Category: English

It was our wedding anniversary. My husband, Marcus, told me an urgent M&A deal had come up and he had to fly to Paris. So I went alone to one of the city’s most exclusive galleries. I’d decided to buy myself the Modigliani I’d been coveting for months as my own anniversary gift. I’d barely sat down in the VIP lounge with a cup of tea when I saw him. Marcus, who was supposed to be in Paris, was standing there with his new assistant, Jenna—the one who always looked at me with a barely concealed sneer. Jenna had her eyes on the very painting I was there to see. She sashayed over to me, and in front of several collectors I knew and the gallery director, she took a crumpled hundred-dollar bill and flippantly tucked it into the folds of my Hermès scarf. “Mrs. Thorne, first time seeing a Modigliani? Are you sure you can… appreciate this level of artistry?” Her voice was sickly sweet, dripping with contempt. … When I remained seated, not even glancing at the money, she scoffed and looped her arm through Marcus’s, pressing her entire body against him. “Marcus, look how stubborn she is. She just won’t listen. She doesn’t know the first thing about art, but she booked the viewing first. She’s just trying to spite you.” Marcus showed no trace of guilt at being caught. “Bianca, go tell the gallery you’re canceling your appointment, and then leave. Now.” I looked at him, motionless. I was getting that painting today. Jenna’s eyes darted around the room, finally landing on my face, full of malice. “So, the lady won’t yield. Then how about we let our wallets do the talking? A friendly auction?” The gallery director’s eyes lit up, his gaze turning to me expectantly. I raised an eyebrow. “If you want to play, I’ll play.” A triumphant look crossed Jenna’s face. “Then let’s make a little wager, shall we? The loser—the one who doesn’t get the painting—has to kneel and crawl out of the gallery. That Chanel couture you’re wearing is lovely, Mrs. Thorne. It would be a shame to get it dirty.” A few muffled snickers rippled through the room. A couple of the other wives exchanged amused, expectant glances. Marcus watched me with cold eyes, saying nothing. They thought this would be enough to make me fold. I suppressed the icy smile that threatened to form on my lips. “Just crawling? Where’s the fun in that? If we’re going to play, let’s play for real stakes.” 1 The atmosphere in the VIP lounge instantly turned to ice. Marcus, Jenna, the collectors, the gallery director—a dozen pairs of eyes were suddenly fixed on me. Before becoming Marcus’s assistant, Jenna had supposedly been a jewelry appraiser at some auction house. She’d climbed her way up to Marcus by leveraging her looks and her ability to read a room. The idea that I would not only accept her challenge but raise the stakes was, to them, utter madness. “Has Mrs. Thorne lost her mind? Picking a fight with the assistant in front of everyone? What’s the point?” “Well, after what Jenna said, who wouldn’t be angry? But you have to know when you’re outmatched…” “Please. Everyone knows Mrs. Thorne is just a pretty face. She knows nothing about her husband’s business except how to spend his money. Jenna is Marcus’s right-hand woman, he trusts her completely. What could she possibly have to play with?” “Why can’t she just be a good trophy wife? A man as successful as Marcus is bound to have a few women on the side. Why make a scene?” “Poor Marcus. Not only is she useless, she causes trouble for him.” The whispers reached my ears. Marcus’s face darkened with impatience. “Bianca, stop making a scene!” he hissed, his tone that of a man scolding a petulant child. “Jenna is young and impulsive, she didn’t mean anything by it. Why are you stooping to her level? I have important investors with me today. Don’t you dare embarrass me. Go home.” I shifted into a more comfortable position, leaning back against the velvet chair, my gaze perfectly calm as it met his. “I reserved this painting a week ago. The gallery’s policy is first come, first served. If the price is right, I can purchase it directly. There is no reason I should yield to you. Your assistant wanted to play a game, and I have graciously agreed. I suggest you don’t push your luck.” My defiance seemed to enrage him. He leaned in close, his voice a low, threatening growl. “Bianca, have I spoiled you too much? Don’t you forget who pays for your entire existence. You’re not a somebody. When I tell you to get lost, you get lost.” My eyes narrowed, lingering for a moment on his body pressed tightly against Jenna’s. “Marcus, the bet has been made. The only decision you need to make today is whether you’re standing with her, or with me.” He sneered at me, his tone growing uglier. “Who the hell do you think you are? What do you do all day besides shop and drink tea? Every single thing you own, I bought. Don’t you dare pull this act with me. A trophy wife should know her place. Get out, and I’ll forget this happened. But if you insist on making things difficult, then you can get ready to crawl.” So, he had made his choice. My voice turned to ice. “I’m buying that painting today.” 2 Marcus was about to explode, but Jenna stopped him, giggling and shaking his arm. “Marcus, honey, don’t get angry with her. She’s just a kept woman, completely dependent on you. Why let someone so clueless get under your skin? If Mrs. Thorne wants to play, I’ll play with her. Think of it as free entertainment for our guests.” She sighed dramatically. “She’s only acting out like this because she’s jealous of me being by your side… Maybe I should be the one to leave.” She made a show of turning away, and Marcus immediately pulled her back into his arms. “She’s the one who should leave, not you. If she wants to crawl, we’ll let her.” They were acting like love-struck teenagers right in front of me, his wife. A wave of disgust washed over me. A portly, balding man—a Mr. Harrison—clapped Marcus on the shoulder. “No wonder you take Ms. Jenna everywhere, my boy. Not just beautiful, but smart, too.” At the compliment, a smug look appeared on Marcus’s face. Jenna shot me a triumphant, provocative glare. “So, how high are we playing, Mrs. Thorne? A million a hand?” “A million? Don’t make me laugh,” Mr. Harrison snorted, tapping his fat fingers on the armrest. “Playing for small stakes is boring, Mrs. Thorne. Let’s do this: when the public auction begins, whoever wins the painting gets ten percent of the final sale price from the loser, in cash, on the spot. What do you say? Do you have the guts?” Jenna’s expression faltered. Ten percent. If the painting sold for ten million, that was a million dollars. While she had Marcus, a sum like that in cash… “Mr. Harrison, isn’t that… a bit much?” she hesitated. Harrison, enjoying the drama, waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t you worry, Ms. Jenna. I’ll cover your bet. I just feel for my friend Marcus here. So young, so successful, and married to… well, a decoration.” Jenna beamed, thanking him profusely before turning back to me, her eyes gleaming like a predator’s. “Well, Mrs. Thorne? It’s not too late to back out and apologize.” 3 Every eye in the room was on me. I didn’t look at Jenna, addressing Harrison instead. “With so many witnesses, can we take you at your word, Mr. Harrison?” “Of course! It’s all about the thrill,” he said, puffing out his chest. I nodded and turned to the gallery director. “Please prepare a formal betting agreement, and have a notary present. Once the agreement is signed, we can begin the auction.” Marcus looked stunned. “Bianca, are you insane? Where are you going to get that kind of money? Don’t expect me to pay a single cent for you if you lose.” I laughed coldly. “The word ‘lose’ isn’t in my vocabulary.” Jenna gave me a smug look. “Don’t forget, Mrs. Thorne. The loser has to crawl.” “That’s exactly what I was about to say to you,” I retorted. Jenna’s smile widened as she turned to Marcus, her expression now one of wounded innocence. “Marcus, will you be angry with me for making this bet? She is your wife, after all. If she crawls out of here, it will be a humiliation for you, too.” “She eats my food, lives in my house, and still dares to give me attitude? Crawling is getting off easy. She should be on her knees, begging for your forgiveness.” “Oh, Marcus, she’s still your wife. I would never humiliate you like that. Let’s not get angry with this simpleton.” She looked back at me. “Mrs. Thorne, this is a game of money. You’re so used to spending Marcus’s, you’ve probably lost all concept of what it’s worth.” I looked at Marcus. “Are you sure you want to foot the bill for Jenna’s bid?” “Of course. Unlike you, she has been a huge asset to my career. If she wants it, I’ll get it for her. As for you, don’t expect a dime from me.” I scoffed. So, it was just about who had more money. I wasn’t worried. The notary arrived, the papers were signed, and the auctioneer took the stage. After a brief introduction, the bidding began. Jenna raised her paddle first, her voice crisp. “Five million.” “Excellent! Ms. Jenna starts off strong!” Harrison cheered from the side. I lifted my teacup, feeling its warmth against my fingertips, and said nothing. The room grew quiet. “Five million, going once…” the auctioneer called. “Giving up so soon, Mrs. Thorne?” Jenna simpered, covering her mouth with her hand. “I thought she had more fight in her,” Harrison chimed in. “Turns out it was all a bluff. Well, looks like a sure win for Ms. Jenna. My money was well spent. A little live entertainment to cap off the evening.” Jenna’s triumphant smirk was practically glowing. She stood to get a glass of champagne, and as she passed my chair, the pointed toe of her stiletto “accidentally” snagged the hem of my dress. “Really, Mrs. Thorne. Why do this to yourself? Wouldn’t it be better to leave with some dignity? If you crawl out of here like a dog, you’ll be a laughingstock in your little social circle.” Her voice was a low, venomous hiss. 4 Marcus frowned, his patience worn thin. “Bianca, stop embarrassing yourself. Many of these people are my most important partners. You’re humiliating me. Get out now, and I’ll let this go. I won’t even cancel your credit cards. Otherwise, I will cut you off completely.” He was red in the face with anger. Jenna nestled against him, fanning the flames. “Marcus, sometimes I just feel so sorry for you. You’re so brilliant, so successful, running this massive company… and yet… your wife is good for nothing but spending money. It breaks my heart.” I raised my eyes, my gaze like daggers. “It sounds like you care a great deal for my husband.” Jenna paused, then adopted a look of profound devotion. “Yes. I admire him. And I would rather spend my life supporting him and helping him achieve greatness than be a leech, like some people. A shameless leech who publicly humiliates him.” I let out a short, sharp laugh. “How noble. But the man you admire has a wife. Isn’t it a little pathetic to be so obvious about it?” “Bianca, watch your mouth!” Marcus finally exploded, slamming his hand on the table. “Jenna is innocent and dedicated! How dare you slander her with your filth! She’s not like you. Know your place.” “I never loved you,” he snarled. “If my father hadn’t seen some value in your family’s old connections, I never would have married you. What do you have besides a pretty face? You’re not worthy of me.” “Push me again, and I’ll throw you out on the street today. Without me, you’d have to sell yourself to survive.” I stared at his face, twisted with rage, and the last ember of warmth in my heart died. I had agreed to this arranged marriage because I saw his drive and ambition when he was starting out. I thought he was different from the other lazy, entitled heirs. I never imagined he would be so foolish as to be manipulated by a shallow assistant and publicly humiliate me. Seeing Marcus leap to her defense, Jenna shot me a triumphant look and began to gently pat his back. “Marcus, don’t be angry. It hurts me to see you upset.” She turned her blazing eyes on me. “If I win, I don’t want your money, and I don’t want you to crawl. I want… his freedom.” My voice was flat. “Freedom? You mean, you want us to divorce?” Jenna looked at Marcus, her eyes full of love and a desperate, reckless courage. “Marcus, I am willing to fight for your freedom. Are you willing… to break free from this cage?” Marcus looked at Jenna’s young, beautiful face, then at the smirking faces of his “partners.” A wave of vanity and reckless impulse washed over him. As everyone watched, he slowly, deliberately, nodded. 5 My hands, resting on my lap, clenched into fists so tight my nails dug into my palms. A feeling like hot oil seared through my chest. My marriage was a joke. Someone let out a low whistle. A voice called out, “Go, Jenna! True love wins!” “Marcus deserves to be free!” “She’s a beautiful woman, though. If she’s single again, maybe we can have a taste…” Hearing this, a sly look entered Jenna’s eyes. “Bianca, I’m raising the stakes again. If you lose, you not only have to divorce Marcus, you also have to…” She paused, her voice turning sinister. “You have to spend a night with Mr. Harrison. For free.” Harrison glanced at Marcus, who remained impassive. His lecherous gaze then shifted to me. “So, Bianca. Do you still dare to play?” The room erupted in jeers. “I’m in on that! If she loses, she spends a night with me too!” I looked at Marcus’s cold, indifferent face. A chilling smile spread across my own. “Alright. But if I’m the prize, you’d better be prepared to offer a prize of your own.” If they were going to serve their faces up on a platter, I was more than happy to slap them. I was going to show Marcus and his disgusting partners exactly what it cost to insult me. 6 Amidst the jeering crowd, Marcus finally spoke. “Bianca, I never knew you were such a shameless, degenerate woman. Using your own body as a bargaining chip. Win or lose, a woman like you is not fit to be my wife. Since you insist on this, sign the divorce papers first. My wife will not be a whore.” Jenna was the one who made the bet. I accepted, and suddenly I was the degenerate. His bias was breathtaking. I looked at him, my eyes cold. “Are you sure? You don’t want to reconsider?” “If you leave right now, apologize to Jenna, and treat her with respect from now on, I’ll let this go,” he said, his tone one of magnanimous condescension. “But don’t forget, today’s bet is about who wins the auction. It’s about money. You are guaranteed to lose.” I smiled. “Then please, bring me the divorce papers.” He stared at me in disbelief. “What did you say? Do you have any idea what will happen if you lose? I’m giving you one last chance. Answer me again.” His shock was becoming tiresome. “That’s my business. You won’t need to worry about it, ex-husband-to-be. Weren’t we signing something? Let’s get it over with.” Marcus was stunned into silence. Perhaps he never imagined that the woman he thought of as his dependent could have such a spine. I could tell the divorce was just a threat, a tool to control me. But now, he was trapped. Jenna must have sensed his hesitation. She leaned in and whispered, “Marcus, she’s bluffing. She just wants you to back down. If you do, what will your partners think? She’s a housewife who you support. She’d never leave you. She’s just trying to scare you. Look, they’re all watching.” Her words seemed to solidify his resolve. He looked at me, his eyes cold. “Fine. If you want to debase yourself, I’ll help you.” The auction was paused. A lawyer, conveniently on hand, quickly produced two copies of a divorce agreement. I looked at Marcus with amusement. “You’re sure about this?” He signed without looking at me. So ruthless. Harrison sidled up. “Shouldn’t we get our little bet in writing, too?” The man was so legally ignorant it was almost funny. But to put them at ease, I signed his paper as well. The wager: fifty million dollars. If I lost, I was theirs for a night. If I won, they paid. The thought of several hundred million dollars appearing in my account out of thin air… I really had Jenna to thank for all this. The auctioneer, seeing our business was concluded, resumed the proceedings. Jenna, full of confidence, pushed the price to eighty million. “Go, Jenna! The painting is worth every penny!” Harrison cheered. He shot a greasy look my way, an air of certainty about him. I lifted my teacup, tapping a finger against the rim. My gaze swept over Harrison. “Is this how your company makes its investment decisions? Blindly, based on the whims of an assistant?” Harrison’s face turned a blotchy purple. “Who the hell do you think you are, talking to me like that? If it weren’t for Marcus, you wouldn’t even be allowed in this room. The old man of the Thorne family must have been senile. Marcus has such a bright future, and you’re just a stone around his neck. But I guess it makes sense. A woman who would bet her own body isn’t exactly high-class. Don’t you worry. Tonight, I’ll take good care of you.” So this was the caliber of Marcus’s partners. His bankruptcy was well-deserved. My own family’s investment in his company, however, was now at risk.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394290”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

It was my first time picking up my daughter from preschool. I was beaming as I brought her home, my heart full. Then, nestled in my arms, she whispered, “Mommy, aren’t we living in the little house anymore?” I froze. A little house? We had never lived in a little house. Our eyes met, hers wide and innocent, mine widening in dawning horror. A shriek tore from my throat. I raced back to the preschool, and as I burst through the doors, I collided with a frantic woman who looked exactly like me. 01 I used to see stories on the news about parents accidentally taking the wrong child home from daycare, and I’d scoff. How could you not recognize your own kid? If you can’t even do that, you don’t deserve to be a parent. I never, ever imagined I would become the very person I despised. I fumbled with the car door, my arms tightening around the little girl. As I buckled her into the child seat, I couldn’t help but stare. “It’s just… incredible,” I murmured. “How can you look so much like my Rosie?” She was a bit thinner, which made her face seem smaller and her eyes larger, but otherwise, she was a perfect double. Especially in that little yellow dress, sitting so obediently in the booster seat… she was the spitting image of my daughter. If it hadn’t been for that one whispered question, I never would have known. The little girl, Lily, was shy. She peeked at me, her small body tense, but her voice was as soft as cotton when she spoke. “Aunty, you look a lot like my mommy, too.” She added, “But you’re prettier.” I brushed it off as a cute kid-compliment and gave her cheek a gentle squeeze. “You’re just the sweetest thing. I almost don’t want to give you back.” Her eyes shot open, her mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ of disbelief. She grabbed my hand in a panic. “No, Aunty, you can’t! Mommy can’t live without me!” She looked like she was about to burst into tears, which, I’m ashamed to admit, I found adorable. I quickly soothed her, promising over and over that I was taking her right back to her mother before she finally calmed down. As I pulled up to the preschool, my phone rang. It was Rosie’s teacher. I answered while unbuckling Lily. Just as I lifted her out of the car, I saw a woman standing across the parking lot. She was wearing worn, faded clothes and smelled faintly of grease and stale kitchens, her hair unkempt around her shoulders. Her eyes, wide with panic, scanned the area until they locked onto me. The moment she saw the child in my arms, a desperate cry escaped her lips and she sprinted towards us. In a flash, she had snatched Lily from my arms. The force of it sent me stumbling back against the car. My wrist, caught in her rough grasp, throbbed with a stinging pain, already showing angry red marks. “Hey! What was that for?” The pain shot up my arm, and my patience evaporated. “You hurt me!” My tone was sharp, angry. The woman ignored me, her attention entirely on Lily. She frantically checked her daughter from head to toe, her hands patting down her arms, her legs, her face. Only when she was certain Lily was unharmed did she pull the child into a crushing hug and break down into ragged sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, baby,” she choked out, her voice raspy and raw. “Mommy got held up at work, I almost lost you.” Her voice was so coarse it was like listening to grinding stones. I frowned, but my anger began to soften. She was just a terrified mother. A terrified mother whose child I had accidentally kidnapped. A wave of guilt washed over me. “Look, I am so, so sorry,” I said, stepping closer, intending to pat her shoulder in apology. “Your daughter and mine… they look so much alike, I just didn’t even realize…” My words died in my throat as she turned her face towards me. My breath hitched. My heart hammered against my ribs. It wasn’t just that she looked like me. She looked like an older, weathered, exhausted version of me. 02 After collecting my own Rosie, I convinced the woman and her daughter to get in my car. The woman, whose name was Leah, sat stiffly in the back with Lily, radiating a nervous energy that filled the car. The tension broke when Rosie, her pigtails bouncing, climbed in and sat next to Lily. Two identical little girls, staring at each other, wide-eyed. Even Leah, who was wound tighter than a spring, couldn’t help but let a small, hesitant smile touch her lips. “See? I wasn’t kidding,” I said, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. “They’re practically twins. That’s why I made the mistake.” Leah mumbled a barely audible “yes.” The two girls, however, hit it off immediately. They poked each other’s cheeks, played with each other’s hair, and held hands, letting out little gasps of wonder. “You’re so pretty.” “No, you are.” “We’re both pretty, right?” “Definitely.” Their soft, sweet voices were filled with such genuine self-admiration it made my heart melt. I kept glancing at Leah in the mirror. She was looking at the two girls, her face softened by a look of pure, maternal love. A strange feeling stirred in my chest. My original plan had been to take her to a nice restaurant as an apology. But seeing her face, seeing my face in hers, I made a new plan. At the next intersection, I turned the car towards home. Bringing Leah and Lily home sent a shockwave through my family. That evening, even my grandparents, who lived out in the suburbs, drove into the city. The whole family gathered around Leah, who was so tense and overwhelmed she could barely speak. They walked around her, stared, and whispered. “It’s uncanny. Absolutely uncanny!” my grandmother said, leaning in so close her face was almost touching Leah’s. “It’s like they were cast from the same mold!” Leah tried to shrink back, but she was already pressed against the sofa cushions, with nowhere to go. My mother took her hand, turning it over and over, her lips pressed into a thin line as she examined the rough calluses and worn skin. Leah’s face was pale with panic. She tried to pull her hand away, but my mother’s grip was firm. “Um, we really shouldn’t impose,” she stammered. “Lily and I… we should be getting back.” “Nonsense!” my grandfather’s voice boomed from the armchair where he sat, the undisputed head of the family. The sound made Leah jump. “This is not a coincidence. We are going to get to the bottom of this, step by step. You and your daughter will stay here tonight.” Leah was too stunned to argue. She simply nodded, all power of refusal stripped from her. That night, my father pulled some strings. A doctor came to the house and drew Leah’s blood. The next morning, we had the results of the DNA test. Leah was one of us. To put it simply: she was my sister. My twin sister. 03 Years ago, my mother gave birth to twins in a small, rural clinic. The first baby, they told her, was stillborn. They took her away. I was the second. Medical care wasn’t what it is today, and my mother was weak. We were two months premature. The doctors had warned my parents that the chances of survival were slim. So when the first baby was declared dead, no one questioned it. They were just grateful that one of us, that I, had made it. They never knew that the other baby had survived, too. She had been passed from hand to hand before being sold to a family deep in the countryside. In that remote, isolated place, she grew up like a weed, tough and resilient. She had little education, was married off to her adoptive parents’ son, and had a daughter of her own. Her so-called husband was a lazy good-for-nothing who gambled away any money he made. Leah had no choice but to work herself to the bone in menial jobs to support her daughter. If Rosie hadn’t been on the waiting list for a prestigious private preschool, if we hadn’t enrolled her in a regular public one near our house as a temporary measure, if I hadn’t made that mistake… Leah and I might never have met. The story left me breathless. My heart ached for her, and I pulled her into a hug. She went rigid in my arms, too unaccustomed to affection to even move. “Sister,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “Move in with us. You can have the third floor, I’ll move up to the fourth. It’s all furnished—closets, a study, a room for Lily. Everything. Please, don’t argue.” Leah’s face flushed. She shook her head frantically. “No, I can’t! You live on the third floor. I can’t just come in and displace you.” Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. This wasn’t like the stories I’d read. The long-lost heiress, returning at thirty years old, was a flower that had bloomed in the mud. And despite all the hardship she had endured, her very first instinct upon returning home was to worry about my comfort. How could she be so good? So good it made me want to weep. I was about to insist when the shrill ring of her cheap phone cut me off. She gave me an apologetic look and answered. A split second later, a man’s sharp, grating voice erupted from the speaker. “You goddamn whore, who’d you run off with last night?” “Was some other bastard’s bed so good you couldn’t drag yourself out of it?” “You get your ass back here right now! If I don’t see you by lunchtime, I swear to God I’ll kill you and that little brat!” He spewed a torrent of curses and then hung up without waiting for a reply. I stared at Leah’s face. It was a deathly, chalk-white mask. “I have to go!” she gasped, scrambling to her feet. She moved so quickly she nearly tripped over her own feet. I caught her arm. Her lips were bloodless, her eyes unfocused as she muttered, “I have to get back. Right now.” A cold dread washed over me. A thousand thoughts raced through my mind. I tightened my grip on her rough, calloused hand. “I’ll go with you,” I said, my voice quiet but firm. The words seemed to snap her out of her trance. Her eyes focused on me, filled with sheer panic. “No! Absolutely not!” she cried. “You can’t come!” 04 Leah was adamant. No matter what I said, she refused to let me come with her. I tried to compromise. “I’ll drive you. I’ll wait in the car, I won’t come up.” She still shook her head, her refusal absolute. Finally, I gave in. “Alright. I won’t go. Just… be safe. Come back soon.” A visible wave of relief washed over her. “Okay,” she nodded, and then she was gone. I watched her until she disappeared from view. Half an hour later, I picked up my phone. “Hello, is this the preschool?” I asked calmly. “I feel terrible about the mix-up with Ms. Leah’s daughter the other day. I’d like to go to her home to apologize in person. Do you happen to have her address?” Three minutes later, I had it. Before I started the car, I thought about the man’s voice on the phone. The sheer, unhinged violence in it. On a hunch, I made another call and asked for a few of my family’s bodyguards to meet me there. It was a smart move. The moment my car pulled up to her rundown apartment building, I heard it: a cacophony of crashing and banging from an upper floor. A man’s furious, high-pitched screaming was interspersed with the sound of furniture being thrown against walls. I didn’t hear a woman scream, but my heart started pounding anyway. I sent up a silent prayer as I ran up the stairs. Please don’t be her. Please don’t be Leah. But when I reached the fourth floor, my heart sank. The door to apartment 402 was wide open. The entryway was a sea of shattered beer bottles and splintered wood. I stepped over the debris and saw it. Leah was on the floor, her head bleeding, while her husband—a man I now knew as Marco—stood over her, raising a wooden chair to bring it down on her again. “You bitch! You dare cheat on me? Stay out all night and then try to lie about it?” he roared. “Some long-lost rich family? You think anyone would want a piece of trash like you that was thrown away at birth?!” “I’ll beat the truth out of you! I’ll kill you, you lying whore!” He brought the chair down hard. Leah curled into a ball, too weak to fight back. She covered her head with her arms, her body shaking, trapped between his rage and the wall behind her. Tears and blood streamed down her face. Seeing her like that, a hot, sharp pain lanced through my chest. My eyes burned. I didn’t think. I just ran. I threw my entire body at Marco, knocking him off balance. “Don’t you touch her!” I screamed. He clearly hadn’t expected anyone to intervene. The fire in his eyes, which had started to dim, flared back to life. “Who the hell are you? This is none of your goddamn business!” he snarled. “You want some too? I’ll beat you both!” He steadied himself, his face purple with rage, and raised the chair again, this time aiming for me. I stood my ground, shielding Leah with my body. For a split second, as he looked at my face, he froze. 05 Marco’s brain might have stalled, but his body was still in motion. The chair was already swinging down. But just before it could connect, my bodyguards, who had been waiting for my signal, burst into the room. One of them didn’t hesitate, delivering a brutal kick straight to Marco’s stomach. The force was dozens of times stronger than my shove; Marco went flying backwards, landing in a heap on the floor. He curled up, gasping and whimpering in agony. A second bodyguard followed up with a sharp punch to his face. As Marco opened his mouth to scream, the third yanked off one of his filthy socks and stuffed it into his mouth, then twisted his arms behind his back, pinning him to the floor. With him subdued, I scrambled to Leah’s side. “Leah? Are you okay?” My voice trembled as I looked at the gash on her head. I tried to press a tissue to the wound, but my hands were shaking so badly I accidentally poked her in the eye. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” I whispered. She didn’t respond. She was still in that defensive crouch, her eyes vacant, staring at nothing. Blood trickled into her eye, and she didn’t even blink. She just kept repeating the same phrase over and over, so quietly I had to lean in to hear. “Don’t hit me… I’m sorry… please don’t hit me…” A lump formed in my throat. I squeezed her hand, tears spilling down my cheeks. That reflexive, conditioned begging… I couldn’t imagine how many beatings it had taken to carve that response into her soul. A fresh wave of fury washed over me. I stood up, walked over to where Marco was pinned, and slapped him hard across the face, twice. His eyes burned with hatred. He struggled against the bodyguard’s grip, earning another kick for his efforts. Just looking at his bloated, pig-like face made my teeth ache with rage. “Tie him up,” I ordered, my voice cold. “Break one of his legs and call the police. My lawyers will handle the rest.” I didn’t care what the charge was. I was going to make sure this monster rotted in a cell. “If you don’t get at least ten years for this, my name isn’t Grace Vance,” I spat, leaning down to spit on his face. Just as I straightened up, I felt a desperate tug on my ankle. I looked down to see Leah, her eyes pleading. “No!” she whispered, tears streaming down her bruised face. “Sister… I’m begging you… don’t call the police!” I froze, sure I had misheard. I knelt beside her, trying to help her sit up. “It’s okay. He’s not going to hurt you ever again.” What kind of man was this? A coward in public, but a raging tyrant at home, getting his sense of power from beating his wife. He wasn’t a man; he was an animal. “A piece of filth like him deserves to be put down,” I seethed. But my words only made Leah more agitated. She pushed my hands away, her voice rising with hysteria. “Don’t call the police!” she cried, her eyes wild. “He’s… he’s good to me, most of the time. When he’s not angry.” “He’s not a bad person, he was just… he was just having a bad day today.” The words tumbled out of her, frantic and nonsensical. “And he’s Lily’s father! I can’t… I can’t let him go to prison!” “Please, sister, I’m begging you! I’ll get on my knees!” And she did. She struggled onto her knees on the filthy floor, ignoring the broken glass, and bowed her head to me, ready to kowtow. Looking at her, my heart didn’t just break. It sank like a stone. A profound, soul-crushing wave of helplessness washed over me. The one thing I had feared the most, the one thing I couldn’t stand, was happening.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394306”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Seraphina Hanover and I were both stolen children. When her family—the Hanovers, titans of industry—finally found her, she clung to my wrist, her grip like iron. “I want him as my brother,” she declared. “I’ll protect him for the rest of my life.” But as the years passed, I didn’t want to be her brother anymore. I was desperately in love with her. “That’s not on the table,” Seraphina told me, her voice gentle but firm. The burgeoning love became a torment I couldn’t bear, so I left, tearing myself away from the only home I’d ever known. Five years later, we met again. My boss, Mr. Wallace, shoved me into the seat next to her. “You’re a dead ringer for the guy on Seraphina Hanover’s lock screen,” he hissed in my ear. “She’s been searching for him like a madwoman.” “This is your shot. The look-alike gambit? You were made for it.” I shook my head so frantically my neck ached, wishing the ground would swallow me whole. “No, seriously, this is a bad idea. She’s not into my type.” 1 I never, in my wildest dreams, imagined I’d run into Seraphina Hanover like this. I was with my boss, Wallace, at a dinner for potential investors. He’d told me there was a billionaire investor, notoriously hard to please, and that I was the only one who could crack her. He’d even dangled a promotion and a hefty raise. I thought he valued my negotiation skills. I didn’t realize he was planning on pimping me out. The moment we stepped into the private dining room, he pointed at the back of a woman seated at the head of the table, his eyes glinting with manic opportunity. “That’s her. Tonight’s deal hinges on you, Sam.” “I’ve done my homework,” he continued in a low whisper. “You look exactly like the man on her phone’s lock screen. This look-alike gambit is a sure thing.” Even from behind, I knew her instantly. Seraphina Hanover. The youngest heir to the Hanover fortune. And my sister, in name only. I started backing away, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Absolutely not, boss. She’s not interested in me. I… I suddenly have a stomach ache. I have to go. Don’t try to stop me.” But Wallace’s hand shot out, faster than my escape attempt. He grabbed my wrist and dragged me toward Seraphina, his voice a conspiratorial hiss. “What are you running for? How do you know it won’t work if you don’t even try?” “I’ve got the inside scoop. Miss Hanover is famous for being an ice queen. Men have been throwing themselves at her for years, and she doesn’t even bat an eye.” “It was her best friend, Chloe, who spilled the beans one night when she was drunk. She said, ‘You idiots don’t know the first thing about getting her attention. If you want to give her a gift, give her the man on her lock screen. Seraphina’s been looking for him for years, even calling his name in her sleep.’” “If you weren’t his spitting image, you wouldn’t be getting this golden opportunity. Now, go seal this deal for us.” For a man who only drank herbal wellness teas and never worked out, Wallace had a grip like a vise. He propelled me forward and shoved me into the chair to Seraphina’s left. He clamped a hand on my shoulder, his face plastered with a salesman’s smile as he presented me to her like a prize. “Miss Hanover, this is our company’s rising star, Sam Cole.” “He may be young, but his talent is off the charts. He’s the one who’s closed all our toughest projects.” My heart leaped into my throat. I cursed myself for not checking my horoscope this morning. My eyes, betraying my will, darted toward the woman I had spent five years trying to forget. Her face was still as captivating as ever, a single glance enough to undo me completely. Framed by a pair of elegant, gold-rimmed glasses, she exuded an air of controlled power, a quiet intensity that was both ascetic and alluring. My resolve crumbled in an instant. As I wrestled with how to greet her after all this time, Seraphina’s assistant, a severe-looking woman to her right, shot to her feet and rounded on me. “Mr. Wallace, what is the meaning of this?” she snapped. “Are you unaware of Miss Hanover’s rules? No man sits next to her. Especially not one who’s clearly had work done to look like… him.” “Are you that desperate to be a substitute? Get out!” 2 I had, in fact, had plastic surgery. I’d also changed my name. I used to be Leo Hanover. After leaving the Hanover family, I found my birth parents. Now, I was Sam Cole. No wonder she didn’t react when she heard my name. She sat there like an unfeeling statue, letting her assistant swat away the flies buzzing around her, not even gracing me with a glance. Her assistant, however, scrutinized my face as if inspecting a cheap forgery. “You’ve had work done on your face, haven’t you, Mr. Cole?” “I studied medicine. I can spot a surgeon’s work a mile away.” “Unfortunately for you, you’ve all miscalculated. The boy in Miss Hanover’s heart can’t be replaced by some cheap imitation.” “What kind of ‘one that got away’ can be so easily substituted?” “Not only does Miss Hanover not entertain look-alikes, she finds the very idea repulsive. You’ve walked right into a minefield. Now, are you going to leave, or do I have to have you thrown out?” I felt like I was sitting on a bed of nails. Why did everyone keep calling me Seraphina’s long-lost love? If only that were true. In her eyes, I was, and would always be, just her little brother. The truth is, Seraphina and I share no blood. We were both kidnapped as children and spent three years together in the hands of our captors, relying on each other to survive. When I was beaten, she would shield me with her own body, taking the searing lash of the whip for me. When she was burning with fever, I’d stay up all night, changing the cool cloth on her forehead. When we were starving, we’d find a single packet of instant noodles; she’d give me the noodles and drink the broth herself. We lived in a place that was no better than a pigsty. One night, a snake bit me. Without a moment’s hesitation, Seraphina knelt, pressed her lips to the wound on my foot, and sucked out the venom. “Am I going to die, Sera?” I’d sobbed. She held me tight. “I won’t let you die.” Then, her wealthy family found her. I cowered in a corner, convinced our time together was over. But Seraphina grabbed my hand, her grip unyielding, and stared down her parents. “I want him as my brother,” she said, her voice shaking with stubborn resolve. “I’ll protect him for the rest of my life.” Her parents were hesitant. So she doubled down. “Then I’m not going either. Where he goes, I go. No one is separating us.” Overjoyed and stunned, I became the adopted son of the prestigious Hanover family. Seraphina’s beloved little brother. And she truly spoiled me. Still a girl herself, she patiently taught me to read and write. Every tutor her family hired for her, she insisted I join the lesson. She bought me the sharpest clothes, the coolest toys. She was always fixing my collar or styling my hair, transforming me from a grimy, scared little boy into a handsome, polished young man of eighteen. Everyone in our circle knew I was the boy Seraphina Hanover kept in the palm of her hand. “He’s less an adopted son,” they’d whisper behind our backs, “and more her future husband, groomed to perfection.” At the time, those rumors sent a thrill through me. I didn’t mind them at all. Because I was so in love with her. I wanted to grow up and marry her, so we could be together forever. But when I finally mustered the courage to confess, her answer shattered my world. “That’s not a line we can cross, Leo. You’ll always be my brother.” Her words were like a bucket of ice water, drenching me to the soul. But I couldn’t suppress the love that grew more intense with each passing day. You can’t command your heart to stop feeling. I couldn’t bear the thought of watching her marry someone else, of another man spending his life by her side. This unrequited love would eventually twist me into something ugly. My only choice was to leave. I thought that with distance, I could finally rein in the almost pathological possessiveness I felt for her. I never imagined that five years later, our reunion would be like this. Mistaken for some shameless stand-in by her own assistant. 3 I didn’t dare say a word, terrified she’d recognize my voice. Honestly, this was for the best. She was exactly as the rumors described: aloof, untouchable, with a complete disdain for any man who tried to get close. She had loyal subordinates to enforce her boundaries. Taking a deep breath, I swallowed the lump in my throat and bolted faster than a rabbit. When I left five years ago, I’d sworn to never appear before her again. Because one look was all it took for my world to descend into chaos. I could never forget her. I could never stop loving her. A one-sided love is a war waged alone in the heart, and it’s exhausting. It was better for us to go our separate ways, to never meet again. I found a nearby bar and started drinking, trying to drown the fire in my chest with whiskey. So many nights, I’d dreamt of her. In my dreams, I’d secretly kiss her, doing all the things I’d never dare to in reality. In my dreams, I was bold. In my dreams, Seraphina never pushed me away. She’d stroke my hair gently, letting me press her against any surface, in any room. Like the grand piano in the northeast corner of the living room. After we were brought to the Hanover estate, she loved to sit with me at that piano, her hands guiding mine over the keys. Those were beautiful times. In my dreams, I loved pinning her against that piano, removing her glasses, unbuttoning her silk blouse. A faint, knowing smile would play on her lips, lazy and uninhibited. She’d lean in, her breath warm against my ear, and whisper wickedly, “You want to kiss me? How badly?” “More than anything,” I’d murmur back. And her voice, a low, seductive hum, would tempt me. “Then kiss me, Leo. I’m all yours.” The dream blurred the lines of reality, giving me a courage I didn’t possess. I’d pull off my own tie and blindfold her with it, wild and unrestrained. “Don’t move,” I’d command. But every single time, just as my lips were about to touch hers, I would wake up. I’d hurl my pillow across the room in frustration, closing my eyes and trying desperately to recall the image of her in my dream, to will myself back into that moment. It never worked. Tonight, drunk and reckless, I did something stupid. I logged into an old, forgotten social media account. I hadn’t touched it in years. It was a digital diary filled with all my forbidden feelings for Seraphina, a testament to the secret war I’d waged in my heart since I was a boy. I had tried to bury it, to never look back. But seeing her tonight had stirred up everything. My fingers moved on their own. [Everyone says I’m the one she can’t forget, her ghost.] [If only that were true.] [But I’m the only one who knows the truth. To her, I can only ever be her brother.] I had no idea that this one small act was about to cause an earthquake. 4 Suddenly, my phone rang. It was Wallace. “Sam! Where are you? Get to a bar called ‘Serendipity’ right now!” “Seraphina Hanover is heading there as we speak! This is your last chance!” “She didn’t get a good look at you before. Once she sees your face, you’re in!” I was slumped over the bar, my head spinning. “Boss, please,” I slurred. “Just let it go. Her assistant already warned me off. This whole look-alike thing is a bust.” He wasn’t listening. The man was obsessed. “What do you know? Even an ice queen melts if you’re persistent enough! There’s no such thing as an irreplaceable love, only a stand-in who doesn’t try hard enough.” “Once or twice, she might resist. But seven or eight times? Can she really stay immune?” “Trust me, I know women better than you do. When you can’t have the real thing, even a picture is enough to quench the thirst.” “And listen to this! Just after you left, Seraphina shot to her feet so fast she shattered her wine glass in her hand.” “Her assistant asked what was wrong.” “And Seraphina—her voice was trembling—she said, ‘He’s online. He’s nearby.’” “Turns out her long-lost love just logged into an old account he hasn’t touched in years and posted something.” “She saw it, dropped everything, and personally tracked the location. It’s a bar nearby.” “She’s on her way there now, ready to drag him back. Now, I’m betting this guy doesn’t want to be found. Otherwise, why stay away for five years? And when she finds him and he refuses to go with her, that’s your moment. That’s when you swoop in.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394322”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I spent four years on the West Coast, earning my PhD. To prevent the vultures—my own extended family—from circling the corporate assets, my grandfather put my boyfriend, Ethan, in charge of the company as acting CEO. He started as my assistant, a bright, ambitious guy I’d handpicked myself. Now he was the regent of my kingdom. The day I came back, striding into the Sinclair Global headquarters that was rightfully mine, I discovered my regent had a new assistant. Her name was Brielle, and she was looking at my resume like it was a piece of trash she’d just scraped off her shoe. “Two internships in four years during a doctoral program?” she said, her voice loud enough for the entire executive floor to hear. “Looks like you can’t hold down a job. A classic flight risk. I’m surprised you even got an interview with a record like that.” With that single, venomous sentence, my authority in the company I was born to lead evaporated. She then offered, with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, that she could “do me a favor” and find an opening for me in the mailroom. So I wouldn’t have to face another termination, she said. It would be a shame to tarnish my resume any further. I thought of my grandfather’s final piece of advice before I left: Observe before you act. See the real landscape, not the one you expect. So I bit back the rage, waiting for Ethan to arrive. I expected an apology, a frantic explanation for the mix-up. What I got was a scowl. “Brielle is pregnant with my son, Sloane. How dare you upset her?” he hissed, his eyes cold. “This is for the good of the company, for the Sinclair legacy. We need an heir with the strongest possible genetics. This is a strategic merger of our talents.” He paused, as if granting me a great concession. “I’ll still marry you, of course. That was the deal. The certificate will have your name on it. But Brielle needs the wedding, the ceremony. It’s for the child’s legitimacy.” He looked me up and down, a flicker of disgust in his eyes. “Brielle isn’t going to be some stay-at-home mom; she’s a brilliant executive. She’s no threat to your position as the ‘official’ wife. But this little scene you’re making? It’s pathetic. Now go down to the mailroom and try to be useful.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Me, Sloane Sinclair, the sole heir to this entire building and everything in it, being told to sort mail? He’d been keeping my seat warm for four years, and in that time, he’d forgotten whose name was carved into the granite facade outside. He wasn’t just sitting in my chair; he was trying to saw the legs off. 1 “Everyone is watching, Sloane,” Ethan said, his voice a low, menacing hum. “Brielle is my executive assistant, my right hand. If you openly defy her, how is she supposed to command any respect?” The Ethan I knew—or thought I knew—was gone. In his place was this stranger with chillingly remote eyes. Employees walking past shot me sideways glances, their expressions a mixture of pity and contempt for the ‘flight risk.’ In the cutthroat world of New York finance, a spotty work history is a death sentence. It screams incompetence and a difficult personality. If that label stuck, I could inherit the company tomorrow and never command a shred of real authority. Before I could form a defense, Ethan grabbed my arm and dragged me into an empty conference room. His fingers dug into my wrist, leaving a brutal, blossoming bruise. I sucked in a sharp breath. He looked at me as if I were a toddler throwing a tantrum. “Do you have any idea what she’s going through physically to secure the Sinclair line? You’re a woman. You should have some empathy.” He tapped a manicured finger on my resume, which was lying on the table. “Two internships in four years. That kind of instability… no serious company would tolerate it. You need to face facts, Sloane. Your profile is weak. Your genetics are a risk.” The words were so outrageous, I almost couldn’t process them. “If you want Brielle and me to continue steering this ship for your family,” he continued, his voice dangerously soft, “then you will go down to the mailroom for a few months, keep your head down, and stop causing trouble for her.” Rage, pure and hot, flooded my veins. I had pushed myself to the absolute limit for four years. For my grandfather. To silence my grasping uncles. To walk back into this company not just as the heir, but as the most qualified person for the job. I graduated with a 4.0 GPA. I’d received glowing performance reviews from both internships. The only reason I’d left the first internship for the second was to quietly clean up a catastrophic mess Ethan had made on an overseas acquisition. I’d leveraged the connections from my new position to save him, to save this company, from a multi-million dollar lawsuit. And he hadn’t even bothered to read my file. He just listened to her, to Brielle, and decided I was a failure. My face went cold. “You will walk out there right now and correct the record,” I said, my voice dangerously level. “And then you will fire Brielle.” He actually laughed. “I’m the CEO of Sinclair Global. You’re not in a position to give me orders.” His face hardened. “This company will belong to my son one day. Brielle is being generous by even letting you work here. Don’t push it.” I nearly choked on my disbelief. I pulled out my phone, ready to call the head of HR and have Ethan escorted from the building, only to find the entire executive directory had been… altered. In the four years I was gone, he had systematically replaced every single senior staff member loyal to my family. They were all his people. His face was a mask of arrogance. “Brielle is in a delicate condition. She can’t be under any stress. Apologize to her, sincerely, and I’ll have HR process your paperwork for the mailroom.” He leaned in closer. “Otherwise, you can just sit in this room until you rot.” He slammed the door on his way out. Through the glass walls, I could hear the receptionists gossiping. “God, I hope they don’t actually hire her. The last thing we need is some psycho ex-girlfriend wandering the halls. Total resume-wrecker.” “Don’t worry. Mr. Hayes and Ms. Sinclair are practically engaged. And everyone knows Brielle is the real Miss Sinclair, the one who inherited everything. That woman is about to be blacklisted from the entire industry.” “They’re such a power couple. Homewreckers should just die.” I took a deep, shuddering breath and sent Ethan a text. One: By the end of the business day, you’ll be begging me to take your office. Two: We’re done. He didn’t even bother to reply, probably assuming it was an empty threat. I opened the company’s internal network, logged into the main employee forum, and typed a single, clear message. To clarify any confusion: the engagement between Ethan Hayes and myself is terminated. I wish him and Brielle all the best. The entire company network exploded. 2 The moment I hit ‘post,’ my phone buzzed with a notification from the family group chat. It was my Uncle Robert. “Sloane, dear, how’s the first day back? Feeling a little overwhelmed? I’ve always said, a girl like you shouldn’t be bothering with all this stress. You should be at home, keeping your grandfather company.” I typed back instantly. “Everything’s wonderful, Uncle. Thanks for your concern. You should focus on your own grandkids.” He didn’t reply for a long time, then sent a curt message saying he would pick me up after work to “see how I was settling in.” The subtext was clear: if I showed the slightest sign of weakness, he and the rest of the pack would be ready to pounce. Before I could even refuse, the conference room door flew open. It was Ethan, his face contorted with fury, the veins on the back of his hands standing out like cords. “You take that post down right now, Sloane,” he snarled. “You tell everyone you’re obsessed with me, that you had a psychotic break, I don’t care. Fix it. My mother was already hesitant about our arrangement because you never seemed serious about starting a family. Brielle is doing what you wouldn’t. I will not let you drag her name through the mud.” My head was pounding. I’d fallen for him years ago because he was handsome, competent, and willing to accept that this was my legacy, not his. To spare his pride, I’d let him tell his family that he was the one in charge, a white lie I was now paying for. I never imagined he was secretly planning to install his own dynasty. He was my grandfather’s choice. For that reason alone, I gave him one last chance. “Fire her, Ethan. Do it now, and you can stay on in a reduced capacity.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, looking utterly exhausted by my irrationality. “Sloane, I didn’t want to have to spell this out for you.” He gestured to my phone. “If you don’t officially start with this company today, what do you think those wolves in your family are going to do?” He laid out his offer: if I publicly apologized to Brielle, admitted to being a delusional stalker, he would let me start in the mailroom. He would save me from my family. “Otherwise,” he finished, his eyes like chips of ice, “you won’t be working here at all.” I lifted my chin. “Did you forget, Ethan? Sinclair Global is legally in my name.” That broke him. “I am so sick of your arrogance!” he roared. “I’ve poured my life into this company for four years! Doesn’t the mother of my child deserve a say in how it’s run? Stop being so goddamn selfish, Sloane!” He squeezed his eyes shut, as if making a monumental decision, then turned and walked out. I watched him go, wondering what he was planning. A moment later, a searing pain shot up my ankle. I looked down to see scalding hot coffee soaking through my clothes, my skin turning an angry red. One of the receptionists stood there, a half-empty coffee pot in her hand. “Ugh, pathetic,” she sneered. “They’re a beautiful couple, about to get married, and you show up trying to ruin everything. Some of us actually have to work for a living, you know. We don’t have time for gold-digging drama.” Her friends chimed in, their words a volley of insults, convinced Brielle was the true heiress they needed to defend. 3 I never thought they would dare to physically attack me. As I saw another assistant approach with a fresh cup, I shoved the heavy conference room door open. The sudden move startled them. My eyes met theirs, cold and furious, and their bravado withered. A few of them scurried back to their desks, suddenly fascinated by their computer screens. I focused on the ones still glaring at me. “I am the owner of this company. If you value your jobs, you will return to them immediately.” My words were answered by a series of sharp, yapping barks. Behind the crowd, Brielle was approaching, one hand cradled protectively on her stomach, looking radiant. A wave of nausea hit me. My grandmother had left me a little white dog, Pip, when she passed away. I adored him, a living link to her memory. But when I’d first brought him to the office, Ethan had insisted it was unprofessional. For him, for the company, I’d reluctantly agreed to leave Pip at home. And now, here was Brielle, parading a pack of yapping Pomeranians through my office. “Sloane, please,” she said, her voice dripping with fake concern. “The stress… you’re upsetting the baby. You’re the heir to Sinclair Global,” she cooed, for the benefit of her audience. Then she leaned in, whispering so only I could hear. “You’re a washed-up nobody with a trash resume. Without us, who would be running this place for you?” Her public performance solidified the narrative. To everyone watching, I was clearly the unhinged one. “Go get a real job,” someone muttered. “Maybe you’ll get fired less.” I was completely surrounded, completely alone. And then I saw it. The little white dog nestled in Brielle’s arms wasn’t a Pomeranian. It was Pip. My grandmother’s Pip. He saw me, and after a moment of confusion, he let out a series of hostile barks. A pain sharper than the burn on my ankle shot through my chest. Even he had betrayed me. “Excuse me, which of you is Mrs. Hayes?” A group of men in sharp suits stood behind the crowd. One of them held a velvet jewelry box. Ethan strode forward, wrapping a protective arm around Brielle. “Darling, don’t let her upset you. You’re going to be a beautiful bride.” In front of everyone, he took the box from the man, who I now recognized as our private banker. He opened it. Inside, nestled on a bed of black velvet, was the Sinclair Sapphire. The legendary gemstone my grandmother had acquired at auction years ago, meant for me to wear on my wedding day. It was kept in the company’s most secure vault. And Ethan had just used his authority to steal it. He fastened the necklace around Brielle’s neck. A collective gasp went through the onlookers. “Oh my god, I’m so jealous. Mr. Hayes is the perfect husband.” “Jealous of what? She’s a Sinclair. She was born with it all.” “It’s just these desperate women who make things ugly. She’s a pretty girl. Why can’t she just get a real job instead of trying to sleep her way to the top? No wonder nobody wants to hire her.” My hands were shaking. I lunged forward, desperate to rip that necklace, my grandmother’s legacy, off her neck. Ethan shoved me back, shielding Brielle. “Are you insane, Sloane? Mrs. Sinclair’s will clearly stated this was a gift for my bride! Are you going to disrespect her dying wish?” Security guards grabbed my arms. In the struggle, the sleeve of my dress tore, exposing my shoulder. I had reached my limit. “You say it’s yours. I say it’s mine,” I said, my voice ringing with a clarity that cut through the chaos. “Let’s have the police settle it.” I pulled out my phone and dialed 911. Whatever happened next, I had to be in that CEO’s office by the end of the day. I would not let my uncles see me fail. 4 Panic flashed in Ethan’s eyes. He lunged, knocking the phone from my hand and ending the call. “Are you out of your mind?” he roared. “Your resume is already a disaster! You want to add filing a false police report to your record? You’ll be a pariah in this city. Anyone associated with you will be toxic.” He lowered his voice, a desperate attempt at conciliation. “Brielle is brilliant, Sloane. Our child will be extraordinary. As his mother—his adoptive mother—you can’t have a criminal record staining his future. Don’t do this.” He played his last card. “That overseas deal I almost botched? It was Brielle who fixed it. She saved me. She saved the company. You should be thanking her.” So that was it. He thought the person who had anonymously pulled strings to secure that foreign patent was her. That’s why he was so slavishly devoted. Suddenly, the fight drained out of me, replaced by a profound, weary emptiness. My finger moved, redialing. He couldn’t believe it. He snatched the phone again, but the call had already connected. He fumbled to hang up. “You’re going to create a PR nightmare!” he yelled, turning to the crowd of employees. “If this hits the press, our stock will tank. And all of you,” he gestured wildly, “could be out of a job because of her!” His words hit their mark. The fear in the room curdled into hatred, all of it directed at me. “You’re a worthless leech, trying to ruin things for the rest of us!” someone shouted. “We need these jobs!” One of the security guards, eager to curry favor, shoved me hard. I stumbled, and then they were on me, a flurry of fists and feet. The pain was shocking, alien. I curled into a ball on the floor, protecting my head, my world reduced to a cacophony of insults and the dull thud of blows. The irony was nauseating: they were beating me for threatening the generous benefits package that I myself had designed. My hand fumbled in my purse and found it: a can of pepper spray. I squeezed the trigger, sweeping it in a wide arc. Screams erupted as they scrambled back, clutching their eyes. “That 911 call went through,” I gasped, getting to my feet. “The police are on their way. You will all be held accountable for assault.” Fear finally dawned on Brielle’s face. The employees who had attacked me exchanged panicked looks. “She sounds so sure of herself… what if she really is…” Ethan laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. “She’s bluffing.” He pulled out his phone and typed something. A moment later, phones buzzed all over the room. People looked at their screens, and the expressions on their faces shifted from fear to a mixture of pity, disgust, and contempt. My own phone buzzed. Before I could look, Ethan grabbed my wrist again. “I didn’t want to do this, Sloane,” he said, his voice a mockery of sympathy. “But the company needs Brielle. You have to be sacrificed.” He leaned in, his breath foul. “Your family will disown you after this. But don’t worry. Once I have full control, I’ll still marry you, quietly. You just can’t ever call yourself Mrs. Hayes in public.” Suddenly, Pip launched himself from Brielle’s arms, a flash of white fur, and sank his teeth into Ethan’s leg. Ethan yelped and let me go. Pip stood his ground in front of me, growling, a tiny, valiant defender. A tear slid down my cheek. He hadn’t forgotten me after all. The momentary distraction gave me time to see the notification. Ethan had posted intimate photos of me to the company-wide forum. My photos. The comments were a cesspool. They called me a slut, a whore, demanding that “trash” like me be kept out of their respectable company. “If she’s the Sinclair heir, then I’m the King of England. She’s just some cheap tramp trying to blackmail her way into a payday.” “Look at her trying to steal the real Miss Sinclair’s necklace. She couldn’t afford a single stone in it if she sold her soul.” The Sinclair Sapphire on Brielle’s neck seemed to mock me, flashing under the fluorescent lights. My clothes were torn, my body bruised, my hair a mess. I must have looked insane. Ethan shook his head slowly. “If you’d just taken the mailroom job, Sloane, none of this would have happened.” “Mr. Hayes?” A new voice cut through the air, calm and clear. “I wouldn’t say another word if I were you. You have the right to remain silent.” Before I could turn, a man’s jacket was draped over my shoulders, covering my torn dress. A tall, broad-shouldered man with a kind face stepped in front of me, holding up a badge. “Officer Caleb Wright, NYPD. We received a 911 call reporting a theft and assault.” Behind him, two uniformed officers stood, ready and waiting.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394340”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

“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