Category: English

The live comments told me to suck up to the real heiress, Vivian. But when I tried, everything backfired. It began when the nanny brought Vivian home. Glowing text only I could see warned me: “If Claire keeps antagonizing her, she’ll end up alone. “Terrified, I vowed to be the perfect sister. The comments said she loved milk, so I gave her a glass—not knowing she was allergic. She nearly died. My parents, who’d adored me for 18 years, slapped me, their disappointment crushing. Later, comments warned thugs were attacking Vivian. I saved her, but my birth mother—the nanny—framed me with fake evidence. My parents disowned me, sending me back to the slums. The thugs killed me. But I’m back. This time, I’ll get justice. “Hello, sister. My name is Vivian.” The girl standing before me was dressed in worn, cheap clothes, peeking out from behind my parents with a shy, tentative smile. My mouth fell open, but no words came out. I was too stunned. Then, the comments flooded my vision again, a shimmering, silent cascade of text. “Look at Vivian, what a sweetheart. After all those years of poverty, she’s not bitter at all. She just wants to get along with her new sister.” “Just wait. Once Vivian gets a real education, her talent will explode. She’s going to take the family company to new heights.” “Too bad the fake one, Claire, is such an idiot. Vivian actually wanted to like her at first. Claire could have just coasted, living the good life in Vivian’s shadow. But no, she had to get jealous and ruin everything. Serves her right for getting thrown back into the gutter.” The words were a brutal confirmation. I was reborn. In my first life, when Vivian had shown up with a DNA test proving a twenty-year-old hospital mix-up, I had been horrified by these prophetic comments. They foretold my downfall, a self-fulfilling prophecy of jealousy and ruin. So I did everything I could to change my fate. The comments whispered that Vivian craved milk, a luxury she could never afford. My heart went out to her. I warmed a glass myself and brought it to her room. The result was catastrophic. Anaphylactic shock. A frantic rush to the ER. Our nanny, Martha—my biological mother—fell to her knees, her voice choked with sobs. “Claire, you are my daughter, but I raised Vivian for eighteen years! I love her! Don’t hate her for this. If you have to hate someone, hate me! Just leave my baby alone!” When Vivian woke up, she shrank into my parents’ arms, her eyes wide with terror. “I’m allergic to milk. Claire, why did you make me drink it? Is it about the press conference tomorrow? I won’t go, I promise! I don’t want to take your place! I just want to be with Mom and Dad.” My mother’s disappointment was a physical blow. She slapped me, hard. My father wouldn’t even look at me. The next day, he announced to the world that the Ashtons had found their true daughter. After that, I never offered Vivian food again. Then, one day, the comments went wild. “Oh no! Vivian is being cornered by those thugs from the slums! If they get their hands on her, she’ll be scarred for life!” I couldn’t just stand by. I ran out of the house and pulled her from the middle of the jeering circle of boys. But when the police arrived, Vivian’s eyes were red-rimmed as she turned on me. “Claire, why? Why did you hire them to ruin me? What did I ever do to you?” At first, my parents refused to believe it. But then Martha arrived, phone in hand. She showed them videos of me supposedly tormenting Vivian in secret. She showed them chat logs of me contacting the thugs. She slapped me so hard my head rang. “You stole her life! The least you could do is be grateful, but instead, you do this? You’re a monster!” The police found a video on my phone—a video of the thugs manhandling Vivian. It sealed my fate. I had no defense. My parents abandoned me. With nowhere else to go, I ended up back in the slums, where the thugs I’d supposedly hired found me and made me pay for a crime I didn’t commit. Even as I died, I couldn’t understand. I had followed the comments’ advice. I had tried to be good. Why did everyone turn on me? This time, things will be different. This time, I’ll uncover the truth and avenge the girl who died so senselessly. I met Vivian’s hopeful gaze and offered a small, cool smile. I didn’t rush to embrace her like I did last time. My voice was even, betraying nothing. “Welcome to the family, Vivian.” A flicker of confusion crossed her face before it was gone. My parents, however, looked relieved. They didn’t say a word about me acknowledging my birth mother. They just asked us to get along. Later that evening, after dinner, I was in my room when the comments appeared, right on schedule. “Vivian looks thirsty. Someone should get her a cold glass of milk. She’d be so happy.” I ignored them, calmly peeling a piece of fruit. The text began to scroll faster, more insistently. “If Claire just brought her some milk, it would be a great bonding moment. But the fake heiress isn’t that smart.” I remained perfectly still. A soft knock came at my door. It was Vivian, looking pitiful. “Claire? I’m so thirsty. Do you know where I could get a drink?” I raised an eyebrow and gestured toward the mini-fridge in my suite. “Help yourself. Anything you want. Treat this as your home.” Vivian waved her hands frantically, her eyes darting toward me. “Oh, no, I couldn’t. Everything is so… high-tech. I don’t know how to work any of it. Could you just grab something for me? I’m not picky.” Martha, who was polishing the floor nearby, chimed in with a smile. “Claire, be a dear. Vivian’s new here, help her out a little.” Seeing their united front, this transparent little play they were staging, I decided not to refuse. I rose and went to the kitchen. Just like last time, I knocked on Vivian’s door and handed her a bottle filled with a white liquid. Her eyes lit up as she eagerly took it from me. Twenty minutes later, a loud thud echoed from her room, followed by Martha’s bloodcurdling scream. “Help! Somebody help my Vivian!” My parents burst out of their room, and I followed them into the hall. Vivian was lying motionless on the floor, her skin flushed and covered in a terrifying constellation of red welts. “Call an ambulance!” Martha shrieked. But I was prepared. In my last life, the delay in getting to the hospital had nearly killed her. This time, I’d already called our family doctor. He was waiting just outside. Soon, Vivian was revived and conscious. The first person she saw was me. Her eyes immediately filled with tears. “Claire, you knew I was allergic to milk! Why did you force me to drink it? Do you hate me this much?” she cried. “I just want to be part of the family! I’m not a threat to you! Why can’t you just leave me alone?” Martha jumped in to corroborate her story. “Vivian can eat anything, but not milk. Just a drop and she gets sick like this. I told you that this afternoon, Claire! Why would you deliberately give it to her?” My father’s brow furrowed, but he looked to me first. “Claire? Is this true?” My mother stayed silent, but her eyes were encouraging, pleading with me to explain. My own eyes stung with tears. Thank God. They still believed in me. This time, I wouldn’t let them down. I shook my head and stared directly at Vivian. “Are you absolutely certain your only allergy is milk?” Vivian nodded without a second’s hesitation. “Yes.” “Good.” A cold smirk touched my lips. I stepped forward and slapped her, hard, across the face. “How dare you hit my daughter!” Martha shrieked, lunging at me. My mother’s voice was ice. “Martha. You are a housekeeper in this home. Remember your place.” Martha froze, her mouth snapping shut. Vivian cradled her cheek, her jaw clenched as she glared at me with defiant, tear-filled eyes. With everyone watching, I calmly walked into her room and retrieved the bottle. “Vivian,” I said, my voice dripping with contempt, “next time you plant evidence, make sure you know what it is.” I unscrewed the cap and slowly poured the remaining liquid over her head. “This is soy milk. It just happens to be in a milk bottle. If you had taken even a single sip, you wouldn’t be so confident in your little performance right now.” The color drained from Vivian’s face. I let out a cold laugh. “If you’re only allergic to milk, why did soy milk give you a full-body rash? Are you really allergic, or are you just trying to frame me?” My father took the bottle from my hand, sniffed it, and his expression hardened. He looked at Vivian, his disappointment palpable. “Vivian, we brought you into our home to make up for the years we lost, not for you to play these twisted games with your sister.” “If you are this unhappy here,” he added, his voice dangerously low, “you are free to leave with Martha.” Panic seized Vivian. Ignoring the soy milk dripping down her face, she scrambled toward him, her voice breaking. “No! Dad, Mom, please don’t send me away! I don’t know what happened!” I crossed my arms, ready to watch her squirm her way out of this. But it was Martha who stepped forward. “It was my fault!” she declared, her face flushed with feigned shame. “Before dinner, I saw some milk pudding in the fridge. I forgot about her allergy and gave her a bite to try. That must be what caused the reaction! It’s not Vivian’s fault, it’s mine! I’m so sorry!” Vivian let out a small, almost inaudible sigh of relief and quickly nodded. “Yes… I think I remember that. I’m so sorry, Claire. It seems I misunderstood.” I gave Vivian a long, knowing look. “Well, what a coincidence,” I said, my voice sweet as poison. “You’d better be more careful next time, little sister. Wouldn’t want you to have another ‘allergic reaction’ and blame it on me again.” Vivian’s face was a mask of fury, but she could only nod meekly. I didn’t press the issue further. Instead, I shot a meaningful glance at my mother. With two decades of history between us, and with Vivian so clearly in the wrong, I knew whose side she would take. She walked over to Martha, her expression grim. “Martha, I allowed you to stay on as staff out of respect for your relationship with both girls. You are Claire’s birth mother and Vivian’s foster mother.” She paused. “But after this, it’s clear your presence here is… complicated. You’re getting older, and this role is awkward for everyone. Perhaps it’s for the best…” Trapped by her own lie, Martha had no choice but to swallow her pride. She nodded, forcing a painful smile. “You’re right. I’ll leave in the morning. I know the girls will be fine here with you.” She didn’t wait until morning. She packed her bags and was gone before midnight. Because Martha had taken all the blame, my parents couldn’t bring themselves to punish Vivian, but the incident planted a seed of doubt. Their attitude toward her became cooler, more distant. Without Martha’s help, Vivian scrambled to repair her relationship with our parents, but she failed at every turn. Even the comments faded away, only appearing sporadically to spout the same tired warnings about how I’d regret crossing her. I ignored them completely. A month passed. Then, the comments returned with a vengeance, scrolling frantically across my vision. “This is bad! Vivian was on her way to visit her foster mom and got cornered by those thugs again!” “They’re jealous she’s an heiress now. They’re threatening to ruin her! If they succeed, Vivian will be traumatized for life!” I sat in my room, unmoved. “If Claire goes to help her now, Vivian will be grateful forever. When she takes over the company, she’ll repay Claire tenfold. But Claire isn’t smart enough to see that.” I didn’t even twitch. Suddenly, my phone rang. It was Vivian, her voice a hysterical sob. “Claire, help me! I’m at the Sunnyside Apartments, Building A! Please, you have to save me!” The line went dead. I rolled my eyes. In a situation this dire, she doesn’t call 911? She calls me? But I knew if I didn’t go, I’d be accused of leaving her to die. By the time I arrived, the entire complex was swarming with police. Vivian, her clothes artfully torn, was curled in my mother’s arms, sobbing hysterically. The moment she saw me, her wails grew louder. A female officer was patting her shoulder. Finally, Vivian choked out her story. “Claire said she wanted to visit Mom… she asked me to come with her. I waited at the entrance, but she never showed up. Then… then those men grabbed me.” She took a shuddering breath. “They said Claire paid them… paid them to destroy me, so I’d be too shamed to stay in the family. If a police patrol hadn’t come by… I don’t know what would have happened.” Nosy neighbors had gathered, and they started pointing at me. “We watched Vivian grow up! She’s a sweet, polite girl!” one woman shouted. “You’ve been living her life of luxury for eighteen years, you ungrateful witch! Have you no shame?” I fixed my gaze on Vivian. “That’s a nice story. Do you have any proof?” I asked, my voice cold. “You already tried to frame me with the allergy stunt. Are you trying the same trick again?” My parents’ faces tightened. They remembered. They didn’t immediately condemn me, their expressions thoughtful. Just then, the police brought over several of the thugs in handcuffs. “We have a confession!” the female officer announced. The lead thug’s eyes lit up when he saw me. “Hey, you’re Claire Ashton, right? We did what you asked! We roughed up Vivian for you! You said you’d get us out if we got caught! You gotta keep your word!” I shook my head firmly. “I don’t know you. Why are you helping Vivian lie about me?” An older woman in the crowd scoffed. “The evidence is right there! Those boys are local troublemakers, they’ve always had it in for Vivian! Why would they help her frame you?” My mother’s face was pale, her voice trembling. “Claire, please, explain this. I don’t believe you would do this.” The female officer, Officer Davis, approached me, dangling a pair of handcuffs. “I have no patience for spoiled rich girls like you. Let’s go. You can think about what you’ve done down at the station.” From behind the crowd, Vivian shot me a triumphant smirk. I, however, remained completely calm. I turned to her, my voice clear and steady. “Who says I don’t have evidence? In fact, Vivian, haven’t you noticed that we’re missing someone?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393727”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My little brother is the internet’s most hated pop star. So when we signed up for a family reality show together, he tiptoed around like he was walking on eggshells, while I was out there raising hell. I’d pick a fight with a stray dog just for looking at me wrong. My brother, Liam, would whisper, “Aria, for the love of God, just tone it down. I’m begging you.” But his fans? They were eating it up. “This is awesome! Keep going, we live for this!” 1 I’d just gotten back to the States after studying abroad when my brother, Liam, landed a gig on a new family-centric reality show. He asked Mom to join him. She just sipped her tea and said, cool as a cucumber, “Absolutely not. I wouldn’t be caught dead on that kind of thing.” He asked Dad. Without even looking up from a mountain of paperwork, Dad grunted, “A million a day, and I’ll think about it.” Liam was speechless. Defeated, he turned his pleading, puppy-dog eyes on me. I threw my hands up with a grin. “It’s just a reality show, right? Don’t worry, big sis has got your back.” I saw Mom give me a look, one that screamed, Are you sure about this? Liam, on the other hand, was practically weeping with gratitude. He threw his arms around me. “Aria, you’re the best. Seriously, I’m so lucky to have you.” I patted his head, feeling a swell of pride. “Hey, look at you, little bro. You’re a huge star now. I’m so proud to have a brother like you.” He shifted awkwardly, a blush creeping up his neck. “Aria… maybe you should, uh… check the internet first?” I’d been in such a rush coming home that I hadn’t had time to catch up on the latest gossip. Puzzled but still smiling, I pulled out my phone and opened up Chirper. And then my smile froze. He was famous, all right. Just in a completely different way. From the moment he’d debuted two years ago, the internet had been a cesspool of vitriol directed at him. His singing and dancing were decent, but he’d landed a top spot on a competitive reality show, and the consensus was that he’d only gotten there by crying his way through it. They’d even compiled clips of his dancing into a viral montage titled “Senior Citizen Rehab Exercises.” In that moment, I deeply regretted saying, “I’m so proud of you.” And I knew, with absolute certainty, that he was about to deeply regret saying, “I’m so lucky to have you.” 2 The show, The Family Project, was filming for seven days at a sprawling mountain resort, all of it broadcasted live. From the second we set foot on the property, a drone was buzzing over our heads, capturing everything. When Liam and I arrived at the base of the mountain, another pair of contestants was already there. The guy looked to be in his mid-twenties, tan and tall, with a girl in athletic wear standing next to him. They were huddled together, whispering, and the girl looked seriously pissed off. The moment she saw us, her chin shot up and she let out a sharp, disdainful huff. Liam leaned in and murmured in my ear, “That’s Adam Vance. On that reality show two years ago, he was ranked 12th—the last one cut before the finale. The internet trolls all say I stole his spot.” I got it instantly. Classic reality TV drama-baiting. As we walked over, Adam put on a show of being the humble, wronged martyr, offering us a meek greeting. My brother, already terrified of the online hate, was practically trembling as he reached out to shake Adam’s hand, a nervous, almost apologetic smile on his face. Even so, the live-stream comments were a firestorm of abuse for Liam: “Poor Adam. Having to film with the guy who stole his dream.” “That manufactured pretty-boy face of Liam’s makes me sick. How can a guy be so soft?” “Adam is such a good guy, greeting him like that. Liam has zero class.” “If it wasn’t for his face, what does Liam even have? Adam is better in every way!” I stood there, my face a blank mask, just watching Adam. He finally turned his friendly, practiced smile on me. “You must be Liam’s sister, right? I’m Adam Vance, and this is my sister, Zoe. She won the national youth dance championship last year.” At the mention of her title, Zoe’s chin lifted even higher. She shot me a dismissive look. “Oh, so Liam actually has a sister.” Adam added, a hint of pity in his voice, “Liam doesn’t like to talk about his family in public. It’s understandable if you didn’t know.” Zoe’s smirk widened. “Makes sense. When you get by on looks alone, I guess your family isn’t much to brag about.” 3 The Vance siblings were clearly here to start a war, and I wondered if the producers had put them up to it. The live-stream audience was eating it up. “Yeah, I couldn’t find anything online about Liam’s family.” “I saw some deep-dive posts saying his family is pretty average. Explains why he had to play the victim card to get famous and make money.” My brow furrowed slightly. Liam saw it and subtly pressed his hand on my arm. “Aria, just let it go. You don’t want to piss off the fans.” While we waited for the other contestants, Adam and Zoe kept up their attack, a machine gun of rapid-fire boasts. “The youth dance championship, you know what that is? Oh, right, I forgot you probably don’t dance. You wouldn’t have a clue.” “Honestly, winning the national title is just okay. My real goal is to win an international competition within five years.” The comments poured in: “Of course Adam’s sister is amazing too. Talent runs in the family.” “A dance champion! The irony, compared to a certain someone who got a top spot and can’t do anything.” “His sister isn’t even saying anything. Guess that family really is all looks and no substance.” Zoe was getting more and more smug. I suddenly turned to my brother. “Go get me a bottle of water.” Liam, ever the obedient little brother, nodded and went to find a staff member. The second he was out of earshot, I turned my dead-eyed gaze back to them. “Adam, was it?” I started, my voice flat. “Your sister is a dance champion. What about you? What are your credentials? Any titles? Awards?” I pulled out my phone and tapped open a search bar. “The only thing I can find about you online is a 12th-place finish on a reality show. For someone who loves to brag so much, if you had anything else, I’m sure you would have plastered it all over the internet by now.” Adam’s face went stiff. I then turned to Zoe. “The national youth dance championship? Which one? What division? What was the scale of the event? Because as far as I know, there are at least twenty ‘youth dance competitions’ held in this country every year, and more than half of them are less prestigious than your brother’s 12th-place finish.” Zoe was speechless. 4 Their faces cycled through shades of red and green, a truly hideous sight. I coolly looked away. Alright, Aria, take it easy. Don’t break the children. I was ready to call a truce, but they weren’t. Zoe, her eyes wide with defiance, shot back, “That’s because my brother is humble! Everyone knows he was way more talented than Liam on Idol Factor!” “Oh,” I said. She faltered, then took a deep breath. “I won the championship for Dance Fever last year. That’s a hell of a lot better than you and your brother, a pair of empty-headed pretty faces.” Dance Fever. I actually recognized the name. My nine-year-old niece had won it three years in a row. She’d skipped it last year, though, complaining that the judging was rigged. Zoe’s arrogant tone was starting to get on my nerves. I stood up and walked over to the nearest staffer, pointing a thumb back at her. The drone buzzed closer. “She’s making personal attacks. Isn’t your show going to do anything about that?” The staffer made a placating gesture. “This is a live broadcast. The production team can’t interfere during filming.” A slow, dawning realization spread across my face. “So, you don’t step in, even if someone is verbally abusive?” “Per the rules, we cannot intervene.” “I understand perfectly.” This simple exchange, however, sent the live-stream comments into a frenzy. “What is she doing? Tattling? Is she five? How pathetic!” “Just like her brother, always playing the victim.” “Okay, Zoe is a bit much, but at least she has actual talent. All this woman can do is whine to the staff?” “The producers obviously want them to fight. Tattling is useless. She looks like a clown.” “Only knows how to pull these cheap tricks behind people’s backs. At least Zoe is direct.” 5 By the time I rejoined the group, two more pairs of contestants had arrived. Zoe was still holding court, regaling everyone with tales of her competition glory. I listened for a moment, then casually remarked, “Dance Fever, huh? I think I remember that one.” Every head in the group swiveled toward me. Zoe’s triumphant smile faltered, but she still managed a smug, “Pretty impressive, right?” I offered a small, knowing smile. “I was invited, but I couldn’t make it.” “Why not?” “I was in Europe for The Monaco Grand Prix of Dance.” She was completely hooked now, her eyes widening in disbelief. “What place did you get?” Anyone in the dance world knew The Monaco Grand Prix was one of the most prestigious competitions on the planet. The comments flew across the screen: “She’s gotta be lying. Does she know how elite the Monaco Grand Prix is?” “The competitors are the best of the best from every country. If she’s that good, how is her brother such a dud?” I lifted my gaze, and with everyone waiting with bated breath, I said, my face a perfect deadpan, “Oh, I was on the judging panel.” Zoe just stared. The silence stretched for a full ten seconds. Finally, Zoe’s voice shot up, cracking. “You’re lying! You’re only in your twenties, there’s no way!” I tilted my head. “The Monaco Grand Prix has twelve different regional circuits. I was just a judge for one of them, not the grand finals.” Then, as if a thought just occurred to me, I glanced at the dumbstruck Adam and let out a small, sharp laugh. “Twelve regions. How funny. Just like your rank.” Adam looked like he’d been slapped. Zoe was practically vibrating with rage. “Impossible! You’re making it all up!” I looked at her like she was the dumbest person I’d ever met. “The list of judges is public record. You can look it up online.” I paused, then added sweetly, “Oh, and by the way, the name’s Aria. Aria Serrano.” 6 At first, the audience reacted just like Zoe. The comments were a wall of disbelief, calling me a liar and a braggart. Then, someone posted a screenshot. It was from the official website of The Monaco Grand Prix of Dance, showing the panel of judges for the sixth regional circuit. And there it was, nestled among a list of long, European-sounding names, was one that stood out for its simple elegance: Aria Serrano. “HOLY SHIT, SHE’S ACTUALLY A JUDGE.” “MY GOD, just competing in that is insane, but she was a JUDGE? How good is she?!” “Okay, she’s a badass, but Liam still can’t do anything. The fact is, he stole Adam’s spot. His sister’s talent doesn’t change that.” “Exactly. Don’t get distracted. Aria might be legit, but Liam still needs to get out of the industry.” “Am I the only one who thinks Aria’s insults are kind of hilarious? LOL, look at Adam’s face, it’s literally green.” “…” The discussion was cut short when Liam came trotting back, a bottle of water in his hand. He beamed at me. I took it from him, twisting the cap off with practiced ease. “What took you so long?” “They were short-handed setting up some equipment, so I gave them a hand.” “Oh. Well, everyone’s here now. Let’s go.” Only then did Liam look up and offer a cheerful greeting to the others. A moment later, he shuffled back to my side, whispering in what he thought was a quiet voice, “Sis, is it just me, or is the atmosphere a little… weird? What did you guys talk about while I was gone?” The venomous glares from both Adam and Zoe shot straight to me. I remained perfectly composed, tilting my head with an air of pure innocence. “Weird? What are you talking about? We’re all getting along swimmingly.” 7 By the time our group of eight contestants finally reached the resort lodge near noon, we were all exhausted. The lodge was huge, with a hotel-style front and orchards and a small farm out back. The production team led us inside and promptly vanished, leaving us to fend for ourselves for food and everything else. Based on last season, this was the moment where the contestants were supposed to delegate chores. Adam, ever the self-appointed leader, stood up with a warm, placating smile. “Zoe and I can handle the cooking. Kiki, could you and your mom go pick some vegetables from the garden? And Rick, would you and your girlfriend mind washing the rice and prepping the veggies?” Everyone was slumped on the sofas, worn out from the hike up the mountain, and nobody looked eager to move. Kiki, a young singer terrified of being labeled “lazy” by the online mob, forced a pained smile. “Okay.” Rick, a veteran actor who knew the reality show game, didn’t object either. Finally, Adam’s gaze fell on my brother and me. I was curled up on the sofa, completely engrossed in my phone. As a camera panned over, everyone clearly heard the crisp, feminine voice from my game: “Mahjong! I win!” “…” My brother sat bolt upright beside me, like a first-grader on his first day of school. When he saw Adam looking at us, he nudged me. “Aria, time to work.” I was on a winning streak and ignored him. He sighed and stood up, asking Adam, “Is there anything we can help with?” Adam’s expression softened slightly. “Could you two handle the dishes after lunch?” “Yes! A perfect hand!” I cheered, slapping my knee. Hearing his question, I answered without looking up. “Nope.” Adam’s brow furrowed. “Lunch is more meaningful when everyone contributes.” “Are you for real?” I shifted on the sofa and started a new game. “You eat to fill your stomach. The only reason these people are going along with you is because there are cameras here. If you tried pulling this crap at home, your own mother would smack you.” “…” 8 Adam was clearly struggling to keep his anger in check. “So you won’t even do something as simple as washing the dishes?” I shrugged. “If it’s so simple, you and your sister can do it.” He finally snapped. “Everyone else is doing their part. You’re just sitting there playing games. Don’t you feel the least bit guilty?” “Weren’t you the one assigning tasks this whole time?” I finally looked up at him, my face a mask of wide-eyed innocence. “You’re just banking on the fact that everyone else is too polite to say no. Stop with the moral grandstanding. I’m not burdened by a conscience.” “…” Seeing her brother flustered, Zoe marched over to confront me. “Aria, even if you’re some international superstar, you can’t just throw your weight around like this. You’re not doing a single thing. Are you just going to wait for everyone to cook and serve you a meal?” Liam, who had been trying to get me to stop, bristled at her accusation. “My sister’s not like that,” he mumbled defensively. The live-stream audience was in an uproar: “Aria’s attitude is disgusting.” “Is she really just going to wait for others to feed her?” “The Serrano siblings are such drama queens. Ugh!” Adam took a deep, steadying breath, his patience worn thin. “I’m not obligated to cook for you, either. If you refuse to help, then you can figure out your own lunch.” “Figure it out ourselves?” Liam panicked, looking at me with wide, desperate eyes. “Aria, I’ve never seen you cook in my life!” I stared back at him. “And can you wash dishes?” Before he could answer, I rolled my eyes. “You can’t even wash your own socks.” Liam fell silent. Having delivered his ultimatum, Adam herded the other contestants off to the kitchen. I, meanwhile, stayed comfortably nested on the sofa, resuming my game. About twenty minutes later, Kiki returned with a basket, looking dejected. “There are fish and chickens out back, but my mom and I have no idea how to catch them.” Adam glanced at the sad-looking pile of vegetables in her basket and offered a weak reassurance. “It’s fine. Vegetables are healthy.” He could say that, but when the table was set with nothing but a few bland, meatless dishes, no one knew where to start. Even so, Zoe couldn’t resist gloating. “Time to eat! My brother’s cooking is amazing, everyone dig in.” She then shot a pointed look at me and Liam. “Looks like some people will be going hungry today. So much for cutting off your nose to spite your face. They don’t deserve any pity.” Just as the words left her mouth, a voice called from outside. “Excuse me, delivery for an Aria Serrano?” I nudged my brother with my foot. “Go get it.” He looked completely bewildered. “Who is it, sis?” I was still lost in my game, not even bothering to look up. “Oh. DoorDash.” “…” 9 The dining table was massive, which only made the few plates of limp vegetables look even more pathetic. Liam and I started unpacking the delivery, and in moments, the entire table was covered. Fried chicken, pizzas, spicy noodle bowls—you name it, we had it. The second we opened the containers, the irresistible aroma filled the entire room. Zoe stared, her eyes wide with disbelief. “You can’t just order takeout!” I was already halfway through a piece of chicken. “Is there a rule against it?” She was speechless for a second. “No one on a reality show has ever ordered takeout before.” I took a huge gulp of soda and glanced at my brother. “Is that true?” He was delicately eating his noodles. “Yeah, it is, sis.” “So what? The producers don’t care.” Just then, I heard Kiki swallow hard. There was no way we could finish all this food, so I gestured to the others. “Hey, come on, join us.” Kiki looked at me, shocked. “Can we?” “Of course you can.” By the end, even Rick and his girlfriend had abandoned the vegetable table and joined our feast. Adam and Zoe’s faces were a picture of pure disgust, as if they’d just swallowed a fly. They glared at us, radiating waves of resentment. Finally, they couldn’t take it anymore and slammed their chopsticks down. “Aria, you’ve gone too far!” I elegantly wiped my mouth. “Whatever do you mean?” Zoe pointed a trembling finger at the mountain of uneaten takeout. “You ordered all this food just to win everyone over and spite us, didn’t you?” I was so done with her. I gave her a thumbs-up. “Some people just talk out of their ass for fun, but you’ve made it a goddamn art form.” My brother almost choked, his chopsticks clattering against his bowl. He reached out to grab my arm. “Aria, just stop…” But he forgot one crucial thing about me: once I’m full, I get bored. And when I get bored, I like to stir up trouble.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393745”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On our third wedding anniversary, my husband of convenience sent me our divorce papers, disguised as a home purchase contract for his little mistress. His friend teased him. “Aren’t you afraid she’ll actually sign it?” “You’ve been in love with her for seven years. Are you really willing to throw it all away over a joke?” Adam Gibbs exhaled a slow stream of smoke, a smug arrogance dancing in his eyes. “You don’t know Rachel Rae. She’s completely in love with me now. More obsessed than I ever was with her.” “When she sees that house is for Mia, she’ll be so jealous she’ll lose her mind. There’s no way she’ll sign.” I never pushed open the door to the private room. Instead, I turned around, went to my office, and signed my name on the disguised contract. He didn’t know. The love I once had for him had long since turned to ash. 1 I stood there, stunned, trying to process Adam’s words. When he’d begged me for this marriage of convenience, he’d sworn up and down he’d rather die than divorce me. “Rachel, I swear to you, the only way you’ll ever leave me is as a widow, never a divorcée.” The echoes of that thunderous vow hadn’t even faded. And now, just to amuse his little mistress, he was turning our marriage—something I held sacred—into a sick joke. Inside the room, his friends were laughing. “Careful you don’t play yourself, Gibbs. What if she doesn’t look closely?” “Or what if you’ve broken her heart so badly she signs it out of pure spite…” Adam just shook his head, the picture of a spoiled playboy. “When it comes to me, she’s meticulous about everything. Last time, I just asked her to drop off a coat for Mia in the middle of the night, and she was so mad she wouldn’t let me touch her for days. This is a house.” He looked even more pleased with himself. “I’m telling you, the second Rachel sees that email, she’ll come storming in here ready to fight. What can I say? The ladies love me. It’s a curse.” One friend wasn’t buying it. “Stop bragging. Everyone knows Rachel’s dad cheated on her mom. She’s got a complex about it. She needs a perfect marriage. You keep pulling stunts like this, you’re going to end up crying.” Adam stubbed out his cigarette with a sneer. “You don’t believe me? Let’s make a bet. One million dollars. Three days.” “You’re on.” Another friend finally spoke up, his voice laced with disapproval. “Come on, man, that’s enough. Rachel’s our friend too. Betting on this is a scumbag move.” He nudged Adam. “And you’re being a real asshole. You finally marry the woman you’ve been chasing for years, and you’re still messing around with someone else. Just retract the damn email.” Adam paused for a second, then lit another cigarette in frustration. “No. I already made a bet with Mia.” “Besides,” he added, “the email isn’t just a joke. I want her to learn from Mia. When Mia gets jealous, she acts like a proper woman—all teary-eyed and fragile. When Rachel gets jealous, she just screams like a lunatic. It’s so damn annoying.” The friend sighed, exasperated. “Keep it up. You’re going to destroy a perfectly good thing.” “Who are you cursing? It’s not like we haven’t fought before. And which time did Rachel not come crawling back?” “Just have my million ready when I win.” … Adam’s voice droned on, but I couldn’t hear it anymore. My knuckles were white as I clutched the thermos of chicken soup I’d made for him. A part of me wanted to storm in there and dump the entire thing over his perfectly styled hair. But that would go viral. Powerful CEO and Husband Clash Publicly. The humiliation… The fight drained out of me in an instant. I turned and walked out of the club. 2 I returned home in a daze. The warm, cozy decor of our apartment, once a comfort, now felt like a suffocating net, squeezing my heart until it ached. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was Adam’s smiling face. I just couldn’t understand. How could the man whose world once revolved entirely around me have become this ugly, unrecognizable stranger? Just three years ago, in front of all our family and friends, he had wept as he said marrying me was the happiest moment of his life. Before I overheard that conversation, I had been seriously considering having a baby, just to make him happy. But it turned out the marriage I was fighting so hard to preserve… was nothing more than a gambling chip to him. I stood up and threw the cake I’d baked and the carefully chosen gift I’d bought for him straight into the trash. Adam and I met when we were young. He was a whirlwind of confidence, bursting into my life in a pristine white basketball jersey. My parents had just divorced, and the shock had turned me into a quiet, withdrawn girl. No one knew how to talk to me, so they kept their distance. But not Adam. He followed me around all day, filling the silence with his endless chatter. Later, when his family’s business hit a rough patch, he came to me, his eyes red-rimmed, and asked if I would consider a marriage of convenience. My mother warned me to be careful, but I didn’t hesitate. I said yes. I believed in his sincerity. But sincerity, I was learning, could vanish in a heartbeat. I sat down at the computer, opened the email, and signed my name. Really, I should have seen it long ago. After three years of endless tabloid rumors and whispered scandals, even the most passionate love would have burned out. 3 Done with my obsession over this toxic marriage, I turned my attention to my work emails, not looking up until the early hours of the morning. I was about to head for a shower when my phone rang. It was Adam. I ignored it. He called again. And again. And again, until I finally blocked his number. But the peace was short-lived. The smart screen in our living room flickered to life with an incoming video call. “Rachel, what are you still doing at home?” “I drank too much, my stomach’s killing me. Where’s the soup? You said you made it. Bring it over.” He was lounging on the club sofa, his tone arrogant and demanding, as if I weren’t his wife but a servant he could summon at will. The soup? I glanced over at my dog, who was licking his lips, full and satisfied. “I fed it to the dog,” I said flatly. “If you want some, order takeout.” Before I could finish, a fragile, trembling voice piped up from the video feed. “Adam, is she feeding the soup to a dog instead of bringing it to you because of me? Is she angry that I’m here?” One of his friends snorted. “You know the answer to that, so why are you still hanging around? Who’s the damsel-in-distress act for?” “What did you say?!” Adam snapped, his face darkening. “Mia is my guest.” “Rachel is just a petty, jealous shrew. I can’t even talk to another woman without her throwing a fit for three days. It’s exhausting.” “Mia, don’t listen to him.” Mia deliberately moved closer to the camera, her eyes welling with tears, her lip trembling as if she were about to cry. “Adam, please don’t fight with your wife because of me. It’s all my fault. I… I won’t come looking for you anymore.” Adam’s expression softened instantly. He reached out and pulled her into his arms. “What are you apologizing for? It’s not your fault.” “Rachel’s just having one of her crazy episodes. Ignore her. We’ll keep having fun.” Someone in the background couldn’t take it anymore. “Adam! Do you have any idea what day it is?!” Adam frowned, as if trying to remember. I had no desire to watch their little performance any longer. I reached over and unplugged the smart screen. Then, I blocked him on every platform. This was it. The final break. And yet, before today, I never would have imagined I’d leave Adam over another woman. Especially not Mia. 4 She was a top student from a small town. She’d been rejected from our company after showing up late for her interview, but she’d crashed our lunch at a restaurant, sobbing and begging for another chance. “Ms. Rae, please, just give me one more chance,” she’d pleaded. The entire restaurant was staring, the silent pressure mounting. I reviewed her resume again. Seeing she’d graduated from a top university, I made an exception and hired her. But once she started, she constantly misplaced files and mixed up data. She didn’t even make it through her probationary period. I was about to give her one last chance, feeling sorry for her as a new graduate, when I found out she was already working for Adam. After catching them being overly familiar several times, I admit I lost my composure and we had a huge fight. I even asked him if he had feelings for Mia, telling him I would grant him a divorce if he did. But Adam would just pull me into a gentle embrace, a teasing smile on his face. “Still so jealous,” he’d murmur. “I just feel sorry for the girl. She’s just office decoration, a flower vase. I have no other intentions. We’ve known each other for so long. Don’t you trust me?” “My type has always been strong, career-driven women like you. What’s so great about a little crybaby?” And I believed him. Mia cried easily and fell apart when she made a mistake. It seemed plausible she would turn to Adam for help. Plus, Adam’s pursuit of me had been the stuff of legends. He had sworn he loved only me. In the heat of that love, I couldn’t bring myself to doubt him. But later, while I was busy expanding his family’s business empire, Adam was taking her to see the Northern Lights, to chase penguins in Antarctica, to make New Year’s wishes in the deep snow of the Swiss Alps. And now. Now, for her, he was turning our carefully guarded marriage into a joke. Thinking back, I really was a clown. A prop in their flirtatious games, still believing that love was immutable. Well, it wasn’t too late to wake up. Adam didn’t come home that night. He had the housekeeper pass on a message. “Rachel, I was wrong not to be with you on our anniversary. I’ll make it up to you, okay?” I ignored it. After finishing up at the office, I changed into an evening gown and went to a charity gala. Major corporations held these events periodically, partly to network and partly to burnish their public image. I was originally supposed to attend on behalf of the Gibbs family, but just before leaving, I changed my registration to the Rae family. I just hadn’t expected to run into Adam and Mia there. In these circles, it was an unwritten rule that married couples sat together. But there was Mia, sitting comfortably in my seat, staring up at me with wide, innocent eyes. “Oh, Rachel, can’t you find your seat? Should I go talk to the organizers for you?” Adam glanced at me, a smirk playing on his lips as he lounged in his chair. He was waiting for me to explode. Waiting for me to start a fight with Mia. The old me would have given him exactly what he wanted. But I wasn’t going to lower myself to that level anymore. I held up my invitation, and an attendant quickly and respectfully escorted me to a seat in the front row. “Next, we’ll be introducing the projects available for sponsorship…” The host began his presentation. I looked down at my tablet, scrolling through the options. The gala was hosted by the Fourier Group, and the projects focused on medical research, education in underserved areas, and aid for special needs children. I submitted my donations through the tablet and then slipped out of the main hall. The outer ballroom was for mingling and conversation. I had just found a quiet corner when Adam appeared. “Rachel, what’s your problem now?” I looked up, meeting his simmering anger with an amused expression. Was he here to question me because I didn’t donate under the Gibbs family name? I couldn’t be bothered. I stood up to leave. Adam grabbed my arm, causing the wine in his glass to spill all over the floor. “So I didn’t spend our anniversary with you. Is that any reason to throw a tantrum like this?” “If anyone sees this, they’ll think I’m cheating on you, that’s why you’re donating under your own name. How is that supposed to make me look?” My brand-new gown was stained. Furious, I flung the contents of my own glass back at him. “Isn’t it a fact that you’re cheating? If you want a good reputation, go buy one with your own money.” He stared at me, his disbelief turning to impatience. “Fine. You’ve grown some claws.” “This better not be an act. Don’t talk tough now and then go home crying over my picture.” I shook him off and went to the restroom to clean the wine stain. When I came out, Adam was blocking the doorway. He grabbed my hand, his expression meaningful. “I sent you an email. You need to look at it when you get home. The contents are very important. It’s about…” He didn’t finish. Mia materialized from behind me, linking her arm affectionately with his. “Adam, my period started, and I… I stained my dress. Can you help me find a new one?” Adam, the notorious germaphobe, didn’t hesitate. He whipped off his own jacket and draped it over her, his voice softening with concern. “You silly girl, you have to be more careful. Does your stomach hurt?” Mia shook her head shyly. The sight made me nauseous. I turned to leave. Behind me, Adam’s voice followed. “Remember to check your email! It’s about a major life event.” “Don’t just sign it without looking.” 5 Right. A major life event worth a mere one-million-dollar bet. Adam surely thought I’d pick up on his “hint,” go home, inspect the “purchase contract,” and then have a hysterical screaming match with him. That way, he’d save face with his friends, get to call me jealous, and continue his little affair with Mia guilt-free. But I was done playing his game. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. It was dark by the time I finished at the office. I was about to go out for dinner when our housekeeper messaged me. The dog was missing. I had no choice but to drive home. The moment I pushed open the door, confetti exploded around me, accompanied by a chorus of cheers. “Surprise!” His friends explained that Adam had roped them into throwing me a make-up anniversary party. My eyes landed on Mia, and I laughed coldly to myself. Whose anniversary party includes a pack of friends and the husband’s mistress? It didn’t take a genius to figure out Adam’s game. Sure enough, after I excused myself on the pretext of getting some celebratory wine, I overheard his friends trying to talk some sense into him. “I’m telling you, man, just stop. I’ll give you the million, okay? Just retract the email and go apologize to Rachel.” Adam waved a dismissive hand. “It’s not about the money. I brought you all here to witness my charm.” “I told her multiple times to check the email carefully. Just wait. You’ll get to see her lose her temper. It’s hilarious when she gets all pouty and scowls.” … The party wound down, and it was time for everyone to leave. I stood up to call for drivers, but Adam grabbed my hand, pulling me back. “Rachel, are you happy?” I frowned at him, genuinely confused. He brings a crowd of people to my house without asking, disrupting my work and my peace. What was there to be happy about? Our eyes met, and he broke into a wide grin, pressing his palm to my forehead. “Stop frowning. I know you’re thrilled deep down. The only reason I missed our anniversary was because Mia drank too much and I had to take her home.” “You were just putting on a show at the gala because you were jealous. You should be over it by now.” “Oh, right. Did you see the email? I’m still waiting to hear from you.” I swatted his hand away, my face a blank mask. Mia chose that moment to chime in. “Adam, I think I drank too much. Can you take me home?” She swayed, then added with a little gasp, “Oh, wait, you’ve been drinking too, Adam. I guess I should stay here and take care of you…” I stared at her, wondering if I’d misread her resume. Was her major in management or professional acting? She was like an NPC, constantly spawning next to us to deliver another poorly staged act. I turned to leave, but this time, Mia blocked my path. 6 “Rachel, are you still angry? There’s really nothing between Adam and me. Please don’t fight with him because of me anymore. I don’t want to see him unhappy.” I looked at her coldly and uttered two words. “Get lost.” The girl’s eyes instantly reddened, and fat tears began to roll down her cheeks. “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have been concerned about Adam. I shouldn’t have made you angry.” “I’ll do anything, anything at all, if you’ll just stop giving him the silent treatment.” With that, she dropped to her knees with a thud. The sound was loud enough to draw everyone’s attention. Adam, instantly sobered, flew into a rage. He pulled her to her feet and shielded her behind him, roaring at me. “Rachel, are you insane?!” “If you have a problem, take it up with me! Why are you always bullying a young girl like this?!” “Making her kneel to you? Aren’t you afraid of shortening your own lifespan? Apologize to her right now, or get the hell out of this house!” I suppressed my own fury. “This is my house. You’re the ones who need to get out.” Adam’s face flushed with anger. “Fine! I’ll go! And from now on, you could be on your knees begging me, and I would never come back!” Seeing things escalate, his friends rushed to intervene. “Adam, what are you saying? Just apologize to her.” “Yeah, man, it’s not worth blowing things up over an outsider.” Hearing this, Mia clutched her knee and began to limp dramatically toward the door. “I’m the one causing trouble. I should be the one to leave. Adam, please don’t fight with your wife.” But Adam was determined to be her knight in shining armor. In front of everyone, he wrapped a protective arm around her. “You did nothing wrong. She’s the one being unreasonable.” “Let’s go. We’ll stay somewhere else tonight. I’m not coming back until she apologizes.” With that final declaration, he swept Mia up into his arms and walked out.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393764”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The day before my wedding, my twin sister and I were kidnapped. Damian and my parents paid the ransom—but only for her. While Anna stepped into my wedding dress, my womb was carved out on a backstreet. I became Byrd Heights’ laughingstock: the barren woman. Damian Byrd married me when everyone abandoned me. For three years, he cherished me—until I found the video. There he was, scalpel in hand, murmuring to Anna: “Annelise is your perfect match.” The footage showed him cutting into me—without anesthesia—as I screamed. 1 Watching the screen, the phantom agony of being torn apart ripped through me anew. I clamped a hand over my mouth, tears streaming down my face as the truth crashed over me, threatening to pull me into darkness. The kidnapping… it was all orchestrated by him. By Damian. For Anna. But if he’d already taken what he wanted, why the charade? Why the loving husband act, the years of tender care that made me believe this monster was my only salvation? My heart fractured. Just then, a new message popped up on Damian’s still-open chat window. It was a voice note from a colleague at the hospital. “Damian, listen to me. The amount of blood you’ve drawn from Annelise this month is dangerously high. You can’t keep doing this.” A second message followed immediately. “First, you took her womb. Now you’re draining her dry, month after month. She’s getting weaker, man. I don’t get it. I thought you married her to atone, to make things right. Why are you hurting her even more?” Damian’s typed reply appeared on the right. “I only married Annelise to keep her close—a convenient blood bag to help Anna’s body accept the transplant.” He sent another message, a bitter, self-mocking confession. “And if I couldn’t marry the woman I truly wanted, at least I could have someone with her face. In a way, I got my wish. I wake up next to Anna every single day.” A final, chilling text. “Stop worrying. Anna is due any day now, and she’ll need the blood. I’m dropping off another few bags from Annelise tomorrow.” His colleague frantically replied. “Are you insane?! You just drew blood two days ago! Do you even care if your wife lives or dies!?” But Damian didn’t answer. My tears had run dry, leaving a hollow ache in their wake. So that was the real reason. Not just to rob me of my future as a mother, but to drain the very life from my veins, all for Anna. My god, Damian. You truly love my sister to death. The sound of the front door opening echoed through the house. I scrambled into the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face until the redness faded, trying to compose myself. I walked out, feigning calm. But Damian missed nothing. His eyes instantly found the lingering flush around mine. “Annie,” he said, his voice thick with concern. He swept me off my feet and carried me to the sofa, his large hand resting on my lower abdomen, massaging the scarred skin with practiced gentleness. “Baby, were you crying? Is the pain back?” He leaned in, his voice a low whisper. “You have to tell me when it hurts. Don’t suffer alone. It kills me to see you in pain.” Kills you? I wanted to laugh. You’re the one holding the knife. I couldn’t stand to look at his hypocritical face. With a gesture, he summoned a team of private chefs who filed in carrying baskets brimming with iron-rich foods. This was his monthly ritual. After every “check-up” where he drew my blood, he would arrange this lavish, restorative feast. I used to think it was a sign of his devotion. Now I knew the truth. He was just fattening the lamb for slaughter. Keeping me healthy enough to produce more blood for Anna’s every need. A bitter smile touched my lips. “I don’t want to eat this anymore.” I looked at him, my voice trembling slightly. “And all these check-ups… the tests always come back normal. Damian, can we please stop with the blood draws?” A frown creased his brow. He cupped my face, his thumb stroking my cheek in a gesture I once found intoxicating. “Baby, your body is fragile after what you went through. We can’t take any risks. We have a whole lifetime ahead of us. You have no idea how much you mean to me. I won’t let anything happen to you.” His words, once a balm to my soul, now felt like poison, each syllable a reminder of the lie I was living. As he was about to feed me the first spoonful, his phone rang. He answered, his entire demeanor shifting. His eyes lit up. “Baby, something’s come up at the hospital. I have to go,” he said, his voice buzzing with excitement. “Be a good girl and eat everything. I’ll be checking when I get back.” I nodded numbly. The moment he was gone, I scraped the entire feast into the trash. I went to his study to copy the video file, but my phone buzzed with a notification. A new post from Anna. The caption read: What’s it like having a childhood sweetheart who would do anything for you? Thank you, Damian, for booking the entire hospital wing for me and hiring the most exclusive postnatal care agency in the country. It’s so wonderful having you by my side for every important moment.~ The photo showed Damian, tears in his eyes, cradling Anna’s newborn child. Around the baby’s neck was the Byrd family heirloom, a priceless diamond locket. My hand trembled, and I accidentally clicked open another hidden folder on the desktop. A legal document filled the screen. A lifelong trust agreement. I, Damian Byrd, do willingly bequeath ninety percent of my personal assets, managed in a rolling annual trust, to Anna Thorne and her descendants. I wiped away a fresh tear, a hollow laugh escaping my lips. So this is what it looked like when Damian truly loved someone. Even when she bore another man’s child, he would lay his entire fortune at her feet. Fine. If that’s what he wants, I’ll give it to him. I will disappear from his life so completely it will be as if I never existed. 2 After printing a copy of the divorce papers and arranging for a “special service” for the following day, I went straight to the hospital where Anna had given birth. Her room was crowded with friends and relatives, all cooing over the baby. Anna, radiant and smug, was being spoon-fed broth by Damian himself. The moment he saw me, a flicker of panic crossed his face. He rushed over, pulling me aside. “Annie, don’t misunderstand,” he whispered urgently. “Anna’s husband is stuck overseas, and she’s practically my sister. We grew up together.” He lowered his voice even more. “I know you haven’t forgiven your parents and don’t want anything to do with them, but Anna and the baby… they’re innocent in all this.” Innocent. He knew better than anyone that was a lie. I was about to tell him about the divorce, but Anna suddenly shrieked from the bed. Clutching her baby, she scrambled to her knees on the floor, bowing her head toward me in a grotesque display of fear. “Annelise! I know what my parents and I did was wrong! I’m so sorry! But please, I’m begging you, don’t hurt my child!” she wailed. “Curse me, do whatever you want to me, but he’s just a baby! He can’t take it!” Confused, I looked at her as she shakily held up her phone. On the screen was a chat history between us. My profile picture was next to a stream of gruesome, bloody images of infants and drawings of voodoo dolls, sent to her consistently throughout her pregnancy. But I hadn’t spoken a single word to her since the day my family abandoned me. “You monster!” my father roared, lunging forward and slapping me hard across the face. My mother’s eyes burned with pure hatred. The room erupted. “I knew it! A broken woman like her is bound to be psychologically twisted! How could she be so evil to her own pregnant sister?” “Exactly! A creature like that deserved to have her womb cut out! Damian Byrd must have the worst luck in the world, getting stuck with a venomous, barren shrew!” My head snapped toward Damian, my last hope. For three years, he had been my shield, the only one who stood between me and the world’s cruelty. But this time, he didn’t defend me. His hand clamped around my wrist, his voice laced with cold fury. “Annelise! How could you do something so vile?” he seethed. “Do you want to drag everyone down into your misery? Is that it?” He tightened his grip. “Apologize to Anna. Now. Stop making innocent people suffer because of you.” Of course. I had forgotten. When forced to choose between me and Anna, he would always choose her. I lifted my chin, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. “I will not apologize for something I didn’t do.” I stared directly into his eyes. “You call her innocent? Damian, I’m asking you. Is she innocent? Are any of you innocent?” 3 Damian’s expression faltered, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes before it was gone. He shook his head, as if dismissing a troubling thought. “Annelise, stop being delusional,” he said, his voice hardening. “You’re making me wonder if marrying you out of pity was the biggest mistake of my life.” I laughed, a dry, broken sound, and blinked back the tears. Don’t worry, Damian. You won’t have to wonder for much longer. Soon, we won’t be husband and wife at all. Without his protection, the crowd of relatives descended on me, their curses and shoves pushing me out of the room. I stumbled to the restroom to clean myself up, my reflection a pathetic, disheveled mess. A moment later, the door swung open. It was Anna, arms crossed, a triumphant smirk on her face. The terrified victim was gone, replaced by a gloating predator. “My dear sister,” she cooed, “how does it feel? To be despised by everyone all over again? It must be a familiar sensation for you.” She tilted her head. “Oh, that look in your eyes. Let me guess. You finally know, don’t you? You know it was our darling Damian who cut you open and gave your womb to me.” She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “And you didn’t really think you could show up here and make Mom and Dad feel guilty, did you? Silly girl. The kidnapping was their idea, planned with Damian from the start. They were so heartbroken that I couldn’t have children. Someone had to make a sacrifice. And who better than you, dear sister?” She patted her flat stomach. “And I really must thank you. Without your perfectly functional womb, my darling little boy wouldn’t be so healthy and strong.” Tears of disbelief streamed down my face. The deepest trauma of my life wasn’t a random act of violence. It was a conspiracy. A betrayal by everyone I had ever loved. “How could you?” I choked out. “Aren’t you afraid of retribution? That you’ll pay for this?” Anna scoffed, pulling a small bottle filled with red liquid from behind her back. She uncorked it and poured the contents all over her legs. “Pay for it?” she laughed. “Annelise, the only reason Damian keeps you around is for your blood. You think you have any other value? You are destined to live your entire life in my shadow, having everything you ever wanted snatched away by me. You should really stick around and watch. See just how far he’s willing to go for me.” Before I could process her words, she collapsed to the floor in the puddle of red liquid and screamed. “Damian! Help me! Please, help me!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393781”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 After my father died, my mother tried to kill us both. At three, she forced sulfuric acid down my throat—until my melting face scared her away. I survived, but lived as a monster for 25 years. Then came Larry, who loved my scars, and his stepsister Aurora, who called me her closest friend. On Aurora’s birthday, I brought her favorite cake to their family party. Through the door, I heard Aurora’s voice: “Don’t worry, Mom. The donor is Larry’s girlfriend—she’s desperate for us. She’ll do it.” The door swung open. The woman froze. It had been 20 years, but I knew her instantly—my mother. “Go die,” she hissed. “Don’t ruin my life.” I set down the cake. “Happy birthday.” For a second, guilt flickered in her eyes. I walked away. I’d waited for this day so long. … The next day at work, Larry rushed over, his voice a mixture of concern and reproach. “Cora, what happened? It was Aurora’s birthday yesterday. My parents waited for you. Why didn’t you come?” I looked into his eyes, trying to gauge how much of his concern was real. “Something came up,” I said. “You couldn’t have sent a text? I called you a dozen times. We were worried sick.” I just nodded and went back to my work. Larry glanced around, then pulled me by the hand into a deserted stairwell. He handed me a medical file, his expression serious. “Cora, I need to ask you for a huge favor.” I thought back to the conversation I’d overheard. The bone marrow. My heart sank. The first page of the report confirmed it: Aurora had been diagnosed with leukemia. The next page was a compatibility test. A perfect match. Between her and me. “My sister… Aurora… she has leukemia,” he said, his voice tight. “She needs a transplant. At the last company health screening… I had a sample of yours tested against hers. It was a match, Cora. A perfect match!” “I was going to tell you at the party yesterday. Look, I know my parents can be… difficult… about your appearance. This is the perfect way to win them over. Once you do this for us, getting married will be a breeze.” His voice was bright with a triumphant certainty. He was so sure of himself. “Larry,” I said, my voice flat. “I won’t do it.” The thought that I might refuse had clearly never crossed his mind. He just stared at me, stunned. Aurora and Cora. Our names were a world apart. She was the morning glow, the rising sun. I was just dust, easily swept away. After my mother disfigured and abandoned me, it was an elderly neighbor who found me and rushed me to the hospital. For the past two decades, I have lived on the verge of suicide. Every day, I cake my face in thick foundation and hide behind a surgical mask. Because of how I look, it doesn’t matter how smart I am or how talented. The only jobs I can get are the most basic ones. I can’t have mirrors in my home. I’m terrified of seeing the monster that looks back at me. But now, I needed to see what Larry would choose. “Cora, she’s your best friend!” he pleaded. “Are you worried about the surgery? The side effects?” He grabbed my arms, but his eyes were fixed on my lips. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the horrifying scars that covered the rest of my face. “It’s not a painful procedure. The hardest part is finding a match, and you’re a perfect one! Some donors are walking around the same day. Please, Cora. Save her.” His confusion was turning into frustration, a hint of resentment creeping into his eyes. Of course the match was perfect. I was her daughter, too. I knew Larry didn’t know the whole story. But was he really with me because he could look past my scars, or was he just tolerating me for the sake of this donation? Why couldn’t he even meet my gaze? “I’m sorry,” I said, turning to leave. “I can’t. You’ll have to find someone else.” He grabbed my arm, his grip like iron. “Cora, how can you be so cold-blooded? Everyone looks down on you, they whisper about you behind your back! But Aurora and I—we never did! Who else would ever give a freak like you the time of day?” His voice rose, cracking with disbelief. “It’s a minor procedure, and you won’t even do it to save her life?” I turned back to face him, my eyes locking onto his. “I’ll do it,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “On two conditions. First, you give me five million dollars. Second, I want Vivian to come to me, on her knees, and beg for my forgiveness.” “Meet those conditions, and I’ll be at the hospital in three days.” Late that night, a message from Larry appeared on my phone. 【The family agreed. I didn’t know about your history with Vivian. I’m so sorry, Cora.】 Too little, too late. In three days, I would be gone. But this time, I would be the one doing the abandoning. 2 The nightmares I’d had for over a decade came roaring back. My face began to itch, a deep, maddening sensation, like a million ants were eating my skin from the inside out. I scratched until I drew blood, but it brought no relief. I’d seen countless doctors. They all suggested I see a psychologist, convinced it was a phantom pain, a scar on my mind left by the acid. To keep my skin from getting worse, I slathered on some ointment and put on my mask before heading to the office. “Cora, you’re finally here! Your mother has been waiting for you at your desk for ages.” Mother. The word stopped my breath. For a second, I was back in that night of agonizing, searing pain. I peered through the crowd of gawking colleagues. Vivian was sitting in my chair, looking impatient. She was dressed in expensive designer clothes. Life had been good to her. My first instinct was to run, but she spotted me. “Cora!” she called out. “Do you remember me? It’s Mom. I’m so sorry about that night. I just… wasn’t ready. Please don’t hold it against me.” She looked me up and down. “You’re all grown up.” The sight of her saccharine, fake sincerity made me want to vomit. “I’m not donating my bone marrow to Aurora,” I said. “Give up.” A crack appeared in her perfectly crafted, pleading expression. Her eyes narrowed, filled with a venomous light. “Cora, name your price. I’ll give you anything. Just save Aurora.” “What happened before was my fault, I know. But your life is already ruined. Aurora is still so young. She has her whole future ahead of her.” She grabbed my hand and slapped her own face with it, then threw herself at my feet, clinging to my legs. “She’s your sister! You can’t just let her die! Larry told me what you want. You want me to kneel? You want to hit me to feel better? Fine, do whatever you want.” “You want five million? Her father and I will give it to you. Just save her!” Vivian groveled on the floor, knocking her head against the linoleum, her voice thick with performative worry for her precious daughter. I watched her, and the memory of the night my father died flooded back. He was a truck driver. Not a man of great means, but he adored my mother and me. He never let Vivian work a single day in her life. He worked himself to the bone for a meager salary, and she would spend more than half of it on skin treatments and beauty salons. He never complained. He just worked harder, which is why he fell asleep at the wheel and died on the highway. Vivian thought her world had ended. She bought a bottle of acid for her grand, tragic suicide pact, but when she tried to pour it down my throat, I thrashed in terror. The acid splashed across my face, searing into my skin, twisting my features into an unrecognizable mask of agony. The sight of what she had created sent her scrambling backward. She dropped the bottle and ran. I almost walked out right then. I didn’t want to wait three days. I wanted to destroy her now. “It’s not enough,” I said, my voice cold. “You could bow a hundred times, and it wouldn’t even begin to soothe the hatred in my heart.” My colleagues started whispering. “Cora is so cold. She’s always been a weirdo, hiding behind that mask. Now her own mother is on her knees, and she won’t even save her sister.” “See? I told you. Never feel sorry for people like that. There’s always a reason they’re pathetic.” “She won’t even help her own sister. She’s not human.” Seeing my resolve, Vivian’s face finally changed. The mask of the grieving mother fell away, revealing the monster beneath. “Have you had enough?” she snarled, getting to her feet. “Is that any way to speak to your mother? I knelt, I apologized, I brought the money! What more do you want?” “I know you’re dating Larry. Don’t think for a second you’ll ever be a part of my family without my permission.” I just laughed and started to walk away. Panicked, Vivian grabbed my arm. “Cora, I’m warning you. Don’t push your luck.” “I gave birth to you! The only reason you’re alive is because of me! And now I’m asking you to donate a little bone marrow, and you dare to give me this attitude?” Her voice dripped with contempt. “I should have strangled you in the womb. You’re just as useless as your deadbeat dad.” 3 I spun around and grabbed the collar of her expensive blouse, my eyes blazing with fury. “You have no right to talk about my father!” I screamed. “The moment he died, you wanted to drag me down with you! Every good day you ever had was because of him! I look like this because of you!” “The person who deserves to die most in this world is you, you venomous bitch!” “You shut your mouth!” SMACK. Her hand connected with my face, sending my mask flying across the room. A collective gasp went through the crowd of onlookers. Some of them gagged. “Oh god, that’s disgusting! What is that? Her face is so… vile!” “No wonder she wears a mask all the time. She’s uglier than a demon. How can her boyfriend even look at her? My eyes are burning.” “Who even hired someone like that? I have to sit near her all day. I’ve lost my appetite. I think I’m going to be sick.” The hideous face I had hidden for more than a decade was now on display for everyone to see. Listening to their revulsion, I began to tremble uncontrollably. I wanted the earth to swallow me whole.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393797”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I’m a cocktail waitress in a seedy bar, squeezed into a bunny costume that was more humiliation than fabric. In the VIP booth, the tycoon’s son, Sean, was arguing with his one true love, a black card pinched between his fingers. “Five million on this card. Are you sure you don’t want it?” The girl, dressed in a janitor’s uniform, sneered at him from behind her mop. “My money is clean! You think being rich makes you special? Go on, ask anyone. Who would ever love a person like you?” Furious, Sean grabbed me. “The card is yours. Do you dare to love me?” I took the card. “I dare.” Later, the girl had regrets. And Sean? He came back to me. “Seraphina is bothered by our past,” he’d said. “Maybe you should date someone else for a while.” “Fine,” I’d replied. … The sky was already dark when I left the hospital after visiting my grandmother. I hopped on my e-scooter and raced toward the bar where I worked. Halfway there, the rain started pouring. For a split second, I was distracted, and my wheels skidded on the slick pavement. Of course, I had to crash into a Maybach. A rear-end collision in the rain. I was completely at fault. A door opened and a man stepped out, unfurling a black umbrella. He tilted it kindly in my direction. As he got closer, I saw he was around my age, but with a refined, almost delicate beauty. Fair skin, a high-bridged nose, and sharp, elegant eyes that tilted up at the corners. His suit, though brandless, was impeccably tailored, making him look even more coolly aristocratic in the rain. I moved my aching arm and scrambled to my feet, apologizing profusely. “I’m so sorry, the rain was too heavy, my scooter slipped, I’m really so sorry…” A pathetic little whimper escaped my lips, brimming with self-pity. I held up my scraped arm, rubbing at my eyes. If I was going to play the victim card, now was the time. I was a student by day and a worker by night. Medical bills, tuition, living expenses—I was short on everything. There was no way I could afford to fix his car. I’d heard stories of rich car owners magnanimously forgiving broke commoners. A desperate prayer formed in my mind: Please let him be a kind, wealthy man who doesn’t care about the money. A familiar female voice cut through the rain, sharp with impatience. “Sean, hurry up! Don’t make me late for work!” Work? A high-society heiress who takes a Maybach to her part-time job? A pale, oval face appeared in the car window. It was Seraphina, the scholarship student from the class next to mine. Sean pushed the umbrella into my hand and helped me right my scooter. He sighed, a note of resignation in his voice. “Forget it. Just go. Be careful on the road.” I thanked him profusely, terrified he would change his mind, and sped off into the rain. As I left, I heard Seraphina complain, “What a hassle. I’m never riding in your car again.” I recognized him then. Sean. The old-money heir from the campus forums. He was the sole heir to the Sterling Corporation, and he was hopelessly in love with the scholarship student, Seraphina. The whole school knew he was pursuing her. He’d showered her with luxury gifts and arranged internships, all of which she had publicly refused. The last time, he’d staged a massive drone light show confession outside the women’s dorms. Seraphina had finally appeared, looking distressed, begging him to “stop putting her on the spot,” insisting she didn’t want his “charity” and that she wanted to “make her own way in life.” I thought their tragic love story had finally ended, but here he was, still trying. I suppose it made sense. Everyone praised Seraphina for her integrity and backbone. I’d even heard girls getting lectured by their boyfriends when they asked for birthday presents. “Look at Seraphina. She never spends a man’s money.” In the bar’s staff room, I shivered as I changed into the bunny costume. The skirt was scandalously short, barely covering anything. I pulled on two pairs of thick tights and pinned the neckline higher. My manager knew my situation. “You get a 15% commission on drinks,” she’d told me. “As long as the customers don’t get out of hand, don’t turn your nose up at the money.” I nodded. A week’s pay as a bunny girl could cover several more days of my grandmother’s hospital stay. The door at the end of the hall opened. I froze. Seraphina? She was wearing an oversized janitor’s uniform, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, struggling with a heavy water bucket. Our eyes met. A flash of surprise crossed her face, quickly replaced by a look of derision. “You work here too?” “Yeah. You? Janitor?” “The hourly wage is higher here,” she said, straightening her back. “And it’s clean.” I glanced at her washed-out sneakers and almost laughed. What was the difference between being a janitor here and anywhere else? You were still scrubbing floors. Or was she implying that, compared to my job, hers was infinitely cleaner? We weren’t close, so we didn’t speak further. I carried a tray of drinks into a private room to make a sale. The room was thick with smoke. Sean and his circle of rich friends were lounging on the sofas. A shattered bottle of Ace of Spades lay on the floor, its contents pooling on the carpet. Seraphina was called in to clean it up. “Isn’t that the girl Sean’s after?” someone whispered. The guy next to her quickly took the mop. “Here, let me get that for you.” Seraphina’s head snapped up, her eyes like ice. “No need! You break a bottle to force me to serve you, and now you’re playing the nice guy?” The room fell silent. Sean’s face darkened. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “It means,” Seraphina said, standing up straight, “that I earn my money honestly. Not like some people!” “Seraphina!” Sean cut her off, pulling a black card from his wallet. “Just listen to me. Think of it as a sponsorship. You don’t have to work in a place like this.” I stood to the side, a silent observer. For people like us, a “place like this” was the best opportunity we could get. Seraphina was trembling with rage. “Sean!” she shrieked. “I’m not for sale!” Every eye in the room swiveled to me. Me, in my bunny costume with its barely-there skirt. Someone coughed awkwardly. “Hey, don’t mind her. She didn’t mean it like that.” I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood. My nails dug into my palms. I was afraid if I let go, I would lunge at her and pull her hair. Who the hell was she to judge me? She preached about making her own way, yet she was secretly benefiting from the extra scholarship money Sean had arranged for her. And from her moral high ground, she had the audacity to mock those of us who were truly struggling in the mud. “Last time I’m asking. Five million on this card,” Sean said, slapping the black card on the coffee table. “Are you sure you don’t want it?” Seraphina sneered. “I earn my money honestly! You think being rich makes you special? Go on, ask anyone. Who would ever love a person like you?” The room went quiet again. A humorless laugh escaped Sean’s lips. He grabbed my wrist. “What about you? The card is yours. Do you dare to love me?” The black card gleamed under the dim lights. I thought of the IV needle buried in my grandmother’s wrist. I thought of the mountain of tuition and fees that were about to crush me. Dignity? That was a luxury only the rich could afford. “I dare,” I said without hesitation, taking the card from his hand. Seraphina’s expression froze. She stared at me, her gaze dropping to Sean’s hand, which was now wrapped possessively around my waist. “You’re pathetic,” she spat at me. Then, for Sean’s benefit, she added, “You’ll regret this.” She stalked out, mop in hand, her head held high. Sean’s friends, however, burst into cheers. “Out with the old, in with the new!” “It’s about time you moved on, man! What’s the point of chasing someone who just throws it back in your face?” “She’s addicted to playing the victim! Turning down good money just to suffer.” “Yeah, this one is much sweeter!” Yes, I was pathetic. So pathetic that I could see the truth she refused to acknowledge. The special “underprivileged student” spot that magically appeared in last semester’s international competition. The extra TA position in the science lab that the professor had hand-picked her for. I wanted those unseen advantages and privileges, too. She wanted to be a saint. Fine. I hope she enjoys her sainthood. After that night, I became Sean’s official girlfriend. He told me to spend the five million on the card as I pleased, and to let him know if I needed more. I used his card to pay for my grandmother’s hospital stay, pre-loading her account with two million. It would be more than enough. The moment the transaction notification popped up on my phone, for the first time, I felt the frantic, spinning top of my life begin to slow down. Before this, every day had been a struggle. Two meals a day: a bun and an egg for breakfast, rice and one vegetable dish for lunch. The egg was my only protein. The vegetables were the cheapest on offer at the cafeteria. One day, I was in line at the cafeteria, deciding to splurge on a meat dish. A short burst of laughter erupted behind me. It was Seraphina and her friends, whispering to each other. Their eyes were fixed on the designer cashmere scarf Sean had given me. It was, undoubtedly, evidence of my gold-digging ways. When I went to the logistics office to quit my campus jobs, the manager gave me a pointed look. “A young girl like you should focus on being practical.” At the elevator for my weekend English class, I ran into the top student from my department. “You’re in the summer intensive course, too?” The moment I nodded, I heard whispers from behind me. “She’s just buying her way in with her boyfriend’s money.” They were right. But I was going to use this shortcut to build my own path. With money in my pocket, my hostility toward the world began to soften. Of course, every time I used the card, Sean got a notification on his phone. One night, he called me to pick him up from a bar. As I approached the room, I heard his friends talking. “Not bad, Sean. This new one actually knows how to spend money. A lot better than the last one!” Sean jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow. “Careful what you wish for,” another friend slurred, drunk. “You just got rid of one extreme. Don’t end up with a money-sucking vampire on the other end.” Sean slipped his phone back into his pocket. He’d been looking at the transaction alerts. They were all from the hospital, the cafeteria, tutoring centers. A low chuckle rumbled in his throat. “She’s spending it well,” he said, downing his drink in one gulp. “Better than letting it sit in my account like a savings passbook.” When I pushed the door open, they all straightened up, respectfully calling me “sister-in-law.” The title was absurd. At best, I was his arm candy, a soulless gift-receiving machine. Sean seemed addicted to giving me things. The latest Chanel collection, priceless pearl earrings, a crocodile Birkin bag, entire sets of luxury skincare. “Dress the part, and people will listen to what you have to say,” he told me. He had said the same thing to Seraphina once. She had thrown the coat he’d given her back at him, muttering that it was “too flashy.” Then she’d worn her faded, old jacket to a job interview and came back complaining that they hadn’t even bothered to look at her resume because she looked too young. My intimacy with Sean was limited to holding hands and an arm around my waist. It was as if he just needed someone by his side who knew how to spend money, to complete the picture. And I just happened to desperately need money. One weekend, while we were out shopping, we ran into Seraphina at the mall. She saw the shopping bags hooked on my arm. This time, there was no disdain in her eyes. Only envy. Sean awkwardly let go of my hand, as if he wanted to explain something, but the hatred in her eyes silenced him. Three days later, I heard Seraphina had applied for the student exchange program. Sean was at a street food stall with me when he got the call from his advisor. He’d been patiently peeling crayfish for me. For a while, the great heir to the Sterling Corporation had been happily slumming it with me at night markets and food stalls. The red oil from the crayfish had splattered on his white shirt cuff, and I felt a pang of guilt. After he hung up, he didn’t say anything. He just kept peeling the crayfish and piling them on my plate. Everything seemed normal. But in the middle of the night, his friend called me. “Sean’s at his downtown condo. He’s locked himself in. We’re a little worried. Can you go check on him?” The moment I opened the door, the thick stench of alcohol hit me. The floor-to-ceiling windows were wide open, the curtains whipping violently in the night wind. Sean was curled up on the rug. He heard me and looked up. His eyes were alarmingly red. His usually straight back was slumped, as if all the strength had been drained from him. “She’s gone,” he said, his voice so hoarse it made my own throat ache. “I used to tell her she was a fool for working so hard to save money. But yesterday… she transferred me some money. She said… she said it was a travel fund we’d saved up together when we were both working part-time.” He suddenly laughed, a sound mixed with a sob. “Why is she so stubborn? I wish she were more like you.” But I knew the truth. If she were like me, Sean wouldn’t love her. I didn’t know how to comfort him. I cleaned up the apartment and helped him to bed. As I was about to leave, he grabbed my hand. “You’re leaving, too?” “You said you would love me.” I hadn’t realized he remembered what I’d said in the VIP room that night. In the moment I hesitated, he pulled me into his arms, and I fell onto the bed. When he kissed me, even though I had prepared myself to be a sugar baby, I was still scared. I turned my head, and the kiss landed on my cheek. His fingers traced the side of my face, his voice a soft, patient coaxing. “Don’t hide from me, Ava. You’re mine.” The night dissolved into a blur. After that, physical intimacy became a constant between us, a feverish habit he couldn’t get enough of. One day, he insisted I dress up as a bunny girl for him. I snuggled against his shoulder, a rare moment of coquettishness. “Not today. Next time.” He pinched my waist, always leaving his marks on me, fingerprints and bruises from his kisses. “It’s always ‘next time,’ isn’t it?” He kissed my cheek. “My timid little bunny.” Later, as we were both scrolling through our phones, I saw in the alumni group chat that Seraphina was coming back to the country. I’m sure he saw it, too. His phone rang. “Sean, Seraphina’s back. She’s throwing a welcome home party. Are you coming?” He shot me a guilty look and snapped into the phone, “Don’t bother me!” I pretended not to care. “You should go if you want to.” I don’t know if it was my timing, or if my feigned magnanimity had struck a nerve. The smile vanished from his lips. I wrapped the sheet around myself and reached for my clothes on the floor. “I’m heading back to campus.” “Okay,” he said distractedly. I couldn’t focus in the library. I put on my headphones and logged into a burner account on a game. And then I heard it. His friend’s voice, clear as day through the game’s voice chat. “So, if Seraphina is willing to give you a shot, what about Ava?” Sean’s voice was cool and distant. “What about her?” “I mean, she’s been your girlfriend for two years.” I held my breath. In the game, my character had already been killed. He sighed. “We’ll break up. I can’t be with two people at once, can I? Besides, I’ve been more than generous with her these past two years.” His friend agreed. “True. It’s a shame, though. We’ve all gotten used to having Ava around.” “That’s enough. Not a word about this in front of Seraphina.” The one who isn’t loved is always the third wheel. I understood. I quit the game. Suddenly, the last two years with Sean felt completely meaningless. But tears still fell onto my phone screen. My fingers trembled as I typed out the words. It was better to make a graceful exit now than to wait for him to deliver the sentence. “Sean, Seraphina’s back. Let’s break up. I hope you get everything you’ve ever wanted.” I waited a long time. The “typing…” bubble appeared and disappeared. Sean hated texting. He always said, “Why waste time texting when you can clear things up with a two-minute phone call?” A “ding” signaled a new message. “Okay. If you ever need anything, just ask.” When things were good, I had dared to hope he might love me. Now that we were breaking up, I finally understood my place. I was just the opportunistic clown who had taken advantage of a situation. “Seraphina has always had a misunderstanding about you. I hope you two can avoid each other in the future.” I understood that message, too. He was afraid I would use some cheap trick to hurt his precious white moonlight. He was warning me. The past two years had given me the illusion that we were equals. Now that we were breaking up, I realized that he had always had the right to look down on me. I froze, my hand gripping the phone. “Okay. Understood,” I typed back. I moved out of the dorm immediately and started at the internship I had already arranged. That night, there was a welcome dinner for the new interns. Of all places, it was at the same bar where I used to work. The moment I walked in, I saw Seraphina on Sean’s arm. I quickly ducked into the next room. As I was about to leave, someone stopped me. I recognized him. A VIP at the bar named Marcus. I had met him once with Sean. I remembered they didn’t seem to like each other. His eyes raked over me. “Sean’s girlfriend?” I frowned. “Sorry, wrong room.” He smirked, a lecherous look in his eyes, and tilted my chin up with his fingers.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393817”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

For three years, my wife, Victoria, was a fixture in the headlines. This time, the story was: “Z-LIST ACTOR’S SHAMELESS THEATER FLING WITH MARRIED HEIRESS. HE KNEW.” A reporter ambushed her. “Doesn’t your husband get angry?” She answered with regal disdain. “He’s just the man who married into my money. He’s hardly fit to be seen.” Later, she would kneel in the snow, begging me to come back. “Leo, forgive me! Don’t you love me?” I threw her own words back at her. “I’m just a kept man who isn’t fit to be seen. How could I ever be worthy?” 1 【Riverton Cinema, 10 PM tonight.】 It was a rare weekend off, but one text from Evan, and I was clocking in for my other job. Evan had been coasting on Victoria’s money in the entertainment industry for three years. With mediocre talent and even worse luck, he was firmly cemented as a Z-list actor. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that Victoria, as part of my marital duties, had forced me to be his assistant. And he, in turn, paid my salary. He was notorious for calling me at all hours. Last New Year’s Eve, on one of the few nights Victoria was actually home, Evan called to demand I bring him cold medicine. Snow was falling in a dizzying white curtain as I delivered both the pills and myself to his doorstep. I was happy. And a little desolate. At the cinema, a cluster of young students were whispering excitedly. “I think I just saw Evan!” “My source says he booked a whole VIP theater for his married rich-lady girlfriend.” “The whole theater? Can you imagine? I bet it gets wild in there.” … I felt the corner of my mouth twitch. These kids were bold. They might actually try to sneak in and walk right into the middle of Victoria and Evan’s… tender moment. In Victoria’s eyes, Evan was a pure, innocent angel with a handsome face and a great body. She wouldn’t mind him getting photographed or dragged through the mud online; she’d just blame me for not doing my job properly. And a furious Evan would dock my pay. So, I slipped past the students and had a word with the theater staff. Leveraging Victoria’s name, I had a few extra security guards posted at the entrance. Once I was sure the fortress was secure, I went inside. The screen was playing a newly released blockbuster, a film Victoria had poured money into just to get Evan a bit part as some eye candy. Yes, eye candy. For all his masculine posturing, the best a pretty boy like him could do with a sugar mama was be a living ornament. In the fifth row, the prime viewing spot, Victoria was tipping Evan’s chin up, giving him a feather-light kiss. I had to admit, Victoria was stunning. Even next to a fresh-faced actor like Evan, her powerful aura was undeniable. I casually snapped a photo. It was, in a way, a beautiful picture. A notification popped up on my phone. It was Evan. 【Are you here yet?】 It seemed he was getting anxious to officially marry into the family fortune. I didn’t reply, continuing my surveillance. Annoyed that his attention was on his phone, Victoria grabbed his chin and pulled him into a more heated kiss. I rolled my eyes. Some things you just can’t unsee. Did he really think that forcing me to watch a live stream of him seducing my wife would make me so heartbroken I’d demand a divorce? The truth was, Victoria was the one who had forced me into this marriage, grinding my dignity into the dust. She wasn’t done torturing me yet. She wouldn’t let me go that easily. Suddenly, the whole charade felt pointless. I replied to Evan: 【Mr. Hayes, my apologies, I’m taking a sick day. Lucy will be there shortly.】 Lucy was Evan’s other assistant, a young girl who looked up to me. Message sent. I turned off my phone, refusing to listen to his inevitable tantrum. Leaving the theater, I walked along the riverbank, hoisting myself up onto the railing to feel the wind on my face. I used to love Victoria. She was a strong, brilliant, formidable woman. For her, it was love at first sight, and she pursued me with a fiery passion that defied convention. Weighed down by my own baggage, I rejected her time and again, but she was relentless. What finally broke through my defenses was the day I came to work with a raging fever, and she forced water and medicine past my lips with her own hands. It’s a shame her devotion had such a short shelf life. But maybe that was for the best. 2 The next morning, my phone’s ringing jolted me awake. It was Lucy. “Leo! It’s all over the internet! There’s a video of Evan with Victoria… they’re saying he’s a homewrecker! The story is blowing up, and I don’t know how to get it off the trending list… But he totally deserves it! God, Leo, you’re incredible. I don’t know how you work for him and stay so calm watching him pull all this crap.” Lucy, bless her righteous young heart, was vehemently cursing out her own boss. I was touched. “Don’t worry, Lucy. I’ll handle it.” After hanging up, I clicked the link she’d sent me. The video was two minutes long, starting with the light kiss I’d witnessed and escalating from there. In the final shot, Victoria’s hand was resting on Evan’s lower back. The implication was obvious. The comments section was brutal. 【The only thing they didn’t do was take their clothes off. And he still pretends to be so innocent, saying his mom won’t let him show his abs. LMAO.】 【CANCEL HIM!】 【Get Evan Hayes out of showbiz!】 … The article also included the picture of me sitting on the riverbank railing, under a salacious headline: “Z-LIST ACTOR’S SHAMELESS THEATER FLING WITH MARRIED HEIRESS. A KNOWING HOMWRECKER, PUSHING THE HUSBAND TO THE BRINK.” Someone had been following me? That was… unsettling. I scrolled through the comments. The top ones were a mix of people trashing Evan and Victoria, and others doing deep dives into Victoria’s family background and Evan’s less-than-honorable climb up the ladder. Me, the “husband on the brink,” was barely mentioned. This leak felt like it was about more than just Evan. Was it one of Victoria’s business rivals? After a moment’s hesitation, I forwarded the article and my suspicions to Victoria. She didn’t reply. She probably didn’t care. I wasn’t in a hurry either. I started drafting a crisis PR statement for Evan. As I was working, a text from Evan himself came through, dripping with provocation: 【Leo, I checked the cinema’s security footage. I saw you there. Jealous watching Victoria all over me? Ha. I thought you were clueless, but it turns out you’re just a coward who can take it. She doesn’t love you. Do yourself a favor, take off the horns, and divorce her!】 My patience, already thin, snapped. I forwarded him the link to the viral article. 【Evan, from where I was sitting, I couldn’t have possibly shot a video that clear.】 3 After a quick shower, I video-called Lucy. We worked until noon before things were finally under control. Throughout the morning, Evan called me repeatedly. I could perfectly picture his pathetic, frantic face. I used the excuse of being busy to ignore his tirades. He didn’t need my comfort. After double-checking the statement we’d issued, I went back to the original viral post, studying it again. Finally, I decided to contact the blogger who broke the story to ask about the video’s source. My private message went unanswered, like a stone dropped into the sea. Whatever. Time for a break. I was coming down with a cold. I quickly boiled some dumplings, ate them, and collapsed into bed to catch up on sleep. I’m a light sleeper. The roar of Victoria’s sports car pulling up to the house woke me. By the time she stormed upstairs and burst through my bedroom door, I was already dressed. “Leo, do you really think that by destroying Evan, I won’t just find another Evan? A new pretty face to replace him?” she snarled. When she was chasing me, she’d fret over the slightest frown on my face, showering me with concern and gifts. And now? Now she looked like she wanted me dead. “I’m not that naive,” I said, my hand in my pocket, secretly turning on my voice recorder. “And I know you. You might like Evan, but you’d never throw away the career you fought so hard for just for him. You’ve been investing in him for years; you expect a return. In this movie, his role is small but charming. It could have been his big break. This scandal affects his marketability, maybe even your company’s stock. That’s why you’re so angry, isn’t it?” Every time she wanted to provoke me, she either shamed me for being the man who married into her money or threw cash at Evan to spite me. She probably didn’t realize that neither of those things could hurt me anymore. All I wanted was a peaceful divorce. Victoria looked slightly taken aback, but she doubled down. “Glad you know your place!” I pressed on with my negotiation. “I couldn’t find the truth you wanted me to find all those years ago. But I’ve been your husband for three years. You’ve had lovers, you’ve ruined my career, and you’ve forced me to be Evan’s glorified gofer. You’ve seen it—my life is a miserable, chaotic mess, and I’m barely making any money. Your anger should be satisfied by now, right? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not asking for your forgiveness. I want to make a deal. If you agree, I will do everything in my power to clean up Evan’s image and help you salvage yours.” Victoria’s voice was ice. “Your terms.” “I want a divorce. Don’t worry, I won’t take any of your assets, we’ll stick to the prenup. Evan has to pay me my outstanding salary, and you will give me a substantial sum for my silence.” She sneered. “You’re dreaming!” Just then, her phone began vibrating violently. Victoria shot me a glare and went out to the balcony to take the call. When she returned, her face was a mask of grudging acceptance. “Fine. I agree.” I clicked the button to save the recording. “Pay the deposit first. Then I’m at your disposal.” To her credit, Victoria was generous. A hundred thousand dollars appeared in my account almost instantly. “Get changed,” she commanded. “Put on a decent suit. You’re coming with me to the office.” “Fine,” I said, playing my part. I took a quick shower and put on my most expensive suit. Victoria’s face was a mask of impatience. “You’re not young and cute like Evan. What’s taking you so long to change a damn shirt?” I grit my teeth and said nothing. Her eyes then fell on the jacket I had just taken off. “Did you go to the river on purpose?” Had she found the recorder? 4 I forced myself to remain calm. “The media is a beast. Why would I risk making things worse? You can check my phone. Evan’s scandal has nothing to do with me.” At my words, Victoria snatched my phone from the nightstand, unlocked it with a practiced flick of her thumb, and began to search it. My password was her birthday. A small performance to maintain the illusion of the devoted, dependent husband. The day we divorce, if I don’t change it, I’m a dog. After two minutes, she tossed the phone back at me. “You’d better not be playing games with me,” she warned. “You know I wouldn’t dare,” I said placatingly. “You’d better be right,” she hissed, her anger simmering again. “If you don’t fix this, I won’t even bother to collect your corpse.” …I swear she has some kind of rage disorder. Honestly, why can’t she just chill out? “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll make sure to die far, far away.” Besides, when you’re dead, you’re dead. I couldn’t care less what happens after. I made an excuse to tidy the room, using the opportunity to pocket the voice recorder. “Stop fussing,” Victoria snapped, slapping my arm. “I want to see your plan.” “Right.” I sent her the draft Lucy and I had worked on all morning. Seeing her displeased expression, I explained, “Right now, all we can do is suppress the story. Do you have any public events coming up?” “The Zhao family’s charity gala. In three days.” I nodded. “Should I go with you? I can play my part, follow your lead completely.” “Fine.” Victoria closed the document, her eyes scanning me from head to toe. “Let’s go,” she said, her tone imperious. “Okay.” In the car, I tried contacting the blogger again. Still nothing. Just as we pulled up to her office building, I received an anonymous text. 【Are you sure you want to help Victoria? She’s been unfaithful.】 I instinctively called the number. No answer. Just as I was about to text back, I heard Victoria’s voice, uncharacteristically gentle. “What are you so busy with?” I looked up to see her standing by the luxury car, clearly waiting for me to open her door. The performance had begun. I hurried to open it for her. She gave me a radiant smile. “Thank you, darling.” I played the dutiful husband at her company event, and then she came home with me, watching me work like a hawk. I had no chance to export the audio from the recorder or even think about who sent the anonymous text. Late that night, a call from Evan finally lured her away. Only then did I reply to the number: 【I have to help her.】 The reply was instantaneous: 【I want to see you.】 My guard went up immediately. 【Who are you?】 Could this be the person who had somehow bypassed my security measures and filmed Victoria and Evan in the theater? The person insisted: 【I want to see you.】 5 Lucy had been complaining to me just an hour before that killing the story was proving incredibly difficult. Now I knew why. This person was likely behind it. Still, what was there to fear? I was a grown man. The money was what mattered. So, I asked the mysterious figure: 【Meet now?】 Again, an instant reply: 【The viral post has been deleted.】 I immediately checked my bookmarked link. It was dead. This person was for real. I quickly asked for a meeting place. Half an hour later, I arrived at the designated private room in a high-end club. A young man at the door handed me a blindfold. I put it on without protest. Once I was led inside the room, my eyes quickly adjusted to the blackness behind the blindfold. “Who are you?” I asked into the darkness. “Can you tell?” It was a woman’s voice, melodious and soft. I had assumed it was a man playing games, but my mystery helper was a woman. I have a good memory for voices, and I was certain I’d never heard hers before. “I don’t know you,” I replied. She guided me to a seat. “Then we’ll get acquainted later.” “Why are you helping me?” I asked. She didn’t answer, instead busying herself with making tea. I was baffled but didn’t want to anger her, so I just sat there, numbly compliant. She must have put something in the air, or the tea. I actually fell asleep. When I woke with a start, my first instinct was to tear off the blindfold, but a warm, smooth hand pressed gently on mine. “Don’t.” She was still here. “Sorry, I fell asleep.” “It’s fine.” I sat up straight. “You won’t interfere with me clearing Evan’s name anymore, will you?” “I’ll help you.” “And Victoria’s company?” After a long silence, she said, “I’ll help with that, too.” When the young man helped me remove the blindfold, I realized it was already dawn. I walked to a nearby breakfast spot and ordered crab-filled soup dumplings and a bowl of sweet soy milk. As I ate, I checked the online situation. She worked fast. Searching for Evan’s name no longer brought up any negative keywords. I specifically checked his social media pages; all the hateful comments were gone. Fed and watered, I drove home. Victoria was sitting in the living room, her face taut with anger. The moment she saw me, she sneered, “Leo, which little tramp were you out seeing all night?” The hypocrisy. Did she forget that she was the one who ran off to see Evan in the middle of the night, giving me the window to do my own thing? But she was the client now. I couldn’t provoke her. “I was busy dealing with the online mess,” I explained. “Check for yourself if you don’t believe me. Only a few die-hards are still yelling about Evan, and new trending topics are popping up. Their attention will shift.” This only made her angrier. She snatched a manila envelope from the coffee table and hurled it at me. “Leo, why don’t you explain this!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393320”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On our wedding eve, Princess Hayley was caught with another man in the hunting lodge. The King, fearing my family would withdraw support, was furious. She remained calm. “Henry won’t leave me,” she said smugly. “He’s too infatuated.” The King seethed. “This isn’t a game! You’ll end things with Julian—now!” Behind the tapestry, my heart stalled. So, she’d only agreed to marry me to be with him. Hayley scoffed and left. I stepped out. The King sighed. “I tried to reason with her, but—” I shook my head. “A gentleman doesn’t steal love. If the alliance matters, consider your sister, Vanessa.” 1 My proposal left the King utterly stunned. “Henry, you can’t be serious. Vanessa… she’s a widow. You wouldn’t mind that?” “The Duchess and I are of a similar age,” I replied smoothly. “She should not be condemned to a life of hollow mourning for a husband she never even met, who passed so young. It is no life for a woman in her prime.” After a tense negotiation, the King finally consented to the match between me and his sister, Vanessa. When it came down to it, if Hayley’s scandal became public, it would be an unbearable stain on the royal family’s honor. “Your Majesty, these are the tributes from the Khergit envoys.” Handing the ledger to the King, I took my leave and made my way to Princess Hayley’s residence. It was almost laughable. For years, I had bent to her every whim, done everything in my power to earn a single glance of affection. I had come to the palace today hoping to impress my future father-in-law, only to stumble upon this… revelation. The moment I stepped into her opulent villa, a flicker of panic crossed Hayley’s face, swiftly replaced by a blaze of fury. “Henry Valerius! Who gave you permission to enter my home as you please?!” she snapped. “I’m warning you, one more disrespectful move and I’ll tell my father the wedding is off! Don’t think a royal decree means I’m chained to you!” In the past, my jealousy over Julian had made me obsessive. I’d followed her, constantly seeking reassurance, my mind a frantic mess of suspicion and anxiety. I had debased myself, all for the chance to marry her. Her current reaction, I supposed, was to be expected. “Good,” I said, my voice flat. “Because as it happens, you’re not the one I want to marry anymore.” Hayley let out a cold, mocking laugh. “Oh, stop posturing. You think I don’t know you? You groveled at my feet for months, wrote me endless letters, followed me around like a pathetic lapdog I couldn’t shake off!” I knew then that arguing was pointless. She was utterly convinced, deep in her bones, that I would never, ever give up on our marriage. As I turned to leave, my eyes caught a tell-tale mark on her throat, a flush of crimson just below her ear. The King’s words from the study echoed in my mind. There was only one explanation. It was from Julian. A woman of her station was meant to guard her reputation fiercely; a princess, even more so. Yet for Julian, Hayley was willing to cast aside all decorum, all honor. It was clear she loved him to the point of madness. Even knowing I would never marry her, a bitter resentment churned in my gut. An acidic burn rose in my throat, choking back the accusations I longed to hurl. I turned back, my gaze locking onto hers, searching, pleading for a flicker of shame, of guilt. She must have misinterpreted my stare. She snatched a porcelain teacup from the table and threw it at me. It shattered at my feet. “Staring at a lady’s neck? Is that the famed Valerius etiquette you’re so proud of?!” she shrieked. “Don’t think I don’t know what filthy thoughts are running through your head! Let me tell you something—even if we do get married, if you ever dare to force yourself on me, I’ll have my father ruin your entire house!” My expression turned to ice. A humorless smile touched my lips. “Rest assured, Princess. I have absolutely no interest in you.” “Don’t you lie to me! The only reason you’re so desperate to marry me is for what’s between my legs, isn’t it?” For some reason, her words were a physical blow. A sharp, brutal pang shot through my chest, the bitterness flooding from my mouth straight to my heart. So, that’s all I was to her. Defeated, with nothing left to say, I turned and walked away. 2 For several days, there was nothing but silence from Hayley. Then, tonight, she appeared at my door, a drunken Julian leaning heavily on her. “Julian’s father is being investigated by the Crown’s inquisitors. He needs to lay low at your estate for a few days.” Before I could even think of refusing, she had already guided him into a guest chamber. And then, the Princess of the realm became a common servant. She bustled about, tending to him with a frantic energy. She brewed a sobering tonic, sponged his face and chest, and even helped him out of his shirt and into a fresh linen one. I remembered last year. To prove myself worthy of a princess, I’d spent my nights at banquets with corrupt officials, gathering evidence against them, and had worked myself into a feverish illness. She never once visited, never once asked after me. In fact, she’d mocked me for it. “Look at you, a sickly wreck. And you think you’re worthy of me? What a joke.” As I passed the guest room, I saw her. Julian had pulled her into his arms, holding her tight. Her lips were swollen and red, and on her neck was another fresh, damning mark. She looked up, her eyes meeting mine. She scrambled to her feet, flustered. “Henry, it’s not what you think. Don’t get the wrong idea.” Her reaction told me she was, at least, aware of the shame of her premarital affair. It just didn’t stop her. I gave a cold, detached curl of my lip. “Your Highness, I understand perfectly. I shall take my leave.” I returned to my own chambers without waiting for her reply, but to my surprise, she followed me in. “I know you’re upset. You don’t have to bottle it up. Just say what’s on your mind,” she said, her tone almost reasonable. “But I need you to know that nothing happened between Julian and me. We are innocent.” She said it with such conviction, her words ringing with self-righteousness. I found it utterly laughable. “Innocent?” I finally shot back. “Princess, you and Julian were discovered in the Royal Gardens, your clothes in disarray, by a member of the King’s own council. Is that your definition of innocent?” She froze, her face paling. It took her a long moment to recover. “A bug… a bug fell into my dress. I asked Julian to help me get it out,” she stammered. “We didn’t do anything.” Lies. One after another. In the past, I would have argued, fought her on every point, but it never led anywhere. My silence seemed to convince her she’d won. She summoned a servant, who brought in a long, velvet-lined box. She presented it to me. “Alright, then. I know how much you enjoy your swordsmanship. Consider this an early wedding gift.” I stared at the dueling saber inside the box. I was stunned. She had forgotten. Or perhaps she never knew. Since the day I’d saved her from a fall as a child, my health had been fragile. I had a lingering weakness that made any sort of rigorous martial training impossible. As for a love of swordsmanship… that was Julian’s passion, not mine. He was the brute, the brawler. But of course, she wouldn’t remember my preferences. Her world revolved around Julian. Seeing my hesitation, her patience wore thin. “I promise,” she said, her voice sharp, “if you stop making a fuss, I will marry you. You will be my husband, at least in name.” Her words piqued a morbid curiosity in me. “In name only? What does that mean?” “It means I will not share your bed. And if you try to force me, then I won’t marry you at all.” So, you won’t share my bed, but you’ll share Julian’s. The thought was cold and clear. She was so certain that I would agree to anything, any humiliation, just to have her. “It’s late, Princess. You should leave.” I ignored her protests and moved to close the door. She seemed ready to argue further, but a sudden clap of thunder rattled the windows. A panicked shout came from the guest room. Julian. Her face immediately flooded with worry. “I have to check on Julian. I’ll come back and talk to you after he’s asleep.” She turned and hurried away. Half an hour passed. It wasn’t Hayley who came to my door. It was Julian. He showed no signs of being drunk. Instead, he radiated a smug, post-coital languor. He gave me a lazy, triumphant smirk. “The Princess has fallen asleep in the guest chamber,” he said, his voice a low drawl. “Regarding tonight’s… events. I trust a man of your stature knows how to be discreet, yes?” I looked at him, and to my own surprise, I felt a profound, unnerving calm. It was as if she had finally, truly been excised from my heart. Meeting his gaze, I offered a polite, placid smile. “Of course. You can count on my discretion.” 3 When I returned from my duties at the ministry the next day, I found Hayley in my main hall. She looked momentarily awkward upon seeing me. “I was so tired last night, I ended up just sleeping here.” I just smiled and said nothing. She picked up a bowl of porridge from the table and, with a sudden and startling attentiveness, held a spoonful to my lips. “Here, try this. I woke up at dawn to make it.” What a marvel. The princess, whose hands had never touched a pot or pan in her life, waking at dawn to cook. I took the spoon and tasted it. “It’s quite good.” The words were barely out of my mouth before she snatched the bowl back. A delighted, childlike grin spread across her face. “Wonderful! If a man with a palate as refined as yours approves, then Julian will surely love it!” she chirped, already turning and heading towards his room. Watching her go, so full of giddy excitement, I felt a sudden, hollowing emptiness. It made sense, I suppose. In all our years together, she had never once cooked for me. It was always me catering to her, learning her tastes, preparing her meals, hoping for a crumb of her affection. “Julian, my love, time to wake up and have your breakfast!” Hayley’s sweet, cloying voice pulled me from my thoughts. I turned away, heading for my study. I had no desire to witness their saccharine display. By the time I finished my work, Hayley was gone, but Julian remained. He greeted me with that same infuriatingly cheerful grin. “Henry, my friend! Hayley went out to fetch some medicine for me. Come, join me for a meal.” I was hungry, so I didn’t refuse. The moment I sat down, he placed a piece of meat in my bowl. “You know, Henry,” he began, his tone dripping with false sympathy, “I almost admire you. To wear the horns so proudly and still insist on marrying her.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Tell me, are you truly that blind, or are you just… pathetic?” This was his favorite tactic: enrage me, make me lose my composure in front of Hayley. But I no longer cared about Hayley. And I certainly had no intention of wasting another moment on a man like him. 4 I rose from the table and went to my study to pack. After my wedding to Vanessa, I was to be dispatched to the Sunstone Coast to serve as the regional governor. It was time to get my affairs in order. But when I opened the cabinet in my study, I found it empty. My mother’s bracelet—the mother-of-pearl heirloom she had given me on her deathbed—was gone. It had been passed down through generations of her family. “When you marry,” she had whispered, her voice thin as paper, “give this to your wife. And bring her to visit my grave, so I can rest in peace.” It was more than just an heirloom. It was the last tangible piece of her I had left. “Looking for this, Henry?” I whipped my head around at the sound of Julian’s voice. There it was, dangling mockingly from his fingers. The mother-of-pearl bracelet. “Give it back,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “That was my mother’s.” He let out a contemptuous snort. “Oh, the late Lady Valerius’s personal effects? How touching.” And then, he simply opened his hand. The bracelet hit the stone floor and shattered into a dozen milky-white fragments. In that instant, a volcanic rage erupted inside me, incinerating all reason. I lunged forward and my fist connected with his jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground. As if on cue, Hayley chose that exact moment to walk through the door. She gasped, rushing to Julian’s side, fussing over him, checking him for injuries. Once she was satisfied he was unharmed, she rounded on me, her eyes spitting fire. “Henry! What is wrong with you?! Apologize to Julian this instant!” She didn’t know. She didn’t care to know. She just saw her beloved on the floor and me standing over him. It was always like this. For Julian, she had infinite trust, boundless compassion. For me, the man who had poured out his soul for her, there was only prejudice. “Do you think staying silent will solve anything? Apologize!” she demanded again. Her fury was a physical force, and my own resentment rose to meet it. “He deliberately smashed my mother’s bracelet. Don’t you think he deserved it?” “I gave that thing to Julian,” she retorted icily. “If he smashed it, he smashed it. What’s the problem?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393336”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The spotlight glared at the launch event for the Stellara Apex S8. This was supposed to be the moment my wife, Caroline—the CEO—finally told the world about us. But then he walked on stage, her old flame, Fred, just back from a long stint overseas, his smile dripping with smug satisfaction. “Caroline,” he announced, his voice booming through the auditorium, “I can finally love you out in the open, for everyone to see.” Caroline didn’t explain. She didn’t even glance my way. Instead, she leaned in and gave him a soft, lingering kiss right there on stage, then declared to the world that Fred was the new Lead Developer of the Apex S8 project. The reaction was instantaneous. Applause thundered through the hall, and online forums exploded with messages of congratulations. They were a power couple, a perfect match. Seeing my stony silence, Caroline’s eyes narrowed, flashing a warning. “Ethan, what’s with the long face? You got a problem?” I didn’t argue. I didn’t cause a scene. I just gave her a slight nod and, in front of everyone, tossed my Lead Developer badge into the nearest trash can. “Of course I have a problem,” I said, my voice calm but carrying. “A man of Fred’s talent deserves more than just a title. Why stop at an announcement? You two should get married right here, right now. Let us all share in the joy.” 1 A wave of shock rippled through my colleagues as they watched my badge clatter against the bottom of the bin. They knew. They all knew I’d bled for the Apex S8, run myself into the ground, a collection of stress-induced illnesses my only reward. But then, a flicker of understanding dawned on their faces. One by one, they gave me subtle nods, some even a thumbs-up, their expressions a mix of pity and admiration for my supposed “magnanimity.” Only Caroline, on her throne of a stage, looked ready to kill. I met her furious gaze without a shred of desire to explain myself. Caroline had always hated the idea of office romance. In our six years of marriage, my existence as her husband was the company’s best-kept secret. I’d pleaded with her, time and again, to go public, but she’d always shut me down, claiming a CEO had to set an example. She promised me that on the day the Apex S8 was successfully launched, she would finally acknowledge me. Now, with a casual smile, she had handed my life’s work, my identity, to another man. As the crowd’s whispers turned to Fred, their eyes filled with a new, speculative curiosity, Caroline’s patience finally snapped. “Ethan, what the hell is wrong with you?” she hissed into her mic. I managed a thin, bitter smile. “Who am I to stand in the way of true love?” My devotion had been worthless against the ghost of a past romance. I said no more, simply turned my back on the stage, and walked out. The Apex S8 was a triumph because of my sleepless nights and my network of top-tier industry contacts who’d helped me push the core technology to its limits. I had collapsed from exhaustion more times than I could count, all to build the pedestal she was standing on today. But now, the last embers of my love for her had turned to ash. I was done building a world for someone else to live in. The project was nearly complete, but I knew Fred. He was all style and no substance, a “visionary” with a fancy overseas degree who wouldn’t be able to finish my remaining work in three years, let alone three weeks. Outside, I unlocked the beat-up electric scooter Caroline had so “generously” provided for me. A hollow laugh escaped my lips. For six years, she controlled every penny. I’d asked for a simple car for my commute, just a used sedan, but she’d refused. “We already have a car,” she’d said, her voice sharp with disapproval. “Why waste the money? Do you have to compare yourself to everyone else?” But in six years, she’d never once let me ride in her car, always citing appearances. I’d accepted it, telling myself it was for the good of the company. I finally understood the truth the day Fred returned and she bought him a brand-new Maybach without a second thought. It was never about the company. It was just that she never had any room for me in her heart. My own heart felt like a dead weight in my chest. I was about to head home to pack my things when the gleaming black Maybach cut me off. Fred rolled down the window, a smug grin plastered on his face. “Ethan, you really think Caroline would ever go public with a broke-ass loser like you? You’re dreaming. Thank God she announced it was me today. Imagine the laughing stock the company would be if it were you.” He looked down on me, his words dripping with contempt. It was his favorite game: provoke me, then play the victim to drive a wedge between Caroline and me. Nearly every fight we’d ever had could be traced back to him. This time, I couldn’t be bothered to engage. Just then, Caroline appeared. In a flash, Fred gunned the engine and deliberately scraped the Maybach against a nearby utility pole. “Oh my God, Ethan, are you okay?” he cried, feigning panic. “It’s all my fault, I didn’t see you on your scooter!” He scrambled out of the car, rushing to my side with a look of theatrical concern. “I know you’re upset that I got the credit for your work, but you shouldn’t have swerved in front of me like that! What if you’d been seriously hurt? I’d feel guilty for the rest of my life.” I was done with the drama. I tried to ride away, but Caroline was faster. One swift, brutal kick sent me and the scooter crashing to the pavement. “If you want to die, go do it somewhere else!” she snarled, her face a mask of cold fury. “Don’t you dare try to pin this on Fred!” If she had just looked, just for a second, she would have seen who was truly at fault. But she didn’t want to see. In that moment, the last of my hope withered and died. Fred pretended to help me up. I shoved his hand away, and he immediately crumpled to the ground, wincing in fake pain. It was kindergarten-level acting, but for Caroline, it was an award-winning performance. Without a word, she slapped me hard across the face, then rushed to Fred, cradling him in her arms as if he were made of glass. She bundled him into the Maybach and sped away, running three red lights to get him to a hospital. The scene replayed in my mind: the time I’d been hospitalized with a bleeding stomach after a brutal networking dinner for the company. She’d shown up, handed me a bottle of water and some antacids, and told me to rest up. I let out a dry, bitter laugh, pulled my battered scooter upright, and went home. Later that night, Fred posted on his story. “Getting hurt isn’t so bad when the boss buys you a five-star dinner.” The picture was of Caroline, smiling sweetly as she fed him a bite of food. Expressionless, I typed a single comment: A match made in heaven. A moment later, my phone rang. It was Caroline. I expected her to yell at me for ruining their dinner. Instead, her voice was soft. “Ethan, you know how Fred is. He’s just… young. Give him a few years to mature, and then I’ll tell everyone about us. I promise.” “The Lead Developer title is just for show,” she continued. “Behind the scenes, you’ll still be in charge. The team still answers to you.” “Mhm,” I said, my voice flat. The classic one-two punch of cruelty and kindness. I’d been swallowing that bait for six years. Now, I was sick of it. Sensing my mood, she paused. “I left a gift for you in the drawer,” she said finally. “A little something to make up for today. Can we just… not fight about this?” I opened the drawer. Inside was a beautifully wrapped box. Printed on the gift tag, in elegant script, were the words: For my dearest Fred. So it was his gift. No wonder she sounded so conflicted giving it to me. I didn’t argue. I didn’t say another word. I just quietly ended the call. I didn’t even bother to open it. The box went straight into the trash. Then, I picked up my phone and dialed the number for a recruiter at Tesla, a man who’d been trying to poach me for years. “I’ve made my decision,” I said. “I can start next month.” 2 As one of the top EV companies in the world, Tesla had been sending me offers for years. Each year, the salary and benefits got better. But I had turned them down every time, without a moment’s hesitation, all to stay by Caroline’s side. On the other end of the line, the recruiter, fearing I might change my mind, immediately offered me the position of Director of R&D, complete with a company car and a fully furnished house. A knot tightened in my chest. In a single phone call, a stranger had shown me more value and respect than my own wife had in six years of marriage. I thought back to the beginning. It was Caroline’s offhand comment about wanting to be a CEO that made me give up a guaranteed executive position to start a company with her from scratch. I poured my life into it. Countless all-nighters, endless schmoozing for investors, a body wracked with chronic illnesses—that was the price I paid to put her, who had done nothing, on the CEO’s throne. I willingly became the ghost in the machine, the man behind the curtain. I had given her everything she ever wanted, only to watch her hand it all to someone else. From now on, I was living for myself. That night, I booked a flight and drafted my resignation letter. I also compiled all the final technical specifications, safety protocols, and a detailed pricing strategy for the Apex S8, and sent it all to Caroline’s email. Now, I owed her nothing. As I packed, I unearthed a trove of long-forgotten memories. Matching sweaters, his-and-hers bracelets, a photo album filled with snapshots of a happier time. Everything was covered in a fine layer of dust, a testament to how long they’d been neglected. It all started to change the day Fred came back. The cozy nights in our tiny apartment, the fireworks we watched on New Year’s Eve, the way she’d stay up with me whenever I was sick, the promises we whispered in the dark—all of it slowly faded. It was replaced by her all-nighters at the “office,” her weekend trips with Fred. Even when I was sick in bed, she no longer offered a single word of comfort. Love, I realized, could truly die. I had once asked her why, my heart aching with confusion. Her response was a cold wave of disdain. “We’ve been married for years, Ethan. How can you be so much less mature than Fred?” “Fred is a talent, a visionary. Of course I’m going to give him more resources. It’s for the future of our company. Can’t you be less petty for once?” Staring at the photo album, I felt a profound sense of foolishness. I tossed it into the trash can with the rest of the garbage. My phone buzzed. A message from Caroline. “Working late at the office. I can’t make it for our anniversary tonight. We’ll celebrate next year.” I didn’t reply. I just quietly canceled the flowers and the reservation I’d made for our candlelight dinner. In the past, she would have just ghosted me. This time, she at least bothered to make an excuse. Progress, I supposed. I scrolled mindlessly through my news feed. The top story featured a splashy headline: “Tech CEO and Her Old Flame Spotted on a Romantic Beach Getaway, Complete with Fireworks.” The faces in the photo were painfully familiar. Caroline and Fred. The comments were flooded with heart emojis and blessings. I added my own like to their happiness. Then, I took a long, hot shower, went out for a drink, and stopped by a print shop to get copies of a divorce petition. It was well past midnight when I stumbled back home. The first thing I saw was Caroline, standing in the living room, her face a thundercloud of fury. “So now you have the guts to go out carousing all night, do you?” 3 I yawned, a little surprised. She was actually home. Usually, whenever Fred was involved, she’d stay with him, glued to his side. I ignored her and started for the bedroom. She grabbed my arm, her grip like steel. “It’s our anniversary, and you go out drinking? And here I was, rushing back from work just to be with you.” Her voice was laced with accusation. “Ethan, is this how you fulfill your duties as a husband?” Duties? The woman could lie without blinking, and now she had the audacity to lecture me about responsibility? She spends our anniversary watching fireworks with another man, then comes home to blame me for being irresponsible. I remembered all the nights I’d waited up for her, only to be called “immature” and “clingy,” to be told I should focus my energy on work instead of bothering her. Now that I’d stopped caring, she couldn’t stand it. “Yeah, whatever,” I mumbled, just wanting to sleep. She yanked me back, her eyes cold and hard. “I haven’t showered. You can join me.” A year ago, an invitation like that would have sent my heart soaring. I would have dropped everything, all my anger and resentment, to wash her back and feel her close. Now, it just felt like another one of her games. I noticed the faint, dark mark on her neck—a kiss. A wave of nausea washed over me. I pushed her away, my voice rough with irritation. “I’ve already showered. You go.” Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Is this because I came home late on our anniversary? I told you, I was busy with work! Why are you being so unreasonable?” she demanded. “I didn’t say a word about you going out drinking, and this is the attitude I get?” With that, she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. In the past, I would have chased after her. I would have begged, apologized, and taken all the blame. Tonight, I just climbed into bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. The next morning, I woke up feeling refreshed and made myself a single-portion breakfast. Just as I was about to eat, I noticed Caroline was still home. That was new. She never came back unless I groveled first. With a sigh, I pushed my plate across the table to her. Her expression softened slightly. Then I saw them. A set of Porsche keys sitting on the counter. My heart gave a painful lurch. It was my dream car, the one I’d told her about a hundred times, the one she always said we couldn’t afford. Noticing my gaze, Caroline had the grace to look uncomfortable. “They’re a birthday present for Fred,” she said quietly. “I’ll get yours next time.” The world plunged into an icy abyss. I laughed, a hollow, self-mocking sound. Of course. Why did I think for a second she might have changed? I nodded, forcing a smile. Then I slid two documents across the table toward her. “Just a couple of papers that need your signature.” She took them, her annoyance returning. “Give you an inch and you take a mile.” She signed the first document—my resignation letter—without even reading it. A sharp pain lanced through my chest, even though I’d expected it. She signed the second one, too. It wasn’t until she’d finished her signature that she looked at the title. Divorce Agreement.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393357”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

For eight years, I secretly dated my best friend’s sister, Eleonora Chan—the powerful CEO who was my boss by day, my lover by night. I discovered the receipt for a one-of-a-kind engagement ring and followed her to a lavishly decorated venue, heart pounding. But it wasn’t me she proposed to—it was a man who looked exactly like me. “Finally got your golden boy back,” her friend smirked. “When will you dump the substitute?” Nora exhaled cigarette smoke lazily. “The poor boy’s too in love. I’ll deal with him later.” That night, I texted my mother: [I’ll accept the arranged marriage.] And when Nora saw my marriage license photo on her wedding day—the color drained from her face. 1 After confirming the marriage alliance with my mother, I booked the first flight out. Forcing the image of Nora’s proposal from my mind, I rushed back to the apartment we shared and threw my belongings into a suitcase. I was in the living room, grabbing my last few things, when Nora walked in, her face lit with a joy I’d never seen before. “Oh, Dustin,” she sighed, wrapping her arms around me from behind. “I love you so much. Let’s be together forever, okay?” She leaned in to kiss me, her breath thick with the scent of alcohol and a sharp, overpowering cologne. It was the same classic cologne she always insisted on buying for me, no matter how many times I told her I preferred the warmer, woody scent of cedar. I’d even gotten an earful from her the few times I’d forgotten to wear it. Now I understood. The man she loved, the man who wore this scent, was someone else entirely. From the very beginning, I was nothing more than a replica she was crafting. A wave of disgust washed over me, and I flinched away from her touch. But the desire in her eyes didn’t fade. She slammed me against the door, her cool hands already sliding under the hem of my shirt. “Nora! Get off me!” Surprise flickered in her eyes. I had never spoken to her like that. She opened her mouth to question me, but the doorbell chimed, interrupting the moment. She opened the door, and a man burst in, sweeping her into his arms and planting a quick kiss on her cheek. Then he saw me, his smile a blinding, triumphant glare. “You must be Dustin,” he said, his voice dripping with false cordiality. “The secretary who’s been by Nora’s side for eight years, right?” “Pleasure to meet you. I’m James, Nora’s fiancé. Thanks for looking after her for me all these years!” The rich scent of that same cologne wafted off him, identical to the one clinging to Nora. It was suffocating. I didn’t move. I just stared at her. Nora faltered for a second before her gaze slid away from mine. “Yes,” she confirmed, her voice suddenly flat. “This is the junior secretary I told you about. He doesn’t make much, so I let him stay in the guest room. It’s convenient for when I need help with odd jobs.” James waved a dismissive hand. “Nora, darling, why are you explaining again? I’m not some petty man who can’t separate business from personal life. Besides,” he added, his eyes scanning me up and down, “he looks so much like me. It must have been comforting for you to have him around. In a way, I should be thanking him!” He then gestured grandly towards his luggage. “Since Dustin knows the layout, perhaps he could be a dear and move my things into your room? We’re getting married soon, after all. It’s about time we started living together properly!” He issued the order with a beaming smile, and Nora said nothing to object. I thought of all the times I had pleaded to move into the master bedroom with her. She had always refused, insisting that couples needed their own space. Only on nights when passion overtook her would she let me stay. If I ever accidentally left so much as a sock behind, her face would cloud over, and she’d lecture me about respecting boundaries. I had always thought it was just a part of her meticulous, self-disciplined nature. But the truth was, the role of the man of the house was never meant for me. Suddenly, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Nora. [Babe, it’s just a business arrangement with James, a sham marriage for the company. Don’t misunderstand.] I almost laughed. She was still treating me like a child. Fine. If she said her marriage was fake, then it was fake. As long as mine was real. I headed towards the guest room to finish packing, but James beat me to it. “Dustin, Nora is quite attached to me, so it wouldn’t be appropriate for you to stay here any longer. You should probably find your own place soon…” He trailed off as he entered the room. “Oh, you’re already halfway packed? And your style… it’s just like mine! What a coincidence!” A chilling coldness crept through me. Buying me clothes and watches had always been Nora’s favorite way of showing affection. I once believed it was proof of her love. Now, looking at the room full of clothes and accessories that never quite suited me, I saw how perfectly they would fit James. It was I who had been the impostor all along. I didn’t have the energy to confront her. But as I turned to leave, Nora grabbed my arm, her face hardening. “Why are you packing? Did something happen? Talk to me!” I looked away, unable to meet her gaze. Just then, I saw James reach for the music box on my nightstand. “Don’t touch that!” I yelled. With a sickening crash, the music box shattered on the floor, its delicate lid and tiny figurines of a prince and princess scattering like broken promises. “Oh… I’m so sorry, Dustin. I didn’t mean to…” James clutched his hand, a thin red line appearing on his palm. “Nora, my hand… it hurts…” Nora rushed to his side, examining the scratch as if it were a mortal wound. The next second, she whirled on me, her face a mask of fury. She stomped on the remains of the music box, grinding the delicate pieces under her heel. “It’s just a stupid trinket!” she spat, her eyes burning with a terrifying rage. “Did you have to scare him like that, Dustin?!” “Get this trash out of here. I never want to see it in this house again!” With one final, vicious twist of her foot, she crushed what was left of the music box into dust. Then, supporting a whimpering James, she walked out without a backward glance. Tears splashed onto the wreckage. Shards of wood and metal bit into my fingers as I gathered the pieces, but I felt nothing. I was sixteen when my parents’ marriage fell apart. Lost and alone, I’d gone to my best friend Leo’s house, hoping to find him. He wasn’t there, but his older sister, Nora, had just returned from a shopping trip. “Hey, kid,” she’d said gently, noticing my tears. “You’re Leo’s friend, aren’t you? What’s wrong? You can tell me.” I tried to leave, too embarrassed to speak, but she held me back. She shooed away her own friends and told me to wait. Then she ran out into the pouring rain and came back with an armful of cakes and pastries from the best bakery in town. She ruffled my hair and, with a conspiratorial whisper, produced a beautiful music box. As its gentle melody filled the air, the tiny prince and princess on top began to twirl. “Don’t be scared, kid,” she’d said, her voice a warm blanket. “No matter what anyone else does, this big sister, right here? I’ll protect you for the rest of your life. I swear it on this music box.” Her simple, earnest promise had captured my heart in that moment of utter despair. I had loved Eleonora Chan for ten years, from that day to this. I still remembered her vow, every word of it. But the woman who made it had long since forgotten. I cradled the handful of sharp memories for a moment longer, then tossed them into the trash. The vow, and Nora herself—I was done with them both.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393375”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel