any company hires me, they’ll be making an enemy of him. I’m blacklisted, Bella. The entire industry has shut me out.” His voice broke. “Please, talk to him. Ask him to let me go. I’m just a nobody. Beg him to give me a chance to survive!” Isabella’s brow furrowed, her face turning as black as thunder. “Don’t you worry,” she said, her voice dangerously calm. “I’m here. Let’s see who dares to fire you.” She slammed the phone down and whirled on me, grabbing the collar of my shirt. Her eyes were bloodshot with rage. “Have you gone too far? Are you trying to utterly destroy him?” she hissed. “He’s just a young man from a poor background, trying to make something of himself! He’s hardworking, dedicated, and you won’t even leave him a path to live? And running to Grandpa to tattle? How childish can you be?” Her fury washed over me, a scorching heat that threatened to consume everything. I ripped her hands away. “Isabella,” I said, my voice tight with restraint, “I have warned you again and again. You keep pushing my limits. Don’t blame me for what happens next.” My eyes were cold steel. “I am a man of my word. If I do something, I admit it. But I will not have you or anyone else pin their filth on me.” She stared at me, her eyes filled with disbelief. It was clear she didn’t believe a word I said. We were locked in a stalemate, the silence crackling with unspoken accusations. Finally, her face crumpled with a look of profound disappointment. She gave me one last, long look. “I was blind to ever marry a man like you,” she said, her voice dripping with contempt. Then she turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind her. The vast house fell silent. My heart felt like it was being slowly fried in oil. I, Joshua Kensington, had built an empire, but my own marriage was a wasteland. Isabella went straight to her family’s home and had a screaming match with her grandfather. The old man was so incensed he collapsed and was rushed to the ICU. Even with her grandfather in the hospital, she doubled down, insisting that Kevin be reinstated at Harrison Corp. She began to flaunt their relationship, taking him to every event, showering him with attention. In no time, Kevin became a fixture in our social circle, the subject of hushed whispers and knowing glances. Everyone assumed they were having an affair. Isabella made no effort to deny it. On the contrary, she started taking him on “business trips,” traveling the country on the company dime. They only ever booked one hotel room. I later heard that her expense reports even included receipts for several boxes of condoms. When that news reached me, a chilling cold spread through my entire body. It was the final, definitive proof. The girl who had sworn to love me forever was gone. And if that was the case, she could expect no mercy from me. Isabella, you chose to betray me. Now, you will pay the price.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393832”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Julian and I were childhood sweethearts, but we spent a lifetime resenting each other. He resented me for forcing his memories back, for driving the woman he truly loved to leap from a roof. I resented him for breaking his promise to love me forever, for falling for someone else the moment he lost his memory. For ten years, our marriage was a frozen tundra. We were the most intimate of strangers. But when I was diagnosed with ALS and the whole world told him to leave me, Julian walked a pilgrimage on his knees, praying for a day and a night before the altar, just for a chance that I might live. On my deathbed, he held my frail body through the night, his forehead pressed to my cheek as he whispered, “Bonnie, in this life, I have fulfilled all my duties to you. If there is a next life, I hope you won’t make me remember. Let me be with her.” A single tear escaped the corner of my eye. I finally understood. I should never have used the love of our youth to bind him, to weigh him down for a lifetime. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I found him. This time, I chose not to wake his memories. This time, I would let my childhood love go, let him run to his moon. 1 “Mr. Cockle has lost his memory. He refuses to come back with us.” “But we’ve contacted the most renowned neurologist in the country. We can have his memory restored very soon.” The conversation was identical, word for word, to the one from my past life, the day I found the missing Julian. Only this time, the wild joy and desperate urgency I’d felt then were gone. I shook my head, refusing their offer. Then, I did two things. First, I went to the hospital for the most thorough physical examination of my life. Second, I took the confirmed diagnosis of ALS to Julian’s parents and asked to break off our engagement. Julian’s mother gripped my hand, her eyes red-rimmed as she shook her head. “We can’t end this, Bonnie. Julian loves you so much. He would never marry anyone but you…” I said nothing. I simply showed them a photograph. In the picture, Julian was gazing at a woman dressed as a mermaid in an aquarium show, his eyes soft and utterly captivated. “Instead of forcing him to marry a woman with a terminal illness,” I said softly, “let him be with the person he loves. I don’t want to be a burden to him any longer.” In my last life, after Julian disappeared, I searched for him for five years. I found him living with a woman named Luna, happy and in love. I ignored his wishes and hired a specialist to force his memories back. The day his memory returned was the day Luna jumped from a building. From that moment on, an impassable chasm lay between Julian and me. Our ten-year marriage was an arctic silence. It wasn’t until I was diagnosed with ALS that things changed. For seven years, Julian cared for me. He fed me, bathed me, took me on pilgrimages, and sought out every possible cure. But I knew. He did it all out of a husband’s duty, not out of love. Fighting back tears, I choked out the words, “There’s no future for Julian and me.” In this life, I would not make the same mistake. After leaving the Cockle estate, I went to find Luna. When she saw me, she quickly shooed Julian away. “I swear, I didn’t hide him on purpose!” she stammered, her words rushing out in a panic. I met her gaze calmly. “You and I both know the truth.” Realizing she couldn’t lie, Luna bit her lip, her panic giving way to a raw, desperate defiance. “I know, Bonnie! I know his heart has only ever belonged to you! The second he remembers, he’ll leave me in a heartbeat and run back to you!” “But I’ve loved him since the first time I saw him in high school! I loved him for so many years and never got a single glance from him. This was my one chance…” “I just wanted him to stay with me for a few more days. Just a few more days!” Her voice cracked at the end, heavy with unshed tears. I listened quietly, my gaze drifting past her to the man standing behind her. Julian. His eyes were dark, fixed on me. His entire body was tense, coiled like a spring, a storm brewing in his gaze. The guardian who once shadowed my every step was now someone else’s guard dog. Ready to pounce, to rip a piece of my flesh away if I made a single move against Luna. I couldn’t name the feeling in my heart. I only knew that this time, I couldn’t selfishly bind him to my side. A faint smile touched my lips. “Don’t be afraid,” I told Luna. “I’m not here to break you up. I’m here to take you both back to his family.” Luna stared, her shock palpable. “Both of us?” “Yes,” I nodded. “You’re the one he loves. If we left you behind, he wouldn’t come with us.” “Go pack your things. You’re coming back to the Cockle estate with Julian.” My voice was steady, devoid of emotion. “His parents know about you. They won’t stand in your way.” A wave of pure joy washed over Luna’s face. She grabbed Julian’s hand, her smile radiant, and rushed off to pack. Only then did Julian seem to relax, convinced I meant Luna no harm. He pursed his lips, his tone softening. “Sorry. I thought you were going to hurt her.” His entire world revolved around her now. No one remembered the past, when Luna’s constant pursuit would drive him to bury his face in my shoulder, feigning distress, urging me to play the part of the jealous girlfriend and declare his ownership to the world. “You have to tell them, Bonnie. Tell them I belong only to you. Be fierce about it.” He’d even make comical, snarling faces for me to imitate. We would always end up in a fit of laughter, tumbling onto the sofa in a playful heap. What a pity. Julian didn’t belong to me anymore. I forced a smile and brought them both back to the Cockle estate. When it came time to introduce me, everyone hesitated, unsure what to say. I spoke up first. “I’m the friend you grew up with. You always treated me like a little sister. You even promised to find me a boyfriend, but then you lost your memory, and we never got around to it.” The others in the room, who knew the truth, looked on with complicated expressions. But Julian didn’t suspect a thing. He even joked, “Alright, once things settle down, your big brother will find you a boyfriend right away.” 2 I was awakened in the middle of the night by the glare of a fire. Pushing my door open, I saw that everything connecting me to Julian was burning in a large bonfire. Childhood photos, award certificates we’d won together, even the wooden puppet he’d given me when he first confessed his love… Each one crackled, turning to ash. A sharp pain lanced through my chest, as if a cold hand had squeezed my heart. Just then, Julian turned to look at me. “Before, when neither of us was with anyone, it didn’t seem like a problem for us to be so close.” “But now that Luna is living here, seeing all this stuff makes her unhappy. So I’m burning it. I hope you don’t mind.” I dug my nails into my palms, trying to hide my devastation. “It’s fine,” I replied softly. “Actually, you can burn the things from my room, too.” I went back to my room, gathered every memento of Julian, and threw them into the fire. The flames licked at my face, but I felt as if I were submerged in ice water. For the next few days, the sounds of construction filled the courtyard. The garden of gardenias Julian had planted for me was torn out and replaced with Luna’s favorite red roses. The glass conservatory where we used to play piano and watch the sunset was demolished to make way for a swimming pool for Luna. Even the wisteria arbor where we’d first realized our love for each other was dismantled, the ground dug up to create a lotus pond that Luna adored. The day they planted the lotus seeds, Luna stopped me in the courtyard. She held her chin high, deliberately showing off the ring on her finger. “Julian found the design for this ring in his room. He said he knew instantly it was for his future bride, so he stayed up for nights making it by hand. Then he proposed to me.” She wiggled her fingers. “Isn’t it beautiful?” The design was of a bird and a fish, my favorite from long ago. I nodded, my voice sincere. “It’s beautiful. It looks perfect on you.” Luna’s expression darkened. “But I don’t like it.” “We both know who this was originally designed for,” she said, her gaze sharp and piercing. “You keep saying you have no feelings for him, but all his past feelings for you… they’re a ticking time bomb. I can’t live with that.” “What do you want, then?” I asked. “I want…” Before she could finish, Luna suddenly threw herself sideways, plunging straight into the filthy water of the newly-dug lotus pond! I was shoved hard, stumbling and falling to the ground. A searing pain shot through my ankle, and my palms scraped against the gravel, a burning sensation spreading up my arms. Before I could even get up, I saw Julian dive into the water like a madman. When he carried Luna to the bank, they were both covered in foul-smelling mud, a pathetic sight. But Julian didn’t care about himself. He frantically wiped the sludge from Luna’s face, his voice choked with panic. “Luna! Are you okay? Did you swallow any water? Are your eyes hurt? Are you cut anywhere?” It took Luna a moment to catch her breath. She shook her head, her lip trembling as tears streamed down her face. “I’m okay… It’s just… the ring you gave me. Someone threw it in the water. I fell in trying to get it back.” She held up her hand. The ring was gone. “Julian, your family doesn’t want me here,” she sobbed. “Can we just go back to our apartment? At least no one will bully me there…” Her pitiful, vulnerable act instantly twisted Julian’s heart. His eyes turned to ice. “Who threw your ring? Who bullied you?” Luna bit her lip and said nothing, only casting a timid, frightened glance in my direction. The fear and grievance in her eyes were a blatant accusation. I clutched my swelling ankle, my voice filled with disbelief. “It wasn’t me…” Julian’s gaze swept over me, as cold as a glacier, chilling me to the bone. “I had no reason to take your ring…” I explained, my voice hoarse. “You know what you did,” Julian said, his voice flat. He scooped Luna into his arms and shot a look at a nearby security guard. “Whoever threw the ring in can be the one to get it back.” The guard understood immediately. He grabbed me and threw me into the pond. The winter water was bone-chillingly cold. I started shivering the moment I hit the water, desperately trying to crawl back to the bank, but a hand clamped down on my shoulder, shoving me back in. “Miss Evans, we can’t let you out until you find the ring,” the guard said, his voice devoid of any warmth. “If you want to suffer less, I suggest you start looking.” I bit my lip and resigned myself to my fate, my fingers searching through the freezing mud. The filthy water seeped into my sleeves, numbing my hands until I could barely feel them. I searched from dawn until dusk. Only when Julian’s parents were about to return did my fingers finally close around the ring. Clutching it, I dragged myself to Julian’s room and knocked softly. When he opened the door, he looked at me with cold eyes. “We’ll let it go this time. From now on, stay away from Luna.” Then, he took the ring from my hand, and with a casual flick of his wrist, tossed it out the long gallery window into the deep darkness of the night. “Luna doesn’t like the design. I’ll make her a new one.” I watched the ring I had nearly died to retrieve disappear into the blackness, and a bitter smile touched my lips. Of course. He saw the past as a burden. It was only natural that he couldn’t stand the sight of a ring that carried its memory. 3 Despite their reservations about Luna, Julian’s parents couldn’t fight his insistence. They finally relented and began planning an extravagant engagement party. The party was a lavish affair, but the guests’ eyes kept drifting towards me. “Poor Bonnie. She finds her long-lost love only to watch him marry someone else.” “They were perfect for each other, childhood sweethearts from good families. We all thought they were meant to be. Who could have predicted this?” “If I were her, I’d have slapped them both. I can’t believe she even showed up.” Just then, Luna made her entrance, dressed in a stunning designer gown. Julian took her hand, his eyes overflowing with adoration. “Everyone,” he began, his voice clear and formal, “allow me to formally introduce…” But before he could finish, the lights in the ballroom flickered twice and then went out completely. In the darkness, screams mingled with the crash of tables and chairs. The scene descended into chaos. I instinctively backed into a corner, but a hand suddenly clamped around my wrist. A cloth with a sharp, chemical smell was pressed over my mouth and nose. The world spun violently. I struggled, but in the last moment before my consciousness faded, all I could hear were the deafening screams. I don’t know how much time passed. Through a hazy fog, I heard Luna’s voice, a furious, hushed whisper. “Damn it! Who told you to do this at my engagement party?!” “I told you to just tie me up and frame Bonnie! Who told you to bring her too?!” “You idiots! You’ve ruined everything! Even if this was an act, you’re not getting paid! You’ve completely wrecked my plan!” My senses slowly returned, and the pieces clicked into place. Another one of Luna’s schemes, only this time, it hadn’t gone according to her plan. As I struggled earlier, I’d felt a gun holster on one of my captor’s waists. These weren’t the low-level thugs Luna would hire. What made my blood run cold was that the leader’s voice was familiar. I recognized it as belonging to a business rival whom Julian had recently driven to the brink of bankruptcy. After a long while, one of the kidnappers made a video call. “Well, well, Mr. Cockle. One is the woman you grew up with for twenty years, your former love. The other is the woman you fell for after losing your memory. Who will you save?” Julian remained composed, but when his eyes fell on a red mark on Luna’s shoulder, he lost all composure. “If you touch a single hair on her head, I will burn your entire company to the ground!” I closed my eyes, a hot, uncontrollable ache spreading behind them. Tears slid silently down my temples. There was nothing to hope for. I should have known who he would choose. The kidnapper burst into laughter. “Did you really think I was going to give you a choice?!” The next second, I was dragged and shoved into a large glass tank. A warm body was pressed tightly against mine. The tank was thrown into the sea, landing with a massive splash. Weighted with stones, it began to sink rapidly. I quickly kicked off my high heels and used the sharp metal heel to smash against the glass. The current rushed in, and shards of glass tore at my limbs. Gritting my teeth, I dragged the unconscious Luna out of the tank and fought my way to the surface. I was nearly exhausted by the time we broke the surface, but I couldn’t stop. I pushed Luna onto a piece of floating debris and gently tapped her cheek. “You have to live.” If you live, his obsession in this life will finally have a home. I was pushing the makeshift raft towards the shore when the damned ALS suddenly struck. My arms went completely numb. Powerless, I began to sink into the deep sea. Gazing at the shimmering light on the water’s surface, I slowly closed my eyes. So be it. This is the end. In the final moments before my consciousness faded, I thought I saw a hand reaching for me with all its might. Was it just a hallucination?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393849”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 On the way home for the holidays, my husband, Joshua, and I were in an accident. When I opened my eyes again, we were back in college, before we’d even started dating. In my last life, we were married for seven years. Our home was a place of quiet respect, but never warmth. He wouldn’t even give me a child. It was only later that I found out his heart had always belonged to someone else—his first love, his old flame. After being reborn, I decided to set him free. We silently deleted each other from our contacts, kept our distance, and chose different lives. Seven years later, he was a top trader on Wall Street. At our college reunion, he and his girlfriend, Isabella, officially announced their engagement. Seeing me still single, he couldn’t resist a smug taunt. “Sienna,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips. “I know I was the best man you ever had in both lifetimes, but you don’t have to stay single forever waiting for me.” I ignored him and reached for my son’s hand. The color drained from Joshua’s face. His eyes, suddenly bloodshot, locked onto me. “You said you’d love me for a lifetime,” he hissed. “That you’d only ever have children with me.” … We met again at the Northwood High reunion, seven years after we’d both been given a second chance. I’d just come from a marathon session of back-to-back surgeries and was too exhausted to change, so I walked straight into the ballroom in my scrubs. Joshua was the center of attention, his arm wrapped around Isabella’s waist as he soaked in the praise. “Joshua, you’re incredible! Just a few years on Wall Street and you’re already one of the top rising traders. You’re the pride of Northwood High!” “No kidding! I heard the big shots in New York pay just to have dinner with him. The consultation fee alone was in the six figures—that’s more than most of us make in a year!” “Hey, Joshua, I’ve been dabbling in stocks. How about you give an old classmate some inside info? Help a brother out!” Then, a curious voice cut through the noise. “So, Joshua, are you and Isabella getting engaged soon?” Joshua’s gaze softened as he looked down at her. “We are. December 20th.” A fresh wave of congratulations erupted. An old friend chimed in, “Joshua, do you ever talk to Sienna anymore? You two were so intense back in the day. I heard you wrote your first song just for her!” At the mention of my name, I saw Joshua’s smile tighten, his eyes darkening for a fraction of a second. Isabella, however, just laughed it off, a picture of grace. “Oh, you,” she said, her voice light and charming. “Joshua and I are getting married. You know how it is. High school hobbies don’t last, and neither do high school romances. He moved on from Sienna ages ago!” The crowd chuckled, turning their attention back to what a perfect couple they made. But I knew the truth. He wrote that song for me the night he confessed his love. We were a classic campus romance, love at first sight. He’d looked at me with such sincerity and said, “Sienna, look into my eyes. I love you. The eyes don’t lie.” And I believed him. But in our last life, his eyes had lied. I walked into the ballroom, my expression calm. A classmate with sharp eyes spotted me. “Sienna! You finally made it!” “What are you wearing? You couldn’t change into something more formal?” “Don’t tell me you just got off work. Where are you slaving away? There are successful people here, you know. They could hook you up with an easier job!” A few people snickered at my casual attire. I paid them no mind, offering a polite, distant smile. From the moment I entered, Joshua’s eyes were fixed on me. “Long time no see,” I said, my voice even. He seemed taken aback for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, a mocking smile spread across his face. “Sienna. After all these years, you haven’t changed a bit. Still no ambition.” Isabella’s gaze was venomous. She deliberately tightened her grip on Joshua’s arm, leaning into him as if staking her claim. “Joshua, don’t say that!” she purred, her tone dripping with false sweetness. “She might be having a rough time, but we shouldn’t rub it in. Life’s already hard enough for Sienna.” She looked me up and down, her lips curling in a sneer. “But really, Sienna, what is that outfit? It’s… a choice. You’re not getting any younger. A woman has to take care of herself, or how will you ever get married? What man wants a woman who looks like she’s given up?” “Do you want me to lend you some makeup?” 2 At her words, a ripple of laughter went through the room. The contrast was stark. Isabella was draped in designer labels, her makeup so flawless it looked airbrushed, every strand of hair in place. She radiated the effortless confidence of old money. I, on the other hand, had just stepped out of an operating room after nearly twenty-four hours without sleep. I looked and felt like a ghost, utterly drained. My comfortable sweats were a no-name brand I’d grabbed from a random shop. There was no comparison. “No, thank you. I’m fine,” I replied simply, taking a seat and helping myself to the buffet. After a high-intensity shift, I was starving. As I was savoring a bite of food, Joshua strode over to my table. He placed a check for one hundred thousand dollars in front of me. “This is for old times’ sake,” he said, his voice laced with condescending pity. “To help you out. Do something nice for yourself. Get a more respectable job, buy some new clothes. Learn to love yourself again.” He paused, sighing dramatically. “Sienna, the past is the past. You need to stop dwelling on it.” “If it weren’t for you… well, it doesn’t matter now.” “What matters is that you don’t let my leaving ruin you. Don’t just give up on life, okay?” I looked up at him, genuinely confused. The unfinished sentence sparked my curiosity. What had I supposedly done in our last life that made him abandon me so completely in this one? In our previous life, we went from high school sweethearts to the altar. He had his musical dreams, and I wanted to be a doctor—both paths required immense time and money. One of us had to sacrifice. Because I loved him, I gave up my spot in a prestigious medical research program and got a job right out of college, supporting both of our dreams on my single income. He failed again and again. With every rejection, he grew more bitter, more withdrawn. And like a tireless charger, I’d come home exhausted from my own job only to spend my nights patiently soothing his bruised ego. I thought he understood my love. Then came the day he wanted a new guitar. When I told him we couldn’t afford it, he flew into a rage and smashed his old one against the wall. “Do you know what she said?” he’d screamed at me, his face contorted. “Isabella told me to go with her to the States! If I’d listened to her, I wouldn’t be living this miserable life!” “I regret ever getting together with you.” After that, he stopped playing. His dream died. And his words—“I regret ever getting together with you”—became a mantra that haunted my nights. I made one last desperate attempt. I held him close and whispered, “Joshua, I want to have a baby with you.” He shoved me away, his eyes filled with a disgust I’ll never forget. “Are you insane? Look at our finances! How can we afford a child? Besides, I’ve told you before—I hate kids! I don’t want to have a child with you!” Those two sentences shattered the last bit of hope in my heart. That year, on the way home for the holidays, a large truck crossed the median. In that final moment, I felt no fear. Only relief. Now, reborn, we had both chosen to keep our distance. There was no need to dredge up the past. I calmly pushed the check back across the table. “No, thank you. I don’t accept things from strangers.” 3 His brow furrowed. “A stranger, Sienna? What’s that supposed to mean?” “I can buy my own clothes,” I said calmly. “And whatever my job is, I find it perfectly respectable. I’m not ashamed of it, and I certainly haven’t given up on life. You should give this money to someone who actually needs it.” He stood there, clutching the check, his lips pressed into a thin, angry line. Isabella glided to his side. Seeing the check in his hand, a flicker of understanding—and rage—crossed her face, but she quickly masked it with a gentle smile. “Sienna, if you don’t want our help, that’s fine. We’ll offer you something more concrete.” “I recently opened a high-end nail salon on Bellevue Avenue. You can start as an apprentice. The pay isn’t great, maybe six thousand a month, but you’ll learn a real skill. That way, if you ever hit rock bottom, you can at least open your own little shop.” “What do you say? Interested? It’s got to be more respectable than what you’re doing now.” 4 I continued to eat, unperturbed. “Thank you for the kind offer, but I’m very happy with my current job. I have no plans to change careers.” A voice from a nearby table called out, “Sienna, don’t be so proud! Joshua and Isabella are being generous, offering you money and a job. Just take it!” “Yeah, seriously! You’re already in this state, what’s the point of having face? The only reason to come to a reunion when you’re doing this badly is to network! Stop putting on an act!” Isabella chimed in with a saccharine-sweet voice. “Everyone, please don’t say that! Maybe Sienna really loves her job!” She turned back to me. “Sienna, we’re only offering this because of our shared history. Don’t let your pride make you miss out on a good opportunity.” I genuinely didn’t understand this desperate need to shove money and a job at me. “Really, I don’t need it. Thank you.” Isabella’s smile remained, but her eyes were filled with contempt. Joshua crumpled the check in his fist. “You can’t help someone who won’t help themselves,” he sneered. “Fine. Stay poor for the rest of your life for all I care.” His insult seemed to be a signal. A group of his buddies swarmed my table, bottles in hand. “Sienna, you look like you could use a drink. Come on, one glass, and I’ll transfer you a thousand bucks,” one of them slurred, his eyes raking over me sleazily. “If you’re really desperate… I can add a little more.” The other classmates just laughed, and no one stepped in to help. I frowned. This reunion was nothing like I’d imagined. If I wasn’t waiting for someone, I would have already walked out. Just as I was about to call for security, Joshua, who had been watching from the side, suddenly stubbed out his cigarette and grabbed the man’s arm. His eyes were ice-cold, his voice laced with fury. “Back off.” The man yelped in pain, his wrist caught in a vice-like grip. Isabella rushed over, tugging on Joshua’s sleeve. “Joshua, what are you doing?” His expression remained frigid. “It’s called being a decent human being. This is a reunion, not a frat party.” He shoved the man away. The guy didn’t dare challenge Joshua, but he shot me a venomous glare. I couldn’t help but glance at Joshua, surprised that he would defend me. Isabella looked like she was about to grind her teeth to dust, but she forced a smile. “I heard the young heir and the CEO of Apex Holdings are having a meeting upstairs! If we’re lucky, we might get to see the richest man in the city!” Her announcement sent a jolt of excitement through the room. The CEO of Apex Holdings was a legend—handsome, wealthy, and still in his thirties. He was known to have a five-year-old son, but his wife was a complete mystery, never seen in public. “Does that mean we might see his wife tonight? I’m so posting this to TikTok!” “This is a major scoop!” A few minutes later, a group of bodyguards escorted a small boy into the ballroom. The crowd went wild. “Look at that entourage! That must be the young heir of Apex! He’s so handsome!” The same guy who’d harassed me, now nursing his wrist, turned his frustration on me. “Sienna, if it weren’t for Isabella, a wage slave like you would never even be in the same room as the prince of this city! If I were you, I’d get on my knees and thank her right now! Maybe you’d not only get a good job but also land a guy like me who makes six grand a month.” Pathetic. I ignored him, my gaze fixed on the little boy. Everyone else swarmed forward, phones out, snapping pictures and recording videos. Even the ever-composed Isabella put on a friendly, almost fawning smile and approached the boy. “Hello there, little one. Is there anything you’d like to eat? Auntie can get it for you.” As she spoke, she reached out to pinch his cheek. But to everyone’s utter astonishment, the boy, surrounded by his security detail, paid no attention to any of the adults. He walked straight past them, his eyes fixed on me. His face broke into a wide, sweet smile as he launched himself into my arms. “Mommy, you’re finally here!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393867”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Sunlight warmed my back as I gardened, then a news alert flashed: “Crestwood’s Golden Boy Humiliates Gatecrasher to Please Fiancée.” Lucas Vance—my best friend Lily’s fiancé. Dread coiled in my gut. A month ago, Lily left to plan their wedding in Linwood… then vanished. My contacts swore she was fine. I tapped the video. The “gatecrasher” being thrown out was Lily. Hair tangled, she begged as Lucas coldly held another woman. Guests sneered: “Claiming to be Sophia Song’s best friend? Pathetic.” “Look at her rags—another delusional Cinderella.” Blood streaked the floor where guards dragged her. Lucas never moved. White-knuckling my phone, I booked the next flight to Linwood. Time to meet this realbest friend. 1 Just before I boarded, a new headline hit the top of every newsfeed: Lucas Vance was throwing a lavish engagement party for his fiancée, and the entire high society of Crestwood was invited. The title was splashed in bold, impossible to miss. Seething, I forwarded the article to Lucas with a single, sharp question. “Which one of your little whores is this?” He didn’t reply until after I’d landed. “Watch your mouth, Sophia! I know the Vance family owes a lot to the Songs for our success, but that doesn’t give you the right to question my love for Bianca!” I scoffed at the message. At least he remembered who put his family on the map. If I hadn’t seen that video, seen Lily being dragged away like trash, I might have actually believed his performance of undying love. Bianca. My partner, the woman I’d built our design studio with from the ground up. We’d struggled together through the hardest of times, and I had never, ever seen anyone break her like this. How could this have happened? A month. In just one month, she had been reduced to this. Suppressing the inferno inside me, I dialed Julian Ford. He was the man my mother had arranged for me to marry, and, coincidentally, one of Lucas’s closest friends. It took eighteen calls before he finally picked up. “Who the hell is this? Are you insane?” he snarled into the phone. “It’s me. Sophia Song.” His tone flipped in an instant. All the irritation vanished, replaced by a smooth, honeyed voice. “Sophia! Is everything okay?” “I need an invitation to Lucas Vance’s engagement party.” He sounded practically giddy on the other end. “Sophia, you’re coming to Lucas’s party? I can pick you up, escort you myself…” “No need,” I cut him off, my voice flat and cold. “Just have the invitation sent over. I’m out of town doing research, so I won’t have time to see you.” I hung up before he could say another word and waited for the courier. I’d made a point of hiding my identity, telling him it was for a friend, to avoid raising any suspicion. Invitation in hand, I hailed a cab and headed for the party. The taxi had just pulled up to the curb when another car slammed into our rear bumper. My body jolted forward, and my head cracked against the back of the passenger seat. Before I could even register the pain, the other driver was out of his car, stomping towards us, his face a mask of aggression. “Are you blind? What are you doing stopped here?” he yelled. “This is Mr. White’s private spot! You think you can just take it?” My driver, just an honest man trying to make a living, wanted no trouble. “I’m so sorry, sir, we’ll move right away.” He apologized profusely and pulled the car away from the curb. “Sorry about that, Miss,” he said to me. “You’ll have to walk the rest of the way.” I shook my head, telling him it was fine. Rubbing the new lump on my forehead, I winced as I made my way to the entrance, only to be blocked. It was the driver from the other car. Standing behind him was a man whose custom-tailored suit couldn’t hide his cheap, new-money vibe. The driver gave me a hard shove. “You’re the one who tried to steal Mr. White’s parking spot?” he sneered. I gave them a deadpan look. A private spot? It was just a regular drop-off lane in front of the venue. My silence only seemed to fuel the driver’s arrogance. “Do you have any idea whose party this is tonight? It belongs to Mr. White! He’s Lucas Vance’s future brother-in-law! Who the hell are you? You think you have the right to be here?” The man in the suit, apparently Mr. White, patted his driver’s shoulder. “Hey, hey, tone it down. Let’s be discreet.” Then he turned to me, his eyes raking over my appearance with blatant disdain. “Where did this hick come from? Mud caked on your clothes and shoes, and is that… a carton of eggs in that shabby bag? If you step inside, you might just…” He leaned in, his voice dripping with contempt as he finished, word by word, “…dirty the floor.” The driver chimed in, his eyes full of scorn. “Look at her, Mr. White. Just a country bumpkin. I know! She’s just like that other tramp from yesterday, trying to seduce Mr. Vance!” “Another one with a Cinderella fantasy!” he jeered. “The one who tried that yesterday got thrown out on her ass! There’s a pack of homeless guys out back…” He didn’t get to finish. My hand flew, the crack of my palm against his cheek echoing in the night air. A bright red handprint instantly blossomed on his skin. I glared at him. A mouth that filthy didn’t deserve to speak. “You… you…” he stammered, raising a hand to strike back, but Mr. White stopped him. “Don’t make a scene today, you idiot,” he hissed, then called for security. “This country mouse doesn’t have an invitation. Get her out of here!” As the guards moved towards me, I reached into my bag, pulled out the invitation, and slapped it against Mr. White’s chest. “No need.” 2 Inside the grand ballroom, clusters of guests chatted animatedly. “Did you hear? Sophia Song designed a special necklace for the wedding. She used that thirty-million-dollar pink diamond from the international auction!” “Thirty million? Incredible. I’d kill to see a necklace like that.” “They say Mr. Vance’s fiancée will be wearing it tonight. You came to the right place.” They even stole the necklace I designed specifically for Lily? Fury simmered beneath my skin. I wanted to storm over to Lucas and demand an explanation right then and there, but I forced myself to wait. I had to choose the right moment. Halfway through the evening, Lucas and his so-called “fiancée” finally made their grand entrance. “Thank you all for coming to celebrate my engagement to Bianca,” Lucas announced from the stage. A chorus of congratulations rose from the crowd below. My eyes were locked on Lucas. Bianca was clinging to his arm, looking smug. As he was about to continue, I rushed the stage and snatched the microphone from his hand. The ballroom fell into a stunned silence, followed by a wave of murmurs. “Who let this stray in?” “Another one trying to cash in on the drama.” I turned the microphone on Lucas, my voice ringing out clear and sharp. “Where is Lily?” “Lily? What Lily?” Bianca snapped. “Security! Get this person off the stage!” “I’ll ask you one more time,” I repeated, my voice dangerously low. “Where. Is. Lily?” Bianca flinched, shrinking back into Lucas’s arms with a shriek. I didn’t miss the flicker of panic in his eyes. “Get this crazy woman out of here!” he yelled. I took a step toward Bianca, and they both stumbled back. “You said you were my best friend, didn’t you?” I asked her, my voice laced with ice. “Why are you hiding from me?” “Bullshit!” Bianca shot back immediately. “How could you be my best friend? I don’t even know you!” A few people in the crowd started to connect the dots. “Lucas Vance’s fiancée’s best friend? Isn’t that… Sophia Song?” The moment the name was spoken, the room erupted in laughter. “Her? Don’t be ridiculous! Does she look like a world-renowned designer? She looks like she just crawled out of a barn!” “Dream on, lady.” Lucas’s panic was now palpable. He’d never met me in person, so he had no idea what Sophia Song actually looked like. “Security! Where is security? Get her out of here! Are you all asleep on the job?” His voice trembled slightly. He knew that if I really was Sophia Song, the Vance family was finished. “Go back to whatever hole you crawled out of,” Bianca sneered, emboldened by her position in Lucas’s embrace. “You’re not my best friend.” Someone from the crowd called out with a lewd laugh, “The woman yesterday claimed to be Lucas’s fiancée. You two must be best friends, right?” “Everyone knows what happened to her,” another voice added with a smirk. “And I just saw her getting dragged into the room next door by some guy…” My heart seized in my chest. I spun around, ready to bolt for the next room, but Lucas suddenly grabbed my arm. “Let go of me!” I struggled, but his grip was like iron. “Get the hell out of here!” he hissed. Bianca joined in, pulling at my other arm. “Don’t you know what’s good for you? We’re giving you a chance to leave with your dignity. If you keep making a scene, you’ll be lucky to only spend three to five years in a cell.” A cold, humorless laugh escaped my lips. I reached for a glass of red wine from a nearby table and flung its contents all over Bianca’s pristine white gown. A piercing shriek echoed through the ballroom as the dark liquid stained her dress. Lucas’s grip loosened for a split second. It was all I needed. I broke free and sprinted toward the room next door. I threw the door open, and my world shattered. The image that greeted me will be burned into my memory forever. Lily was on the sofa, a man pinning her down, her legs kicking in a desperate, futile struggle. The man stopped when he heard the door open and looked up. A primal scream tore from my throat as I launched myself across the room and kicked him off of her. I rushed to Lily’s side. Her clothes were half-torn from her body, her skin a canvas of angry bruises and fresh scratches. My hands trembled as I pulled her dress back into place. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I’m so sorry I’m late.” 3 “You again. The hick from the sticks.” The man I’d kicked to the floor was the same arrogant pig I’d met at the entrance. He scrambled to his feet, fury contorting his features, and swung his open palm at my face. I caught his wrist mid-air and twisted. Hard. I stared him down, my eyes burning with a murderous rage. He started shouting. “Let go! Let go of me, you bitch! Did you hear me? Let go!” His shouts turned into a scream of pure agony, completely oblivious to the crowd of guests now watching from the doorway. “Please, I’m begging you, let go! My arm, it’s going to break!” I held on until I heard the sickening crack of bone, then released him. His face went pale. “You fucking psycho! You’re dead! I’ll kill you! Somebody get over here!” I reached into my bag—the one he’d mocked—and pulled out an egg, smashing it against his chest. He howled. “Are you crazy? I swear to God, I’m going to end you today!” The man, Ben White, was practically vibrating with rage. “Go ahead and try,” I said, my voice dripping with venom. “If you don’t kill me today, I promise you, I will destroy you.” My glare was a promise. Everything he had done, I would make him pay for, tenfold. “That’s enough!” Lucas strode into the room. The moment he appeared, Lily’s body began to tremble violently. “Sophia, let’s go,” she whispered, her voice thin and reedy. “Please, let’s just go.” I pulled her into a tight embrace, whispering into her hair. “It’s okay. I’m here now. Don’t be afraid.” Seeing her so broken, so timid, was like a knife to the heart. This wasn’t the Lily I knew. She was the one who always stood in front of me, fierce and unafraid, with a temper hotter than mine. Now, all her sharp edges had been worn down, replaced by fear. I took her hand, ready to lead her out of this nightmare. “You think you can just ruin my engagement party and walk away?” A hand shot out, blocking our path. “Do you have any idea who I am?” Lucas demanded. “What proof do you have that you’re Sophia Song?” Ben White, still clutching his arm and dripping with egg yolk, chimed in, “You? Sophia Song? That’s hilarious. My sister is her best friend, you idiot. Don’t you even bother to do your research before you lie?” With Lucas there to back him up, his arrogance returned full force. “You just wait. The second I walk out of here, Ben White is going to have you dealt with permanently!” “I’m waiting,” I said dismissively. Just then, Julian Ford pushed through the crowd. Lucas grabbed him. “Is this Sophia Song?” The guests watched eagerly. “Julian Ford is engaged to the Song heiress. He would definitely know what she looks like.” What they didn’t know was that Julian had never met me in person. He’d only seen a single photograph of me, three years ago. Julian looked me up and down, his lip curling in disgust. “Her? No way. Look at her, dressed in those rags. She’s nothing like Sophia Song. Besides, Sophia called me herself and said she wasn’t coming.” He glanced at me again. “I think I’d puke for the rest of my life if I had to marry someone like that.” The contempt on his face was unmistakable. “And Sophia is out of town for work. There’s no way she’d be here. And she definitely wouldn’t be standing here holding a carton of eggs. She probably crawled out of some backwater town trying to pull a scam.” Hearing this, Lucas visibly relaxed. I shot them a look of pure disdain, took out my phone, and opened my photo album to a picture of me with my mother. Plenty of people in this room knew her. “Wait… that looks like Mrs. Song.” “It is her! That picture was taken in her home! And she’s wearing the ring her daughter designed for her.” “The Song heiress has never shown her face publicly, very few people have ever seen her. Could she… could she really be her?” The color drained from Lucas’s face. Ben snatched the phone from my hand. “This is obviously AI-generated! The technology is so advanced now, you can create any photo you want. She even faked the photos in advance! She planned this whole thing, waiting for today to cause trouble!” With that, he hurled my phone to the ground. The screen shattered. A wave of pure fury washed over me. I swung my hand and slapped him across the face, hard. Ben roared in anger, but Lucas held him back. Suddenly, a sharp female voice cut through the chaos. “She can’t be Sophia Song!” Bianca, now in a fresh change of clothes, had reappeared. At the same time, my assistant, Marco, appeared at the doorway. I was about to call his name when Lily lunged forward and clamped a hand over my mouth. She stepped in front of me, then dropped to her knees before Lucas, her voice choked with sobs. “We’re so sorry. We were ignorant. We didn’t know our place. Please, I’m begging you, just let us go.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393885”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

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