Category: English

I Was Reincarnated as a She-Wolf. When the Alpha Howled His Commands, I Barely Managed a Half-Hearted Yip. Because of my epic laziness, I was exiled from the pack. Starving and dizzy, I finally stumbled upon a human trail. Throwing away my wolf pride, I rolled onto my back and shamelessly begged the humans for food. Sustained by Twinkies and hotdogs, I even grew a glossy, luxurious winter coat. The Alpha ran hundreds of miles to find me, only to see my pathetic display. His hackles raised as he roared: “I just have one question—why is your tail wagging so high?!” 1 Every time I ovulate, I revert back to a human girl. I always find a hidden spot to secretly get through it. Unfortunately, the old Alpha caught a whiff of my overwhelming scent and found me. Ahhh! Wake up, buddy! We have a biological barrier here! I practically tumbled over myself scrambling up a tree, barely escaping by the skin of my teeth. After that, the old Alpha lost a duel to a low-ranking wolf named Shadow and was exiled from the pack. Shadow killed the old Alpha’s pups and took his place. I hadn’t even woken up yet when Shadow stood on the mountain peak and started howling. From all directions, the pack howled back, their voices ringing out in a unified, deafening chorus. It’s way too early for this! Let a wolf sleep, will you?! I lifted a paw, covered my ear, and tried to go back to sleep. “Why aren’t you howling? Watch out, the Alpha will come beat you up,” the wolf next to me kindly warned. I’ve literally reincarnated as an animal, and I still can’t just lie flat? I hate this! I hate hustle culture! Without even bothering to open my eyes, I gave a half-hearted, weak a-woo. “You’re so brave. Do you know how terrifying Shadow is?” Isn’t it just a story of a try-hard who grinded his way to the top and became Alpha? What’s so terrifying about that? Suddenly, a thunderous sound approached, accompanied by an incredibly oppressive wave of testosterone. I jolted awake, scrambled to my feet, and ran to the edge of the hill to look. I saw Shadow looking furious, leading a massive swarm of wolves straight toward me. Dust and dirt kicked up everywhere they went. I was so terrified my fur instantly spiked up like a sawblade. He’s not here to beat me up; he’s here to kill me! Without looking back, I bolted, running for my life. Panting and wheezing, I ran over a hundred and fifty miles without stopping, finally making it out of the primeval forest. Running all night left me parched and starving. I found a river to drink from, but a massive water buffalo suddenly burst out of the water. I was so scared I didn’t even dare to drink. I turned and ran for my life again. So hungry… so hungry… I stumbled and swayed before just collapsing on the ground and falling asleep. Ugh… if I’m asleep, I won’t feel hungry. Half-asleep, I felt something fuzzy brushing against my nose. I opened my eyes halfway. There was a rabbit right in front of me. “Ah-woo.” I opened my mouth but couldn’t bring myself to bite down. It’s an old rabbit. The meat will be too tough. Hard pass. In the middle of the night, I mustered up my courage and crept back to the river, belly to the ground. While the water buffalo was sleeping, I quickly snatched a fish and bolted. 2 In the bushes, a pair of golden wolf eyes moved slowly, looking exceptionally cold and terrifying in the moonlight. I perked my ears up, staring at him warily. He stepped out of the bushes. He was a young male wolf, nearly six and a half feet long. His fur was sleek and shiny, his muscles lean and defined, but what stood out most were those chilling, terrifying golden pupils. My breath hitched. “Who are you? What do you want?” I backed up step by step, staying on high alert. If he dares to pounce, I’ll… I’ll run! “Why aren’t you with your pack?” He just stopped in front of me, not moving any closer. This wolf radiated an incredibly dangerous aura. I felt like I had smelled this scent somewhere before, but I couldn’t quite place it. Whatever, too lazy to think about it. Maybe all male wolves smell this gross. I knew that in the brutal animal kingdom, being a lone wolf was incredibly dangerous. But… “I was being hunted by the Alpha! Wouldn’t you run?” He looked surprised. “Why did you think he wanted to kill you?” “He’s a petty wolf!” So what if my howl was a little half-hearted? He actually brought the whole pack to hunt me down over it! “You’re too weak. If you don’t stay with a pack, you’ll die.” When he called me weak, he wasn’t just talking about my combat skills. I was less than four feet long, and I was a white wolf. Snow-white fur provides zero camouflage in the wild, making me an easy target for predators. “Are you weak too? Why aren’t you with a pack?” He didn’t look like a weak wolf to me. He was silent for a moment. “Yeah. Pretty much the same as you.” Ah, so he just looks intimidating, but he’s actually a rejected, weak wolf just like me. Feeling a sense of camaraderie, I didn’t chase him away. Instead, I made a spot for him to sleep. He asked me, “What’s your name?” “Maya.” That was my human name. “What about you? What’s yours?” “I’m… Nolan.” The deep wilderness was so quiet you could only hear the wind. I slept until the sun was high in the sky. I yawned, lazily propping myself up to look at Nolan. I didn’t expect him to be even lazier than me. A mosquito landed on his ear, and he just twitched it without even opening his eyes. With my ears flattened, I kept my head low and crawled forward. Strangely, I didn’t see the water buffalo from yesterday. I carefully sniffed around and caught a super intense scent of blood. Following the smell, I found the water buffalo dead by the river, covered in blood. Flies were buzzing all over it. Looking at the bite marks, this giant beast had clearly been killed by a wolf. Huh? Is there some badass… I mean, badass wolf nearby? “Why aren’t you eating?” Nolan suddenly appeared behind me. “The meat is too tough, the skin is too thick, and flies are shitting on it. I’m passing.” He didn’t expect a wolf to be this picky, refusing to eat this and that even when starving to death. With the water buffalo gone, I splashed around in the river, catching fish. I also rolled around in the water to wash my snow-white fur. And… the strong female scent— It was almost time for me to revert back to a human girl. Meanwhile, the lazy wolf Nolan laid on a rock, resting his chin on his paws, watching me lazily through half-closed eyes. “A herd of elephants is going to pass through here soon. We need to leave,” he said. “I don’t want to.” I finally found a place with food and water. I haven’t even started my lazy wolf life yet. “Do you want to get flattened by an elephant?” 3 Cherish your wolf life; stay away from elephant herds. I ended up following Nolan. Crossing the plains, we entered a jungle. My keen senses picked up the scent of a wolf pack. Overjoyed, I followed the scent. Under a tree, a scrawny male wolf was gnawing on a piece of rotting meat. The meat was foul and filthy; I wouldn’t eat it even if I were starving. I suppressed my disgust and walked over. “Hi there, can I meet your Alpha?” If I’m lucky and meet a generous Alpha, I can start my lazy life of mooching off the pack. The skinny wolf saw me and gave a wicked grin. “Sure, follow me.” I didn’t think much of it and followed him. After a few steps, he suddenly spun around and pounced on me, pinning me down. “Ahhhh! What are you doing?!” My brain short-circuited. I instinctively fought with everything I had to escape. But he was too strong. Pinned beneath him, I couldn’t break free. When I realized what he was trying to do, my mind went blank. I just curled my tail tightly over my butt. Even though he was skinny, male wolves have an absolute advantage over females in both size and strength. Just when I was exhausted and hopelessly thought my butt was doomed, the weight on me suddenly vanished. Nolan was tangled in a vicious fight with the skinny wolf. Without daring to look back, I seized the chance and ran for my life. I sprinted across a gravel bank, through a meadow, and finally stopped at a watering hole, panting heavily. I laid by the river, took a few gulps of water, and then heard Nolan’s howl: “A-woo—” I heard that kind of howl often. It was the howl of victory. Even though my heart was still pounding, I remembered Nolan had just saved my butt, so I headed back. When I returned, the scene before me was shocking. The skinny wolf’s neck was snapped; he was lying dead on the ground with his mouth open. Nolan had his paw on another wolf, who appeared to be the pack’s Alpha. The Alpha was barely clinging to life, panting heavily, his belly heaving. The rest of the pack watched in stunned silence. None dared to challenge this outsider male wolf. Nolan saw me, released the Alpha, and slowly walked toward me under the pack’s watchful eyes. I was so terrified I gulped. I didn’t expect this lazy wolf to be such a badass! He narrowed his eyes at me. “What, are you scared of me?” I shook my head, then nodded, suddenly too tongue-tied to speak. 4 I really couldn’t figure out what this big boss wanted. Wherever I went, he followed. While I was still trying to catch fish and rabbits, he had already hunted down several water buffaloes and wildebeests. A familiar, strange sensation surged through my body. I knew it was time for me to revert back to a human girl. To keep Nolan from discovering my secret, I sneaked away while he was sleeping. I needed to find a safe, hidden spot before I transformed. Finally, over three hundred miles away, I found a cave. The entrance was hidden by vegetation, and there were plenty of decaying leaves to mask my scent. To avoid starving, I gathered some wild berries and brought them back to the cave. Exhausted, I fell asleep. When I woke up, I was a human girl again. Unfortunately, I underestimated the temperature drop in this forest. The sun was warm during the day, but at night, it felt like an icebox. I had no clothes and didn’t dare go outside, so I curled into a ball to keep from freezing to death. So warm… so soft… What is this? I slowly opened my eyes, only to meet a pair of golden wolf eyes! My breath caught in my throat. I stammered, “No… Nolan?” I had no idea how he found me. He was lying completely on top of me, but he wasn’t doing anything inappropriate. Was he going to eat me, or was he just using his fur to keep me warm? “Wh-what are you doing?” My voice couldn’t stop shaking. “Keeping you from freezing to death.” I let out a sigh of relief. “How did you find me?” “Your scent is very strong,” he said. “You’re in heat.” “No! Don’t make it sound so gross!” I couldn’t help raising my voice. “Human women go through this every month. It’s nothing special!” “You go into heat every month?” He sounded surprised. “It’s not heat! It’s a normal biological function!” I tried to correct him. But he ignored me, resting his head on me, closed his eyes, and went to sleep. Even though this wolf was fierce, I was sure he meant me no harm. Thanks to his fur keeping me warm, I safely made it through my “special time.” When I turned back into a wolf, I felt a deep sense of loss. I’m human. I’m a human…

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “446013”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The new transfer student clung to me the second he arrived. He was proud, cheerful, and full of youthful spirit. I tutored him, helping him climb from the absolute bottom of the class to the top tier. He would rescue me from awkward situations, pinching my cheek and saying: “Little coward, let me take you to ditch class and get ice cream, okay?” Until I overheard him confessing to someone else at the corner of the stairwell. His eyes were obedient, his voice pleading. “I came here for you.” “You really hate her, right? I’ll drag her down.” During evening study hall that night, I finished seven practice exams, working so relentlessly that it made everyone else in the room panic. 1 During our senior year of high school, all my AP science notes were thrown into the muddy school pond. Carter Hayes jumped into the filthy water without a second of hesitation. Soon, he held the soaking wet notebook high in the air. He flashed a bright, blinding smile at me. “Chloe, I found your notebook.” Looking at the ink-smeared, mud-caked notebook… “Th… thank you.” I thanked him softly. I was a natural stutterer; my speech was never fluid. “Keep me company after school to buy ice cream as a thank you, okay?” He grinned, revealing his slightly pointed canine teeth. The students crowding around us immediately started cheering and teasing. “No.” After school, the physics teacher was going to explain some problems to me; I didn’t want to waste my study time. As soon as I refused, Carter’s face fell, looking exactly like a kicked puppy. “Oh, I see… then I won’t bother you.” His amber eyes were filled with visible disappointment. Carter’s buddies immediately jumped in. “Carter dug your notebook out of dirty water, and you won’t even buy him an ice cream?” I looked at Carter standing tall in front of me, laughing and roughhousing with his friends. “Nobody is allowed to tease Chloe, she’s busy.” If I hadn’t eventually learned Carter’s true colors. I really would have believed he was my salvation, my protective knight in shining armor. I still vividly remembered yesterday at the corner of the stairs. He was half-kneeling on the ground, tying a girl’s shoelaces. The sunlight gilded his profile; the usually arrogant boy looked incredibly gentle and careful. I leaned against the wall, clamping a hand over my mouth. I clearly heard him say: “You really hate Chloe Vance, right? Just wait a bit longer, I’ll drag her grades down.” “Don’t worry, I won’t fall for her.” “I came here for you, Audrey Miller.” 2 Before I met Carter, I seemed to have never been noticed by anyone. Ever since my mom remarried, she seemed to have completely changed. She went from being my mom— To being the mom of the daughter my stepdad brought with him. At the dinner table, she would endlessly praise Audrey. “Audrey, eat some more, these are your favorite chicken wings.” Mom piled all the chicken wings from the serving bowl onto my nominal step-sister’s plate. Audrey glanced at me coldly, a bit disgusted. “No thanks, I’m on a diet.” I looked up at my mom. The smile on her face was a little awkward. “Right, right, after all, you’re so pretty, Audrey.” When Mom noticed me looking at her, her face suddenly flushed red, and she angrily scolded me. “Audrey isn’t like you. All you know is how to eat, eat, eat. You’ve gotten as fat as a pig.” I lowered my head and said nothing. I was born with a stutter; it was even more obvious when I spoke in long sentences, so I couldn’t be bothered to defend myself. I just buried my head and ate my rice. It was just that today’s rice tasted a bit salty. I didn’t know why. I clearly didn’t eat that much. Why did my body inflate like a balloon, gaining weight and breaking out in severe acne? I tried suggesting that I wanted to go to the doctor for a check-up, but Mom shot me down, even twisting my ear as she scolded: “It’s just puberty acne, you’re making a fuss over nothing. We don’t have money to take you for medical tests. You have zero sympathy for your mother and only know how to waste money.” But my step-sister’s dance classes were a hundred dollars a session, and she never missed a single one. My stepdad didn’t like me either, but he maintained a facade of surface-level kindness. My bloated figure only further highlighted Audrey’s beautiful, slender frame. I held a breath of fierce resentment in my chest. I refused to believe I was inferior to Audrey in every single way. So I studied desperately, and finally, my grades squeezed into the top fifty in the entire school, much better than Audrey, who hovered right in the middle. But when I walked home carrying a ten-pound backpack… Passing by the glass windows of a high-end, beautiful boutique… I clearly saw my mom and stepdad together, picking out a pearl hair clip for Audrey. Audrey was holding a cup of ice cream, eating it lazily. Letting my mom stand behind her on her tiptoes, brushing her hair and trying on the hair clip. I gripped my backpack straps tightly. I stood in the tidal wave of the crowd, watching them. My backpack felt so incredibly heavy in that moment, almost pressing me down so hard I couldn’t take a single step. I saw the “Dairy Queen” logo on the ice cream cup Audrey was holding. I remembered a few days ago when I asked my mom for money to buy school supplies, and she viciously threw a crumpled five-dollar bill at me. I bought a scantron pencil, an eraser, and a black pen. The money was gone. The teacher’s words from class echoed in my ears. “Correct your mistakes in red pen, correct them in red pen! Chloe, tell your mom to go buy you a red pen.” 3 Carter was the new transfer student. As soon as he transferred to our school, he clung to me. Before the teacher even assigned him a seat, he sat down right in front of me. “Teacher, I’ll just sit here.” Then he turned his head and said to me. “Hi, I’m Carter. Can I borrow a pen?” As the unremarkable, chubby girl in class, this was the very first time a boy had actively struck up a conversation with me. My heart instantly felt nervous, and I even subconsciously felt a deep wave of shame. Please don’t be sarcastic, and please don’t laugh at me. This was the subconscious reaction of a historically ignored, self-esteem-lacking, cowardly person facing friendliness. I frantically dug through my backpack, but could only find some chipped, imperfect pens. These were all picked up from the floor while doing classroom cleaning duties. I had no allowance; my school supplies were mostly school rewards or things I found on the ground. I finally managed to dig out a black click-pen and handed it to Carter. This pen flowed with a lot of ink, and I only ever dared to use it when writing English essays. He took the pen and casually handed me a Ferrero Rocher. “Thanks. This is for you.” That chocolate, wrapped in gold foil, made me panic. Back in 2015, a Ferrero Rocher was a very expensive candy to me; I had never tasted one before. I carefully tucked it into my desk cubby, planning to return it to him after class. The moment the bell rang and he stood up, I gathered my courage and called his name. Thankfully, I didn’t stutter. “Carter.” “Hmm? What’s up?” Carter turned his head to look at me. He was tall, and stepping on the leg of his chair, I had to look up at him. The corners of his mouth carried a smile, and his eyes reflected a chubby me, a shy me. “You don’t… need to… give me…” I was so pathetic, I stuttered again. He burst out laughing. Winds from all directions suddenly rushed in through the open window. The wind lifted the blue curtains, blowing them up like sails on a ship. The test papers of the students in the class fluttered up like pigeons taking flight. A piece of paper flew up and perfectly covered half of his brow and eye. He smiled at me and said. “How did you become a little stutterer?” “It’s actually kind of cute…” 4 Honestly, high school students are usually very sensitive to transfer students, often rejecting them. But Carter mixed perfectly with everyone as soon as he arrived. He had an outgoing personality, a tall, handsome build, and the teachers treated him with noticeable politeness. High schoolers have a natural awe for students who come from wealthy, powerful families. Carter flawlessly integrated into the class. Between classes, boys actively invited him to play basketball, and girls would tell him what the next class was. Many people tried to get on his good side. I was sitting so close to him, yet I didn’t dare say a single word to him. But Carter actively sought me out. During class, if he forgot his textbook, he would pull his chair right next to mine to share. He would naturally turn around to ask me for the homework. Somehow, we slowly became familiar with each other through this. But most of the time, Carter only talked to me during class. The second class ended, he disappeared. I didn’t have any close friends, so during breaks, I mostly sat in my seat studying physics problems by myself. That was when Ethan Wright came over with a physics test paper. Ethan was our class’s Academic Rep. He was tall and had clean features. But he always wore round glasses, and combined with his middle-part haircut, the other boys gave him the nickname “Teacher’s Pet.” He had a softer personality, so the boys didn’t really like hanging out with him either. Like me, Ethan was somewhat of a social outcast in the class. Ethan brought his test paper and plopped right down in Carter’s seat, then leaned in so our heads were close together to discuss the problem. The more we calculated, the closer we felt to the answer. We looked up and smiled at each other, actually feeling a bit of mutual appreciation. But right at that moment, laughter rang out in my ears. A few bored boys had wandered over to tease us. “What are you two doing?” “Dating, obviously.” The moment those words left the boy’s mouth… Ethan reacted like a cat whose tail had just been stepped on. He instantly shoved the test paper away from us. The thin paper was pinched by a textbook and ripped cleanly in half with a loud shhhk. Ethan’s face turned beet red. I knew it wasn’t the blush of shyness; it was pure embarrassment and shame. He felt ashamed of being paired up with a fat girl. The physics problem wasn’t even fully solved yet, but Ethan stood up and yelled. “What kind of garbage are you talking about? I would never like Chloe.” The boy next to him grinned. “Yeah, exactly, Chloe’s like Porky Pig.” My ears were filled with the boys’ mocking laughter and Ethan’s raised, defensive voice explaining himself. I gripped the pen in my hand, remaining completely silent from start to finish. My face looked calm, but I knew that the internal fortress I called self-esteem was collapsing, falling apart piece by piece. Dust and smoke rose from the ruins of my heart. I wouldn’t cry. A fat person’s tears wouldn’t earn anyone’s sympathy; it would only put me in an even more awkward, humiliating position. I just buried my head lower and lower. 5 “So what if she’s chubby? That just means she eats well.” Carter’s magnetic, slightly raspy voice suddenly rang out. I had no idea when Carter had returned to the classroom, but he was standing right next to us. He was tall and carried an intimidating presence. Because he had just transferred, he didn’t have a school uniform yet. He was wearing his own black crewneck t-shirt. A silver chain hung around his neck. It only amplified his arrogant, untamed aura. Carter was lazily spinning a small keychain on his finger, from which dangled a little white bunny. He tossed the little bunny onto my desk, as if to comfort my broken heart. Then, he lazily reached out and grabbed Ethan by the back of his collar. Sounding like he was just joking around: “Move aside, stop wasting Chloe’s time. I still need her to tutor me.” The boys who were teasing earlier kept pushing it: “What’s up, Carter, is Chloe yours or something?” Carter shot him a lazy, sidelong glance, a careless smirk hanging on his lips. But his tone was incredibly firm and serious. “Yeah, she’s mine. Got a problem?” The boy’s brutal honesty choked the others into silence. “Chloe, explain this problem to me.” Carter squeezed past a flushed, embarrassed Ethan. He held up his physics textbook, flipped to the chapter on reference frames, and badgered me to teach him. Ethan’s face went white, then red. But intimidated by Carter, he didn’t say anything. He just gripped his physics book so tightly his knuckles turned white and his veins popped. Even though the lesson on reference frames was relatively simple, I still earnestly explained the concepts to Carter. It was only halfway through my explanation that I realized something was off. I casually looked up, locking eyes with him. He wasn’t looking at the problem at all. He was just resting his chin on his hand, watching me with deep interest. He had slightly downturned, world-weary eyes with dark irises that looked like polished obsidian. It made my heart race in panic. Carter was different from the other boys in class. I had been given cruel nicknames and called Miss Piggy. I had been blamed by the boys behind me for blocking their view when I was punished and made to stand in the back of the class. When it came to taking out the trash or scrubbing the sinks, the others subconsciously assigned those dirty, tiring chores to me. Because I was fat and plain, I didn’t have the right to resist. When carrying heavy boxes, I had tried to say: “I don’t think I can carry two classrooms’ worth of textbooks by myself.” The only response I got was an impatient: “Fat people are strong, stop whining.” But Carter was the only one. He was the only one— Who treated me like a normal girl. An ordinary high school girl’s fragile, crumbling self-esteem… In that exact moment, had finally been seen and defended.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “446004”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After the party ended, Tristan kissed me, riding the high of his buzz. I thought my years of secret, unrequited love had finally seen the light of day. But just two days later, he went Instagram official with his new girlfriend. It was a backlit photo of them kissing, captioned: “Plotted for a long time, finally got what I wished for.” 1 I gathered my courage and called him. “Did it have to be Chloe?” “Do I need to report to you who I’m dating?” His lazy drawl came through the receiver, so familiar yet suddenly acting like a total stranger. I swallowed the bitter lump in my throat, let out a long breath, and asked, “If it’s her, then what am I?” And what was that kiss? There was a long silence on the other end. After a pause, he let out a cold scoff. “Think whatever you want.” The dead dial tone pierced my eardrums, and a wave of absolute exhaustion swept through my bones. It was a very strange feeling. It was like the little boat you relied on to survive suddenly sprang a leak. You watch the hole slowly widen, the water seeping in inch by inch, yet you stubbornly fantasize that you can still patch it up. It isn’t until the water entirely swallows the hull that you suddenly realize: some things don’t yield good results just because you try hard enough. I took a deep breath and went to the bathroom to wash my face. When I came back, Tristan was calling me again. “Clara, bring a box of pads over. It’s not really convenient for me to go buy them right now.” My heart violently sank. Did he really… think I would never leave him? 2 My family runs a convenience store, located right next door to his house. For certain things, it really was convenient. But it was exactly this convenience that gave him the opportunity to stab me in the heart, over and over again. “Here.” My face was flushed red as I angrily threw the box of pads into his chest. But the moment I turned around, he grabbed the hood of my sweatshirt. “What, you’re mad?” He knew exactly why I was mad. I swatted his hand away, gritting my teeth. “Next time you bring someone home, you don’t need to notify me.” He didn’t take it seriously at all. In fact, he looked incredibly satisfied with my visible discomfort, as if seeing me suffer brought him immense joy. I was so furious I turned to leave. But Tristan was tall with a long reach. With a casual stretch of his arm, he grabbed my hood again and pulled me right back. “You’re a grown adult, how can you be this bad at basic things?” He tossed the box onto the entryway console and slowly, meticulously helped fix my flipped-out hood. He was standing entirely too close. His hot breath brushed against my face, instantly making my heart pound like a drum. He was always like this. A slap in the face, followed by a piece of candy. “Tristan, did you see my earrings?” Right as he was fixing my hood, a girl’s whiny voice echoed from behind him. The moment I saw her, I involuntarily took a step back. It was Chloe. This was the girl who had thrown dirty water on me, called me an ugly freak, and framed me for stealing money. The two of them whispered something to each other, making me, the girl standing in the doorway, look like an absolute pathetic third wheel. My fingernails dug crescent moons into my palms. Watching them link arms, preparing to shut the door in my face, I suddenly found a surge of reckless courage and yelled at Tristan’s back. “I don’t want to like you anymore.” His footsteps halted, and the hand resting on Chloe’s waist visibly twitched. He froze for a few seconds before softly telling her, “Go back inside first.” Chloe shot me a look of pure disdain, didn’t say a word, and obediently went back in. That look was so triumphant, written with absolute mockery and contempt for me. But I didn’t actually care about her. Because for all these years, the only person who could truly hurt me was Tristan. He slowly turned around, his brow furrowed, pulled a cigarette from his pocket, and lit it. “You’re cutting me off again?” He said it so casually, entirely convinced that my bark was worse than my bite. I bit my lip hard, wanting to say something vicious, but realized I was exactly as pathetic as he thought I was. I couldn’t force those words out of my mouth a second time. Eventually, Tristan grew impatient. He tossed the cigarette butt on the ground and scoffed, arrogantly delivering his final verdict. “Fine, Clara. You better keep your word. Whoever reaches out first is a pathetic loser.” Psycho. Throwing out ultimatums like a middle schooler. But I have to admit, I was just as stubborn as he was. I stood there for a long time, my hand hovering over his doorbell, hesitating again and again, but ultimately, I never pressed it. “Fine. This time, I’ll keep my word.” 3 In my memory, this wasn’t our first fight. But compared to the countless frictions of our past, the ending this time was eerily quiet. If this were the past, I would have tossed and turned in the dead of night, listened to his favorite Spotify playlist, analyzed his Instagram stories, and meticulously drafted a massive apology paragraph, waiting for him to mercifully forgive my impulsiveness. But this time, I blocked Tristan’s number and went a full month without contacting him. It felt just like the time he got into that car crash; I felt like a layer of my skin had been peeled off. Back then, the doctors made it sound incredibly serious. I thought Tristan was never going to wake up. I was a walking zombie—I even almost burned down the kitchen trying to make fried rice. When my mom came home and saw me curled up in the corner of the kitchen, she smacked my arm in frustration, then pulled me into a heartbroken hug. “If you lose him, are you just going to stop living?” I buried my face in my mom’s chest and didn’t say a word. My mom started crying too. “Our family owes him, but your dad and I can pay it back. My daughter is not allowed to throw her life away on someone who doesn’t love her back.” I nodded at the time, but the second she turned her back, I secretly ran straight to the hospital. Because I owed Tristan. Years ago, during the devastating earthquake that hit our hometown, I was over at his house playing. His mom and I ended up trapped under a collapsed concrete slab. When the rescue teams arrived, Mrs. Sterling insisted they pull me out first. But by the time I woke up in the hospital, she had passed away in the emergency room. I watched Tristan cry until he passed out in front of her grave, and I silently swore to myself that I would live the rest of my life for him. Originally, Tristan used to follow me around everywhere, but after that day, our dynamic completely flipped. I chased after him every single day, happily swallowing whatever bullying or teasing he threw my way. Later, when we got to high school, because of the prominent scar on the center of my forehead and the fact that I only ever hung around Tristan, I became the target of isolation for the entire class. And Chloe was the one who hated me the most. But she was undeniably gorgeous—so gorgeous that Tristan fell for her at first sight. Back then, Tristan was in the AP sciences and I was in the humanities. Our classrooms were on opposite sides of the building, so he made me deliver breakfast to Chloe for him. Every single morning, aside from enduring the bitter heartbreak of playing his wingman, I also had to endure Chloe’s public humiliation. Even though they broke up shortly after, from that point on, Tristan figured out the exact right way to torture me. I watched him cycle through new girlfriends one after another, resigning myself to the fact that this was all we would ever be. Until the beginning of this year, when he got into that car accident. I stayed by his hospital bed day and night for over a month. I thought our relationship was finally shifting into something real, but then Chloe reappeared. She snatched Tristan away again, delivering a brutal blow right to my head. 4 Probably because I had been a depressed zombie for too long, my best friend Maya couldn’t stand it anymore. One morning, she kicked my door in, dragged me into the bathroom to shower and do my makeup, and announced she was taking me out to find a man. “Clara, did Tristan put a hex on you?! I just don’t get it. Finding a three-legged toad is hard, but finding a two-legged man is the easiest thing in the world!” I forced a painfully awkward smile, having absolutely no intention of explaining my long, agonizing history with him. “Clara, are you even listening to me?” “I’m listening,” I mumbled vaguely, though I hadn’t absorbed a single word. Maya saw right through my fake enthusiasm, rolled her eyes, and shoved me out the door. Like a puppet on strings, I let her drag me through the mall for hours. Three hours later, as I was using the ultra-spicy Korean BBQ as an excuse to let my tears and snot flow freely, Maya suddenly clutched her stomach, claiming she had cramps. I literally couldn’t spare my mouth to speak, so I just waved her away, gesturing for her to hurry back. But just as I refocused my attention on the grilling meat, a massive shadow fell over the table. I looked up. A breathtakingly handsome guy, easily 6’2″, slid into the booth right across from me. “This seat is taken,” I warned him. The handsome guy cleared his throat, showing absolutely zero self-awareness to leave. “Hi, Clara. I’m the… uh…” He didn’t seem very familiar with his own script. He glanced down at a cheat sheet in his hand before remembering. “The boyfriend-for-hire your best friend booked. I’m Ethan.” My eyes practically bulged out of my head. I hastily swallowed my food, grabbed Ethan’s phone, and stared at the booking page with tears streaming down my face from the spicy food. “So your username is… Thunderous Invincible Underpants?” Could he actually survive in the companion-for-hire industry with a name like that? His mouth twitched. He clearly wasn’t thrilled about the name either, but he gritted his teeth and nodded. My phone dinged twice. I lit up the screen, and a custom meme from Maya popped up. “Enjoy the boy toy, stay safe. Ps: You’re welcome.” Stay safe?! Is that something you actually say out loud?! Sitting right in front of this incredibly handsome guy, a literal snot bubble blew out of my nose in sheer frustration. Ethan considerately slid a napkin across the table. But before I could even try to explain that this was a massive misunderstanding, he accurately guessed what I was about to say. He leaned his forearms on the table, a smirk tugging at his lips, and stared at me with wide, innocent puppy-dog eyes. “I’m just a small business owner, Clara. No refunds.” As he spoke, he tapped the screen, pointing to the massive non-refundable deposit Maya had paid. Holy crap, two thousand dollars? Did Maya sell a kidney?! “Fine.” After staring at it forever, I helplessly pulled out my phone. “What’s your server rank?” I assumed “boyfriend-for-hire” just meant a gaming buddy to carry me in matches. Since the money was already gone, I figured I might as well get some gaming out of it. Instead, Ethan pulled out a set of car keys. “Come on, we don’t play cheap games like that.” Two minutes later, a sleek black Maybach pulled up to the restaurant doors. He opened the passenger door, resting one hand on the roof, and tilted his head at me. “Get in.” Before I could even formulate a rejection, I was smoothly bundled into the passenger seat. By the time I regained my senses, Ethan was already in the driver’s seat, leaning halfway across my body to buckle my seatbelt for me. He was so close. The warm glow of the streetlights washed over his face, and I could even see the slight flutter of his eyelashes. I instinctively shrank back. “I can do it myself…” He didn’t even look up. He slowly and deliberately clicked the belt into place, as if what he was doing was the most natural thing in the world. “If you can do everything yourself, what do you need me for?” My heart involuntarily seized with pain. A long time ago, Tristan had said those exact same words to me. One second he had been flirting with Chloe, but the moment he saw me twist my ankle, he aggressively insisted on taking me home. I tactfully told him I could walk myself. Annoyed by my rejection, he forcefully shoved me onto the back of his bicycle. “Clara, if you can do everything yourself, what do you need me for?” When those words left his mouth back then, both of us froze. We didn’t speak another word the entire way home. His erratic hot-and-cold behavior constantly made it impossible for me to tell the difference between his genuine care and his toxic games. To the point where, for fifteen years, stepping forward led to heartbreak, and stepping back left me suffocating with regret. 5 Boom. A brilliant firework exploded against the horizon. Without me even noticing, Ethan had driven us all the way to the Santa Monica Pier. Massive blooms of fireworks lit up the night sky, absolutely breathtaking. But when the sky faded back to dark, an inevitable wave of emptiness washed over me. Ethan must have noticed. Leaning against the pier railing, he broke my train of thought. “Clara, want to hold onto a firework?” I was surprised, not even realizing he had dropped the formalities and just called me by my name. “Hold onto a firework?” He nodded, his sharp jawline dipping in and out of the shadows as the next round of fireworks illuminated the sky. “How do I do that?” I asked. He gave a mysterious smile, took a step closer, and a clean, crisp cologne washed over me. It was subtle, and surprisingly, I didn’t hate it. Then I watched as he pulled a sparkler right from behind my ear like a magic trick. I burst out laughing. “Your agency… I mean, your company trains you guys pretty well.” He scratched his nose, grinning with a touch of smug arrogance. “I’ll just take that as a compliment.” I took the sparkler and looked up at him. “Thank you. Honestly, I was having a really miserable day today…” Before I could finish my sentence, the two exact culprits responsible for my miserable day suddenly walked into my line of sight. They spotted me almost instantly. Chloe waved enthusiastically. “Clara! Is that your boyfriend?” Chloe dragged Tristan over by the hand. But in sharp contrast to her glowing smile, Tristan’s face looked absolutely murderous. He shot Ethan a cold, piercing glare, then snapped his head toward me. “What are you doing wandering around so late with some sketchy guy?” The unlit sparkler froze stiffly in my hand. I had actually told Tristan countless times that I wanted to come to the pier to watch the fireworks. But year after year, I came alone, and I went home alone. He was truly a master at dealing out disappointment. Faced with his hostile interrogation, my expression went ice cold. “The sketchiest guy I’ve ever known is you.” He choked on his words, his brows knitting together, ready to lecture me. Even though he was technically two months younger than me, around him, I always felt like a subservient child. “Come back with me.” He reached out, trying to grab my arm. I instinctively recoiled from his touch. But the very next second, a heavy warmth draped over my shoulders. Ethan had wrapped his jacket around me and pulled me directly into his chest. The ocean breeze whipped his jacket around us. In the freezing tension, Ethan gave a rogue, insolent smirk. “A guy’s girlfriend should be taken home by her own guy, right, senior?” And then I watched as Tristan’s face turned completely black. 6 Ethan kept his arm around me and walked me straight toward that aggressively flashy Maybach. Just as I buckled my seatbelt, Chloe came jogging up to the car. Wearing a polite, flawlessly sweet smile, she leaned down against the passenger window. Her low-cut top offered a very deliberate, peek-a-boo view of her cleavage. “Hey handsome, I saw you bought sparklers. Could I get one?” I don’t know exactly when it started, but Chloe developed a sick obsession with stealing things from me—and she succeeded nine times out of ten. I instinctively clenched my fists, terrified that Ethan was about to become her newest trophy. But this time, I was dead wrong. “No.” “Excuse me?” She clearly had never experienced the concept of being rejected by a man before, her mouth falling open in exaggerated, soap-opera shock. I looked up just in time to see Ethan slam the car door shut, brutally mocking her. “What, you don’t have a man to buy them for you?” Without another word, he slammed on the gas, peeling out and splashing mud all over Chloe’s designer shoes. It was petty, but God, was it satisfying. On the drive back, I tried to fill the silence. “You called him senior back there. You know Tristan?” He glanced at me through the rearview mirror. His face didn’t show much emotion, but there was a distinct, simmering hostility underneath. “Yeah. He tore up a love letter of mine once.” That was when I learned that the three of us all went to the same high school. Except Ethan was two years below me. He was currently a junior in college. Thinking back to what an absolute, arrogant terror Tristan was in high school… Yeah, it made sense that he made enemies. I tried to offer a few comforting words, and before I knew it, we were parked outside my apartment. “Don’t worry, I’ll definitely make sure Maya leaves you a five-star review.” He looked a little speechless but smiled, thanked me, and walked me up to my door. But the moment I walked inside, my phone buzzed. It was a friend request from Tristan. “Who is that guy?” I didn’t reply. A few minutes later, he sent another text. “Are you done throwing this tantrum?” Ah. So a month of agonizing heartbreak was, in his eyes, just me throwing a little tantrum. My chest ached. I typed back: “You said it yourself. Whoever reaches out first is a pathetic loser.” There was no reply after that. I waited a few minutes, then set my phone down with a massive sigh of relief. It felt like… rejecting him wasn’t actually that hard after all. 7 After graduating college, I got a job as an editor for a web novel publisher. The office was pretty far from my house, and I didn’t want to waste my life commuting, so I told my parents I wanted to rent an apartment near work. They assumed I just wanted to avoid bumping into Tristan every day, so they enthusiastically agreed. My dad even slipped me an extra five hundred dollars, telling me he’d rather I rent a slightly more expensive place in a safer neighborhood. So after the holidays, I moved to a complex on the south side of the city. Maya originally promised to help me move, but she got stuck working mandatory overtime, so she sent Ethan instead. “I saw you had a ton of boxes, and I still have two hours left on that boyfriend-for-hire voucher. Might as well use it, right?” I laughed, thinking about how unbelievably unlucky the guy was to get booked for manual labor. But Ethan didn’t show a single ounce of impatience. Weekend traffic was terrible. He told me to wait inside and that he’d be there soon. I felt bad making him do all the work, so I decided to start hauling boxes down to the sidewalk myself. Just as I carried the third box out, Tristan walked up the street. “Where are you going?” I can’t perfectly describe the feeling. I admit that seeing him again still caused a tiny ripple in my deadened heart, but that fearless courage to walk through fire for him? It was completely, permanently gone. Honestly… he was just kind of annoying now. “Moving,” I answered dismissively. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his brow furrowing. I didn’t want to engage, so I just kept my head down and adjusted the box. Seeing me ignore him, Tristan’s garbage temper flared up again. He slammed his hand down on the box I was trying to lift, striking a pose that clearly said he wasn’t moving until I answered him. My anger instantly flared. “Tristan, do you need something?” His voice rose to match mine. “I can’t talk to you unless I need something?!” “Right!” He froze. I froze too. I let out a long breath, smoothing out my tangled emotions. “If you don’t need anything, stop coming to find me. If you do need something… go find Chloe. You only ever believe her anyway, right?” I screamed at him, and he looked genuinely stunned. His voice actually sounded a little wounded. “When have I ever not believed you?” When did you ever? During our senior year of high school, the class funds went missing. While the teacher was rushing to check the security cameras, Chloe publicly started a rumor that I stole the money. Her reasoning? I was the poorest kid in class, and two days prior, my mom had knitted me a brand-new scarf. She insisted the scarf was bought with stolen money. Even though the teacher told everyone not to accuse anyone before the footage was reviewed, Chloe and her little minions locked me in a storage closet, demanding I hand over the $78 class fund. I still remember the exact moment Tristan kicked the storage room door open and hurled a basketball at one of the girls. My heart swelled with desperate hope, waiting for him to defend me. But the words that actually left his mouth were: “How much did she take? I’ll pay it back for her.” See? It only took $78 to completely shatter a girl’s dignity. Tristan had never, not for a single second, truly believed in me. In that exact moment, I dropped all my expectations of him and learned that the only person you can ever rely on is yourself. That was also the very first time I told Tristan I didn’t want to like him anymore. I yanked the final cardboard box out from under his hand. “Go home. I can move my own things.” My icy attitude made Tristan’s face sink further and further. He opened his mouth, about to say something, but was interrupted by a sudden voice. “Looks lively over here. Need a hand, beautiful?” 8 Honestly, when the car pulled up to my new apartment complex, I was still a little dazed. When Ethan arrived earlier, he instantly stepped right between me and Tristan, looking less like a guy hired to help me move and more like a guy ready to throw a punch for me. But before I could dwell on it, a more pressing question popped into my head. “Does moving furniture cost extra?” I remembered that physical labor wasn’t listed on their company’s service menu. Maya was loaded, but as a junior editor, two thousand dollars was my entire month’s rent. Ethan laughed, unbuckled his seatbelt, crossed his arms playfully, and sized me up. “Of course it does. You weren’t planning on getting my services for free, were you?” My heart skipped a beat. “H… how much?” I swear, if it was over five hundred dollars, I was abandoning the car and fleeing on foot. He stared right at me, his eyes practically drowning me in warm, liquid amber. He stared so intensely I actually got scared. He leaned closer and closer, and right when I thought he was going to kiss me, he looked down and laughed, flashing two faint dimples. “Look how scared you are. Just buy me lunch, okay? I’ve been starving all morning.” I paused, then eagerly agreed. So after moving the boxes, we went to a trendy Korean BBQ spot. I have to admit, being young is great. Not only did we use his student discount, but we turned heads the entire time. Of course, it was mostly because Ethan was ridiculously handsome, which meant I caught the crossfire of all that attention. Someone inevitably started whispering about my face. “Look at that girl. She has a massive scar on her head. Why doesn’t she just get plastic surgery?” “Who knows, probably can’t afford it. But that guy is so hot, why would he ever go for an ugly freak like her?” The needle-sharp insults made my stomach drop. I reached for my head—crap, I forgot to wear a hat today. After the accident, my dad considered getting me reconstructive surgery. But my mom was running the little store by herself, money was tight, and my dad’s injured leg required expensive physical therapy. I felt too guilty burdening them, so I just kept putting the surgery off. I frantically tried to pull my bangs down to cover it. Right at that moment, Ethan suddenly leaned across the table. His long, elegant fingers gently tapped my forehead, stopping my panicked movements. “Please, scars are incredibly cool. You have to be so lucky to grow little wings right on your forehead.” A gruesome, jagged scar, yet he described it with such beautiful, romantic poetry. He tucked the loose strands of hair behind my ear, handling me as gently as if I were a priceless, fragile treasure. This was the very first time in my life someone told me I didn’t need to hide my ugly scar. The girls at the next table were still whispering and giggling. Ethan stood up straight, his brows instantly knitting together in fury. He walked over, leaned both hands heavily on their table, and stared dead into the eyes of the loudest girl. Her face instantly flushed bright red. “Are… are you looking for me?” He flashed a vicious grin, and under her awestruck gaze, he slowly spoke: “Yeah. Just coming over to hear the garbage you’re talking.” The girl froze. I froze too. Her friend panicked, glaring at Ethan and snapping, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything! You might be handsome, but your mouth is absolutely toxic!” Ethan laughed, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, so you do understand that you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.” “Why is it okay for you to talk trash behind someone’s back, but it’s not okay for me to insult you to your face?” The girl choked, but immediately shot back: “Even if we were wrong, you’re a guy! How can you be so classless and verbally attack women like that?” Ethan let out a cold scoff. “Sorry, I only reserve my manners for people I actually like.” As he said it, he turned his head and looked right at me, before turning back to the girl: “As for you, take a good look in the mirror and ask yourself if you even deserve basic respect.” By this point, several waiters had rushed over. I didn’t want to make a huge scene, so I tugged gently on Ethan’s sleeve. “Let it go. I’m used to it.” Ethan wanted to say more, but sensing my plea, he swept a final, glacial glare over the two women, then tenderly ruffled my hair. “No one has the right to define a person by their appearance, and no one has the right to use appearance as a weapon to hurt others. Clara, I know exactly how incredible you are. Do not waste a single second feeling sad over trash like them.” I listened in a daze. A rush of heat flooded my chest, followed by an inexplicable wave of sorrow. Because I suddenly realized that Tristan had never, ever said anything like that to me. Even though every time he saw someone mocking my scar, he would aggressively chase them away, afterward, he would only ever look at me coldly and say: “Clara, pull your hat down.” He and Tristan were so completely, fundamentally different. A few minutes later, the manager’s apologies pulled me back to reality. They moved us to a private booth and gave us a free plate of prime rib as an apology, so I didn’t push the issue. After we ate, he walked me home. We strolled side-by-side down the sidewalk. He linked his hands behind his head and gave a massive stretch. As he moved, his black hoodie rode up, revealing a flash of toned abs. I happened to catch a glimpse, and my face instantly caught fire. Ethan noticed my sudden awkwardness, took a quick step forward, and blocked my path. “What’s wrong, beautiful?” A teasing half-smile played on his lips. He absolutely knew I saw. I cleared my throat, quickly changing the subject to thank him for lunch. But I forgot that if you give this guy an inch, he takes a mile. “If you really want to thank me, go on a date with me next time.” “A date?” “There’s a new amusement park opening up. My little brother won three VIP tickets and is forcing me to go. I refuse to be the third wheel to him and his girlfriend, so I need to find someone to come with me.” He leaned down, biting his lip, putting on his best pathetic, abused-puppy act. “Clara, being a single dog abandoned by a gross, overly-affectionate couple is incredibly depressing. Have mercy on me.” I wanted to point out that he could just not go, but staring into his dazzling, star-filled eyes, I couldn’t find a single reason to say no.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “446005”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Eight years after my family went bankrupt, the poorest, most invisible boy in my high school class suddenly became my VIP client. Later, when my career and life faced setback after setback, he was the one who stayed by my side, walking me through it step by step. At my most helpless moment, he finally confessed the deep, insecure love he had hidden for so long. Yet, in the very last second, just as my heart was truly moved, I overheard a conversation between him and the CEO of the company I was interviewing for. He sat on the sofa, dressed in a sharp custom suit, exuding a cold, careless aura. Beneath that immaculate exterior was the ruthless, sinister stranger he truly was. “Don’t hire her, and this contract is still yours.” 1 The first time we locked eyes after eight years, my VIP client smiled and called out my name. I didn’t even recognize him at first. He didn’t mind my poor memory. Instead, he patiently guided me through the past. It wasn’t until he mentioned our high school and homeroom that it finally clicked. “I remember now! You’re Rowan Sterling!” The corners of his lips curled up. His handsome, mature face, which normally carried an intimidating authority, was softened by that smile, giving off a deceptive illusion of approachability. I couldn’t be blamed for not recognizing him. His transformation was staggering; he was a completely different person. “It’s me.” I truly never expected this. The most invisible, destitute boy in our class had become our firm’s most valued client. Rowan Sterling was my high school classmate back when my family was still ridiculously wealthy, before our bankruptcy and my sudden transfer. I still had some memories of him, though distant and blurry. I remembered he always wore a pair of sneakers that were peeling and coming apart at the soles, yet meticulously clean. His family had been struggling. His mother died when he was born, and by middle school, his father was bedridden with a severe illness. They survived on meager government welfare checks. When the delinquent boys in class bullied him, he never fought back, always trying to avoid causing any trouble. I witnessed it by chance once. Back then, I was young, arrogant, and spoiled rotten by my wealthy parents. Fearless and reckless, I walked right up and splashed scalding hot coffee directly onto the bully’s face, burning him so badly he couldn’t even scream. Rowan just stared at me. The malnourished teenager was incredibly frail, his oversized school uniform hanging off his bony frame like a ghost. Meeting his gaze, I grinned, patted his shoulder, and told him, “Next time they mess with you, just grab one of them and beat the hell out of him.” My words were naive and irresponsible. I never stopped to think about how he would afford the medical bills if he actually hurt someone. Aside from that, we had zero interaction. That is, until my senior year, when my family’s empire collapsed. To dodge the debt collectors, my parents pulled me out of school and we moved away in the dead of night, cutting ties with all my former friends and classmates, vanishing without a trace. 2 Life really is unpredictable. Who could have guessed that my family, once the wealthiest real estate tycoons in the state, would one day lose everything? And who could have imagined that the boy who was once as small and insignificant as an ant would become a billionaire tech mogul everyone tried to impress? I let out a sigh. Realizing he was just an old classmate slowly eased the nervous tension I had about meeting an important client. “After all these years, I never expected to see you again.” Truth be told, Rowan was the only classmate I had seen in a decade. After the bankruptcy, I transferred to a rundown public high school in a bleak rust-belt town. Despite the terrible facilities and environment, I managed to claw my way into a top-tier university. At the very least, holding a Finance degree from an elite school got me through the doors of a Fortune 500 company. I worked myself to the bone every day to earn a decent salary, keeping my paralyzed parents afloat in their long-term care facility. “How have you been these past few years, Mr. Sterling?” The moment it left my mouth, I realized it was a stupid question. Building an empire from scratch is always agonizing. But wasn’t this just the standard corporate small talk? Rowan took a sip of his water, his eyelids lowered, his dark eyes deep and unreadable. After a moment, he replied in a flat, emotionless tone, “Not very well.” I froze for a second, then nodded in agreement. “True. It couldn’t have been easy getting to where you are today. But the hard part is over, right? The future is bright.” Even if we were classmates, he was still the client. My tone carried an involuntary hint of flattery, but he didn’t seem to mind. “What about you? How have you been?” He looked at me, his gaze so intense and earnest that it gave me a strange feeling. Ignoring the anomaly, I shook my head and offered a bitter smile. “Barely surviving, honestly. You saw it yourself—my family went bankrupt, my parents are sick in a facility, and the former heiress is now just another corporate wage slave.” The crushing monthly medical bills bled me dry, swallowing nearly my entire paycheck. Why else would I be working this desperately? I flashed him my most eager, people-pleasing smile. “Whether I eat steak or instant ramen this month all depends on Mr. Sterling signing this deal.” My attempt at self-deprecating humor didn’t make him laugh. He maintained the same faint, unreadable smile that seemed to carry a trace of bitterness. He glanced at me, then looked down, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sighed softly. “Where’s the contract? Let me see it.” I quickly presented it with both hands, slyly uncapping my fancy pen and placing it right next to his hand. Perhaps my desperation was too obvious. Rowan’s expression grew considerably colder, but he didn’t stop me. He called me an old classmate; I politely called him Mr. Sterling. Times had changed. The dynamic between us was now like a lord and a peasant, tainted by the suffocating, vulgar respect of class difference. I wasn’t afraid of him looking down on me. I was only afraid he wouldn’t sign. Thankfully, he showed mercy and generously signed his name on the dotted line. I breathed a massive sigh of relief. “Thank you, Mr. Sterling. Please rest assured, we will deliver the absolute best results for this project.” Rowan showed no reaction. It was as if he didn’t care how the project turned out; to him, this amount of money was just pocket change. “Valerie.” “Yes, Mr. Sterling?” He looked at me seriously and said something I completely failed to understand. “I only signed this contract because of you.” I was dumbfounded. Since when did my status as an “old classmate” carry that much weight? Meeting my blank stare, he added, “Back when I was at my absolute lowest, you were the only one willing to help me.” That tiny, insignificant intervention I had nearly forgotten actually earned me a decade-long debt of gratitude? Honestly, I would have done the exact same thing for anyone else. But Rowan just happened to become an untouchable billionaire. See, it always pays to do good deeds, I thought. “You’re giving me too much credit, Mr. Sterling. I was just young and impulsive. But even if I could do it all over again, I’d make the exact same choice.” He nodded. “True. You have always been so good.” Rowan pulled out his phone. “Let’s exchange numbers. We should keep in touch.” He pulled up his personal contact QR code. 3 “Keep in touch” usually just meant polite corporate lip service. Having navigated the business world for years, I knew the rules inside and out. When I returned to the office with the signed contract, my boss smiled so widely his wrinkles folded over each other, immediately feeding me corporate promises. “Valerie, I’ve always seen great potential in you. Keep up the good work.” I nodded and smiled. “It’s all thanks to your guidance, Mr. Davis.” My boss handed me a luxury gift box, mentioning that Thanksgiving was coming up next week and told me to find a reason to deliver it to Rowan. We had just exchanged numbers, and I already had an excuse to use it. I called Rowan, trying to make my tone sound less like a corporate drone and more casual and friendly. Rowan was a busy man. The phone rang until the very last second before he picked up. “Hello?” “Hey, Rowan! It’s Valerie Vance. Thanksgiving is right around the corner, and I wanted to know when you might be free? I have a little holiday gift I’d love to drop off for you.” Rowan gave me his home address, saying he was free tomorrow. He mentioned a partner had gifted him fresh Alaskan King Crab legs and invited me over to share a meal. I never expected Rowan to be so sentimental. After ten years of silence, he casually invited a former acquaintance into his home for lunch. I guess that’s the kind of grace you have when you’re at the top. I sighed in admiration. 4 I arrived at the address Rowan gave me right at 10:00 AM. It was a sprawling, ultra-luxury modern estate. Behind towering wrought-iron gates lay a manicured courtyard. White fences framed exquisite, rare blooming flowers, and a wide stone pathway cut through a lush emerald lawn. The architecture was elegant and romantic, reeking of impossibly expensive taste. I rang the doorbell, and a housekeeper quickly let me in. Rowan hadn’t gone into the office today. At home, his attire was much more relaxed and casual. He smiled at me. “Take a seat. I just finished my workout.” I felt a bit stiff. “Please, don’t mind me. Go ahead and do what you need to do.” “Oh, I left the gift right here for you. You can open it whenever you have time.” Rowan barely glanced at it before turning to me. “Stop calling me Mr. Sterling. It sounds too distant. Just call me Rowan.” The guy holding the purse strings had spoken; who was I to disobey? I nodded eagerly. “Alright, Rowan it is.” The housekeeper was an incredible cook. The King Crab legs were steamed to perfection, bright red and steaming. I was just reaching for a crab leg to crack it open and score some brownie points when Rowan placed a small plate of perfectly extracted crab meat right in front of me. His movements were fluid and natural, as if he had practiced doing this a thousand times. I was incredibly flattered but felt awkward, trying to ease the tension with a joke. “I don’t know about this. If your girlfriend finds out, she’s going to be furious.” Rowan rolled up his sleeves and started cracking another shell. “There is no girlfriend.” He looked up at me. “Valerie, I have never had anyone else.” That sentence carried an oddly ambiguous weight. He didn’t just say he wasn’t dating anyone; he said he had never had anyone else. It sounded almost like he was trying to prove his innocence to me. My brain short-circuited, and my hand jerked. But then I reasoned he was probably just speaking casually. After a brief, loaded silence, I chuckled. “I get it, the empire comes first. You’re young and successful. Your future partner is going to be incredibly amazing.” Rowan slowly lowered his head. His interest seemed to fade, his tone flat. “Yes. She is incredibly amazing.” I didn’t quite catch that last part, and I deliberately didn’t ask him to repeat it, terrified I might uncover something I shouldn’t. After lunch and some casual chatting, Rowan mentioned that our old class president was hosting a high school reunion next weekend. He asked me to go with him. I couldn’t really refuse. I had just eaten his food and secured a massive contract from his hands. I had to give the client face. I agreed immediately, though I went home dreading how I was going to interact with classmates I hadn’t seen in ten years. 5 On Saturday, Rowan picked me up himself. I had the honor of sitting in the passenger seat of his ridiculously expensive sports car. I teased, “Thanks to you, I finally get to ride in a car that costs more than my life.” Rowan’s expression didn’t change. “If you like it, I’ll give it to you.” “?” My eyes went wide, assuming he was joking. “I don’t love this specific one. I’ll let you know when I find one I like more.” I burst out laughing. Rowan’s lips curled into a smile, carrying an inexplicable sense of indulgence. “Okay.” When we arrived at the hotel banquet hall, everyone was already there. Now that Rowan was the most successful person to ever graduate from our class, everyone wanted to kiss his ring. Since I walked in with him, I ironically became the most invisible person in the room, quickly squeezed into a corner. Ten years had changed everyone drastically. Some were married, some divorced with kids, some ran small businesses, and some were corporate drones like me. The seat of honor was left empty for Rowan. Everyone here had stayed in touch to some degree over the years, clustering with their friend groups. I, the girl who vanished senior year, was left standing awkwardly, not knowing where to sit. Rowan patted the empty chair right next to his. “Valerie, sit here.” The moment the words left his mouth, every pair of eyes in the room snapped toward me. Someone gasped, “Wait, is that Valerie Vance?!” Once he said it, they finally remembered I existed. I flashed a wide, generous smile. “Wow, someone actually remembers me.” The atmosphere livened up, and the topic of conversation suddenly shifted to me. I had no idea who told them about my family’s bankruptcy. “I heard you transferred senior year because your family went under, Valerie. Is that true?” “So what are you doing for work now?” “Oh, I’m sure Valerie’s parents bounced back years ago. A starving camel is still bigger than a horse! She’s probably doing way better than us working-class folks.” They got more and more animated. No matter what they said, I kept my expression perfectly neutral. Everyone here was an adult. We weren’t innocent kids anymore. Every word they spoke carried a thinly veiled layer of schadenfreude or hungry gossip. The class president interrupted the interrogation, standing up to raise his glass. “Let’s make our first toast to our most successful classmate, Mr. Sterling!” There was no shortage of people desperate to latch onto Rowan. Terrified of falling behind, they all rushed forward with their glasses raised. Rowan was no longer the timid, shivering boy from high school. He handled this highly-orchestrated corporate pageantry flawlessly. Having sat at the top for so long, he had experienced this countless times. It didn’t faze him at all. Normally, these people would never have the chance to breathe the same air as someone of Rowan’s caliber. Now that they had the opportunity, they were going to squeeze it dry. In a society ruled by profit, the cheap pride of adults meant absolutely nothing. One man groveled with both hands on his glass, speaking with pathetic humility. “I was an idiot back in school. I hope Mr. Sterling can forgive the ignorance of a fool, and we can still be old buddies.” I recognized him. It was the same punk who used to torment Rowan. We had bad blood. After all, getting a cup of scalding coffee thrown in your face hurts. If he hadn’t been terrified of my father’s money back then, he probably would have jumped me in an alley. Now that I had lost my status, he naturally couldn’t resist kicking me while I was down. He furrowed his brow, glaring at me with arrogant hostility. “Valerie, what the hell is wrong with your manners? Mr. Sterling is sitting right next to you, and everyone is toasting him. Why aren’t you raising your glass?” “Do you still think you’re some untouchable heiress? If you piss Mr. Sterling off, he could crush you like a bug!” The table fell into a dead, awkward silence. No one spoke. If I were seventeen-year-old Valerie Vance, I would have smashed a dinner plate into his smug face. But I was twenty-five-year-old Valerie Vance. I needed to be mature and stable… Screw mature and stable! I gave a fake, plastic smile and asked, “So if you decided to drop dead, does that mean I have to drop dead too?” “I remember you used to love bullying Rowan. You looked down on him for being poor and made his life a living hell.” I covered my mouth, chuckling lightly. “But I know you were just young and ignorant back then. I’m just joking around, don’t take it to heart.” His face turned a sickly shade of green. No one expected me to strip away his dignity so publicly. Just as the man was about to explode in anger, Rowan, who had been completely silent, picked up the glass pitcher and poured water into my cup. “Don’t drink the wine. It’s bad for your stomach.” It wasn’t just the others who were shocked. I was stunned too. The billionaire CEO was personally pouring my water. My aggressive fire was instantly extinguished. “Thank you, thank you, please don’t trouble yourself, I can do it.” Seeing Rowan’s attitude, the man’s fury instantly deflated like a popped balloon. By pouring my drink in front of everyone, Rowan was making a crystal-clear statement: She is under my protection. Watching that cowardly bully tuck his tail between his legs and scurry back to his seat, I almost burst out laughing. Rowan lowered his voice and asked, “Are you upset?” I kept my voice low too. “Not at all. Guys like him are just petty and jealous, which is why he holds a grudge. I’d never waste my time on trash like that.” Rowan didn’t say a word. For a fraction of a second, his body went entirely rigid—a tension I didn’t notice—before he tipped his head back and downed his glass of liquor in one gulp.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “446006”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

We were childhood sweethearts, growing up right next door to each other. After college, he went to a top Ivy League university for his master’s degree. And I signed with a prestigious modeling agency in Paris. When people gossiped that the modeling industry was full of messy private lives and that a rookie model like me didn’t deserve him… He would be the first to stand up and have my back: “I trust Chloe, and I deeply respect her career.” During our three years of long distance, we always said goodnight to each other, bridging the time zones. No matter how busy the week got, we always squeezed in time for a video call to share the little, funny moments of our lives. I honestly thought we would walk hand-in-hand forever, growing old together. Until— A genius freshman girl joined his lab… 1 I forget how many times Carter had blown me off by now. Just to catch him on his lunch break, I deliberately woke up an hour early. At six in the morning, Paris was dreary and drizzling. It was a perfect match for my mood. I ducked into the metro station, looking like a drowned rat, trying to escape the rain. Ten minutes. I silently promised myself. I will give Carter exactly ten more minutes. Perhaps it was some lingering telepathy between us, but he seized the window. With thirty seconds left on my mental countdown, he returned my video call. “Sorry, Chloe, I was swamped all morning.” Carter’s voice was as gentle as ever, just like when we were kids. Whenever I got into trouble, he would pretend to come over to borrow a book, just to put in a good word for me with my parents. From that moment on, I had grown accustomed to his voice. It felt like as long as he was there, every problem in the world would magically resolve itself. So, I had to admit, in that exact moment, I let out a breath of relief. Because it felt like God was still on my side. “You’re heading out this early?” “Yeah, I have a commercial shoot today.” “Did you eat breakfast yet?” If this were the past, Carter would have asked for every detail about the commercial. He would have researched the brand’s history and aesthetic for me, giving me tips on how to carry myself on set. But today, he asked none of that. Instead, he smoothly changed the subject. “In a bit…” Before I could even finish my sentence, a girl with a high ponytail squeezed into the frame. “Who is it? Who is it? Is that your girlfriend, Carter? Wow! She’s so pretty! No wonder she’s a model!” She cupped her face with her hands, her tone incredibly exaggerated. It immediately drew the attention of the other grad students in the lab. They swarmed over, snatching Carter’s phone and passing it around. “She’s gorgeous!” “No wonder Carter’s been saving himself! I didn’t know his girl was this stunning!” I felt like a monkey in a zoo, being put on display, judged, and critiqued. Maybe they didn’t mean any harm. But the behavior felt incredibly invasive. “Hailey! Stop messing around!” Carter’s eyes were full of indulgence, his tone affectionate and helpless. It was a look I knew all too well. “Ooh, Carter is getting jealous! I just want to say hi to the pretty lady! What kind of commercial are you shooting today?” At that question, the tips of Carter’s ears turned red. Even though it was just a flash, I caught the sudden embarrassment in his eyes. Yes, embarrassment. He wasn’t apologizing for his friends’ invasive behavior. Instead, he was harboring an unspeakable sense of shame about my profession. “Oh, by the way! Did you know our project just had a massive breakthrough? It’s the one where…” The girl named Hailey just kept rambling at me through the screen. She was waving her hands enthusiastically, throwing out complex physics theories, while I sat on the other end, letting out a dry yawn. I didn’t mean anything by it; I was just genuinely exhausted. “Ah! I’m so sorry! I totally forgot you don’t understand any of this! My bad, once I get going, I can’t stop!” Hailey playfully stuck out her tongue, winking at Carter before turning back to me: “Next time I have questions about makeup or skincare, I’ll make sure to come to you!” “Yeah, exactly! You can’t talk physics to a fashion model, that’s just cruel!” someone chimed in. The group exchanged knowing glances and burst into laughter. Carter’s face flushed a deep crimson as he snatched his phone back. One guy relentlessly teased him: “Come on, man, why haven’t you taught your girl anything?” Carter mumbled vaguely: “She wouldn’t understand it anyway!” “Alright, Chloe, we still have a project to finish. If there’s nothing else, I’m gonna let you go, okay?” Hearing that, I looked up at the sky outside the station. The rain had stopped. But the sky was still a gloomy, oppressive gray. I waited a few seconds until the patience on the man’s face in the screen began to visibly wear thin, then I asked in my sweetest, softest voice: “Is the allowance I sent you last time still holding up?” In an instant, a look of sheer, ugly humiliation flashed across Carter’s face. The chaotic, laughing lab suddenly dropped into dead silence. My mood instantly improved. A genuine smile finally touched my lips. I said: “Babe, once my paycheck from Fashion Week clears, I’ll transfer you a bit more. Just focus on your academics! I have no problem sugar-dicking you for a few more years, so please don’t feel any pressure!” With a girlfriend as wealthy and considerate as me, who cares if Carter finds me embarrassing? What could he do? All he could do was grit his teeth and say: “Thanks, babe.” “I’ve been funding you for years, a little extra is nothing!” I smiled until my eyes crinkled, waved goodbye, and sweetly hung up the phone. The very next second. I wrapped my arms around myself in sheer exhaustion and crouched against the tiled wall of the metro station. I didn’t cry, because I had a commercial shoot in an hour. If my eyes were swollen, the photographer would throw a fit. Pedestrians began flooding into the station, but no one paid me any mind. In a city like Paris, there are far crazier people than me. I was just another ordinary girl in the crowd, having her heart broken by a man. I don’t know exactly when Carter changed. Or when I changed, either. He used to fight the time difference, staying up all night just to hear how my auditions went. Just to be the first one to offer comfort or congratulations. With my softer, understated features, I didn’t have much of an edge in the European market. When I first arrived in Paris, I was rejected at almost every casting call. I barely booked a few minor gigs a month. It was Carter who constantly encouraged me. He even spent hours analyzing the brand identities of luxury fashion houses—things he had zero interest in—just so I could pitch myself better during interviews. Thanks to him, and my deep understanding of the brand’s lore, I landed my first major campaign in a high-end magazine. After that shoot went viral, I finally secured my foothold in Paris. Because of that, I offered to cover all his living expenses so he could do his academic research without any financial stress. In my heart, this career was something we built together. I never imagined that just a few years later. The career I was so fiercely proud of would become a dirty secret he couldn’t bear to mention. And me? I had changed too. I was sharper than before. Maybe even a little… vicious. I knew he was on speakerphone. I knew saying those things would only drive a wedge between us. But I said them anyway. For no other reason than I was just entirely sick of swallowing my pride. I suddenly realized that I had walked right into the toxic relationship trap I used to sneer at. 2 The first time I heard the name Hailey Brooks was six months ago. He told me a “genius” freshman had joined the lab. She had skipped three grades in middle and high school and was only twenty-three, with a limitless future. Unfortunately, she’s purely theoretical, so working with her is a headache, he had said. On the outside, Carter was polite, mild-mannered, and known as a physics prodigy. But only I knew that deep down, he was deeply insecure and terrible at socializing. Carter’s parents divorced when he was young, and he was raised by his grandmother. After high school, he stayed in our hometown and went to the local state college with me. Some people called him hopelessly romantic; others said I was dragging him down. But I knew the truth. He didn’t stay for me. He stayed because the state university offered him a full-ride scholarship and a massive living stipend. It wasn’t until he was specially recruited by an Ivy League university for grad school that he finally got to attend his dream institution. Back then, I was too naive, and my heart bled for him. Every time a social event required networking or mingling, I was the one hyping the crowd, acting as his personal spokesperson. And now… someone else had taken that spot. Gradually, he stopped complaining to me about Hailey Brooks. Instead, he started praising her dedication to her research, saying she wasn’t a slacker like the others. He told me Hailey was bright and bubbly, the absolute joy of the lab. With her around, no matter how grueling the project got, the days felt a little sweeter. As if trying to prove there was absolutely nothing going on between them, Carter shared everything with me. He said they shared a rock-solid, purely revolutionary friendship, entirely devoid of romantic feelings. So, he felt perfectly fine bringing her back to his dorm to watch movies. Or staying up all night talking about their grand ambitions. Or driving two hours through a blinding blizzard just to buy her a bowl of her favorite clam chowder from the coast. I had no idea what was going through Carter’s head when he told me all this. And I had no idea what expression I was supposed to make in response. Aside from mechanically agreeing with him, I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Should I be suspicious? But he was telling me every microscopic detail himself. I didn’t even have the energy to be angry. All I could do was watch Hailey Brooks inch her way into his life, piece by piece. She even became super close with our mutual friends. Carter once sighed dramatically and said: “I have a beautiful girlfriend like you, and a soulmate like Hailey who understands my work. My life is perfect. What more could a guy ask for?” The moment those words left his mouth, I knew. Our relationship was bleeding out. 3 When my recent shoots wrapped up, I asked my agency for a three-month leave of absence. My boss, Maria, is a fiery, passionate Spanish woman. She cycles through boyfriends faster than I change my manicures. Every time I see her, there’s a different young, gorgeous guy on her arm. Perhaps sensing my heartbreak, she approved my leave instantly. Maria poured me a glass of whiskey, toying with the champagne roses on her desk. She laughed and said: “Chloe, love doesn’t stay fresh forever. But people can, as long as you swap them out fast enough.” I pretended to sigh with envy, telling her I didn’t have her intoxicating charm. Maria suddenly looked at me, dead serious. “Money buys everything. Modeling is a young woman’s game. Give it one season, and they will forget your face. You know this, Chloe. You are not irreplaceable. There are tens of thousands of girls just like you in Paris.” The fashion industry has never been known for sugar-coating things. But I knew Maria was right. So, I threw the whiskey back in one gulp and changed my leave from three months to thirty days. Carter and I had been together since our junior year of high school. It had been exactly nine years. I needed time to figure out what to do with this relationship. Should I try to save it? But I’m the kind of person who refuses to tolerate dirt in my eyes, and Carter had sprinted past my absolute bottom line. He had buried a thorn deep inside my heart. Tossing and turning in the dead of night, I had hated him, blamed him, and even blamed myself. I wondered if I had flown too far away, giving Carter’s heart the space to wander. So, should I give this relationship one last chance? Carter, are you going to let me down again? 4 I didn’t go back to my hometown. Instead, I flew straight to Boston. The moment he found out I was standing at the campus gates, Carter’s voice was a mix of ecstatic surprise and sheer panic. “Chloe! You didn’t even tell me you were coming! I would have picked you up at the airport!” Under the bright sun, he ran toward me. In a blur, it felt like he was still that teenage boy who lived next door. We hadn’t seen each other in three years, yet it felt like nothing had changed. Just like he was doing right now, holding me tightly, exactly the same way he did the day I left for Europe. And yet, it felt like everything was irrevocably broken. Because a girl with a ponytail popped out from behind him. Hailey smiled, bright and innocent: “Oh my, is the big sister here to check up on us?” Carter loosened his grip, looking back at her with a helpless, fond expression: “Do you think everyone is as petty and jealous as you?” Hailey ignored him, extending a hand toward me: “Hi! You can just call me Hailey, just like Carter does.” “Chloe. Nice to meet you.” I gave her hand a polite, brief shake, my eyes barely lingering on her. “Wow, your skin is flawless, and your makeup is stunning! Not like me. I can’t even tell the difference between eyeshadow and blush.” Hailey looked dramatically devastated. Carter grabbed my luggage cart and chuckled: “Why does a kid like you need makeup? Natural beauty is the best kind.” Hearing that, a glint of smug satisfaction flashed in the girl’s eyes. She tilted her chin up, looking at me expectantly. As if she was waiting for a show to start. I just smiled and didn’t say a word. I had crossed a six-hour time difference and survived an eleven-hour flight. I wasn’t here to play a low-budget game of petty jealousy with an amateur pick-me girl. But Hailey wouldn’t let it go. She kept buzzing around me like a gnat: “Since you’re so gorgeous, what kind of cosmetics do you use?” “Expensive ones.” She was giving me a headache, so I shut her down with two words. Predictably, she froze for a few seconds, all the color draining from her face. Tears instantly welled up in her eyes. She bit her lip, completely silent. It wasn’t until Carter, walking ahead with the luggage, noticed the silence that she forced a watery smile: “Carter, I still have some data to run in the lab. I’m gonna head out.” “Hailey! What’s wrong? Hey, don’t cry!” Carter didn’t let her leave. He jogged back and grabbed her by the wrist. His eyes were overflowing with unchecked heartbreak. “You idiot, why are you crying again?” Hailey stopped holding back and buried her face in Carter’s chest, sobbing loudly: “I’m just being too sensitive! When she said that, I thought she was mocking me for growing up poor!” “You are being too sensitive,” I said coldly, standing off to the side, watching these two star-crossed lovers embrace. Carter snapped. He shielded the crying girl in his arms and glared at me fiercely: “Chloe, what is wrong with you? Apologize to Hailey right now!” I pointed to myself, staring at Carter in total disbelief. “Me? Apologize?” Hailey perfectly timed her intervention to play the peacemaker: “It’s not her fault! It’s my own insecurities. I always thought that if I studied hard enough, I could cross class boundaries and change my fate. But at the end of the day, I’m just a small-town scholarship kid. I don’t make the kind of money a model does, and I can’t afford expensive makeup. Whatever, let’s just forget it! Please don’t be mad, Chloe! You haven’t seen Carter’s apartment yet, have you? Come on, I’ll show you the way!” I watched her performance with zero expression. Then, I reached out and grabbed her wrist. “A small-town scholarship kid… who can afford to wear a $4,000 Cartier bracelet?” “Th… this was a birthday present Carter gave me last month… I had no idea it was so expensive! Carter, I’m giving this back to you right now!” Hailey looked utterly panicked, her hands trembling as she fumbled with the clasp. But she miraculously just couldn’t seem to get it off. Ah. So that was it. I looked up at the sky and let out a laugh of pure, unadulterated relief. No wonder Carter asked to borrow $7,000 from me last month. It was to buy his precious junior a luxury birthday present. We had dated for nine years. The most he ever bought me were cheap stuffed animals and trinkets. I knew he came from nothing, so I never, ever demanded material things from him. I never imagined he would buy another woman a luxury bracelet. Using my money. “Chloe, when did you become so bitter and vicious?” “Don’t blame her, Carter. It’s all my fault.” The two of them bounced lines off each other like actors in a soap opera, clinging to each other right in front of my face. I was so exhausted. My brain was completely numb. My only coherent thought was— Thank God I skipped the in-flight meal. Because otherwise, I would be violently throwing up on the pavement right now. I shook my head, grabbed the handle of my suitcase, and turned to walk away without a shred of hesitation. Before I left, I looked at Carter. “We’re breaking up. Make sure you pay me back.” Instantly, it was like a bucket of ice water hit him. He shoved the girl in his arms away. His voice trembled as he asked me why I was abandoning him. The girl’s crying hitched, and she began mumbling incoherently. “I’m dragging you down.” “I’m so sorry.” “I should just die.” … I had absolutely zero interest in hearing the rest. I picked up my pace and walked away. Caught between a rock and a hard place, Carter eventually chose Hailey. Then, he yelled at my retreating back: “I’ll come find you later to calm you down!” Whatever connection Carter and I used to share was entirely dead. He actually thought my breakup was just me throwing a little tantrum. He thought he could just give me a piece of candy, coax me a bit, and I’d come running back. Honestly, the realization that he didn’t know me at all hurt more than the fact that he fell for someone else. It wasn’t Carter who was precious to me. It was the nine years I had invested.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “446007”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I never had the courage to confess my feelings. My mom, heartbroken by my quiet pining, secretly tried to play matchmaker. She was effortlessly shut down by Carter. “You’ve got to be kidding. I absolutely despise it when elders meddle in my personal life.” “Even if I were looking to settle down, she wouldn’t even make the list.” I nodded and accepted his words without a fight. Terrified my mom would blame herself, I packed our bags and moved us out of the city overnight. One month passed. Then two. Carter remained completely silent. But on the day I finally agreed to a setup with someone new, he suddenly tracked me down. “My family is arranging a marriage for me. She’s a real estate tycoon’s daughter.” I pressed my lips together and said, “Congratulations.” Carter’s face darkened with sudden, fierce anger. “Chloe, do you really have to speak to me like that?” 1 When he first found out I liked him, Carter raised an eyebrow and asked, “Your mom says you have a crush on me. Is that true?” I had just run through the pouring rain to deliver files to a client. I was drenched to the bone, but my face flushed hot as I started to nod. Carter just laughed. “Why didn’t you tell your mom that we are just friends? Strictly platonic.” I felt the blood drain from my face in an instant. I didn’t understand. Friends. How could we be just friends? In the five years I’d known Carter, he had never missed a single important moment in my life. When I was fresh out of college, I didn’t know how to say no to my boss’s unreasonable demands. At a corporate networking event, a client tried to take advantage of me. It was Carter who threw a punch, dragged me out of there, and handled the fallout so my background check for a new job wouldn’t be ruined. When I had to travel out of state for work, he volunteered to come along, joking that he was my personal bodyguard. Two years ago, a doctor back home found a shadow on my mom’s lungs and suspected cancer. I was completely paralyzed with fear. It was Carter who contacted a top specialist, secured a hospital bed, dropped all his work, and stayed by my side in the waiting room day and night. When we found out it was a benign tumor, I held him and cried tears of pure joy. My mom saw everything. From then on, she’d intentionally bake him pies and send him care packages, trying to boost my image in his eyes. Carter would always laugh and tease that he was reaping the benefits of knowing me. My mom knew all of this. Just like my friends, she knew everything Carter had done for me over the years, and naturally assumed it was only a matter of time before we got together. That was why her heart ached for my unrequited love, prompting her to approach him. But no one expected that right when I was ready to confess, Carter would beat me to the punch to remind me of my place. I opened my mouth to ask why, but Carter seemed to read my mind. He answered with cruel consideration. “Everything I’ve done for you was just because I view you as a friend. That’s all it is.” 2 I had been berated by clients all day and forced to drink at a luncheon. My head was pounding. But I still wanted to fight for myself one last time: “But the way you treat me crossed the line of a normal friendship a long time ago.” Who drives across town in the dead of night to buy expensive ingredients, just to cook a meal to cheer up a friend? My face was dripping wet. Tears mixed with the rainwater, sliding down the hem of my shirt and soaking into his carpet. Carter raised his hand, seemingly wanting to grab a towel to dry me off. But halfway there, his hand stiffened, and he diverted toward a drawer instead. He pulled out a ridiculously expensive luxury watch and slowly clasped it around his wrist. His tone was completely detached. “Chloe, you just haven’t seen much of the world. That’s why you treat a little bit of basic decency like a lifeline.” “Go out and date a few more guys. You’ll realize what I did was nothing.” My intuition screamed that I was losing him. I wasn’t ready to let go. Like a drowning woman clutching at a rope, I pleaded. “But I think you’re incredible. So many people in the world go from friends to lovers. We’ve known each other for so long, we know everything about each other, and there are no other women in your life. Can’t we just try? I really, really like you, Carter.” “At the very least, you like me as a friend. That means there’s hope, right?” I wanted to list them out. I wanted to list every moment he had been good to me, to prove that there was at least a spark of love between us. But Carter chuckled, finally sounding impatient. “You know we only have a platonic connection, so because you weren’t confident, you had your mom try to force my hand?” His voice was laced with confusion and amusement. “What were you thinking? Did you think even if I didn’t like you, I’d be too polite to reject an elder?” I froze. My immediate reaction was to explain: “No, that’s not—” I honestly didn’t know my mom was going to do that, nor did I want to pressure him. But before I could get the words out, Carter spoke, his voice dripping with disappointment. “Stop joking around, Chloe. You know I despise it when people meddle in my business.” “Even if I were looking, she wouldn’t be on the list.” As if to punctuate his words, the watch on his wrist caught the light, gleaming with cold indifference. It stung my eyes. I belatedly realized it was the newest season’s release from a top-tier luxury brand. Something a regular working-class person could never afford in a lifetime. For a modest paycheck, I swallowed insults from clients and ran through torrential rain to deliver papers. I was standing there looking like a drowned rat, begging for his affection. And all he had to do was stand there and let a single watch remind me of the massive chasm between our worlds. If my mom hadn’t accidentally forced this confrontation, he probably never would have revealed his true background to me. This so-called friendship felt like a massive, humiliating joke. My throat tightened. After a pause, he added, “Even if you do like me, why did you have to go about it this way?” In that moment, it hit me. Carter was blaming me. Blaming me for breaking the delicate balance of our friendship. Blaming me for confessing my feelings using the one method he hated most. Blaming me for not knowing my place and having delusions of grandeur. The damp chill of the rain seeped into my bones, bringing an agonizing ache. I suddenly shivered. Carter frowned and half-raised his hand to do something. But he stopped, remembered himself, and dropped it back to his side, clenching it into a fist. Perhaps realizing his words had been too harsh, he shifted to a coaxing tone. “Stop crying, okay?” “If I actually liked you in that way, I wouldn’t bear to see you looking this miserable. Do you understand?” I suddenly felt utterly pathetic. Not wanting to lose any more of my dignity, I nodded and hoarsely whispered that I understood. I turned around to leave. Carter called out after me. “I’ll have someone bring you up some hot tea.” I shook my head. “No need.” Carter hesitated for a fraction of a second. But in the end, he said nothing. 3 Maybe because of the rain, I slept terribly. I tossed and turned, trapped in endless dreams. In my dreams, Carter’s disappointed voice echoed on a loop. “Chloe, I thought you were different. I thought you’d never let parents interfere in my life.” His face slowly blurred away. The dream rewound through time, landing on the early days of our friendship when I dragged him to a pottery class to relieve stress. Carter was a perfectionist; he demanded flawlessness in everything he did. But he had been restless that day, unable to focus, and naturally couldn’t sculpt anything decent. I pointed to my own lopsided clay lump and said, “You don’t have to be so serious. It can be whatever you want it to be.” “Even if it’s a total mess, you can still enjoy the messy process.” He smiled then. He told me that everyone in his life loved trying to control his decisions. People wanted his money or influence, and when they couldn’t manipulate him directly, they used his parents to force his hand. He had said, “I love hanging out with you because you give me room to breathe.” What did I say back then? I confidently told him that I considered him my best friend. And best friends understand and support each other. They never interfere in each other’s lives for selfish reasons. But now, I had become exactly like the people he despised. Because of my one-sided feelings, I let a parent apply pressure. Even though it wasn’t my intention, to him, the result was exactly the same. I had crossed his ultimate boundary. 4 I took a sick day to rest. When my head finally cleared, I went back to the office. My coworker, Jess, who was helping me set up a conference room, suddenly grabbed my arm, buzzing with excitement. “Chloe! I just saw your guy, Carter. He is dressed to kill today!” “Did he get dressed up just to see you?” “Come on, spill it. Where is he taking you after work?” A tiny spark of hope flared in my chest out of habit, but it was instantly extinguished when I remembered what had happened. I forced a tight smile. “No, he’s not here for me. Probably just visiting.” After all, during the two days I was home sick in bed, he hadn’t sent me a single text. Jess didn’t look convinced, but she dropped it. Soon, Carter appeared. But he didn’t walk toward me. Instead, under the spotlight of everyone’s attention, he walked straight onto the main stage. —Speaking on behalf of the Hayes Group regional branch. This wasn’t on the original conference agenda. It must have been a last-minute addition. “The speaker is the heir to the Hayes Group. Rumor has it he just started taking over the family business a few weeks ago, starting with this branch. Today is his first official public appearance.” Jess whispered the fresh gossip in my ear, shaking her head. “Wait, Carter has been picking you up from work for years, and nobody knew he was the Hayes heir? He hides it well. And you—your best friend is a billionaire and you didn’t even tell me—” She nudged my arm, turning to tease me. But when she saw how completely drained of color my face was, she hesitated. “Chloe, you didn’t know… did you?” I really didn’t. That watch a few days ago was the only clue I had that his family was wealthy. I was just finding out today that he was the heir to the Hayes Group. He had hidden it flawlessly all these years. I let out a self-deprecating laugh, realizing in a daze that this was an incredibly ruthless way to reject someone. He was telling me he had never considered me a true friend. And he was reminding me that the gap between us was astronomical. If I knew what was good for me, I’d stay far away. I swallowed the bitter lump in my throat and went back to work. As Carter’s speech neared its end, some corporate employees from the Hayes Group nearby started gossiping about how handsome he was. The conversation inevitably shifted to his love life. After mentioning the endless string of high-society setups his family arranged, one woman scoffed: “The craziest part is, a few days ago, some working-class mom actually ambushed Mr. Hayes trying to set him up with her daughter. Since when can just anyone walk up and pitch themselves to the heir?” I knew secrets didn’t stay secret, but I couldn’t believe it had spread this fast. The voices continued. “Your intel is off. I heard the daughter actually knew Mr. Hayes for years, claiming to just be a platonic friend.” “But get this: she hung around him for years playing the ‘friend’ card, and the second she found out he was taking over the company, she threw herself at him. Talk about looking for a payday.” Someone else chimed in: “Worse than that. She even sent her small-town mom to do the dirty work. Does she think she’s some aristocratic heiress, demanding an arranged marriage?” My face turned ashen. I didn’t even realize that to outsiders, this was the narrative. Was this how Carter saw me too? Jess frowned and asked me, “The girl they’re talking about…” I looked up just as Carter was walking past our section toward the backstage area, and our eyes met. My voice was dry. “Yeah. It’s me.” Carter’s gaze swept over me, landed briefly on the gossiping women—he definitely heard them—and his expression remained completely blank. He didn’t stop. He just kept walking. Jess instantly flared up. “What is his problem?! Why is he telling everyone about this?” “He lies about his identity for years, yet he’s perfectly fine letting you take the fall and get dragged through the mud? What a jerk!” I dug my fingernails into my palms, not sure if I was answering Jess or comforting myself. “It means we aren’t friends anymore.” Because I presumed to cross a boundary, we were no longer friends. And I needed to drop the delusions once and for all. 5 The drama with Carter eventually made its way back to my mom. My older sister, Sarah, was out of town for work, and my mom was at her place watching my nephew. When I went over, she wiped her hands nervously on her apron and asked, “Did I do something wrong, honey? Did I cause you trouble?” I pressed my lips together and shook my head. “No, Mom. Carter just doesn’t like me back. It’s really not a big deal.” If there was one person in the world who genuinely just wanted me to be happy, it was my mom. She didn’t know the politics. She just saw my heartbreak. She just wanted me to smile. To distract her, I mentioned that I was going to ask my company for a transfer to our Boston office. A promotion and relocation was something HR had offered me months ago. Back then, Carter had frowned and said the city he hated most in the world was Boston. So, I had stood in solidarity with him and turned the offer down. But looking at it now, Boston was exactly where I needed to be. I didn’t want my mom staying here and hearing the nasty rumors, so I used the excuse that I needed her to cook for me, asking her to move to Boston with me. While I handed over my projects at work, my mom started packing. We planned to leave the moment Sarah got back from her business trip. During this time, Carter and I didn’t exchange a single word. But halfway through the week, the school called and demanded I come in, claiming my nephew, Noah, had tripped a classmate. Sarah didn’t know Carter and I had cut ties, so before I left, she texted: “If it gets messy, ask Carter to go with you. He helped us get Noah into that school, so he knows the staff better.” I didn’t reply. The situation was actually very simple. Another kid was running blindly, didn’t see Noah quietly playing on the floor, and tripped over him, getting a bloody nose. When I got to the office, the principal said it wasn’t entirely our fault, but the other kid was pretty banged up. He suggested I just apologize to the parents to keep the peace. It should have been easy. But when the parents walked in, it was a man and a woman—and the woman was Brittany, a girl who used to aggressively pursue Carter. Back in the day, Carter had used me as a shield to get Brittany to back off, which resulted in her making my life miserable for a while. It only ended when Carter stepped in and gave her family some kind of brutal warning. The man was Brittany’s cousin, Todd. He immediately recognized me. With an oily, flattering smile, he asked: “Wait, aren’t you Carter’s…” Before he could finish, Brittany impatiently whispered something in his ear. Todd’s expression shifted to hesitation. He stepped outside to make a phone call. I don’t know what was said, but when he walked back in, his attitude had completely changed. He was arrogant and aggressive, insisting that Noah had maliciously tripped his kid, demanding that my nephew apologize in front of the entire class. I refused. We argued for a long time. In the middle of it, Brittany stood next to me, smirking. “Chloe, Carter isn’t going to protect you anymore. You’re dead meat.” I rolled my eyes. Brittany was determined to escalate things, trying to direct all her anger at me. She glared and shouted, “Chloe, it’s because this kid is raised by a shameless social climber who throws herself at rich men that he acts like a little delinquent!” Mindful of the principal standing right there, I held myself back from slapping her. Taking advantage of my silence, Brittany pulled out her phone and dialed a number. The moment it connected, she put on a sickeningly sweet, whining voice, completely twisting the story: “Carter! Chloe is bullying my nephew at school, aren’t you going to do something about it?” I realized then that Brittany must have finally gotten her claws into Carter. Not wanting to hear his voice through the speaker, I casually stuck my foot out and tripped Todd. He stumbled forward and knocked the phone right out of Brittany’s hand. Brittany was furious, but all she could do was glare at him. Eventually, another parent who had witnessed the playground incident stepped in and corroborated my story. The school dismissed the issue. After thanking the helpful parent, I walked out to the parking lot. Near the school gates, I saw a familiar car. It was Carter’s old car. The one I had helped him pick out years ago. We had haggled with the salesman for hours to get the price down. When he finally bought it, he picked me up in it all the time, promising that the passenger seat was exclusively mine. But that was all in the past. For the billionaire heir of the Hayes Group, that car was practically garbage. I had no idea why he was still driving it. Brittany ran up to it, thrilled, whining coquettishly. “Oh, you didn’t have to come all this way for something so small! I know you’ve been so busy. Todd and I handled it.” Todd stood nearby, smiling like a lapdog. “Yeah, yeah, exactly. Just a little playground squabble. We handled the unreasonable people.” I was speechless. I didn’t even have the energy to argue over who was actually unreasonable. I just turned and walked away. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Carter looking in my direction. Afraid he was going to back Brittany up and cause a scene, I walked even faster.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “446008”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 “So white, the clothes. So much whiter, the person.” “Next time, don’t even bother with underwear. Makes things easier for laundry.” I stared at my wife’s WhatsApp, unable to process the words. The contact name seared my eyes: “Julian Hillner.” Her ex-husband. I slammed my phone down. My wife, Kathy, flinched, startled. “Darling, let me explain, his hand is hurt, and there’s no one to look after him…” I pointed a finger at her. “His hand is hurt?” “For three years of our marriage, you wouldn’t even press a button on the washing machine, claiming it would chip your manicure.” “And now you’re at your ex’s place, hand-washing clothes? For a whole night?” “Darling, why are you so mad?” She bent to pick up her bag, her eyes darting to the coffee table. I took two swift steps, planting my foot firmly on the bag. “Don’t touch it.” “Darling…” “What happened to Julian’s hand?” Kathy’s face went instantly pale. She instinctively clutched her throat, her gaze flickering nervously. “He… he fractured his hand.” “A comminuted fracture, no one to care for him, couldn’t even pull up his pants.” “I just felt sorry for him, so I went to help out.” “Help out?” My lips twisted into a sneer. I bent down and picked up the bag. A Gucci overnight bag, bulging. “Need this thing to ‘help out’?” “Give it to me!” Kathy shrieked, lunging to grab it. I sidestepped her, gripped the zipper, and yanked it open. Whoosh. A pile of items tumbled onto the coffee table. A black lace lingerie set. Half a bottle of lube. And a pair of freshly discarded nude stockings. The air solidified instantly. I recognized that lingerie set. For our anniversary, I’d begged her for half a month, just to see her wear it once. She’d claimed the fabric was scratchy, that she was allergic, refused to wear it for anything. Now, that “scratchy” lingerie lay before me. It reeked of cheap cologne mixed with disinfectant. Pungent. Disgusting. I snatched the lace and flung it at her face. “This is your ‘help’?” “Going to your ex’s place to wash clothes, and bringing your own lube?” “Were you washing clothes, or acting as an automated ‘wash-and-wear’ service?” Kathy tore off the lingerie, tears instantly gushing. “Leo! Don’t talk like that!” “He’s sick! He can’t move!” “I wore this because… because…” “Because what?” I took a step closer, staring at her neck. A patch of concealer had rubbed off. Revealing a dark red mark. A hickey. “Because this thing cures broken bones?” I reached out to wipe at the concealer. Kathy slapped my hand away, then collapsed onto the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. “You’re just petty! You have no sympathy!” “We’re divorced, what else could there be?” “If I wanted something with him, why would I have married you in the first place?” “He’s lying there, can’t move, and you’re still slandering me!” Can’t move? I sneered, casting my phone screen to the 65-inch TV. A screenshot of game stats appeared. ID: “The Swift Serpent.” That was Julian’s gaming account. I’d been sleepless last night, using a secondary account to monitor his profile. The stats showed: 2 AM last night, ranked match MVP. Hero used: “The Blademaster.” Fastest hands on the field, most dazzling plays. “This is your ‘comminuted fracture’?” I pointed at the “Penta Kill” icon on the screen. “At 2 AM, he was slaughtering the competition.” “And you were ‘washing clothes’ in his bed.” “Kathy, do you think I’m blind, or just plain stupid?” Kathy looked up at the screen, her lips trembling. “Th-this… this was a booster playing for him!” “Yes! A booster!” “Leo, why do you have to be so dark?” “I’ve been frugal for this family, and you’re here investigating my ex?” Frugal? I laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. 2 I tapped open her shopping history on the Aethelred Market app. Australian Wagyu A9, two hundred dollars a pound. Deep-sea wild sea cucumber, five hundred dollars a box. Boston lobster, extra-large. The delivery address was always the same: Apartment 402, Building 3, Serenity Lane. That was Julian’s rented place. And what had I eaten last night? Instant noodles, without even an egg. In three years of marriage, she had never once cooked. Claiming cooking fumes ruined her skin, and dish soap hurt her hands. I washed all the dishes, mopped all the floors. All to protect those manicures of hers, which cost eighty dollars a pop. I grabbed her hand. The long, rhinestone-studded nails were now clipped short and bare. There was still unwashed grease on her fingertips. “You clipped your nails to cook for him?” “You don’t mind roughing up your hands to wash his underwear?” “Kathy, you truly are a wonderful wife.” I flung her hand away. Kathy stumbled, hitting the sofa leg. She dropped the act entirely, scrambling up from the floor, yelling defiantly. “Yes! I did go to take care of him! So what?” “A bond forged in marriage lasts a lifetime!” “He’s in trouble, how could I just stand by and watch him suffer?” “You make tens of thousands a month, what’s wrong with sharing a bit to help him out?” “Leo, you need to be more generous!” “What kind of man nitpicks over such trivial things?” Generous. Help him out. I looked at the woman before me. For three years, I’d thought she was delicate, a little princess who needed pampering. Turns out, she wasn’t incapable of doing things. She just reserved her efforts for other men. My stomach churned, a wave of pure, visceral disgust. “Get out.” I pointed at the door. “Take your lube, and get out.” Kathy froze. Before, if she cried, I’d immediately comfort her. Even when she gave my limited-edition collectibles to a relative’s child, I never spoke harshly. But today, the icy chill in my eyes frightened her. “Leo, you dare kick me out?” “Don’t you dare regret this!” “I’m leaving right now! I’m going to Elara’s place!” She grabbed her bag from the floor, shoving the lingerie in haphazardly. Then slammed the door behind her. Elara’s place? I walked to the balcony, watching her red BMW X3 drive out of the complex. The direction was clearly not towards her friend’s house. It was heading straight for Serenity Lane. Julian’s place. I pulled out a cigarette and lit it. My hand was shaking. Not from sadness, but from fury. And the humiliation of being played for a fool for three years. I turned and walked into the bedroom. Locked the door. That night, I didn’t sleep. I was checking her finances. And what I found chilled me to the bone. The next morning. The living room was eerily silent. I stared at the bank statements on my phone, my eyes bloodshot. Kathy hadn’t come home last night. I hadn’t called her either. This card was the household card I’d given her, linked to my secondary account. Every month, I transferred two thousand dollars for living expenses. For three years, I had never checked the statements. Because of trust. Now, that trust had become a slap to the face. On the first of every month. There was a fixed transfer of five hundred dollars. The recipient’s note was “Belle Beauty Salon.” But I checked the verified name on the payment app. The account belonged to “Juli*.” Julian. Three years, thirty-six months. This single, fixed expense alone amounted to eighteen thousand dollars. And that was just the small stuff. Various fragmented transfers, payments, gift money. There were even several large cash withdrawals. In total, she had transferred at least forty thousand dollars over these three years. Forty thousand. I had hesitated for half a year before buying a new car. She transferred money to her ex without a second thought. 3 I stood up and walked to the walk-in closet. It was Kathy’s sanctuary, usually off-limits to me. A whole wall of glass display cabinets. Filled with various designer bags. Hermès, Chanel, Louis Vuitton. All gifts I’d bought her over the past three years for holidays and anniversaries. Each one was worth a fortune. I opened the cabinet door and picked up the Hermès Picnic Bag in the center. Elephant grey, gold hardware. I’d given it to her for our anniversary last year, costing me well over five thousand dollars. The feel was off. Too stiff. The pebbled leather texture felt fake. I turned on my phone’s flashlight, set it to macro mode. Took a picture of the embossed logo on the bag. Then searched online for genuine comparison images. No need for expert appraisal. Blatantly fake. The edges of the “H” in the font were all fuzzy. I picked up the Chanel CF next to it. The chain was light, almost faded. Fake. All fake. The three Hermès, two Chanel bags displayed in the cabinet. All high-quality replicas. Where were the real bags? I downloaded a pre-owned luxury goods trading app. Entered Kathy’s phone number to search for users. Sure enough. Account ID: “KathyLovesLife.” The homepage was filled with “sold” listings. “99% new Hermès Picnic Bag, urgent sale, with receipt.” “Chanel CF Medium, only carried once, bargain price.” All transactions took place within a month of me giving her the gifts. The total transaction amount? Another thirty thousand dollars. She sold the real bags, bought fakes to display at home to fool me. Where did the money go? Where did the money go? I clicked on a screenshot of the account’s withdrawal records (she’d posted it in the comments). The last four digits of the recipient card were 8888. That wasn’t Kathy’s card. I entered the card number into my online banking transfer interface. The system automatically displayed the recipient’s name: “Juli*.” Julian again. I threw my phone onto the bed, covering my face with both hands. A guttural roar escaped my throat. The person was his. The money was his too. What was I? A money-making machine? Or a chump helping someone else raise his wife? Just then, my phone vibrated. It was a push notification from the Highway Pass app. “Your vehicle, State Plate A*****, passed through the airport highway toll station at 08:30 AM.” That was the BMW X3 Kathy was driving. Airport highway? What was she doing at the airport? Was she trying to run away? I immediately opened the vehicle tracking app. The car wasn’t at the airport. It had stopped at a high-end private orthopedic hospital near the airport. It was the most expensive rehabilitation hospital in the city. A single night’s stay started at three hundred dollars. I remembered what Kathy had said last night. “His hand is hurt, and there’s no one to look after him.” Turns out, “no one to look after him” meant staying in a VIP suite, eating Australian Wagyu, and enjoying “special care” from his ex-wife. And all of this cost. Was coming out of my pocket. I grabbed my car keys and rushed out of the house. In the garage, there was still a six-year-old Sedan. That was my car. The BMW was hers to drive, because she said driving an old car to gatherings was embarrassing. I started the car, pedal to the metal. Just then. My phone vibrated. A credit card transaction alert. [“Your credit card ending in 8888 has been charged $5,200 at Aesthetic Beauty Clinic.”] Immediately after. Julian sent me a photo. In the photo, he lay on a wide hospital bed. His left hand was in a cast, his right hand holding up his phone for a selfie. In the background, Kathy was bending over, feeding him grapes. Her neckline was low, revealing a flash of white skin. That was my wife. The caption was just one sentence: “Nothing beats the original; some people are only good for paying.” I stared at that photo. Blood rushed backward, surging to my scalp. Fifty-two hundred. 4 Aesthetic clinic. Was she using my money to get her ex plastic surgery? Or some other unspeakable procedure? My in-laws were still chattering away. “Leo, don’t be too bothered.” “You’re a man, be more magnanimous.” “Kathy and Julian are ancient history, isn’t she doing just fine with you now?” I looked at their opening and closing mouths. Like two blood-sucking black holes. I didn’t erupt. Nor did I flip the table. I calmly pressed the screenshot button. Saved the message, saved the photo. Then slowly gathered the bank statements from the coffee table, folded them neatly, and put them in my pocket. Since you’re treating me like “family,” Then this “grand gift.” I’ll repay it with interest. I left my in-laws’ house and sat in my car, smoking three cigarettes. My phone vibrated again. It was a WhatsApp message from Kathy. “Darling, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have lost my temper with you.” “I reflected on it all night at Elara’s place.” “That money… I lent it to a friend in urgent need, they’ll pay it back in a few days.” “Please don’t be mad, okay?” Fifty-two hundred. Friend in urgent need. She couldn’t even bother to come up with a better lie. I looked at the screen, a cold smile twisting my lips. My fingers tapped on the keyboard. “It’s fine, darling. Tell me if you need more money.” “Don’t make yourself suffer.” “I’m away on a business trip, I’ll be back in a couple of days.” After sending that message. I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat. If we’re going to act, let’s go all in. I want them to know what it’s like to invite trouble and then try to get rid of it. That afternoon. I told Kathy to stay at her parents’ or Elara’s place for a few days, not to come home yet. Kathy was more than happy to. She was currently busy acting as a full-time caregiver at the hospital, with no time to come home anyway. Seizing the opportunity. I bought a bunch of miniature pinhole cameras. Replaced the old ones with new ones that had remote cloud storage. After doing all that. I moved all my valuables—my watch, emergency cash, the house deed—to my parents’ place. Then, I set a daily limit on Kathy’s secondary card. A hundred dollars a day. Couldn’t block the card entirely, that would alert them. It had to be like boiling a frog slowly, gradually bringing the water to a boil. I opened the phone monitoring app. On the screen, the front door of our home opened. Kathy entered, helping Julian. Julian’s arm still had a cast, but his movements weren’t slow at all. He even managed to free one hand to squeeze Kathy’s butt. “So this is the house that idiot bought?” Julian looked around the living room, a look of disdain on his face. “The decor is so tacky, reeks of new money.” Kathy smiled as she helped him change shoes. She was using my slippers. “Just bear with it, he’s on a business trip anyway, so it’s ours for now.” “You can recover here for a few days, I’ll make you delicious food.” “Once you pay off those tens of thousands in gambling debts, I’ll divorce him.” “And I’ll get half of this house too.” The voice recorder faithfully captured every word. Every word was like a nail, driven into my eardrums. Julian wrapped an arm around Kathy’s waist. Pushing her onto the sofa… I turned off the screen. No need to watch anymore. The evidence was already enough to ruin their reputations. I picked up the hotel phone and dialed the bank’s customer service. “Hello, I’d like to report all my credit cards lost.” “Yes, all of them.” “Reason? They’ve been fraudulently used.” On the monitor. Julian, who was about to order takeout, suddenly cursed. “Damn it, why can’t I pay?” Kathy picked up her phone and looked. “Maybe there’s a limit, I’ll try another card.” She tried another card. “That one doesn’t work either… what’s going on?” … The show, had only just begun. I looked out at the night sky. My gaze colder than the night itself. Julian, Kathy. Since you love money so much. Then I’ll let you taste what it’s like to have none. And what it’s like to be driven mad by debt.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “445993”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 The Cook Corporation’s illegal demolition killed my parents and turned me into a beggar on the streets. When the thugs they hired had me cornered, Jax stood in front of me. He was like a stray dog, eyes burning red with fury. “Anyone touches Ava,” he snarled, “I’ll make them regret it for the rest of their lives.” We fell in love when we had nothing. Until the day the Cook heiress sent her men for us. Jax was beaten until his head was slick with blood, but he still shielded me. He shoved me away and let them take him. Lost in the downpour, I stumbled through the alleyways and saw her car. The interior light was on, and through the rain-streaked window, I saw Jax press Seraphina Cook against the seat, his mouth crashing down on hers in a brutal, hungry kiss. In that instant, the world blurred into a wash of gray rain, and the only sound was the frantic drumming of my own heart. … “Is fucking a high-society girl that much better, Jax?” Seraphina’s breathless words, broken and panting, reached my ears. Jax was completely lost in her, his teeth gently grazing her earlobe, his eyes glazed with lust. When he didn’t answer, she grabbed his tie, flipping him onto his back and straddling him. He reached to peel off her black dress, but she stopped his hand. She looked down at him, her voice laced with a petulant complaint. “I’ve asked you so many times, Jax. When are you going to agree to be my personal bodyguard? Sneaking into the Warrens to see you was fun at first, but I’m getting tired of this whole underground affair. Besides…” She paused. “Besides, I’m sick of seeing your little beggar girlfriend.” Jax was silent for a moment, then he answered her with a kiss that was even more ferocious than the last, stripping away her clothes in the dark confines of the car. My tears mingled with the rain, my whole body shaking. I couldn’t watch anymore. I turned and ran, stumbling on the potholed ground, my knees screaming in protest each time I fell. But I scrambled back up and kept running, desperate to get away. All I wanted was to go home. My home was nothing more than a makeshift lean-to of scrap wood and tarps, but it was once a warm and happy place. It had my parents, hot meals, and a soft bed. Until the Cook Corporation tore it all down. My parents died trying to protect it, crushed under the rubble of our house. Their deaths sparked an outrage. The displaced residents protested, and the demolition was temporarily halted. We swore we would protect our land, that we wouldn’t let Cook win. But one by one, people took the money. Or they couldn’t stand the constant harassment from the company’s thugs. They left. The Warrens grew emptier, but I stayed. I was waiting to get justice for my parents. And Jax stayed with me. His parents were gambling addicts. He’d run away from home and lived on the streets. I had shared my food with him. When the thugs had me cornered, he had appeared out of nowhere to protect me. As I cleaned his wounds later, dabbing iodine on the raw gashes, I started to cry, from fear or from a pain in my own chest, I didn’t know which. “I’m sorry,” I sobbed. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into this…” Jax pulled me into a fierce embrace. “Ava, I’m staying with you. I’m going to protect you for the rest of your life.” And for five years, he did. 2 Jax came back late that night. A fresh bandage was taped to his forehead. He saw the scrapes on my knees and knelt to apply ointment. I took a step back. “Where were you?” A flicker of hesitation crossed his eyes. “They took me to see Ms. Cook,” he said carefully. “She wasn’t too hard on me. Ava… maybe she’s not as bad as you think.” I looked up at him, my heart clenching with disbelief. “Jax, you know how much I hate the Cooks.” It was a blood debt. He knew everything. And he was dismissing it with a casual, “not as bad as you think.” He reached for me. “I’m sorry, Ava. But that was our parents’ fight. Seraphina doesn’t approve of what her family did.” I pushed him away, a cold laugh escaping my lips. “You two seem to know each other pretty well.” He flinched, his eyes darting away. He didn’t answer. Instead, he started talking, as if trying to convince both me and himself. “Ava, you should talk to her. I’m sure she’d be willing to give you some compensation. I want a better life for you, for us. We can’t keep living hand-to-mouth, selling scrap metal. Do you really want to be stuck in this hellhole for the rest of your life?” I slapped him. The sound echoed in our small shelter. He turned his head slightly, his eyes downcast. I looked at him, my voice low and sharp. “This isn’t some hellhole. It’s my home. The Cook Corporation destroyed my house and killed my parents for twenty thousand dollars. I’m not leaving until I get my revenge.” Seeing the tears welling in my eyes, Jax panicked. “I’m sorry, Ava. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” Then, another lie slipped from his lips. “I found a job. A bodyguard. It’s steady work.” I gave him a faint, bitter smile. I knew it was just Seraphina’s excuse to have him at her beck and call. “Ava,” he murmured, “I’m going to make you happy.” … Jax started coming home later and later, until he wasn’t coming home at all. “The rich have a lot of parties,” he’d explain, his voice strained. “They’re always short-staffed. You have to understand, Ava.” I knew he was sleeping with her. “Your employer seems to need a lot of… company,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. At the mention of her, a light I couldn’t ignore flickered in his eyes. A small smile played on his lips. “Ava, she’s… incredible. The strongest person I’ve ever met. Besides you.” The comparison made me sick to my stomach. I didn’t confront him. I still needed his protection. Without Jax, I wouldn’t survive long enough to see justice done. But I stopped letting him touch me. And Jax, lost in his new world with Seraphina, never even noticed. 3 A few weeks later, I was alone in the alley when a group of thugs blocked my path. “Well, well, if it isn’t Ava. Where’s your little boyfriend?” I recognized them. They were the same goons the Cook Corporation had been using for years to harass the remaining residents. I backed away. “Jax is nearby. Don’t try anything.” They looked at each other and burst out laughing. They cornered me, their shadows looming. One of them grabbed my hair, his greasy fingers scraping against my cheek. “Jax? He’s too busy being the Cook heiress’s lapdog to care about a homeless mutt like you.” I sank my teeth into his wrist, hard. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. “Fucking bitch!” A fist slammed into my face, sending me sprawling into the mud. The real beating began then. They used a filthy piece of wood, a makeshift club, crashing it against my ribs again and again. My strength gave out. I lay in the grime, gasping for air. The final blow landed on my forehead. The world dissolved into a high-pitched ringing as warm blood streamed down, blinding me. When they tore at my clothes, I no longer had the energy to fight back. They took out their phones, taking turns filming me. I just stared up at the sky, a gray canvas sliced into thin strips by a web of power lines. It was the same color it had been the day they pulled my parents’ bodies from the rubble. When they were done, they spat on the ground and left, cursing. I used the grimy wall to pull myself up, bit by bit. I wasn’t sure a single bone in my body was unbroken. Every step was agony. But I couldn’t die. If I died, who would get justice for my parents? I dragged myself around the last corner, a pile of rotting garbage marking the end of the alley. I stopped, hiding myself in the shadows. A black Lincoln, sleek and utterly out of place, was parked at the mouth of the alley. And standing beside it, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, was Jax. He looked so different I barely recognized him. Seraphina was leaning against his shoulder, her fingers tracing his jawline. “You know, Jax,” she purred, “I’m just discovering you have a rather cruel streak.” He lit a cigarette, his voice nonchalant. “Ava can be stubborn. I’ve protected her for years, but she has no idea how hard life can be. A little scare while I’m gone… maybe it’s what she needs to finally agree to leave.” Huddled behind the dumpster, I heard his words, and the blood in my veins turned to ice. The man I had trusted most had just thrown me to the wolves. I bit my lip so hard I didn’t feel the pain, my nails digging into my palms. A sharp, twisting pain erupted in my abdomen, like a dull knife being turned. My vision swam, and I slid down the wall as the world spun around me. The last thing I heard before the darkness took me was Jax’s voice, laced with something that sounded like a smile. “Once she understands…” 4 I woke up in a hospital. The door was slightly ajar, and I could hear hushed, frantic voices outside. It was Jax, his voice cracking with a despair he couldn’t contain. “Seraphina! I just told them to scare her! What the hell did you order them to do?!” Her reply was a light, careless laugh that drifted through the crack in the door. “Oh, Jax. Your little girlfriend doesn’t scare easily. Since you agreed to let me send my men to ‘persuade’ her, I thought we might as well be thorough. Better to rip the band-aid off, don’t you think?” Jax’s voice was shaking. “Do you have any idea she was pregnant?! The baby… we lost the baby…” A brief silence. Then, Seraphina’s laughter, even brighter this time. “Oh? Is that so? Well, then I guess I did you both a favor. Did you really think that child would have had a happy life, Jax? Raised by a couple of beggars squatting in a garbage heap?” The sharp crack of a slap echoed in the hallway. A moment of stunned silence, then Seraphina’s voice, laced with venom. “You ever lay a hand on me again, Jax, and I swear to god… Your future, your ticket out of that shithole you came from, it’s all tied to me. Who do you think you are without me? Just another stray dog from the Warrens, fighting over scraps.” Lying in the hospital bed, I felt a wave of nausea. A child? I subconsciously touched my flat stomach. No wonder I had been so tired and sick lately. A dark, cruel thought surfaced. A part of me was relieved. I had nothing to give a child. The door opened. Seraphina walked in, followed by Jax, his eyes red and swollen. He couldn’t look at me. She bit her lip, forcing the words out. “My men got carried away. They didn’t know when to stop. On their behalf, I apologize.” She paused, pulling a checkbook from her expensive handbag and placing a blank check on my bedside table. “As for compensation, name your price. Take your time. After all, it was our company’s… mistake… that led to your parents’ deaths and left you like this.” Then she picked up her bag, lifted her chin, and walked out. We were alone. Jax looked at me, his lips moving, but no sound coming out. “Ava, I’m so sorry…” I just smiled. A slow, cold smile. I would make them pay. … Three days later, sirens blared across the Southside. Fire trucks and ambulances swarmed the streets. The Warrens were on fire. Jax’s calls came one after another. I finally answered. He sounded like a man on the edge of a cliff. “Ava, where are you?! Why aren’t you in your room?!” “You know where I am, Jax,” I said softly. “Don’t bother looking for me. I’m going to be with my parents soon. I won’t be the burden holding you back from your new life. Are you happy now? After all these years, we’re even.” Flames licked at the flimsy wooden walls of my shelter, crackling and popping. I didn’t move. I just held the cold picture frame in my arms a little tighter. In the photo, my parents and I were smiling. I could hear the media scrum outside, the police shouting. I thought I heard Jax scream my name. “Ava!” He was trying to break through the police line. I ignored it all and closed my eyes, pressing my cheek against the cool glass of the frame. The air warped with the heat. I could see my parents in the flames, beckoning to me. Just as the heat and smoke were about to pull me under, there was a tremendous crash. The burning wall exploded inward. Jax, wreathed in smoke, stumbled into the inferno. He reached for me. “Ava! Go! We have to go!” I didn’t move. I just looked at him, my expression calm. His eyes were wild, pleading. “Ava… I was wrong… I was so wrong… please, just come outside. We can talk outside…” The smoke was getting thicker, the flames crawling across the ceiling. “Outside?” My voice was a hoarse whisper. “Outside where, Jax? My home is here. The home we were supposed to have… you destroyed it.” He slapped himself, hard, twice across the face. “I’m an animal, Ava, I deserve to die… but don’t do this, don’t throw your life away… I’m begging you…” The heat was unbearable. I could hear the firehoses outside. “Is anyone still in there?! We need to get them out!” The shout seemed to snap Jax out of his panic. He lunged forward, trying to scoop me into his arms. At that exact moment, a burning beam from the ceiling came crashing down. And the world went black.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “445994”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My best friend’s son’s eyes are identical to my husband’s. I was holding little Alex, who is three, and watching him laugh. The curve of his smile, the shape of his eyes, even the way they crinkled— I froze. “Godmother, what’s wrong?” I heard my own voice tremble. “Nothing,” I said, putting the child down. I watched him run towards Sarah. Sarah. My best friend of twenty years. She picked up Alex and smiled at me. “Look how much he loves his godmother.” I smiled back. But my palms were drenched in sweat. 1. Sarah and I have been classmates since middle school. Twenty whole years, from the age of thirteen until now. She was my bridesmaid when I got married. When she suffered a postpartum hemorrhage, I was the first to rush to the hospital. Three years ago, she suddenly told me she was pregnant. “Whose?” She just smiled, saying nothing. “You’re not going to tell me?” “It doesn’t matter,” she said, touching her belly. “I can raise him myself.” At the time, I thought she was so cool. A single mother, an independent woman. I helped her find the best obstetrician. I accompanied her to every prenatal check-up. When she had morning sickness, I made her porridge. On the day she went into labor, I was with her in the delivery room. “I’ll definitely pay you back when I have money,” she said from her hospital bed, gripping my hand. “Don’t be silly,” I laughed. “What kind of relationship do we have?” She cried. “You’re the best friend I’ll ever have.” I cried too. I believed her. During her month of postpartum confinement, I was at her house almost every day. Cooking soup, cleaning the room, washing the baby’s diapers. My husband, Harold, said I was too devoted. “She has family, doesn’t she?” “Her parents aren’t local, and she’s all alone. If I don’t help her, who will?” Harold didn’t say anything more. On the day of Alex’s full-month celebration, I gave a set of gold locks and bracelets, worth over thirty thousand. Sarah held the baby, prompting him to call me. “Say ‘Godmother.’” Little Alex babbled, drool running down his chin. I took him, my heart melting completely. “Godmother will buy you delicious food, toys, and send you to school.” Sarah stood by, her eyes curved in a smile. “You’re better to him than his own mother.” At the time, I thought this was the most genuine friendship in the world. When Alex was one, Sarah moved. The new apartment complex was very close to my house, a ten-minute walk. “This way, it’s easier for you to see Alex,” she said. I didn’t think much of it. Sometimes, when Sarah worked late, she’d drop Alex off at my house. Harold initially found it annoying. “Again?” “Just a few hours, can you watch him for me?” Later, he stopped complaining. He even started asking, “Alex isn’t coming today?” I said, “Sarah isn’t working late today.” He “oh-ed” and looked down at his phone. Now that I think about it, was he chatting with her then? For Alex’s second birthday, I gave him a big red envelope. At two and a half, I enrolled him in an early childhood education class, eighteen thousand. Sarah said she felt bad, but I said it was fine. “It’s not easy raising a child alone; I’ll help you.” She looked at me, her eyes red. “I don’t know how to thank you.” “Don’t say such things.” I was sincere. I didn’t have children. Five years of marriage, and I still couldn’t conceive. Harold said not to rush, let nature take its course. My mother-in-law’s expression grew worse and worse, but she didn’t say anything to my face. Alex, in a way, filled that void for me. I loved him as if he were my own son. But I didn’t know he might actually be my husband’s “own son.” The change started when he turned three. One day, I went to Sarah’s house to pick up Alex. He was eating watermelon. Red juice ran down his chin. He looked up and smiled at me. I froze. That smile. Those crinkling eyes. That unconscious head tilt. Exactly like Harold. I told myself then: You’re overthinking it. All kids look somewhat alike. But from that day on, I couldn’t help but observe. Alex’s ears. Harold’s ears had that same shape, with a little point at the top. Alex’s fingers. Slender and long, just like Harold’s. Alex would purse his lips when he was angry. Harold did too. Once was a coincidence. Twice was a coincidence. What about three, four, five times? I started losing sleep. That night, I lay in bed, tossing and turning. Harold was already asleep. I looked at his profile, suddenly feeling like he was a stranger. I quietly picked up his phone. His phone was never password-protected; we had agreed on mutual trust. I opened WeChat and found Sarah’s chat. The most recent messages were from three days ago. “Alex has a cold, do you have time to come see him?” “Okay, tomorrow.” That was it. Ordinary. I scrolled back further. All everyday conversations. No flirtation, nothing suspicious. I breathed a sigh of relief. I must be overthinking. It had to be. The next day, Sarah called. “Lily, Alex misses you. Coming over for dinner today?” “Okay.” I hung up and saw Harold standing at the door. “Going to Sarah’s?” “Yes.” “I’ll come too,” he said. “I can bring Alex a toy.” He used to find it annoying, and now he’s volunteering? I looked at him, saying nothing. He smiled. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing.” I averted my gaze. Telling myself: Don’t be paranoid. During dinner, Alex sat next to Harold. Harold served him food, wiped his mouth. “Uncle Harold is so nice,” Alex said. Sarah laughed. “Harold cares more about Alex than you, his godmother.” Harold said, “Kids are always likable.” I ate silently, my head down. But my eyes were constantly watching. Watching Harold serve food. Watching Alex eat. Watching their profiles side by side. Similar. They were so similar. Sarah suddenly spoke, “Lily, what’s wrong? You don’t look so good.” “Nothing, just a little tired.” She looked at me with concern. “Maybe you should go home and rest?” “No, I’m fine.” I smiled. But inside, a storm was brewing. On the way home, I asked Harold, “How long have you known Sarah?” He paused. “Through you, about six years now.” “Do you two contact each other often?” “Not much, just when she asks me to help fix her computer or something.” “You’re really good to Alex.” He smiled. “That kid is charming.” I didn’t say anything else. After getting home, he went to shower. I sat on the sofa, staring at the wall, lost in thought. Fix computer. Did Sarah ever ask him to fix her computer? Why don’t I know about that? That night, I couldn’t sleep. At three in the morning, I got up and took Harold’s phone again. This time, I searched more thoroughly. No WeChat messages. No texts. Call history… I froze. The call history with Sarah. More than I expected. At least three or four times a week. Sometimes ten minutes, sometimes half an hour. But it didn’t show up on WeChat because they only sent voice messages, never typed. I put the phone back, lay back in bed, and stared at the ceiling until dawn. 2. I started paying attention to more details. That photo of Alex at 100 days old at Sarah’s house. I leaned in, looking at his eyebrows. Thick brows, connected in the middle. Harold had them too. And that dimple. On his left cheek, appearing only when he smiled. Harold had one too. I asked Sarah, “Whose dimple does Alex have?” She paused, then smiled. “I don’t know, maybe his dad’s.” “His dad has a dimple?” “I don’t remember,” she said. “It’s been too long since we broke up.” I stared at her face for a few seconds. Her smile froze for a moment. Then quickly returned to normal. “Oh, by the way, can you check Alex’s foot? Is it a bit flat-footed?” The topic was changed. But I remembered that frozen moment. After that, I started “accidentally” looking through Harold’s things. His computer. His drawers. His bank statements. Then I found a transfer. Five thousand every month, on a fixed date, transferred to an unfamiliar account. “What’s this?” I asked him. He glanced at it, his expression unchanged. “Helping a friend out. He said he’d pay me back in installments.” “Which friend?” “You don’t know him.” I didn’t ask any more questions. But I noted down the account. That night, I used my own channels to check. Account holder: Sarah. My hands were trembling. Five thousand every month. Transferred for three years. Three years, thirty-six months, one hundred and eighty thousand. I never knew. He was transferring money to her, behind my back. Why? Helping a friend out? Was she his friend? Or my friend? I took a deep breath. Told myself to calm down. I couldn’t be sure yet. Maybe it really was just a loan. Maybe Sarah was having difficulties and was too embarrassed to ask me. Maybe… But why hide it from me? The next day, I asked Sarah out for coffee. “Are you tight on money lately?” “I’m okay,” she smiled. “Why?” “If you need money, you can tell me.” “No, no,” she waved her hand. “I have enough.” “Really?” “Really.” She looked at me. “Lily, what’s wrong with you today?” “Nothing,” I smiled. “Just worried about you.” “Silly girl.” She squeezed my hand. “With you as my best friend, what do I have to fear?” Her hand was warm. Her eyes were sincere. I almost believed her. But one hundred and eighty thousand. She said she had enough. Then where did Harold’s money go? I started checking more things. Harold’s schedule. He said he had a business trip this weekend, and I said okay. But I didn’t tell him I had put a tracker on his car. That weekend, the tracker showed him in the city center. Not the city of his business trip. But a hotel. A five-star one, very close to Sarah’s house. I sat at home, watching the little dot on my phone. He stayed there for three hours. Then he came home. “How was the business trip?” I asked him. “It was alright, a bit tiring,” he yawned. “I’m going to shower first.” I watched his back. Business trip. A bit tiring. What made you so tired? That night, after he fell asleep, I took his phone again. This time, I found a hidden album. It required a password. I tried his birthday, incorrect. Our wedding anniversary, incorrect. His mother’s birthday, incorrect. Finally, I tried Alex’s birthday. It opened. Inside were just a few photos. Sarah’s. Selfies, candid shots. And one photo of the two of them together. The background was a hotel room. Sarah leaned on his shoulder, smiling sweetly. The date was in the bottom right corner. Two years ago. I put the phone back. Walked out onto the balcony. It was dark outside; I couldn’t see any stars. I stood there for a long time. I didn’t cry. I couldn’t cry. I just felt cold. Cold from the inside out. My best friend of twenty years. My husband of five years. The two people I trusted most. Had been betraying me all along. I remembered what Sarah had said. “You’re the best friend I’ll ever have.” I remembered what Harold had said. “We agreed to trust each other.” So laughable. 3. The next day, I didn’t say a word. I made breakfast as usual, and saw Harold off as usual. “What do you want for dinner tonight?” I asked him. “Whatever, you decide,” he kissed my forehead. “My hardworking wife.” I smiled. Watched him drive away. Then I closed the door, leaning against the wall. Every breath hurt. But I told myself: It’s not enough yet. Photos can be faked. I needed more definite proof. I made a decision. A DNA test. Sarah had called saying Alex had a cold, so I offered to visit. I brought toys, fruit, and a cotton swab. “Let me see Alex’s throat.” Sarah didn’t think much of it and brought the child over. I took the opportunity when she turned to get water to swab inside Alex’s mouth with the cotton swab. “What’s Godmother doing?” “Checking if you have any inflammation,” I said, smiling. “Nothing, you’re very healthy.” Alex grinned. I put the cotton swab in a bag and tucked it into my pocket. Harold’s sample was easier to get. His razor. His toothbrush. His hair on the pillow. I collected enough samples and sent them to a testing agency. “It should take about a week,” the staff said. “Okay, I’ll wait.” A week. Seven days. For these seven days, I had to pretend I knew nothing. These seven days passed slowly. Every day, I cooked, went to work, and talked to Harold as usual. He didn’t notice anything unusual. Because I was acting very well. Or rather, he simply didn’t care. That Thursday, he said he had another business trip this weekend. “Where are you going this time?” “Shanghai, to meet a client.” “How many days will you be gone?” “Two days, I think.” I nodded, saying nothing. But I knew he wouldn’t be going to Shanghai. He would be going to that hotel. Friday evening, Sarah called. “Lily, come over for dinner this weekend, I’m making dumplings.” “Okay.” “What about Harold? Tell him to come too.” “He’s on a business trip.” Silence on the other end of the phone for a second. “Oh, then just come by yourself.” I hung up. Business trip. They think I don’t know. They think I’m still that fool. Saturday, I didn’t go to Sarah’s house. I went to that hotel. I wanted to see it with my own eyes. I sat in the lobby for two hours, then I saw them walk in together. Harold had his arm around Sarah’s waist. Sarah leaned on his shoulder. Both were laughing and chatting. Like an ordinary couple. No, like an ordinary married couple. My phone captured the scene. Then I left. I didn’t rush up to them. I didn’t make a scene. Because it wasn’t time yet. Sunday evening, Harold returned from his “business trip.” “Are you tired?” I asked him. “Not really,” he put down his luggage. “The client was difficult; it took two days to finalize.” “That sounds tough.” “My wife is so thoughtful.” He smiled and kissed me. I smiled too. I let him kiss me. Then I said, “Promise me something.” “What?” “You and Sarah…” His body noticeably stiffened. “You and Sarah should limit your contact from now on,” I said. “I don’t really like you two being too close.” He breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. “You’re overthinking it. What could possibly be going on between us? She’s your best friend, and I’m just helping out.” “Really?” “Really.” He looked into my eyes. “Wife, have you been too tired lately? You’re being paranoid.” I looked into his eyes. Those eyes that once made me feel so secure. Now I just found them disgusting. “Maybe,” I said. “I’m just overthinking.” He hugged me. “Silly girl, how could I ever do anything to betray you?” I leaned on his shoulder. Closed my eyes. Okay. I’ll give you one more chance. If the DNA results are negative, I’ll pretend nothing happened. If they’re positive… 4. A week later, the results were out. I went to pick up the report alone. The staff handed me an envelope. “Read it yourself or shall I read it to you?” “I’ll read it myself.” I opened the envelope. My hand was trembling. My eyes found the line of text. “Probability of paternity: 99.9999%.” “Conclusion: Supports Harold as the biological father of Alex.” I stared at those words for a long time. Then I folded the report and put it in my bag. Walking out of the testing center, the sunlight was blinding. I stood by the roadside, and suddenly I laughed. 99.9999%. Biological father. I helped her during her confinement. I bought gold locks for the child. I spent twenty thousand to enroll the child in early education. I loved him as if he were my own son. It turns out, he really was my husband’s “own son.” I didn’t go home. I found a coffee shop and sat there all afternoon, sorting through everything. Alex is three. They’ve been together for at least three years. Maybe longer. Harold and I have been married for five years. Which means… from the very beginning of our marriage, he was betraying me? I remembered what he said when he proposed. “I will only love you in this life.” I remembered what Sarah said when she was my bridesmaid. “Lily, you must be happy.” Happy. She slept with my husband and wanted me to be happy. What a huge joke. When I got home that evening, Harold was already there. “Where were you? You didn’t answer your phone.” “Shopping with colleagues; my phone died.” “Oh.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “I thought something happened.” Something happened? Something big happened. I looked at him and smiled. “Nothing, just shopped for too long.” “Are you hungry? I ordered takeout.” “Yes, I’m hungry.” I sat down to eat, chatted with him, and watched TV. As usual. Nothing changed. Only my heart had grown cold. Over the next few days, I continued to gather evidence. I found their chat history. Harold had replaced his phone once, but he had a habit of backing things up. I found all their chat records in his cloud drive. Starting from four years ago. “Miss you.” “Me too.” “When can we be openly together?” “When the time is right.” “Alex called me ‘Daddy’ today.” “Really? Send me the video.” I read them one by one. My hands were shaking. So they had planned it all along. Waiting for the “time to be right.” What time? For me to die? Or for them to save enough money to run away? There were also transfer records. Besides the five thousand a month, there were others. Money for the child’s formula, toys, early education fees. Some I paid, some he paid. The two of us, together, raising his illegitimate child. I remembered one time, Sarah said she was short on cash and wanted to borrow money from me. I transferred twenty thousand to her. She said she’d pay it back when she got paid. And she did. But that month, Harold also transferred twenty thousand to her. She used Harold’s money to pay off her debt to me. What a well-played game. I compiled all the evidence. The DNA report. Screenshots of chat records. Transfer records. Hotel photos. Hotel stay records—which I had someone pull. Three years, they booked rooms 87 times. 87 times. An average of two to three times a month. I calculated, it was probably when I was on business trips, when I was working overtime, when I thought he was also working overtime. I printed all these out, bound them. Two copies. One for Harold. One for Sarah.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “445979”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I agreed to my husband’s demand that we be child-free. Then, at forty-five, he changed his mind. He fell for a woman ten years younger than me. The most important thing was, she could still give him a child. He used every weapon in his arsenal to force a divorce, leaving me with nothing. I hated him. I hated him so much that the thought of sharing the same patch of earth with him felt like a desecration. Decades later, our hair was white, our faces etched with the maps of our lives. We met again in a nursing home. He was there visiting a friend, his grandson in tow. I was a permanent resident, old and alone. My body, I knew, could no longer handle the rigors of childbirth, even if I had wanted to try. He led his grandson over to me. “Ava,” he said, his voice softer than I remembered. “Are you still angry with me for breaking my promise? People change when they get old. Their ideas change.” I barely glanced at him. What was the use of being angry? I had wished him a life without heirs, a cursed and lonely existence. But fate had blessed him with a large, loving family. And I was nearing the end of my own life. It would be better if we never met again in the next. … I never thought I’d see him here. To be precise, I was a resident, and he was just a visitor. He was the type who basked in the warmth of family, of children and grandchildren. He would never choose to live out his days in a place like this. He hadn’t expected to see me again either. I had been so resolute when I left, cutting off all contact. Friends who tried to reconnect us were met with a wall of silence. I tore up his letters, blocked his number. My hatred for him was an art form. “I hope we never see each other again, not even in death,” I had once said. “The only reason I’d go to his funeral is to set off fireworks.” But now, all these years later, I found I could face him with a strange sense of calm. The old have a way of getting lost in their memories, spending whole afternoons retracing the paths of their past. Nathan and I were childhood sweethearts. We grew up together, and our relationship blossomed naturally. We both came from families scarred by pain. His father’s infidelity had left deep wounds, instilling in him a fear of parenthood. He wanted to be child-free. To prove his commitment, he even had a vasectomy. “Ava,” he’d told me, “I don’t want my child to suffer the way I did. I’m not ready.” I respected his decision. My mother, however, was furious. She threatened to confront him. “He’s a man! He can have children when he’s seventy, eighty! What about you? What will you do then? If he changes his mind, you’ll be the one to suffer. You think I’m being cruel, but I’ve lived, and I’m telling you this for your own good.” I had cried, defending him, promising her that we would be happy, that Nathan was different. And for fifteen years, I was happy. He adored me. Then, at forty-five, a young woman showed me a picture of them in bed together, along with a positive pregnancy test. “I think you have a right to know,” she’d said. Nathan, consumed by guilt, told me it was my decision. I could choose whether the child was born or not. My heart felt like it was being ripped apart. “I’ll schedule the appointment,” I said, my voice hollow. He didn’t even look at the girl. “Whatever you want,” he promised. “As long as you’re not angry.” But a single day was all it took for him to change his mind. He stood before me, his arm protectively around the other woman. “Ava, I’m sorry. I want this child. Let’s get a divorce.” I stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing. In that moment, my mother’s words came back to haunt me, a terrible, prophetic echo. I tried to fight for my share of our assets, to salvage some shred of dignity. But Nathan was no fool. “Ava, I know you’re angry,” he’d said, his voice cold and calculated. “But I need money to support a pregnant woman and a child. I can’t be generous with the settlement.” I never imagined the man I had loved so deeply could become such an enemy, as if we were mortal foes locked in a battle to the death. I slapped him, the sound cracking in the silent room. “You’re the one who betrayed me, Nathan! You’re the one who broke your promise! Have you forgotten who wanted to be child-free in the first place? You begged me, and I agreed because I loved you more than some hypothetical child! You’re the one who cheated!” The tears I had been holding back finally fell. My mother had died just a month before. I had promised her I would be happy. Nathan had stood by her bedside and sworn he would honor his commitment to me. There was guilt in his eyes, but it didn’t stop him. He was ruthless. He used every trick in the book to hide our assets, something he was very good at. Of the wealth we had built together, he offered me a meager one-tenth. By the sixth time we stood in court, I was exhausted. I had cried until I had no tears left. My mental state was fragile, but that didn’t help my case. It only became another weapon for him to use against me, another justification for the divorce. I looked at him across the courtroom, his face bright with anticipation for his new life, his new child. The man who had always hated complications had spent the previous night meticulously preparing bird’s nest soup for his new love, a delicacy for pregnant women. I lost. I took what little money I was given and moved to the other side of the world. I never wanted to see him again. I hated him. Life is unfair. The man who broke his vows thrived. He had three children, and then grandchildren. He was surrounded by family. And me? My health deteriorated. Eventually, I was too tired to even hate him anymore. Nathan brought his grandson to me. “Say hello to Grandma, little guy,” he prompted. The child did as he was told. “Ava,” Nathan continued, “I divorced her after the kids turned eighteen. You could have come back. The kids would have taken care of you. They’re good kids, they listen to me. I’ve been waiting for you all these years.” I looked at him and shook my head. No, thank you. We were old now. What was the point? He probably felt a flicker of guilt. He was the one who insisted on being child-free. I had trusted him, accommodated him. A man can have children his whole life. I had gambled my future on his word, and he had turned out to be just like all the others. He didn’t understand. “We’re old, Ava. Why are we still fighting? You’ve always been in my heart. That’s why I divorced her as soon as the kids were grown. They understood.” His friend, an old man named Jack, chimed in. “Ava, what Nathan did was wrong, but it’s been so long. If you go back, at least you’ll have family around. You won’t have to die alone in this place.” So naive. Their lives were intertwined in ways a piece of paper could never sever. Nathan was about to say more when his phone rang, a trendy, upbeat ringtone that young couples used. A kind young volunteer had helped me set one on my own phone last week. He quickly answered. The woman’s voice was clear. “Why aren’t you back yet? Our eldest got a promotion. He’s coming over for dinner.” Nathan quickly agreed. See? They were still connected. How could they not be? Besides, I had no interest in being a homewrecker. I was a part of his past. As they say, when a person is near death, their words are kind. So, I wished them a long and happy life together. Nathan left. I went back to my usual routine: sitting in my rocking chair, soaking up the sun, and reliving the days of my youth. He started visiting the nursing home more often. His friend Jack would tease him. “You keep signing in as my visitor, but we all know who you’re really here to see.” His grandson got used to me. He was a cute kid. After he called me “Grandma” a few more times, I found myself softening, pulling a piece of candy from my pocket for him. The grudges of our generation shouldn’t be passed down. Nathan was pleased. “See, Ava? I always knew you loved children.” His stomach rumbled. “Oops, gotta use the restroom. Old man problems.” He asked Jack to watch the boy, but the child stayed by my side. I found myself watching him, my voice soft as I warned, “Don’t climb on that.” A nurse came to find me. It was time for my treatment. I handed the boy back to Jack and followed her. The treatments were always painful. Cancer is like that. At a certain stage, the flesh begins to rot. In a strange way, being old was a small blessing. The cancer cells weren’t as aggressive. I had been living with it for five years. The doctors said I wouldn’t make it through the year. But so what? I was lucky to have lived this long. It took a while to change the dressing on my abdomen. The smell of medicine clung to me, so I borrowed some perfume from the nurse. I didn’t want to bother anyone with the stench. When I came out, they were all looking at me with frantic eyes. “Ava, is the boy with you?” I shook my head. Jack was panicking. “I thought you took him with you! He’s gone!” My brow furrowed. That was impossible. The boy was holding Jack’s hand when I left. I tried to stay calm. “Let’s check the security cameras.” But Nathan had already lost his mind. He didn’t hesitate. He pointed a finger at me, his face contorted with rage. “Ava, I know you hate me! I know you’re angry! You can hit me, curse me, whatever you want! But the boy is innocent! Don’t you dare use him to get back at me!” The familiar pain, both physical and emotional, flared up. My voice rose. “I didn’t do it, Nathan!” He grabbed my arm, his grip bruising. “The nurse can vouch for me!” The nurse came out, but before she could speak, Nathan shoved me hard. “If I don’t find him, I will hate you for the rest of my life! You’ll rot in hell for this!” He turned and ran. I fell to the floor, my old bones screaming in protest. Nathan glanced back at the sound of my fall, but only for a second before he was gone, dragging Jack with him. “We need to find the boy!” After all these years, he could still make my heart ache. Why wouldn’t he just leave me alone? The nurse rushed to help me up. “What is wrong with those two? The boy was fine when you left! How could they just blame you without even checking the cameras?” A sharp, tearing pain shot through me. The nurse checked my dressing and her face went pale. “Oh no. The tumor… it’s ruptured. We need to get you to a hospital. Now.” I was rushed into an ambulance. Through a haze of pain, I saw a younger Nathan. He had a hundred percent faith in me then. Even in the depths of our bitter divorce, when I was pushed to the brink of madness, I never once thought of hurting his new love or her child. It was always between him and me. It was laughable, really. If I had wanted revenge, I could have used my mental breakdown as an excuse. Why would I wait until now? But still, he blamed me. Why? Because he knew he was in the wrong. He knew he owed me a lifetime. He believed my revenge would be justified. The ambulance arrived at the hospital. My consciousness was fading. A ruptured tumor meant internal bleeding, infection. For an old body like mine, it was a death sentence. The pain was immense. My vision blurred. I saw a young Nathan again. We were on a mountain path, and I had fallen and scraped my knee. He carried me on his back for miles, his voice gentle. “It’s okay. I’ll clean it up when we get home. I’m practically a doctor, you know.” The taste of blood in my throat brought me back to the present. Everything was decaying. My insurance had maxed out. The doctors tried to find a contact. In my phone, they found the number Nathan had insisted on leaving a few days ago. “Ava,” he had promised, “if you change your mind, just call me. I’ll come get you. I’ve kept the house just the way you left it. The kids wanted it, but I told them no. I was waiting for you to come home.” I had been too tired to delete it. The doctor called. No answer. Finally, he picked up. The doctor spoke quickly. “Hello, we found your number in Ava’s phone under ‘Husband.’ She’s in critical condition, but her insurance limit has been reached. Can you come to the hospital to handle the admission and payment?” The line went dead. “I’m busy looking for my grandson! Stop this nonsense, Ava!” My eyes fluttered open. “Doctor,” I whispered, my voice weak. “Don’t call him.” The world had its own records. They would prove my innocence. With the last of my strength, I made one final call. To the funeral home. I had pre-arranged everything. It was a simple process. Everyone has to go through it. A clean, smooth death was a blessing. I was tired of the cycle of pain, surgery, and more pain. My affairs were in order. I had no assets left. What little I had was gone, spent on years of medical bills. It was better this way. I used up the last of my energy and closed my eyes. … Nathan finally found the boy. He was old, and it took him a while to figure out the security footage. A call from his ex-wife broke the stalemate. “Why aren’t you home? I picked up our grandson an hour ago. Where have you been?” Jack slapped his forehead. “Oh, my god. My memory… I remember handing the boy off, but I couldn’t remember if it was to you or Ava. It’s all my fault.” Nathan’s face went white. He ran back to the nursing home, but the nurse told him, “She was taken to the hospital. She hasn’t come back.” He rushed to the hospital, but the news he received there shattered his world.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “445995”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel