Category: English

I was the craziest actress in Hollywood. Because I was bound to a “Superstar System.” If I didn’t focus on my career, the system would literally make me explode! 1 Other people come to Hollywood to be movie stars. I came to be a Special Forces operative. [886 photos posted, 3 dance studio videos, 2 recording studio videos, and 8 daily vlogs in two months. Is Chloe Thorne in Hollywood to be a Navy SEAL?] [That’s not all! My girl Chloe has 3 upcoming movies, 2 reality shows in the pipeline, and zero scandals since her debut. I heard she’s starting a new shoot tomorrow. I seriously suspect she has a system.] When my agent, Monica, read those two top comments out loud, I was right in the middle of picking the script for my next project. “Chloe, you’ve been working non-stop since you debuted the year before last. Don’t you want to take a few months off this year?” Monica advised me. I wanted to rest too, but if I rested, my system would throw a fit. It would kill me. That’s right! I actually have a system. Ever since the finale night of the talent show, I was automatically bound to the “Superstar System.” The main quest of the “Superstar System” is: [Win the Academy Award for Best Actress within three years.] [Quest Success: Reward of $800 billion.] [Quest Failure: Explode and die.] [Please note: While progressing through the main quest, side quests will be randomly triggered.] Tell me, do I dare to rest? “No,” I refused decisively. “Monica, didn’t director James Cameron send over a script? Why don’t I see it?” Monica pursed her lips: “The female lead for Cameron’s project has already been decided.” “It’s Olivia Vance.” Olivia Vance. My former teammate from the limited-time girl group that had already disbanded. On the night of the finale, I beat Olivia by a single vote. Olivia was a product of capital; she had numerous financial backers behind her. They were supposed to guarantee her first place, but I came out of nowhere. I had too many organic votes from the public, so many that even the organizers couldn’t suppress them. So I debuted in first place, and she took second. For the past two years, she had been secretly competing with me. Although she stole quite a few leading roles from me, unfortunately, the persona her backers gave her was the “Only Pure White Jasmine in Hollywood.” Therefore, her acting roles were limited, and I could still snatch some good scripts that slipped through her fingers. But this movie by James Cameron, Shadows, I absolutely would not yield to her. Because two months ago, I completed my third side quest. The system gave me a crucial piece of information. James Cameron’s movie Shadows will be nominated for the 78th Academy Awards, and the actress playing the female lead will win Best Actress. Which means—the Oscar. The 78th Academy Awards ceremony is in December of this year, exactly the third year of my main quest’s time limit. I had to get the female lead role in Shadows, even if it killed me. “Monica, is Director Cameron in L.A. right now? I want to invite him to dinner.” Monica paused for a moment: “Director Cameron has a dinner meeting with Olivia at 9 PM tonight.” I frowned: “Monica, if I hadn’t asked, were you not planning to tell me?” “Chloe, you’ve developed too fast these past two years.” “The agency talked to me a couple of days ago. They want you to rest for a year, slow down your pace.” Understood. Olivia was applying pressure. Unable to keep up with my pace, she could only resort to such despicable methods to force me to stop. “Monica, you should be able to get the address for Director Cameron’s dinner tonight, right?” Monica remained silent for a long time, picked up her phone, and forwarded me a location pin. 2 At 9:15 PM. Wearing stilettos, I pushed open the door to VIP Room 1. When Olivia saw me, she was visibly surprised. “Director Cameron, what is the meaning of this?” “You invite me to dinner and call…” Before Olivia could finish her sentence, I threw a glass of water right in her face. “Bitch! You homewrecker, I’ll teach you to steal my man!” Olivia was stunned, frozen in place. I followed up with slap after slap to her face. Slapping her cheeks bright red. “I saw you and David coming out of the hotel!” “Do I have to catch you in bed to get you to admit you’re a homewrecker?” “Chloe Thorne! Are you crazy?” “What homewrecker?” “Is there something wrong with your brain?” Olivia, finally reacting, covered her face, her eyes red, feeling incredibly wronged. I calmed myself down and sat down next to Olivia. I grabbed her hand and apologized sincerely. “Sorry, Olivia. I made you act out a scene with me without you knowing.” “But, your acting seems a bit rusty.” Olivia was furious. She shook off my hand and glared at me viciously: “Who knew you were acting?” I looked at James Cameron, who was sitting there perfectly composed, with a hint of surprise in my tone: “Director Cameron, is this the female lead you chose?” “A female lead who doesn’t even remember the highlight scene from the script?” James Cameron took a deep breath, looking up at me: “Chloe, there’s no denying your acting is very good, and you fit the female lead in Shadows perfectly.” “But Olivia is the female lead designated by the investors. I have no choice.” “Also, who showed you the script for Shadows?” “I did.” Before I could answer, someone else beat me to it. The door to the private room was pushed open again, and a broad silhouette appeared along with a cold, deep voice. “Has Director Cameron considered changing investors?” We both looked in the direction of the voice. James Cameron immediately stood up, a hint of trepidation in his voice: “Mr., Mr. Sterling?” “What brings you here?” Arthur Sterling smoothly sat down next to me, his expression nonchalant: “Ms. Thorne asked me to come, so I came.” Arthur Sterling. The most powerful and influential businessman in the New York elite circle. He started from nothing and single-handedly crushed all the flourishing enterprises in the city during his prime. He fought his way out from among thousands of companies. To this day, he can command the wind and rain in any circle. In the sixth month after my debut night, I triggered the first side quest. The quest was: Within three months, fan engagement must reach 80%, and New York elite Arthur Sterling must actively initiate the strategy process towards you. Actively initiate the strategy process? Meaning, fall in love with me? I stayed up all night researching “Arthur Sterling.” When I found out he had half the entertainment industry in the palm of his hand, I posted 88 beautiful photos for marketing the very next day. For those three months, I trended countless times and was active on Twitter almost 24/7. Under my diligent efforts, finally, in the third month, the task was completed. That night, I received a call from an unknown number: “Is this Ms. Chloe Thorne?” “Mr. Sterling would like to invite you to dinner.” “I’m sorry, my schedule is full recently. Please contact my agent.” Yes, I refused. Even though latching onto Arthur meant I would never have to worry about resources for the rest of my life. But there was a rumor that Arthur once had a girlfriend who was kept like a caged bird. After getting together with Arthur, she was restricted from taking intimate scenes and couldn’t interact with any opposite sex. I couldn’t do that. I wasn’t willing to give up my career to become someone else’s accessory. After that day, I found an opportunity. I met Arthur on a very formal occasion. It was when I won my first Best Singer award, and it was also the first time Arthur, as the organizer, came to present an award to a singer. I knew with my eyes closed that Arthur was there for me. On the glittering stage, he personally handed the shining golden trophy into my hands. I bowed slightly, leaning close to his ear: “Mr. Sterling, I’m sorry, I really couldn’t make time last time.” “You know, other people come to Hollywood to be female stars, but I came to be a Special Forces operative.” “Can I buy you dinner next time?” Arthur looked up and met my eyes for a second: “On call, anytime.” 3 The next time I contacted Arthur was exactly 1 hour before arriving at the private room. I called him from the production van. “Is this Mr. Sterling?” “Ms. Thorne, it is.” “Are you free tonight? For dinner?” “I can be.” “Then,” I was a little nervous, “Would you mind if I used you for a bit?” The other end of the line went silent for a few seconds. Then, a deep male voice sounded: “Let’s hear it.” I told Arthur my entire plan. Two minutes after hanging up, he sent a file and two voice messages: — Shadows.docx — “I’m not in the city; I’ll arrive a few minutes later than you.” — “Call me if anything happens.” Arthur wasn’t in the city? He was out of town? And he rushed back for me? I admit, in that moment, I was nervous. “Director Cameron, does the industry really not care about acting skills anymore?” Arthur’s gaze was cold, his voice lazy but carrying a hint of sarcasm. “Mr. Sterling, I can’t decide this either.” “If I don’t use the actor they designated, the investors will pull their funding, and I won’t be able to shoot this movie.” James Cameron frantically explained to Arthur. Olivia, sitting next to me, started to look uncomfortable, her face showing distress. After all, no one in all of New York didn’t fear Arthur. “I’ll have them withdraw their investment. I’ll take over.” “The opening ceremony is set for tomorrow.” “The female lead is Chloe Thorne.” The business was handled before we even ate. When Arthur does things, he really is all about high efficiency and cutting the crap. “Good! Good!” “I was planning to send the script to Chloe anyway.” “If she isn’t the female lead, this movie of mine really would be ruined.” James Cameron hurriedly agreed with Arthur, kissing up to me. Arthur ignored him, casually checking the watch on his wrist. Then, he leaned in, close to my ear, and whispered: “I have something to do. I’m leaving first.” The warm breath brushed my ear, making it feel hot. I thought since Arthur had done me such a huge favor, he would definitely ask for something in return. I had even prepared my excuse for politely declining him tonight. But he just left without another word. It seems that in this high society blinded by money and luxury, there are still people who live with clear heads. 4 After Arthur left, I held Olivia’s hand again, pretending to be sympathetic: “I’m sorry, Olivia. Director Cameron said you weren’t up to par.” “I’ll be taking this female lead role.” “Oh, and I forgot to tell you.” “There was only one slap in the script. The rest were payback for the stunt double on your last movie.” Olivia had a slapping scene in her last movie too. She could have easily gotten it right in one or two takes, but she intentionally messed up over a dozen times. It caused the stunt double to suffer soft tissue damage to her face. Most importantly, this stunt double wasn’t just anybody. She was the one who debuted in 9th place the year we did, our former teammate. The “Only Pure White Jasmine in Hollywood” sure was pure white. Olivia was furious, but she didn’t dare raise a hand to hit me. Because with her fragile little frame, she absolutely couldn’t beat me. She could only resort to insulting me with her words resentfully: “Chloe, you speak as if you’re so much nobler than me!” “I have financial backers, don’t you too?” “Did he just whisper in your ear to go wait for him at the hotel and tell you to hurry up?” “Arthur did you such a huge favor.” “Aren’t you going to get played to death tonight?” I sneered: “Olivia, everyone in the industry knows you have a suite on the top floor of the Pegasus Tower.” “Every Tuesday night, the lights on the top floor stay on all night.” “Whenever I got off work late and passed by there, I used to think, as a fellow woman, if I had enough power, I definitely wouldn’t let you become a plaything for capital.” Olivia didn’t seem to fully grasp what I was saying. “What do you mean?” I changed my tone, unable to hide the smirk on my lips: “But then I thought about it, it seems no one forced you back then.” “You proactively climbed into the beds of those executives yourself.” “Looks like you brought it upon yourself.” Olivia went crazy. She grabbed whatever was on the table and threw it at me. I quickly stepped back, dodging her attack. “Olivia, you’re still exactly the same as you were back in the factory. When you lose an argument, you just go crazy.” Teaching her a little lesson was enough; I didn’t plan on dragging out the fight. So I shifted my gaze to James Cameron: “Director Cameron, I will be on time for the opening ceremony tomorrow.” “I hope we have a pleasant collaboration.” As I left, I heard James Cameron sigh: “Olivia, why did you have to provoke her?” 5 After that day, Arthur never contacted me again. I was pressed for time and the tasks were heavy. Operating on the principle of “less is more,” I didn’t actively contact Arthur either. The shooting schedule for Shadows was set for 4 months, and 3 months had already flown by. The shooting progress was very smooth. I figured it must be under Arthur’s protection. The last month was entirely outdoor location shoots. Today was a scene where I fell off a cliff by the ocean. I had to jump into the sea from an 8-story-high cliff. Even though I had wire protection, in this stormy weather, I was still a little nervous. [Scene one, take one.] The moment the clapperboard snapped, filming officially began. Wearing a white wedding dress, I looked at the camera with tear-filled eyes, then ran desperately towards the edge of the cliff. The rain mixed with the tears on my face. The moment I leaped over the cliff and soared through the air, the entire movie was elevated to its climax. But, when this perfect take finally ended, what welcomed me wasn’t the director’s praise and the crew’s cheers, but the freezing, bone-chilling seawater. I don’t know what went wrong with the wire, but the moment I lost my balance— It snapped. Before I could even call for help, I was knocked unconscious by the waves. … When I was about to slip into nothingness, I heard someone calling me: “Chloe!” “Chloe!!” His voice was strange yet familiar. I wanted to open my eyes, but my eyelids felt so heavy. Ultimately, I couldn’t open my eyes. I only heard him gently say in my ear: “Chloe, you must stay safe.” 6 When I woke up again, I was in a psychiatric hospital. My hands and feet were tied to a hospital bed. “Is anyone there?” “Why am I tied up?” “Monica! Monica!” … I yelled for a long time before a nurse in a white coat finally came in. “What are you yelling for?” “You can leave when you’re cured. If you don’t cooperate, we’ll give you a sedative.” “I’m not sick!” “Who diagnosed me? I just had a little accident on set. There’s nothing wrong with my brain!” “Let me make a phone call; I’ll have someone come pick me up!” The doctor in the white coat sneered: “See, you’re talking nonsense already, and you still say you aren’t sick.” Then, she slammed a file she was holding onto the table next to me: “Who told you to offend someone you shouldn’t have?” “The boss said, if you sign this agreement, you can leave immediately.” “Otherwise, stay in this psychiatric hospital for the rest of your life.” “What agreement?” I stopped struggling and forced myself to calm down. The doctor untied my hands and feet. I picked up the agreement and laughed in anger when I saw the name of the first party. The person who set this trap for me was the backer behind Olivia, the chairman of the Pegasus Group—Marcus Pegasus. This agreement laid out three demands. After my contract with my current agency expires, I will sign with Pegasus Entertainment. In any resource conflict between me and Olivia, I will unconditionally yield to her. I must visit the suite on the top floor of the Pegasus Tower once a week. My hand clutching the agreement tightened inch by inch. This wasn’t an agreement; this was an insult. I tore the agreement to shreds and threw it in the doctor’s face. “Tell Chairman Pegasus, I’d rather die than submit.” The doctor scoffed: “Doing it the hard way, I see.” I had been in the psychiatric hospital for a week. Aside from the doctors on routine rounds, I hadn’t seen anyone else. Logically, if my agent Monica couldn’t find me, she would have called the police that very day. What’s more, I had so many dedicated fans and was under intense public scrutiny. How many people had Marcus Pegasus bought off? What exactly was the situation outside right now? Taking a step back, the investor for this movie was Arthur Sterling. How did Marcus Pegasus dare to make a move on me? Could it be that something happened to Arthur? Then who was the person speaking in my ear after I fell off the cliff? … The more I thought about it, the more confused I became. I frustratingly ran my hands through my hair. “System, System!” I called out in my mind. I wanted to ask this “Superstar System” if I was still on track with the main quest. I felt like if this kept up, I wouldn’t become a superstar. I’d become a super psycho. I called out to the system dozens of times, but didn’t hear a single response. Could it be that after the fall, it automatically detached from my body? I didn’t know… My head hurt so much it felt like it was going to explode. 7 Another week passed, and I finally found a way out. The window in the hospital room bathroom was a little loose. I used a chair to smash the latch open. At 2 AM, I climbed out the window in the dark. The whole building was terrifyingly quiet. Looking around, I realized I was the only one on this floor. The night was a bit cold, and the eerie wind blew straight into my hospital gown. I hunched my shoulders and ran towards the first floor with steady, light steps. I figured that once I escaped this hellhole, I would immediately borrow a passerby’s phone to post on Twitter. As long as I stirred up public opinion, Marcus Pegasus wouldn’t dare act so recklessly again. But imagination is beautiful, and reality is harsh. When I reached the first floor, I looked at the main door secured with three padlocks, and a deep sense of powerlessness washed over me. I circled the first floor again and again. When I confirmed that this was the only exit, I felt a bit desperate. I walked back the way I came, step by step, but every floor was sealed with a grid of wire mesh security grilles. Just like that, I climbed all the way to the top floor. One door on the top floor wasn’t locked. I pushed the door open and walked to the edge of the parapet under the dim light. I climbed onto the parapet and sat on it. The view from the top floor was excellent. Looking up, I could see the city lights in the distance and a sky full of stars. Looking down, I could see my bottomless, uncertain future. After trying so hard for so long, it seemed that with my own strength, I still couldn’t fight against capital. Now there were only two paths laid out before me: Either become Marcus Pegasus’s plaything and money-making tool, or jump from this 8th floor and end it all. Either way, I was not going to stay in this psychiatric hospital for the rest of my life. Actually, I already had an answer in my heart. There was only one path I could take. Just jump! Otherwise, if I’m discovered later, I won’t even be able to die if I wanted to. I placed my hands on the parapet and stood up. [DANGER ALERT!] [DANGER ALERT!] [DANGER ALERT!] [Detecting suicidal tendencies in the host. The system is about to detach from the host’s body.] Hearing the voice inside me, I smiled self-deprecatingly: “So you’re still here. Since even you can’t resolve this situation, it looks like my quest really has reached its end.” “System, next time find a host with a bit more capability!” “Don’t end up with an ending like mine.” I closed my eyes, and tears slipped from my eyelashes. “Chloe!” Just as I was about to jump from the roof, a roar pulled me back from the brink of death. This voice was exactly the same as the one I heard when I fell off the cliff. I turned towards the sound and saw a helicopter hovering above the roof. It slowly descended and landed steadily. I clearly saw the person sprinting out of the helicopter. “Arthur?” While I was still in a daze, he had already pulled me down from the parapet. “I’m sorry, I dragged you into this,” he apologized to me in a low voice. I looked up and caught a glimpse of the powerlessness in his eyes. Whether in public or private, I had never seen him look so defeated. “It’s okay.” “It’s going to be okay.” “Everything will be okay.” I comforted him with three sentences in a row. Actually, it wasn’t just to comfort him; it was also to comfort myself. Arthur carried me onto the helicopter. The helicopter took off, taking me away from this torturous place. 8 Rain pattered against the helicopter windows, and the cabin was deathly quiet. “What happened? Tell me,” I spoke first. A cynical smile leaked from the corner of Arthur’s mouth: “I was set up.” I learned from Arthur that three months ago, he was backstabbed by his best friend. Problems kept popping up in his company one after another. The night I called him, he was in a neighboring city dealing with the company’s financial issues. For the past three months, he had been flying non-stop domestically and internationally, drinking glass after glass at business dinners. Despite such difficulties, he still helped me secure Shadows. Hearing this, I was somewhat moved. I, who swore to only focus on my career and forsake love, actually felt a pang of sympathy. I thought, if I hadn’t completed the side quest concerning Arthur back then, would he not have encountered all this? Arthur said Marcus Pegasus wanted to acquire all properties under his name. He refused, so Marcus Pegasus reached his claws out to me. The issue with my wire happened because Marcus Pegasus had someone tamper with it. When he received the video of my fall sent by Marcus Pegasus, Arthur was on his way to the airport. He said thank god, thank god he arrived in time. After giving me CPR, I regained consciousness. I gently touched my lips. CPR? I had absolutely no memory of it. Arthur said that when he saw I had regained consciousness and noticed my agent Monica nearby, he left. He originally thought Marcus Pegasus’s revenge ended there. Who knew all he wanted was more than just to give Arthur a warning. He also wanted my life. It seems even Monica had been bought off by him. I also told Arthur about what happened in the psychiatric hospital over the past two weeks. When he heard about the agreement, I could see the anger practically overflowing from Arthur’s eyes. “How much longer can you hold out at the latest?” I asked, counting the days. “Right now, the cash flow is completely broken. I can hold out until the end of the year, at the absolute most.” “That’s enough,” I said, falling silent for a moment. “You must wait for me. I’ll figure something out.” Arthur kept his head down and said softly: “Chloe, with your profession, you can’t earn the capital I need.” “Trust me.” I looked at him with a firm gaze. Arthur didn’t speak. We fell into silence once again, each preoccupied with our own thoughts. A long while later, I noticed the helicopter was about to enter the airspace over New York. “Where are we going?” I asked. “My house,” Arthur replied. “No, let’s go to the White Mansion Villas.” Arthur and I exchanged a look: “That’s…” “Monica’s house,” I interjected. Arthur frowned involuntarily: “Monica has already been bought off by Marcus Pegasus. If you go to her…” “I have leverage on her,” I paused for two seconds. “I need a phone.” Arthur blinked, didn’t ask further, and handed over his own phone. “Passcode,” I asked softly. “0207.” My eyelashes fluttered slightly. February 7th, my birthday. After unlocking the phone, I logged out of his ID and logged into my own. I should be thankful that I had backed up all the evidence back then. “Can I open your photo album?” I asked for permission beforehand, afraid of invading Arthur’s privacy. Arthur’s gaze fell on my face. After a long pause, he said: “You may.” With his permission, I opened the photo album, and pictures of me came into view one by one. If these weren’t all photos taken from a third-person perspective, I would have thought my own selfies had all synced over. Unable to contain my curiosity, I clicked on a few photos. This one is… The debut night two years ago. This one is… The set of my first web drama. But at this time, I hadn’t triggered the first side quest yet. I snapped my head up and looked at Arthur. His gaze had long since shifted away from me, looking out the window. Could it be that he fell in love with me not because of the reward after I completed the quest? “Arthur, when did you start liking me?” I asked, my voice carrying a barely perceptible tremor. “Very early. A very long time ago.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “424291”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My parents were always a little too kind to our housekeeper, treating her more like family than an employee. When her daughter came to stay with us for the summer, she slowly tried to weave herself into our lives—acting diligent, sweet-talking my parents, and playing the part of the perfect girl. She even started using our family driver to take her to parties, and my parents, in their generosity, always allowed it. That was until I came home early one day and overheard her coaxing my mother: “Auntie, since Riley is committed to being child-free anyway, she’ll never give you grandbabies.” “Why don’t you just take me in as your legal god-daughter? I could marry your nephew, Parker. That way, the babies stay in the family, and you can finally have the big, happy family you deserve.” 1 Mrs. Dawson had been acting distracted lately. Her chores were half-done, and she seemed to be carrying a heavy weight on her shoulders. Worried, my mom finally pulled her aside to ask what was wrong. It turned out her daughter, Tiffany, was finishing up her junior year at a community college in the city. With summer break starting, the dorms were closing, and she had nowhere to go. They were from a small town across the country, and a last-minute flight home was too expensive. Besides, Tiffany had an internship lined up in the city starting next month, and the back-and-forth travel would be a waste of money. But renting a place near us? A month’s rent and expenses would eat up half of Mrs. Dawson’s salary. Mrs. Dawson had been our housekeeper for over ten years. She was meticulous, gentle, and had saved my parents a lot of headaches over the decade. My mom didn’t hesitate. She glanced upstairs. “We have plenty of guest rooms on the second floor.” Mrs. Dawson protested, saying it would be an imposition, but my mom just smiled. “It’s fine. Those rooms are just gathering dust anyway.” The next day, Tiffany arrived with her suitcases. My parents, assuming a college student would have a lot of gear, sent our driver, Arthur, to pick her up from the train station. An hour later, I heard voices in the driveway. Arthur was hauling two massive suitcases, sweating through his uniform, while a young girl walked behind him empty-handed, chatting and laughing as if they were old friends. Mrs. Dawson rushed out to meet her, fussing over her as if she’d just returned from a war zone. “Oh, honey! Is it too hot out? Were those bags too heavy for you?” Arthur dropped the bags in the foyer, panting, and wiped his brow. I finally spoke up. “Mrs. Dawson, maybe get Arthur a glass of water?” Tiffany looked up. Her gaze bypassed me entirely, landing straight on my mother sitting in the living room. She beamed, revealing a pair of sweet dimples, and gave a respectful little bow. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Miller. I’m so sorry for the trouble.” My mom smiled and gestured toward the stairs. “Riley, why don’t you and Mrs. Dawson show Tiffany to her room?” We went up to the second floor. Tiffany trailed behind us as Mrs. Dawson gave her the tour. “This is Riley’s room, and that smaller one next to it is her walk-in closet.” “And this little room here… that’s for Riley’s dog.” Tiffany’s eyes widened. “The dog has its own room?” I was sitting on the rug, brushing my Pomeranian. I looked up calmly. “Yes. Bentley is basically my child.” Tiffany asked curiously, “Then, Riley, where will your actual kids stay?” Mrs. Dawson cut her off before I could respond. “Riley isn’t having children. Don’t be nosy about other people’s business, Tiffany.” Aside from my room and Bentley’s, there were three guest rooms. Tiffany peered into the others. “There are clothes in this one. Is someone staying here?” “That’s for my cousin, Parker,” I said. “He stays with us sometimes during his breaks.” I pointed to a smaller room at the end of the hall. “Mrs. Dawson just cleaned that one. It has fresh linens. You’ll be staying there.” Tiffany looked at it, then sighed, rubbing her arm. “Riley, I’ve been having some really bad allergies lately. The doctor said I need as much sunlight as possible. That room looks a bit cold and damp. I’m afraid if my skin gets worse, it might be contagious.” Mrs. Dawson looked at me awkwardly, then at her daughter. “Which room did you have in mind then?” I asked. Tiffany scanned the three rooms and pointed to one. “Could I have that one? The light looks amazing there.” I followed her finger. The room she wanted was the one directly connected to my cousin Parker’s suite. 2 I don’t know what Mrs. Dawson said to my mother, but Mom let Tiffany have the room. Since it was summer break and she had nothing to do, Tiffany spent her days “helping” her mother around the house. Sometimes I’d wake up near noon and go downstairs to see Mrs. Dawson busy in the kitchen while Tiffany sat on the sofa with my mom, watching TV. “Going to the office today, Riley?” Tiffany would jump up to grab my bag the moment I stepped out. I bent down to put on my shoes. “No. I have my own art studio and café to run.” My mom laughed. “Our Riley has no interest in the corporate world. She studied fine arts abroad and loves tinkering with her pastries and coffee now.” Tiffany sighed regretfully. “That’s such a shame. Who’s going to take over the family empire?” My dad walked in from the garden just then. Hearing her, he joked, “With a group this big, if no one in the family wants it, I guess the board of directors will just have to handle it. No heirs in this house!” “Mr. Miller, I’m actually a business major,” Tiffany said enthusiastically. “My professor just started teaching us how to analyze financial statements. Maybe I could help you look over some market trends sometime.” My dad gave her a hearty, encouraging smile. “Not bad! It’s good for young people to keep learning.” He headed to his study, leaving my mom, Mrs. Dawson, and Tiffany in the living room. Mrs. Dawson started sighing, telling my mom that Tiffany was actually a straight-A student, but she had “panic attacks” during her SATs, which is why she ended up at a community college instead of an Ivy League. My mom sipped her tea and comforted her. “It’s alright. She can always transfer or go to a top-tier grad school later.” “Transferring or grad school in the U.S. is so competitive though,” Tiffany said, glancing at me before turning back to my mom. “I’m so jealous of Riley. She doesn’t have to do anything but hang out with friends and go shopping.” “I wish I could have studied abroad too.” 3 I glanced toward the kitchen where Mrs. Dawson was still scrubbing the stove. “Studying abroad isn’t that simple. There’s the funding, the language prep, the applications.” “If I recall, Mrs. Dawson said your tuition was currently covered by student loans?” Tiffany stiffened for a second, then quickly turned to pour more tea for my mom. “Yeah, but I’ll pay those off in a month or two once I graduate. I just don’t want my mom to have to work so hard.” Mrs. Dawson used to always talk about how “sensible” and “brilliant” Tiffany was. My parents, knowing it wasn’t easy for a single mother to raise a daughter, offered more words of comfort, echoing Mrs. Dawson’s praise of Tiffany’s “filial piety.” I thought that was the end of it, but that afternoon, our driver Arthur mentioned something while picking me up. Apparently, Mrs. Dawson had asked my mom for a massive cash advance on her salary to pay off Tiffany’s tuition upfront. Since she’d been with us for ten years and her contract still had six months on it, my mom figured it was fine to give her the money early. “Mrs. Dawson’s had it rough,” Arthur sighed. “No education, but she raised a daughter who made it to college. Good thing the girl is so bright.” “She’s sweet and takes care of her mom. No wonder Mrs. Dawson listens to everything she says.” When I got home, I was carrying several packages. There was a big sale on a luxury pet site, so I’d stocked up on premium treats and organic food for Bentley. I walked into a strangely quiet house. As I sat on the floor to unbox the packages, I heard footsteps on the stairs—Tiffany and Mrs. Dawson were coming down from the second floor. I looked around. Usually, the moment Bentley heard my footsteps, he’d come charging down to greet me. “Buying more stuff, Riley?” Tiffany glanced at the boxes, her tone unreadable. “How much does all that cost? You really treat that dog like a prince.” “Mrs. Dawson, where’s Bentley?” I asked, not looking up from the tape I was cutting. “Oh, he was being a nuisance, so Tiffany suggested we put him on the balcony,” Mrs. Dawson said, pouring herself a glass of water. “He was getting underfoot while I was vacuuming. Back in my hometown, a dog like that would get a good swat to teach him some manners.” “Dogs are naturally low-class. You have to show them who’s boss, or they’ll think they own the place.” “You left him on the balcony all afternoon?” I roared, standing up so fast I knocked over a box. I shoved past them and sprinted upstairs. It was the middle of July. The temperature outside was nearly 100 degrees. Sure enough, I pushed open the glass door to find Bentley huddled in a tiny corner of shade, panting heavily, his body burning to the touch. I scooped him up, rushed downstairs, and ran straight for the bathroom. “Mrs. Dawson! Get me lukewarm water and some ice packs! Now!” Seeing my face, Mrs. Dawson panicked. “Okay! I’m going!” We worked on him for nearly an hour. Finally, Bentley started to revive, his tail giving a weak little wag. Tiffany watched the whole thing, looking bored. “Riley, don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic over a dog?” “Auntie Miller told me you treat this dog like he’s a little god, even more important than your own parents.” “A dog is just a dog. It can’t even talk. Your parents were just saying how quiet and lonely the house feels without any grandchildren.” I slammed a box of dog food onto the floor. The sound echoed like a gunshot. She jumped, staring at me in shock. “This dog cost me five thousand dollars!” I walked toward her, step by step, a cold smile on my face. “I treat him like a god because he’s worth more to me than you are. Even my actual relatives don’t dare touch my private business.” “Who the hell do you think you are?” 4 Tiffany was terrified. Her eyes turned red instantly. Mrs. Dawson rushed to comfort her. “Oh, it’s okay! Riley’s just stressed!” She turned to me, trying to play the mediator. “Riley, Tiffany didn’t know. Don’t take it out on her.” My parents walked in just then, carrying shopping bags. Seeing the standoff, my dad asked, “What’s going on? Why is everyone standing around in the living room?” Mrs. Dawson quickly explained, “Nothing much. Tiffany just put Riley’s dog outside, and he almost got heatstroke.” “Oh?” My mom glanced at Bentley, frowning. “Is he okay?” “He’s not okay! I came home and found him barely breathing!” Before I could finish, Tiffany’s tears started falling in giant drops. “Auntie, is the dog really that expensive?” “I didn’t know. I just saw my mom working so hard to clean, and the dog was making a mess. I was just trying to help.” The moment she said that, Mrs. Dawson doubled down, pleading with my mom: “Tiffany didn’t know the dog was so valuable…” “She was just looking out for me. Who knew Riley had such a temper…” The two of them were a perfect duo—one crying, one apologizing with a long face, making it look like I was the villain bullying them. Mrs. Dawson had been with us for a long time, and my mom was clearly getting a headache from the drama. “From now on, don’t touch anything in this house without permission,” Mom said. She pulled Tiffany aside and said firmly, “Apologize to Riley. You’re new here; it’s natural you don’t know the house rules yet.” It was a graceful exit my mom provided, largely for Mrs. Dawson’s sake. Tiffany hesitated for a long time before mumbling, “I’m sorry…” Mrs. Dawson quickly grabbed my hand and Tiffany’s hand, stacking them together. “Your sister Riley has a good heart. She won’t hold it against you.” “She’s known you since you were a baby, Riley. You two should be like sisters.” I coldly pulled my hand away. Tiffany’s hand was left hanging awkwardly in the air. My mom picked up Bentley. “Well, we’re heading to the lake house tomorrow to escape the heat anyway. We’ll bring Bentley. The fresh air will do him good.” Our family had a vacation home in the Hamptons. We went every year during the peak of summer. “Riley, can you make it this time?” my dad asked. “Didn’t you say the new café opening was coming up?” I took Bentley back and rubbed his head. “I probably can’t. We’re short-staffed.” The new café was in its final stages. My business partner was away on a business trip, so I was the only one available to oversee the site. Usually, when we went to the Hamptons, we took Mrs. Dawson to help with the cooking. Since I was staying behind and had just clashed with Tiffany, Mrs. Dawson said awkwardly, “Maybe… I should take Tiffany with me?” “That way Riley can have some peace and quiet at home.” My mom, knowing my temper, knew that if she left me alone with Tiffany, there’d be another explosion. “Take her along, then.” “But we only have the one guest room available there.” Tiffany immediately gave a sweet smile. “Auntie, I can just share a room with my mom. It’s no problem at all.” 5 After my parents left, the house felt empty. I was buried in the final renovations for the café, coming home and falling straight into bed. It took a few days of living like a zombie before I remembered to check in on them. I scrolled through Instagram. Mrs. Dawson hadn’t posted much, but my mom was active. There were photos of her reading by a floor-to-ceiling window and looking out over the water from the deck. I chuckled to myself. My dad’s photography skills were finally improving. But then I saw a reflection in my mom’s sunglasses—the silhouette of a young girl. I realized then that Tiffany had commented on almost every single one of my mother’s posts. Tiffany had added me on social media a while back, claiming she wanted me to send her some “lifestyle photos” of her mom. We had never actually spoken online, but now her name was all over my mom’s feed. Tiffany: [So beautiful! Who took this amazing shot? Me, of course! Hahaha.] [Auntie, you look so young! I’m so jealous of your skin, ugh!] [Gorgeous! I’m officially your personal photographer now! Uncle Miller is retired!] I felt a strange tightness in my chest. I scrolled through Mrs. Dawson’s feed. There were only a handful of photos, and Tiffany hadn’t even liked them. I decided to text my mom to see when they were coming back. She replied almost instantly. [Next week, honey. Why? Do you want to join us?] [Is it too hot in the city?] I typed back quickly: [Not really.] [It’s just summer break. Parker said he’s coming over in a few weeks to visit you.] Parker was my mom’s favorite nephew. The moment she heard that, her tone shifted. [Oh! Then I’ll come back this weekend.] [Get the guest rooms ready. Have the linens washed and changed.] I thought my mom was joking. But a few days later, I heard the front door open. My mom was back. “Ugh, I forgot how bad the city heat is. It was so much nicer at the lake.” “Riley, you should have come. How have you been? Have you been living off takeout again?” “I brought back some organic wild berries. I’ll have Mrs. Dawson make you a smoothie tonight.” I looked behind them. Someone was missing. “Mrs. Dawson, is your daughter not with you?” Mrs. Dawson was busy organizing bags of organic produce in the kitchen. “No. On the way back, she got a call from some friends. Apparently, there’s a big party tonight.” I didn’t think much of it and went upstairs. But soon, I saw Tiffany’s latest post. She was taking a selfie in my family’s Mercedes, carefully making sure the logo was visible. She was surrounded by a crowd, wearing a designer dress and sunglasses, smiling like a star. The caption read: “The Miller Princess is back in town!” 6 I don’t have many hobbies, but I love clothes. Sometimes I buy things, wear them once or twice, and then get bored. My closet was overflowing. Every season, my mom and I would pack up several bags of clothes to donate to charity. In the last batch, there were a few designer dresses from a high-end French brand. Since I’d been spending all my time at the construction site, I’d been wearing denim shorts and old t-shirts every day. I’d given a bunch of those older “work” clothes to Mrs. Dawson to take to the local donation center. I looked at the dress Tiffany was wearing in her photo. It was one of the designer dresses I’d put in the donation pile. I get the vanity of a young girl. A two-thousand-dollar dress is no small thing. But I never said she could have it. Technically, wasn’t this theft? That evening, I stood by the second-floor window and saw Arthur pull into the driveway. Tiffany stepped out of the backseat with an air of elegance. She and Arthur were chatting as they walked in. She was carrying a stack of gift bags—probably presents from her “friends.” “Mom! What’s for dinner?” Tiffany walked into the kitchen in her heels. “Wow! Roasted chicken! Smells amazing~” I stood on the landing, watching her. She didn’t look like the shy college student who had arrived a few weeks ago in a plain t-shirt and skirt. Now, she was glowing with confidence, draped in designer brands. Last week, she’d claimed her phone was broken and asked if we had any “spare” iPhones lying around. After I said no, she’d pestered her mother until Mrs. Dawson used two months of her salary to buy her the latest model. “Arthur, were you out with Tiffany?” I asked as I walked slowly down the stairs. Arthur looked a bit embarrassed. “No, I just saw her on my way back and gave her a lift.” Tiffany was an expert at networking. She was sweet and knew exactly how to charm my parents. To outsiders, it looked like she had already been integrated into the Miller family. Arthur went to rest for a bit before picking up my dad from the office. Tiffany walked out of the kitchen. She saw me and instinctively smoothed her dress, looking a bit awkward. “Hey, Riley.” To be honest, aside from the incident with Bentley, her little power moves hadn’t really affected me. I was too busy to care. “Mrs. Dawson, I thought I told you to take those clothes to the donation center,” I said with a smile. “If Tiffany needed clothes, you should have told me. I have plenty of old things I could have given her.” Tiffany’s face turned bright red. She turned to her mother, frowning. “Mom, you told me you bought this for me! Why is it Riley’s? You forgot to pay her for it again, didn’t you?” Mrs. Dawson froze, then quickly fumbled for her phone. “Riley, I’m so sorry. I saw this dress and it looked so new, so I took it. How much was it?” I looked at Mrs. Dawson, then at Tiffany. It was obvious Tiffany was throwing her mother under the bus. Judging by Mrs. Dawson’s reaction, they hadn’t discussed this “lie” beforehand. Seeing that, I felt a wave of pity for the woman. Tiffany was Mrs. Dawson’s only pride and joy, which is why she spoiled her so much, giving her everything she asked for. But it was clear that Mrs. Dawson could no longer keep up with Tiffany’s appetite. “The dress was two thousand retail. But since I’ve worn it a few times, just give me five hundred.” Normally, I wouldn’t care about a used dress or five hundred dollars. But I wanted to give Mrs. Dawson a wake-up call after all her years of service. Tiffany had bet that I wouldn’t ask for money from her mother. She never expected me to actually name a price. The mother and daughter were stunned. Mrs. Dawson fumbled with her phone for a long time. “How about… I just take it out of next month’s—” “Mrs. Dawson, you’ve already taken an advance for Tiffany’s tuition,” I said. I smiled, leaving no room for negotiation. “Venmo it to me.” … That night, as I passed the kitchen, I heard them arguing. “Mom! Why can’t you just get on better terms with Riley’s parents? I’m starting my internship soon. You need to have her dad put me in the corporate office!” “Look at how much money you’ve spent these last few weeks! That’s half a year’s salary for me!” “You have to spend money to fit in with people like them! If I don’t wear nice clothes, everyone at the office will look down on me.” “I tried talking to Mrs. Miller about the internship, but she didn’t take the bait. I don’t think they see us as equals,” Mrs. Dawson sighed. Tiffany lowered her voice, speaking rapidly. “Mom! You’ve worked for them for over ten years. You’ve earned this! And I’m a business major. It’s not like I’m asking for a handout. If Mr. Miller mentors me, I’ll be ten times better than Riley.” “She just stays up late painting and making coffee. She only got into that school because you guys paid for it. We’re just as good; we just don’t have the money.” “If I play my cards right with Auntie Miller, maybe she’ll take me in as a god-daughter. Then we’ll finally be set!” “You’re just a small-town woman, Mom. You have no vision. Listening to you is why we’re stuck like this.” I listened to them in silence, feeling only amusement. They saw us as a meal ticket. I’d thought about warning Mrs. Dawson, but seeing this, I realized there was no point. Renovations at the café were done, and I was back to my boring routine. I was actually curious to see what kind of “waves” this college senior thought she could make. Tiffany didn’t disappoint me. She couldn’t sit still for long. 7 After she’d been staying with us for two weeks, my dad suddenly asked during lunch: “So, Tiffany, when does your internship start?” I was casually watching TV, not joining the conversation. Tiffany’s eyes lit up. “I actually found an internship, but I decided not to take it.” My mom looked up. “Why? It’s hard to find good internships these days.” “I know, but the firm expected a lot of overtime. They wanted me staying until 8 or 9 PM every night,” Tiffany sighed. “And even though they said weekends were off, the HR manager mentioned I’d likely be writing reports from home.” “The benefits weren’t great either. Just the bare minimum.” Tiffany grew more animated. “And the pay! It was only three thousand a month. My mom makes more than that as a housekeeper.” My dad chuckled. “So, what kind of job are you looking for?” This was exactly the opening Tiffany wanted. She looked at my mom, sitting up straight and acting poised. “Nothing too crazy. Just a standard 9-to-5 with weekends off and full benefits. I don’t want to be a regular clerk; I want to be on the business management track. Eventually, I want to be in an executive role.” “I’m open to public or private sectors, but if it’s private, I’d prefer a large, stable corporation. I’ve heard international firms have the best perks. Some of my classmates are looking at Fortune 500 companies.” “Since I’m an entry-level intern, I’m not asking for much. Five or six thousand a month would be fine.” My dad glanced at my mom. His voice was neutral as he smiled. “You’ve certainly done your research.” Tiffany smiled back, scooting closer to my mom on the sofa. “I have. Honestly, Mr. Miller, your company sounds perfect.” “I was wondering if I might have the honor of working there.” When she finished, the room went dead silent. My mom took a sip of her tea. I was the one who finally broke the silence with a smile. “Tiffany, our front desk doesn’t have very strict education requirements, but you might not meet the height requirement. We usually look for girls who are at least 5’7″ for reception.” Tiffany stammered, “What… what about an assistant role, Auntie?” “Business management requires a lot of actual experience,” my mom said. She and my dad shared a knowing look. “We don’t hire interns with zero experience for those roles.” Tiffany grew desperate. “Auntie, I’m a fast learner. I can study!” “Learning is one thing, experience is another,” my mom said firmly. “College knowledge is just theory. It’s not enough for the real world.” “You’re young. You should start from the bottom and work your way up.” Tiffany wanted to argue, but the doorbell rang. Someone was here.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “424276”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When I discovered that my adoptive parents’ family had stolen my “luck,” I decided to let it all go. I started slacking off. I daydreamed in class, handed in blank exams, and voluntarily sat next to the worst student in our grade. The result? My slacking off got me accepted into Stanford, my adoptive sister didn’t even get into a community college, and my adoptive parents’ business was on the verge of bankruptcy. They knelt and begged me to try hard again. I sneered: “Move aside. Don’t block my way to inheriting a multi-million dollar fortune.” 1. After receiving another abysmal report card, I jumped into the river. Standing on the bridge, the disappointed faces of my adoptive parents flashed through my mind. They said, “Maya, why did you do so poorly again?” My adoptive sister, Chloe, sneered from the side, “You pretend to work so hard all the time, but the truth comes out during the exams.” I defended myself quietly. I wasn’t pretending. I really was trying my best. I only slept five hours a day, attended four tutoring classes on weekends, and had stacks of study materials piled high. I even memorized vocabulary words while eating and walking. But hearing this only made Chloe laugh louder. She said, “Maya, if you work so hard, why are you always at the bottom of the class?” Out of more than six hundred seniors, Chloe consistently ranked in the top three, while I was always somewhere past four hundred. To her, I was practically dead last. I had no answer, but Chloe wouldn’t let it go. “Either you’re a liar, or there’s something wrong with your brain.” She leaned in and whispered in my ear, her words feeling like a curse: “Either way, you’re just trash. What’s the point of you even being alive?” “Maya, why don’t you just die?” Later, I kept asking myself: What is the point of me being alive? My grades were terrible, nothing went right, and the people around me treated me like a jinx, avoiding me at all costs. I closed my eyes and leaped into the freezing river. 2. [Congratulations on awakening the ‘Slacker System.’ Activation successful. Wishing you a happy life where all your wishes come true.] A robotic voice echoed in my head. Just as I opened my eyes, a wave of nausea hit me. After coughing for what felt like ages, I finally felt a bit better. I looked around, my emotions a tangled mess. I didn’t die. I had learned the whole truth and awakened the Slacker System. It turned out I was originally supposed to have a happy, fulfilling life. But my adoptive parents’ family schemed to steal my “luck” (qi yun). The harder I worked, the happier they became, and the unluckier I got. I felt the [Slacker Progress Bar] in my mind. It was a metallic cylinder, with the number 0% displayed right above it. When that number hits 100%, I will get my luck back and live a normal life. A cold wind blew, and I couldn’t help but shiver, pulling my jacket tighter around me. All those agonizing memories finally made sense. My adoptive parents pushed me to study relentlessly, nearly driving me insane. It was all just to ensure Chloe got excellent grades and their business thrived. That’s why, no matter how much Chloe cried and complained about me, they insisted on keeping me around. I had begged them for familial love, but from beginning to end, they only saw me as a tool to be used. The people I thought were my family were actually the culprits who pushed me to despair. I swear I will make them pay. 3. By the time I walked home, it was already dark. My adoptive parents’ family was having dinner, laughing and talking. Seeing me walk in, they instantly went quiet. Chloe let out a cold snort: “Oh, you know how to come home? I thought you did so badly on the test you were too ashamed to show your face.” My adoptive father put on a fake smile: “Maya, it’s okay if you didn’t do well. Just try harder next time.” He looked so high and mighty, pretending to be magnanimous. They were waiting for me to apologize, to reflect on my mistakes, and to promise I would work even harder next time. Well, they were going to be disappointed. Under their watchful eyes, I walked into the kitchen, scooped a heaping bowl of rice, and sat straight down at the dining table to eat. The atmosphere grew even weirder. Chloe’s eyes widened: “How dare you sit at the table?” Right. Chloe never let me eat at the table. She said I was too much of a jinx and that eating with me would bring her bad luck. In the past, my adoptive parents always humored her, and I just swallowed my pride. But I wasn’t going to hold back anymore. “I’m hungry, so of course I’m going to eat. What, when you’re hungry, do you go eat shit? No wonder your breath stinks.” Chloe’s eyes widened even further. Glare all you want, I thought. See if your eyeballs pop out. I continued shoving the delicious, fragrant ribs into my mouth. So good. Having just walked through the gates of hell, I was feeling a lot bolder. If I wasn’t even afraid of dying, why should I be afraid of Chloe? 4. Chloe was furious. She opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by my adoptive father. “Maya, even if you didn’t do well, you shouldn’t take it out on your sister.” “I spent three thousand dollars to enroll you in a new tutoring center. As long as you try hard, I don’t mind spending the money.” I kept my head down and kept eating, not saying a word. On the surface, he was doing it for my own good, but deep down, he knew exactly who he was doing it for. But his words were like adding fuel to the fire for Chloe. What she hated most was how much “effort” and money my adoptive parents spent on me. If we had been at school, she would have shoved me into the trash cans by now. Ignoring Chloe’s venomous glare, I took another bite of rice and said flatly, “I’m not going.” But my adoptive father was just informing me. My unusual behavior today had exhausted his patience. “You have to go. Also, there’s a physics competition this weekend. You’re entering it with Chloe.” Ever since we were little, whatever Chloe did, I had to do too. If she took dance classes, I had to take them too. If she entered a singing competition, I had to enter too. Even for the smallest, most insignificant competitions, I had to tag along. The only difference was that she always took first place, and I was always dead last. “Dad! Why are you making this loser go again?” “I’m not going.” Chloe and I spoke at the exact same time. 5. Chloe turned her head and glared at me viciously. “A loser like you going is just a waste of a spot.” I suddenly realized that Chloe probably didn’t know about the luck-stealing scheme. Otherwise, she would be forcing me to enter the competition. In her mind, all her good grades were purely due to her own brilliance, and had absolutely nothing to do with me. She just genuinely hated me. She saw me as a jinx who brought bad luck and stole her parents’ affection. She felt fully entitled to her smooth, successful life and treated me as her personal punching bag. But Chloe, everything you have was originally mine. You stole it all from me. I sneered, put down my bowl and chopsticks, and got up to leave. As I was walking up the stairs, I heard my adoptive mother’s voice. “Chloe, Mom told you before, even recycled cardboard can be sold for cash. A loser obviously has her uses too.” I looked back and met Chloe’s gaze. She smiled arrogantly, looking incredibly smug. I smiled too. Because the number on the [Slacker Progress Bar] had just jumped to 7%. We have plenty of time. Let’s see who has the last laugh. 6. On the day of the physics competition, my adoptive father drove Chloe and me to the testing center. He instructed Chloe: “Just focus on the exam. After you’re done, Dad will reward you with a new Macbook.” Then he turned to me with a meaningful look: “Maya, do your best.” I smiled: “Okay.” Chloe scoffed disdainfully: “Doing her best won’t help. She’s destined to be dead last.” I watched my adoptive father’s car drive away, then turned and walked in the opposite direction of the testing center. Chloe grabbed my arm: “Where are you going?” She looked at me suspiciously: “You’re not planning on skipping the exam, are you?” I shook off her hand: “Yep.” Chloe: “…” I smiled: “I hope you get a great score.” Chloe’s face turned black as coal. She looked at me like I was an idiot. “Maya, are you sick in the head?” “If I am, do you have the cure? If not, shut the hell up.” I turned and walked away, leaving Chloe cursing at me from behind. I wanted to see if Chloe could still get good grades without me there to siphon luck from. 7. I spent the whole morning wandering around the park, feeding stray cats while watching my slacker value rise to 18%. Not bad, not bad. Breaking free from the Vance family’s control is just around the corner. I hummed a tune as I walked into the school. The moment I reached my desk, my mood plummeted. My desk was covered in scribbles: Loser, Coward, Parasite… Next to the colorful writing was a crudely drawn turtle. I pulled some tissues out of my backpack and tried to wipe it off, but the marker wouldn’t budge. My desk mate watched me and suddenly said, “Stop wiping. Isn’t what’s written there pretty accurate?” I glanced at her: “Chloe told you to write this, didn’t she?” She admitted it readily: “Yeah, so what? You…” “Nothing.” I smiled at her, and while she looked completely confused, I flipped her desk over! The lid on her water bottle was open, and water spilled all over the floor. “Ah!” The loud crash of the desk hitting the floor, mixed with my desk mate’s scream, instantly drew the attention of the entire class. Our homeroom teacher, Mr. Harris, had just walked in and was startled. “What is going on here?” he asked, frowning as he walked over. I spoke before my desk mate could: “I want to change seats.” Mr. Harris’s frown deepened until it looked like it could crush a fly. “You are always causing trouble. Your grades are terrible, and you’re always getting into conflicts with your classmates. Tell me, who would even want to sit next to you?” Mr. Harris spoke loudly, but no one in the class made a sound. It was true. Who would want to sit next to a loser who brought bad luck? Besides, who would dare risk offending Chloe, who had great grades and a wealthy family, just for me? 8. My desk mate’s eyes were full of schadenfreude. She was probably already plotting how to make my life miserable later. I had to change seats. I simply picked up my desk and moved it to the very back row. If no one wanted to sit with me, I’d just sit by myself. But Mr. Harris looked at me strangely: “You want to sit next to Julian?” Before I could answer, the whole class erupted. “Maya wants to sit next to the school delinquent?” “Is she crazy? Julian never lets anyone sit next to him. I heard the last guy who tried was bullied into transferring schools.” Julian, the school delinquent, was notorious for his explosive temper and for being someone you did not want to mess with. He was always late, always leaving early, and his grades were at the very bottom. Rumor had it he put a classmate in the hospital, but his family paid to cover it up. The teachers were afraid to discipline him, and the students were even more terrified of him. The back row was very empty. The delinquent’s desk sat isolated in a large, open space. Uh, even though I wanted to be a slacker, I didn’t want a death wish. Just as I was about to say never mind, the back door creaked open. I turned my head and saw Julian walking in. 9. Julian’s arrival pushed the tension to a boiling point. I watched helplessly as he walked into the classroom and glanced at me when he reached his desk. Everyone’s eyes darted between the two of us. I even heard someone whisper, “Is Julian going to kick Maya across the room?” My desk was still a foot away from his. I shouldn’t… get kicked across the room, right? But to my surprise, Julian just sat down with a cold expression and didn’t say a single word. At first, I was pretty nervous, terrified that the delinquent would get annoyed and turn into Chloe 2.0. But later I noticed he just slept during class. Occasionally, he’d pull out an advanced physics textbook and scribble in it. I finally relaxed. It seemed the delinquent was actually quite reasonable. I felt bad for even comparing him to Chloe; that was an insult to him. While I was lost in thought, Mr. Harris called on me: “Maya, pay attention in class. Your grades are already terrible. Aren’t you embarrassed if you don’t even try?” The class erupted in laughter. In their eyes, I was probably just a worthless loser who had completely given up. But this was exactly what I wanted. 10. That afternoon after school, I watched Chloe get into the family’s Maybach and drive off. Of course, that was Chloe’s “private car,” and I wasn’t allowed to ride in it. According to my adoptive parents’ schedule, I should be heading to the fifth tutoring center I was newly enrolled in, finishing up around 11:00 PM, and then walking home. I’d be working harder than a rented mule. I rolled my eyes and walked straight into a Korean BBQ place I had been craving for a long time but never had the chance to try. The BBQ was delicious, and my slacker value kept rising, eventually stopping at 28%. Today’s achievements were quite remarkable. I felt pretty good about myself. But my good mood came to a screeching halt the moment I walked through the front door. My adoptive parents were sitting on the sofa, waiting for me, and they didn’t look happy. Sigh, this family is really a buzzkill. 11. I wiped the smile off my face and put on my usual submissive expression. Then I ignored them and headed straight for the stairs. That’s when my adoptive mother spoke up: “Maya, come here. We need to talk.” I didn’t move. I just asked what they wanted. My adoptive father frowned, clearly dissatisfied with my rebellious behavior. “Maya, you’ve been making a lot of mistakes lately. First, you talked back to your sister, and now you’re not listening to your parents either. I used to think you were a good kid. Even though your grades weren’t great, you worked hard. Why is your character getting worse and worse?” He then listed my “crimes” one by one, including but not limited to talking back to the homeroom teacher, changing seats without permission, sitting next to the worst student in the grade, and skipping tutoring. Blah, blah, blah. He delivered his final verdict: “Maya, you need to reflect on your actions. Write a ten-thousand-word apology letter.” I raised an eyebrow slightly: “Really? Chloe is the one who needs to write an apology letter. She struts around school acting like a tyrant…” My adoptive father yelled: “She is your sister!” “Not by blood.” I added calmly: “And neither are you.” “Chloe called me a parasite, but I think there are three vampires living in this house.” My adoptive parents looked shocked and uneasy, clearly guilty. I snorted and turned around to see Chloe standing on the stairs in an evening gown. Ugh, so annoying. I just glanced at her, and Chloe immediately started showing off: “Mom had this dress custom-made for me. Jealous?” “I’m performing a solo dance at the school anniversary gala. Liam, the most popular guy in school, is playing the piano for me. And the principal is going to publicly commend me for getting first place in the physics competition.” Chloe smiled smugly and arrogantly: “A loser like you will probably never have a chance like this in your next life.” 12. It was clear the Vance family was taking this opportunity very seriously. They even had a high-end designer gown made and hired a photographer to follow her around, determined to steal the spotlight. On stage, Liam played the piano, and Chloe performed her solo dance under the spotlight. I heard a classmate next to me whisper in admiration: “Liam and Chloe look so good together! Both gorgeous and both top students…” In the audience, my adoptive parents were accepting compliments from other parents, smiling so wide they looked like blooming flowers. “Your daughter is truly outstanding. Not only is she beautiful, but she’s also incredibly talented. I heard she even got first place in the physics competition?” My adoptive mother’s eyes crinkled so much you could barely see them: “Oh, well, they haven’t announced the results yet, but I’m sure she got first…” The Dean of Students chimed in, kissing up to them: “Chloe is an exceptional student. She’ll definitely take first place.” I looked at Chloe on stage and felt sick to my stomach. Two years ago, Chloe and I both made it to the final four in a dance competition. But the day before the finals, she pushed me down a flight of stairs. As a result, I broke my leg, and Chloe took third place. Afterward, my adoptive parents just brushed it off, saying Chloe didn’t do it on purpose and telling me to be the bigger person. Just like they clearly knew Chloe bullied me at school but chose to turn a blind eye. 13. After the performances came the awards ceremony. The Vice Principal walked onto the stage to read the list of commended students. Chloe’s name wasn’t there. I sneered inwardly as a murmur spread through the students. A parent nearby asked in surprise: “Why isn’t Chloe’s name on the list?” My adoptive parents, who had been holding their heads high with pride, suddenly looked very uncomfortable. My adoptive father frowned and asked: “Did they accidentally skip her name?” The Vice Principal might be old and have bad eyesight, but his hearing was perfectly fine. And, he was quite petty. He glanced at my adoptive father, read the list again with a straight face, and then shook the paper, as if saying, See? It’s really not here. The gesture was so comical I actually laughed out loud. That laugh was like adding fuel to the fire for my adoptive father. He snapped at the sweating Dean of Students: “I suspect foul play. There is no way Chloe isn’t on that list.” But the Vice Principal was even more blunt: “Well, she isn’t! Chloe scored dead last!” As soon as he said that, the entire auditorium erupted. 14. The Vice Principal was truly furious. Our school ranked among the top two in the state, and we had never had such a terrible score in a competition before. The Dean of Students invited my adoptive parents backstage, and they angrily called me to come with them. When we went in, Chloe was crying and hugging Liam. When she saw me walk in, she hugged him even tighter, looking like she wanted to be glued to him. The Dean of Students coughed awkwardly, and Liam pushed Chloe away. My adoptive parents, however, acted as if they didn’t even notice their daughter hugging a boy. Right now, they only cared about the competition results. “Mr. Zhang, what exactly is going on here?” The Dean’s expression grew even more awkward: “Um… Chloe’s name really isn’t on the list… there was no mistake. They double-checked the exams when the scores came out. There’s definitely no issue…” My adoptive father raised his voice: “Mr. Zhang, you have to give us a reasonable explanation. Chloe has always been in the top three of her class. It’s impossible for her to score that poorly, unless…” He paused and turned his gaze to me. “Maya, you went and took the physics competition exam, didn’t you?” I met his gaze and heard Chloe’s shrill voice. “She didn’t! Dad, she didn’t go. She must have sabotaged me!” My adoptive father ignored her, staring fixedly at me: “Maya, answer my question. Did you take the competition exam?” I took a deep breath and met his eyes. “No.” 15. A deathly silence fell over the backstage area. Liam and the Dean of Students were shocked by the word “Dad,” looking back and forth between me and the Vance family in astonishment. My adoptive parents’ faces turned a sickly green, while Chloe looked completely bewildered. After a long pause, my adoptive father finally spoke through gritted teeth: “Very well… Maya, you actually dare to rebel. It seems we’ve been too lenient with you.” “We raised you all this time, and you turn out to be an ungrateful wretch.” “Get on your knees and apologize!” I coldly watched his furious, humiliated display: “What did I do wrong?” “Was I wrong for not letting Chloe bully me? Or was I wrong for not letting you siphon my life away?” My adoptive father’s face flushed bright red with anger. Just as I thought he was going to hit me, a weak voice broke the silence: “Excuse me, sorry to interrupt…” We all looked over and saw a student peeking out from behind the curtain. He pointed at the piano and whispered: “Um, the microphone on the piano is still on…” 16. The fact that Chloe and I were sisters quickly spread throughout the entire school. The impact was no less than dropping a nuclear bomb. After all, who in the entire senior class didn’t know that Chloe hated me? Every time report cards came out, she would publicly humiliate me. She called me a loser, a jinx, saying anyone who got close to me would be cursed with bad luck, which led to me being isolated by the whole school. Now, Chloe was throwing a tantrum and refusing to come to school, so my adoptive parents got her a long-term medical leave. Without her there, the air at school felt fresher. And my slacker progress bar was almost halfway full. I was in a great mood, feeling like my life was looking up. What’s more, I had made my first friend— I poked Julian’s arm: “Hey, let me tutor you.” After becoming desk mates with Julian, I discovered that he wasn’t the ruthless delinquent the rumors made him out to be. He was clearly just a quiet, misanthropic teenager. Correction: a handsome, good-tempered, but quiet, misanthropic teenager. Julian looked up from his comic book, his expression complicated: “Are you joking?” I blinked. Was Julian looking down on me? As my slacker progress bar had been rising, my luck had improved significantly. At the very least, I didn’t suffer any sudden “illnesses” during exams and was able to comfortably finish my papers. My class ranking slowly climbed from past 400 to around 200. Although it wasn’t high, it was certainly better than Julian’s zero-point exams, right? “You always bring me breakfast. I have to repay you.” Julian looked a bit uncomfortable: “No need.” Julian was great in every way, except his misanthropy was too strong. I racked my brain for a bunch of reasons to persuade him when I suddenly heard someone calling my name. “Maya, Mr. Harris wants to see you in his office.” 17. As I walked to the office door, I heard my adoptive mother’s voice. “Mr. Zhang, I heard the results of this midterm exam are tied to college recommendation spots?” “Yes, Chloe’s past grades have been excellent. As long as she performs normally this time, getting a recommendation will definitely be no problem.” “Mr. Zhang, Chloe is always outstanding. I’m not worried about her.” My adoptive mother let out a long sigh and continued: “The main issue is Maya. She’s been very rebellious lately. She won’t listen to anything her father and I say, and she’s caused a lot of trouble for the school.” “Since the child is struggling, we hope you can keep an eye on her. This midterm exam is very important, and she absolutely must participate.” “Oh, you’re being too polite! It’s truly a parent’s heavy burden! I will definitely make sure Maya takes the midterm exam. I’ll personally watch her walk into the testing room.” I pushed the door open and walked in. My adoptive mother was shoving a gift bag into the Dean’s hands. Both of them froze when they saw me. I walked straight over and sat on the sofa: “It’s fine. Don’t mind me. Keep giving gifts, keep taking them.” The Dean’s face turned red and pale alternately, and he let out two awkward laughs. My adoptive mother put the gift bag under the desk: “What nonsense are you talking about?” Then she handed another gift bag to me: “I bought this for you.” My adoptive mother wasn’t good at trying to please me. Her smile was as stiff as a mannequin’s. I frowned and looked at her: “Stop smiling. You’re scaring me.” She immediately dropped her smile and shot a look at the Dean of Students. The Dean understood immediately. “Um, Maya, the teacher called you here to talk about your recent behavior. Let’s put the competition behind us. The teacher will just assume you were under too much pressure. The midterm is coming up, and you need to work hard.” The two of them went back and forth, but it boiled down to one thing: I had to take this midterm. “Got it.” I couldn’t be bothered to listen anymore and stood up. My adoptive mother’s eyes were full of expectation and calculation. I smiled slightly: “I will take the midterm.” If they wanted to use me to pave the way for Chloe’s future, they shouldn’t blame me for becoming the “stumbling block” on their path. 18. I don’t know how much my adoptive parents bribed the Dean of Students. On the day of the midterm, he watched me walk into the testing room and stood by the door for a good while, only leaving satisfied when he saw me start writing. During the six exams, he showed up six times, thoroughly confusing the proctor and making me a target of intense scrutiny. Let him watch. I was as calm as could be. He was standing too far away anyway. He couldn’t see that I was writing all the answers on scratch paper. … When I walked out of the school gates, I immediately saw Chloe and my adoptive parents. Chloe was holding a bouquet of flowers, surrounded by her lackeys, looking arrogant as if she had just won a war. My adoptive mother asked with a smile: “Chloe, how do you think you did this time?” Chloe looked smug: “I thought the questions were very easy. I’ll definitely take first place.” Her lackeys immediately hyped her up: “Chloe, you’re amazing! A lot of people said the questions were super hard this time.” “Yeah, Chloe is just too good.” They were making a lot of noise, bursting into laughter every now and then. The commotion attracted reporters who were interviewing students at the gate. They pointed their cameras at Chloe: “Excuse me, could we interview you?” Chloe proudly lifted her chin and said elegantly: “Sure.” “I heard you say the questions were easy this time. May I ask which school you’re from? How are your usual grades?” Chloe answered, and her lackeys chimed in, painting a glorious picture, basically hyping Chloe up like a goddess from heaven. My adoptive parents got in the shot too. When the reporter asked how they raised such an outstanding daughter, my adoptive father spoke with a proud tone: “Of course, it’s because our family has good genes. And Chloe is very hardworking. Talent plus hard work leads to success.” I watched in amazement. What a shameless family. Chloe noticed me standing in the crowd. Her smile froze for a second, but then she smiled even more arrogantly: “Some people are just born without the brains for studying, so they shouldn’t waste their effort. They’d be better off dropping out early and doing manual labor. At least they’d be contributing to society.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “424292”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I transmigrated into this book just as the story was reaching its grand finale. I was standing at the altar with the male lead, Harrison Sterling, surrounded by the cheers and blessings of the elite. But after taking a single phone call, the color drained from Harrison’s face. He shoved me aside without a word and sprinted out of the church. Oh, if I remembered the timeline correctly, the female lead had probably just “attempted” suicide and was currently being rushed to the ER. 1 I had become the villainous “True Heiress” in a classic switched-at-birth melodrama. I was the biological daughter; the female lead was the one who took my place. Once the truth came out, I was brought back to the wealthy Vance family, and the female lead, Brianna, was supposedly cast out. Everything that once belonged to her—the doting parents, the handsome billionaire fiancé, the vast Vance fortune—all fell into my hands. Brianna went from a princess to a pauper overnight. The parents who raised her for eighteen years turned their backs; the brother who once spoiled her called her a “thief” who stole my life; her childhood sweetheart fiancé broke off their engagement immediately. Brianna spent the rest of the book trying to prove she wasn’t a gold-digger. She claimed she never wanted to fight me for anything. She just wanted “family.” She tried to work at the Vance Group to show her worth, but my father assumed she was trying to steal my inheritance and fired her. 她 gave me a gift to bridge the gap, but my brother Caleb thought she was trying to poison me and slapped her across the face. She even showed up at my wedding to Harrison to offer her “blessings,” only to be labeled a homewrecker by the guests and cyberbullied into oblivion. Finally, at the peak of my wedding, a broken Brianna chose to end it all. But her suicide was the catalyst for everyone else’s “awakening.” My parents suddenly remembered the eighteen years they spent raising her. Caleb remembered the sweet little girl who used to follow him around. Harrison remembered how hard she used to try to make him smile. Suddenly, everyone was drowning in regret. To make matters worse, Brianna’s “secret diary” was conveniently discovered after her death. It was filled with her love for the Vance family, her pining for Harrison, and her guilt toward me. She apologized to everyone, over and over, stating she never wanted the money—she just wanted to be loved. The guilt consumed them. They vowed to spend the rest of their lives making it up to her. After she recovered, she was welcomed back into the family with open arms. Harrison realized he truly loved her, and after a series of dramatic “pursuits,” they got their happily ever after. As for me, the “villainess,” I became so consumed by jealousy that I tried to run Brianna over with a car. In the end, she escaped without a scratch, and I was the one who died in the wreckage. 2 I entered the story right at the climax of the wedding. The priest was just getting to the good part: “Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer…” I looked at Harrison, then at the crowd, and calmly shook my head. “I don’t.” The silence that followed was deafening. Harrison leaned in, his voice a frantic whisper. “Natalie, what are you doing? Everyone is watching.” I glanced pointedly at his pocket, where his phone had been vibrating non-stop. “You have a call,” I said helpfully. Harrison pulled out his phone and looked at the screen. He recognized the number. His brow furrowed instinctively, and he moved to silence it. I reached out and stopped his hand. “Don’t hang up. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you do.” In the original plot, Brianna regretted her decision after cutting her wrists and hit the speed-dial for Harrison, begging him to save her. But Harrison, in the middle of his wedding, ignored the calls. Brianna nearly died because she missed that window for help. Those dozen missed calls became a major “angst point” in their future romance. But this time, I wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of a tragic misunderstanding. After all, saving a life is a noble deed. Seeing my persistence, Harrison answered. A second later, his face turned ghost-white. He shoved me back and bolted out of the chapel. The guests erupted. Confusion, shock, and a few smug smiles from my rivals hit me all at once. My parents and Caleb rushed to my side, their faces a mix of worry and rage. Before they could speak, I let the words spill out: “Mom, Dad… Harrison just got a call from Brianna. “I think I heard her say she… she did something to herself. She begged him to come save her.” My mother’s face went pale. You don’t just stop loving a child you raised for two decades. She swayed on her feet, her voice trembling. “She… she tried to kill herself? Where is she? Is she at a hospital?” Even my stoic father clenched his fists in visible distress. I forced a weak, pale smile. “I don’t know. The reception was bad…” “It doesn’t matter. Robert, find out where she is! I have to see her!” My mother stopped mid-sentence, looking at me with a sudden, guilty start. She realized her other daughter—her biological one—had just been abandoned at the altar because of Brianna, and was currently the laughingstock of the city. I did my best to look like I was holding it together. “Go,” I said softly. “It’s okay. You guys should go. I can handle things here. “Brianna might be in critical condition. If anything happens to her while you’re here…” I looked down, playing the martyr. “I understand. You lived together for twenty years. You can’t just flip a switch on those feelings.” In the original book, the original Natalie threw a massive tantrum, screaming and forbidding her parents from seeing Brianna. That only made her look like a monster and made her parents feel even more guilty toward the “victim.” This time, I was the one pushing them to go. As they left, they kept looking back at me with eyes full of sorrow and shame. “Caleb, you should go too,” I said, my voice cracking perfectly. Caleb shook his head. “There are enough people there already,” he said quietly. “I’ll stay here with you.” 3 In the original story, Brianna nearly died because Harrison arrived too late. This time, because he left the second she called, she barely had a scratch. The doctors bandaged her up, gave her some fluids, and told her she could go home. When my parents arrived at the hospital, they expected to see her on her deathbed. Instead, they found a perfectly healthy-looking Brianna sitting up in bed, chatting with Harrison. Aside from a few layers of gauze on her wrist, she looked exactly the same. And then they remembered: their biological daughter was currently standing in a deserted church because of this girl. Their sympathy took a sharp turn into irritation. “Dad! Mom!” Brianna’s eyes lit up, then she quickly lowered her head, looking like a kicked puppy. “Mr. Vance… Mrs. Vance…” “Right,” my mother said, her voice strained. “The doctor says you’re fine?” Brianna tucked her hand behind her back, whispering, “I’m okay. It was just a small cut. I’m so sorry I worried you…” “You should be,” my father snapped. “You’re an adult. Do you have any idea what the consequences of your actions are?” Brianna’s eyes filled with tears instantly. Her parents—the people who used to never raise their voice at her—were looking at her with coldness. Did blood matter that much? Did twenty years mean nothing? “I’m sorry,” she sobbed, head bowed. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I really didn’t. I just… I just…” “You didn’t mean it? You chose the day of Natalie and Harrison’s wedding?” my father interrupted. “You chose the exact moment they were saying their vows? “You have hundreds of contacts in your phone, and you didn’t call 911? You called the groom? “Even if you didn’t have a single friend to call, are you telling me you don’t know how to dial an emergency number?” Brianna stared at him, stunned. She realized he thought she had done it on purpose to ruin the wedding. But she hadn’t! She just… she was just panicked! She didn’t know what to do, so she called the person she trusted most! Was she really that low in their eyes now just because she wasn’t “biological”? Her heart felt like it was being squeezed. She wanted to scream, to cry, to beg for a hug, but she knew it would only make them hate her more. She swallowed her tears and bowed deeply. “I am so sorry. I was immature. I didn’t think it through. “I swear, I never meant to hurt Natalie. “Please tell her I’m sorry. And tell her…” Brianna took a shaky breath. “Tell her I’m leaving. I won’t ever show my face to any of you again. I won’t cause any more trouble. “Mr. and Mrs. Vance, thank you for everything. For all those years. “I’m sorry for the pain I caused. I wish you and Natalie all the best.” She turned and ran out of the hospital room before anyone could stop her. My mother watched her go, a flicker of pain crossing her face. Even my stern father went silent, stepping into the hallway to light a cigarette. 4 When they got home, the atmosphere was heavy. I was waiting for them with a gentle smile. After listening to them describe Brianna’s “miraculous” recovery, I sighed softly. “Dad, Mom… maybe we should just let Brianna move back in. “It’s just another set of silverware, after all.” They both looked at me in shock. My father was the first to shake his head. “No. She moved out. There’s no reason for her to come back. “Natalie, don’t overthink this. You are the only daughter of this family. “We made a mistake before, but now that it’s fixed, she doesn’t belong here.” I sighed again, looking deeply concerned. “I know you’re saying this for me. You don’t want me to feel insecure. “But I really don’t mind. “She was just a baby when the switch happened. She’s a victim too. I can’t blame her for what happened. “Besides, you raised her for twenty years. You can’t just delete that. “I see how much you’re hurting. You’re cold to her because you’re trying to protect my feelings, but I know it’s hard for you. “I don’t want you to be unhappy. Let her come home.” “Natalie… do you really mean that?” my mother asked, her voice cracking. “I do. More than anything.” I gave them my most “supportive daughter” smile. In a system like this, suppression only leads to rebellion. If I let them suppress their love for Brianna, it would only fester into resentment toward me. Better to bring it all into the light. Besides, Brianna always claimed she didn’t want the money—just the love. Fine. I’ll give her all the “love” she can handle. Let’s see if she’s really as pure and selfless as she claims to be. 5 For twenty years, Brianna was the jewel of the Vance family, a princess who never knew a day of hardship. Now that she was back, she acted like a frightened animal. She stood at the front door, clutching a battered suitcase, watching my face as if I were a judge about to pass sentence. She wouldn’t even step inside until I gave her a nod. I saw the flash of pain in my parents’ eyes. But because I was there, they didn’t say a word. Tsk. I really did look like the villain breaking up their happy little family. I love being the bad guy. I curled my lips into a smile and looked at her. “Come in. Why are you just standing there? It’s your home too. Don’t be so formal.” Brianna walked in, but her head stayed down. She wouldn’t look at me. The silence was awkward, so my mother spoke up. “Brianna, I had the staff get your room ready. It’s the one at the end of the hall on the second floor. “Go check it out. Let us know if you need anything.” Brianna looked overwhelmed, but she quickly shook her head. “It’s okay, Mrs. Vance… I… I can just stay in the maid’s quarters. I don’t deserve such a nice room.” I felt a headache coming on. Is “self-inflicted suffering” a mandatory skill for every tragic heroine? The Vance estate had dozens of empty rooms. Her staying in one changed nothing. Staying in the maid’s room served no purpose other than making herself miserable and making everyone else feel like shit. Oh, wait. It did serve a purpose. It made my parents feel sorry for her. I watched her standing there, all “poor me,” saying, “It’s fine, I can sleep anywhere.” I lost my patience. I grabbed her suitcase and marched it up to the second floor myself. “I said, make yourself at home,” I said coldly. “Food, clothes, whatever you need—just ask. Don’t play the martyr. The Vance family isn’t going bankrupt over a few extra expenses. You don’t need to suffer just for the sake of it.” Brianna stared at me, then lowered her head again. “Okay. Thank you, Natalie.” She scurried into her room like a startled quail. Watching her act like she was being bullied when no one had even touched her was exhausting. My mother approached me tentatively. “Natalie… are you upset? “If you don’t want her here, we can find her an apartment.” I shook my head and smiled. “Mom, don’t say that. “She just got back. If you kick her out again, her heart will break. “I’m not upset. Don’t worry about me.” “You’re such a good girl,” my mother said, taking my hand. “I do care about Brianna, I won’t lie. “But no matter what, you are my biological daughter. I will always stand by you. “If she ever makes you uncomfortable, tell me. I’ll send her away immediately. “You don’t have to sacrifice your happiness for anyone. “You’re too mature for your own good, hiding everything inside. It breaks my heart.” Looking at the genuine love in her eyes, I felt a spark of warmth. I gave her my first real smile since arriving in this world. “I know, Mom. I won’t be a doormat. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine.” 6 To be fair, I didn’t actually hate Brianna. In the original book, Brianna was pure, kind, and innocent. She left the family the moment she found out the truth and never once attacked Natalie. It was Natalie who was consumed by spite and ended up destroying herself. Brianna simply “inherited” Natalie’s life because she was better at being loved. The parents loved her—well, they had twenty years of history. Caleb loved her—he’d watched her grow up. Harrison loved her—he just “discovered” it. Everyone was just following their hearts. Natalie was just “evil” by nature. But who made her that way? If she hadn’t been raised by abusive, poverty-stricken strangers while someone else lived her life, she wouldn’t have been so bitter. She could have been the “pure white lily” too. I wasn’t here to play social justice warrior for the original Natalie. I was just curious. If I put this pure white lily in actual mud, would she stay white? You want family? You want love? Fine. I’ll give you all the love in the world. But the Vance fortune, the status, the career, the legacy… You aren’t touching any of it. I hope your “pure heart” is enough to pay the bills when the reality of being a “supporting character” sets in. 7 “The engagement is off.” I sat across from Harrison Sterling in a quiet café. His handsome face darkened, his jaw tightening. “About the wedding… I can explain.” “Don’t bother. It’s not about that.” “I just don’t think we’re a good fit,” I said simply. Harrison let out a cold laugh. “Are you really going to pull this now?” “No one is pulling anything,” I said calmly. “Let’s just give each other some dignity and end it cleanly.” Harrison narrowed his eyes, searching my face. I met his gaze without flinching. He was the first to blink. “Fine. I messed up by leaving the altar. I apologized. “But our marriage is a merger between the Sterlings and the Vances. “You should talk to your parents before you make such a reckless decision.” “If you think you can use my parents to pressure me, you’re mistaken. We already talked. “They agree with me. And as for our business dealings, we’ll be re-evaluating those too. “Since you’re so focused on this being a business arrangement, let’s talk business. “Trust is the foundation of any partnership. “A man who abandons his partner in the middle of a high-stakes event isn’t someone I want to do business with. “Your character is… questionable, Harrison.” I didn’t give him an inch. Harrison looked like he wanted to scream, but he forced a sneer instead. “Has anyone ever told you that aggressive women aren’t very attractive to men?” “And men who judge women based on their ‘attractiveness’ aren’t very useful in the boardroom.” I was done with this “Alpha Male” posturing. But I had one question. “Since you chose to leave our wedding to save Brianna… “It’s clear you have feelings for her. Why don’t you just be with her?” In the original plot, Harrison should have realized his love for Brianna the moment she bled. He should have called off the wedding himself. But lately, there hadn’t been a single spark between them. Harrison looked uncomfortable. “Brianna and I… it’s just a sibling thing. “She’s too immature. I need a partner who can stand beside me in business, not a child I have to babysit. “Besides, she isn’t a Vance anymore. My family would never allow me to marry someone with no assets.” Wow. I had never heard anyone admit to being a gold-digger with such pride. I wondered how “epic” their romance in the original book really was. If he loved her so much, why did he drop her the second she lost her status? Why did he wait until Natalie was “dead” and Brianna was the “sole heir” to start his “pursuit”? Maybe his “belated love” was just an interest in the 100% inheritance she’d just received. I felt a wave of nausea. I was done playing this game. “Mr. Sterling, I’m not asking for your permission today. I’m giving you notice. “The engagement is over. Let’s not make this uglier than it already is.” I stood up and walked away, ignoring his furious expression. I didn’t know what Brianna saw in him. Two parasites in love. Boring. I pulled out my phone and called Caleb. “Hey, Caleb? Yeah, it’s done. Don’t worry. “Is the paperwork ready at the office? “Great. Thanks, big brother.” With my executive onboarding finally set, I allowed myself a real smile.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “424277”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I found an old phone in my husband Ethan Lloyd’s coat pocket. The password was his first love’s birthday. Inside were records of every time they had sex — in his office, in the bathroom of the café downstairs, even in our marital bedroom. “Lily, is it fun invading other people’s privacy?” I turned around. Ethan was standing in the doorway. I was exhausted. This time, I didn’t bother fighting with him. I just said calmly, “Let’s get a divorce.” Ethan smashed the phone on the floor right in front of me, his expression utterly indifferent. “That’s all in the past.” He asked, “Still want the divorce?” I nodded seriously. “Yes.” “Enough. Stop making a scene.” Ethan frowned, clearly impatient. “Be good. Once the project wraps up at the end of the year, I’ll make time to take you skiing in Hokkaido, okay?” When I didn’t respond for a long while, Ethan’s lips curved into his usual careless smile as he tapped my forehead with his fingertip. “I’m not lying this time. I mean it.” I almost wanted to laugh. “Not lying this time.” So he knew he’d lied to me countless times before. He’d promised that Hokkaido ski trip years ago, postponing it year after year. For our usual movie dates, I was always the one waiting alone at the theater entrance until showtime. When he said he’d pick me up, I’d stand there soaked by the rain, never seeing his car. Ethan always broke his promises to me. So now, saying this like it was some kind of favor, some reward. “No need,” I said, taking a deep breath before repeating firmly, “Ethan, I want a divorce.” This time, the man’s expression turned cold, his patience completely exhausted. “Lily, you’re being completely unreasonable.” “Go to Hokkaido or don’t—I’ve already given you the chance.” “Don’t come crying to me later about how I didn’t keep my word.” With that, he grabbed his coat from the sofa and turned to leave. He didn’t even touch the dinner I’d carefully prepared to his taste. I remained silent too. For the first time, I didn’t try to make him stay, not even for one more minute. Ethan paused at the door, glancing back at me. I had already sat down and begun eating quietly by myself. He slammed the door. Like he was venting some fury. My heart had long since stopped hurting—only a barren wasteland remained. I used to think that someone as superior as Ethan would never stoop to mundane domesticity. But it turned out he would cook for the girl he loved. Just to earn one compliment from her. The cuts on his hands, the burns from hot water—they all became badges of love. He’d even said such childish things: “Cooking for someone you like really does feel so happy.” “I want to cook for Claire for the rest of my life, fatten her up so no one else will try to steal her from me.” Reading those records made me realize for the first time how much of a joke I was. The next day, I met my lawyer best friend at a café and asked her to draft a divorce agreement. “What happened with you two? Why is it this serious this time?” My friend looked shocked. She knew better than anyone how much I loved Ethan. In past arguments, we’d have a cold war at most. “I’m really tired,” I said, looking out at the traffic. “You know what? She came back.” Just that one pronoun, and my friend understood. Claire Bennett. Ethan’s unforgettable first love. That name was like a tiny needle lodged in my heart. Never drawing blood, but causing pain from time to time. I’d never even seen her in person, yet her existence had affected me for five whole years. Ethan said personal space was important, but he and Claire had shared a music account. Ethan didn’t like his life being public, but his old social media was filled with traces of that girl. The art exhibitions he took me to featured Claire’s favorite painters. He complained that shopping with me wasted time, yet he’d once browsed every antique market in the city with her. Two years of dating, three years of marriage—Ethan had never truly removed her from his heart. And I was more like companionship during his single period. A habit. A second choice. “Alright, leave the divorce agreement to me—I won’t let you get the short end of the stick!” My friend said worriedly, “But Lily, have you really made up your mind?” “I told you from the start—this man isn’t right for you. He hasn’t cleared his heart, and being with him means you’re just hurting yourself.” “But you had to go and fall for him anyway, wouldn’t listen no matter what I said.” I lowered my eyes, stirring the coffee in my cup. “Some lessons have to be learned the hard way.”

The sky was heavy and gray. Rain started pouring without warning. My friend’s husband came to pick her up. “Didn’t I tell you not to come?” “How could I let you get caught in the rain? Lily, come with us—I’ll drop you off first.” I smiled and shook my head. “You two go ahead. I’ll sit here a bit longer.” I used to envy their genuine care and consideration for each other. Why were Ethan and I also married, yet there was always an invisible wall between us? Why? The answer was simple. He just didn’t love me enough. Yet I’d deceived myself for so long, thinking he simply didn’t know how to love. When the rain lightened, I got up to leave. I happened to see a familiar Audi pull over by the curb. The woman in the passenger seat wore a cream-colored dress, with slightly curled hair and a gentle demeanor. Ethan got out from the other side, walking this way. It seemed he was passing by and wanted to grab coffee. Seeing me, he remained expressionless, only raising an eyebrow slightly. He probably expected me to greet him first, but I just looked down at the rideshare app on my phone. Maybe I was distracted—I accidentally missed a step and twisted my ankle. Ethan glanced over again, frowning but saying nothing. He went into the café and ignored me. I endured the pain in my ankle and continued waiting for my ride. Soon, Ethan came out carrying two takeaway coffees. “Let’s go.” “Isn’t this what you wanted—for me to give you a ride?” His tone carried cold impatience. “…I didn’t.” Ethan didn’t bother arguing and simply pulled me into the car. Then he handed me one of the coffees. I didn’t take it, so he just set it aside. The entire ride was silent. The atmosphere in the car was stifling. Claire suddenly pressed her hand to her forehead. “Ethan, I think my blood sugar’s dropping. Do you have any candy?” Ethan naturally reached into the glove compartment and handed her a chocolate. “I’ve reminded you so many times, but you never learn.” Claire took it with a soft laugh. “I get too busy and forget. Good thing you’re here.” They naturally started chatting about old times—mutual acquaintances, shared experiences. Their words carried an effortless understanding. And I sat in the back seat like an out-of-place audience member. The scenery outside flew backward. We passed Fairview Park, where the giant Ferris wheel slowly turned. My first date with Ethan had been here. Legend said couples who kissed at the top would be happy forever. I’d stolen a kiss from him then. He’d stared at me for a long while. I thought it was one of our few shared sweet memories. Later I learned that Ethan’s biggest regret was never bringing Claire here to ride that Ferris wheel. Fragments of the past flashed through my drowsy mind. Mostly my one-sided expectations and his dismissiveness. I closed my eyes and fell asleep. When I opened them again, the car had stopped outside our building. Claire had gotten out at some point. Ethan unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to look at my swollen ankle, his brow furrowed. “Lily,” his voice was low, “does it have to be like this?” I looked up, confused. “If you wanted me to pick you up, you could’ve just said so. Did you really have to use such a stupid method to get my attention?” His tone was steady but carried barely detectable irritation. I didn’t know what he was irritated about. Perhaps he was annoyed that I’d interrupted his alone time with his first love. “Ethan, you’re overthinking it.” “I didn’t ask you to drive me.” He probably thought I was being stubborn and scoffed. “Oh? So what’s your plan—crawl home like this?” “I can call a cab.” I looked at him. “Ethan, I don’t need you to survive.” “I used to cling to you because I loved you. That doesn’t mean I’m helpless without you.” “Leave? Lily, try leaving and see if I’ll come begging for you back.” The man’s eyes darkened again. I had no desire to waste more words on him. Anyway, once the divorce papers reached his hands, he’d know this time I wasn’t making a scene—I was serious.

I pushed the car door open, trying to get out myself. But he got out first and scooped me up in his arms. His movements weren’t gentle, but he didn’t let me fall either. Inside, he found the medicine kit and awkwardly sprayed medication on my ankle, his expression still cold. “Don’t do this again.” I silently watched him complete this task. Ethan was always like this—giving me a slap, then a piece of candy. Hot and cold, making me second-guess myself countless times. Did he have even a shred of genuine feeling for me? Agonizing over whether someone loves you is truly stupid, yet I’d been stupid for five years. It was time to wake up. Too tired to keep guessing his thoughts, I casually said thanks. Ethan stood in front of the sofa, motionless. “Anything else?” Ethan pressed his lips together. “Don’t you have anything you want to ask me?” I shook my head calmly. Actually, I’d already checked Claire’s social media. Yesterday she’d posted on Twitter—a photo of a plane landing. The caption read “Waiting for you.” I’d scrolled through all the comments but didn’t see any trace of Ethan liking or commenting. But I knew he would go. And indeed, that’s what happened. “I’m really tired. I want to sleep.” I stood up. “I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight.” Ethan grabbed my wrist. “Lily!” Unusually, he took the initiative to explain. “Claire and I aren’t what you think.” “I picked her up this time because she just got back and isn’t familiar with the area. I was just helping out.” I made a sound of acknowledgment. “As you should.” Ethan studied my face, as if trying to find some trace of insincerity. “Lily, she and I ended a long time ago. We’re just ordinary friends now.” I nodded disinterestedly. “Got it.” Ethan pulled me into his arms, for once taking the initiative to kiss me. His burning body heat transmitted through our clothes—a warmth I’d once craved most. He knew I liked physical intimacy and thought one kiss could placate me. But I turned my head away. Ethan was clearly stunned. He completely hadn’t expected me to refuse. His expression darkened. “Lily, my patience has limits too. You’d better not push it too far.” That night we slept in separate rooms. Ethan left me the master bedroom and took the guest room himself. When I woke the next morning, the house was quiet—he’d already left. My expression remained neutral as I went to the company and submitted my resignation. If I was going to leave, I’d do it completely. I’d only stayed at this company because of Ethan anyway, to work alongside him, to have more time together. But at work, he’d hidden our marriage, saying it wouldn’t look good. Not only that, he deliberately kept his distance from me. When subordinates needed to accompany him on business trips, he never chose me. In meetings, he treated me like I was invisible. Even when I completed a major project independently, I never earned his praise. This cold attitude made colleagues think Ethan must have something against me. Or that I’d offended him privately. HR was one of the few people at the company who knew about my relationship with Ethan. “You’re leaving?” “Ethan only said to demote you, he didn’t say anything about resignation…” I froze. “Demotion?” HR nodded, looking at me with sympathy. “Your position was taken by someone parachuted in from abroad. Ethan specifically arranged it.” I felt a chill spreading through my heart. I heard my own trembling voice: “Her name—is it Claire Bennett?” “Yes, that’s the name.” I could barely stand and steadied myself against the desk. Even though I was leaving anyway, hearing this news still felt like an earth-shattering defeat. At the company, Ethan had never given me any special treatment. I’d climbed to the director position through my own abilities, step by step. And he just handed it to her.

Tonight was the company anniversary with a gala event. Before officially resigning, I still attended. At least I needed to claim my year-end bonus. In front of everyone, Ethan publicly announced Claire Bennett’s hiring on stage. He even specifically told everyone to take good care of the new colleague. People whispered: “Oh my God, is this really something our stone-faced Ethan would say?” I sat in the audience listening, dutifully applauding. Ethan’s gaze drifted toward me, as if observing my reaction. The next second, Claire beside him wobbled in her heels, and he immediately turned to steady her. Halfway through the banquet, I went to the terrace for air and heard Ethan talking with his friend. “What, another cold war with Lily?” He swirled his wine glass carelessly. “Yeah.” His friend sighed. “When will you ever take the initiative to apologize and comfort her? Girls like her are rare.” “I know.” “Then why’d you bring Claire here to humiliate Lily? This will only worsen things between you two. What if Lily really can’t take it anymore and leaves?” “She won’t.” Ethan paused, then continued with certainty, “Lily will never leave me.” He was still that confident. Thinking I’d give in like every time before. I was about to turn and leave when Claire’s voice sounded behind me. “What a coincidence. Want to have a drink together?” Claire naturally walked to my side, her tone intimate as if we were old friends. “I forgot to greet you last time. You’re Lily, right?” “Sorry for taking your position as soon as I arrived.” The remark carried a double meaning. I caught the provocation in her words and asked coldly, “Claire, are we close?” She smiled even more brightly. “I don’t know much about you, but you must know quite a bit about me, right?” I knew she must have seen my visitor record in the logs. Seeing that I still wouldn’t take the bait or show the fury she’d imagined, Claire grew unhappy and simply poured the wine in her glass onto herself, letting out a cry. The aloof man nearby immediately changed expression and rushed over. “Lily, what are you doing?” I clenched my fist but didn’t explain. I just threw the wine in my glass at his face. Amid the gasps around us, I laughed coldly. “This is what I did.” A waiter quickly brought towels. Ethan wiped the wine from his face, those eyes dark as a frozen pond watching me with inscrutable meaning. In the end, he said nothing and left the banquet with Claire. I watched their retreating figures and simply pulled out my phone to send a message. “My resignation letter and divorce papers are both on your desk.” “Remember to sign.” After sending it, I blocked and deleted his number. I went home to grab the luggage I’d already packed, discovering two tickets to Hokkaido. Did Ethan actually think that while I’d been packing these days, I was looking forward to going to see snow with him? Expressionless, I tore the ticket with my name on it in half. Without looking back, I left the city.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “386466”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

After being canceled and chased off the internet, I quit the entertainment industry, went home, and started selling bags as an intern sales associate at a luxury boutique. My arch-nemesis specifically came to the store just to humiliate me. She demanded that I get on my knees to serve her, threatening to have me fired on the spot if I refused, claiming she was the brand CEO’s handpicked global spokesperson for the upcoming season. Did no one tell her that my family literally owns this brand? “I’m sorry, but when did I ever say I was going to sign you?” 01 When I announced my retirement from acting, reporters asked me what I planned to do next. I casually replied that I was going home to help my parents sell bags. I was mercilessly mocked by the entire internet. But little did they know, they probably couldn’t even afford the bags my family sells… VALERIA is a top-tier luxury brand founded by my grandparents. Under my parents’ management, it has grown to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Hermès and Louis Vuitton as a global ultra-luxury powerhouse. Even our most basic entry-level bag costs tens of thousands of dollars. To build my character and business acumen, my parents insisted I start from the very bottom. I was assigned to one of our flagship boutiques as an intern sales associate. Who would have thought that on my very first day, my former nemesis would come looking for trouble. The moment Stella Monroe walked through the doors, her tone was dripping with passive-aggression. “Well, well, if it isn’t Harper Kensington? Did you think that by becoming a VALERIA salesgirl, you’d magically be able to afford the bags here?” The customer is always right. I bit my tongue and endured it. But she escalated, blatantly stepping her muddy shoe onto the glass coffee table I had just polished: “Kneel down.” Me: ? “These shoes are VALERIA. Don’t you guys offer complimentary maintenance? Maintain them for me.” Me: … Stella and I used to compete for the same type of roles. To get ahead of me, she had spent a fortune buying hit pieces and hiring bot farms to manipulate public opinion against me. The fact that I was cyberbullied to the point of leaving the industry had everything to do with her. It was just my own stubbornness; I hadn’t wanted to rely on my family’s connections. But even now that I had retired, she still wouldn’t let me be. “Ma’am, please take off your shoes. I’ll have a specialist take care of them.” “No, I want you to do it,” Stella smirked. “And I want you on your knees while you wipe them!” My face went cold: “I’m sorry, ma’am, our brand doesn’t offer that specific service.” “Harper, I am your client now! I am your God! You have to do whatever God tells you to do! You’re just a lowly salesgirl, what right do you have to talk back to me?!” “Believe it or not, I can have VALERIA fire you right this second!” Oh, wow. So powerful? She’d have to convince my parents to disown me first. I stayed silent, and Stella assumed I was scared. She looked incredibly smug: “You should be scared. After all, I’m about to become VALERIA’s spokesperson for the next season. If you wait until then to get on your knees, it’ll be too late.” I paused: “Spokesperson?” “Yeah. A resource that countless A-listers are fighting for. My agent is already in talks with the head of VALERIA’s marketing department.” I fell deep into thought. The department my parents wanted me to take over was Marketing. When did I ever agree to sign this piece of trash? 02 Of course, I didn’t serve Stella. Failing to get her way, she started finding faults. I brought out over a dozen different items, and she complained about every single one. Finally, she settled on a basic bag that cost a little under twenty thousand dollars. That was fine, but when it was time to check out, she suddenly pushed me aside and pointed to the store manager standing nearby: “You ring me up. The commission for this sale goes to you.” Manager Brenda Higgins beamed with joy and quickly started bagging the item. Just as the payment was about to go through, I suddenly remembered something. “Wait, this bag cannot be sold.” Stella was furious: “What do you mean?” “This specific bag was reserved by a client a long time ago.” Brenda thought I was just trying to steal her commission: “Harper, you’re new, so I didn’t want to scold you, but was that the proper attitude for serving a VIP? Furthermore, you say it’s reserved, but I’m the store manager, how come I don’t know about it?” “Yeah, Manager Brenda, how could you not know?” I gave her a cold glance and pulled up the system data on the tablet. The warehouse had sent a message three days ago, allocating this exact bag to our store for a client’s reservation. The client had specifically chosen in-store pickup at our location. “As the manager of a flagship store, how could you forget something so important? The client could walk through those doors at any minute. How would you explain this to them? This is a VVIP who spends over a million dollars a year.” Brenda’s face turned an ugly shade of gray. After Stella left, Brenda immediately began to mock me. “A loser who couldn’t survive in Hollywood really thinks she’s still a star.” I looked at her: “Excuse me, what did you say?” “What? Can’t handle the truth?” Brenda, oblivious to my true identity, laughed brazenly. “The whole country knows you came to work the register because you couldn’t hack it as an actress. It’s hilarious. Take a good look at your name tag. You’re just an intern.” She had a highly punchable look on her face. “And I am the manager of this store. Don’t you know the store manager has the ultimate authority here? Little girl, whether you pass your probation and become a permanent employee is entirely up to me.” …Oh, I was shaking in my boots. I couldn’t be bothered to entertain her, but the drama for the day wasn’t over. Right before closing, my former agent suddenly texted me. Stella had uploaded a video of me working as a salesgirl, and it was going viral. 03 It turned out that earlier today, during a busy moment when I was running back and forth grabbing inventory, Stella had secretly recorded me. “My old friend Harper is actually working as a salesgirl now. So pitiful. She’s definitely the most tragic former star I’ve ever seen. So, I went out of my way to support her at work today. #GirlsHelpGirls! I hope Harper gets through these tough times soon.” …What a twisted version of GHG. Uninformed netizens flooded the comments, praising her for being beautiful and kind-hearted. She also “accidentally” let slip that she might be collaborating with VALERIA soon. Her fans celebrated all night, guessing what kind of collaboration it would be. —Even if she was just a brand ambassador, for Stella, it would be a massive elevation in status. My situation, however, was vastly different. For me, there was only mockery. When I was an actress, the biggest thing I was hated for was my “Princess Syndrome.” When I first debuted, I didn’t understand the manipulative games of the industry. Whenever someone dug a hole for me, I jumped right in. In the end, I was edited on reality TV to look like I had a terrible temper and severe Princess Syndrome. Stella was the exact opposite; she portrayed herself as hardworking, gentle, and considerate. Only later did I find out that her team had bribed the editors to intentionally cut footage to make me look awful, just to make her look better by comparison. And now, I was a salesgirl. The trolls laughed at me: “Haha, the fake princess’s royal dreams are shattered.” “The fake princess dreamt of buying VALERIA, so she went to be a salesgirl there.” “Can the fake princess afford VALERIA today? Nope, still can’t.” Oh, right. “Fake Princess” was the new nickname the trolls had given me. That night, I didn’t go back to my small rented apartment in the city. Instead, I went to my parents’ massive estate in the Hamptons for dinner. My parents had seen the news too, and their hearts ached for me. “Harper, why don’t we just issue a clarification? Let’s tell everyone you’re the heir to VALERIA.” “No need, Mom and Dad. I still need to conduct my undercover investigation at the store.” That’s right. I had another motive for volunteering to be an intern salesgirl. That specific boutique had an alarmingly high customer churn rate. I volunteered to find out why. Before I uncovered the truth, I couldn’t blow my cover. My mom kept piling prime steak onto my plate: “You’re so stubborn. You never want to rely on us.” “By the way, Mom, what’s the deal with the spokesperson for next season?” “Isn’t that for you to decide? You’ve been in that industry; you definitely know the landscape better than we do. Commercial value is only one aspect. More importantly, they need to have good character and not damage VALERIA’s image.” “You didn’t say you were going to sign Stella Monroe, did you?” My mom shook her head: “I know you two don’t get along. Even if she were the last celebrity on earth, I wouldn’t sign her. It’s just that she recently hooked up with a sugar daddy who does business with our family, and he keeps recommending her to your dad.” No wonder. Because of her sugar daddy’s recommendation, Stella thought the deal was in the bag. But she didn’t know that my parents are fiercely protective of me. What does a business partner matter? Their precious daughter is their whole world! My mom asked if we should clarify the spokesperson rumors. Not only did I say no, but I also told the marketing department to intentionally leak some vague, promising rumors. Stella fell for it completely and was ecstatic. She bought PR articles in advance, hyping herself up subtly and overtly. Her fans and the media even started calling her “VALERIA’s Own Daughter.” Well, now things were getting fun. 04 Historically, VALERIA had only ever signed male global spokespersons. Under my initiative, my parents planned to sign our first female spokesperson this time. An international ultra-luxury brand, and the first female spokesperson in its history—wouldn’t that essentially be treating her like their “Own Daughter”? Within half a month, Stella hyped up the rumor ten times and dragged down other female stars to elevate herself five times. Without even realizing it, she had made countless enemies for herself. I hosted a live stream to address the whole “selling bags” situation. “Yes, I am working as a sales associate.” “I won’t be making a comeback, and this isn’t a PR stunt. I just realized I didn’t have the talent to be an actress.” “Who knows, maybe I have a talent for selling bags? Everyone is welcome to come shop at VALERIA.” In front of the camera, I was poised and elegant, facing the attacks with grace and confidence. By the end of the live stream, I had actually gained quite a few new fans. A few days later. While doing inventory at the store, I discovered a bag was missing. When I asked the other associates, they acted like it was normal: “The store manager probably borrowed it.” “Borrowed it?” “She said Stella needed to do a live stream at the mall, so she borrowed it for her to show off…” I couldn’t believe my ears. “That’s a limited-edition exotic leather bag! There are less than two hundred of them globally! Is she out of her mind, lending it out to someone?!” I was furious. Today, I was going to teach certain people a lesson! Speak of the devil, Stella arrived. Word on the street was that she saw I had gained fans from my live stream, so she jumped on the bandwagon and started a “shopping” live stream of her own. She had that limited-edition emerald green bag slung over her arm. “We’re at VALERIA! Everyone knows this is a brand I frequent. Look, the one I’m carrying today is VALERIA’s latest global limited edition. It’s incredibly hard to get~” She signaled her crew to push the camera closer for a macro shot of the bag. I was lurking in her live stream, glancing at the chat. They were all praising her— “Wow, I know that bag! It’s insanely expensive!” “Aww, our Stella is such a cute, wealthy heiress.” “Who knows, maybe VALERIA gifted it to her. After all, Stella is VALERIA’s ‘Own Daughter’~” “Wait? Is that Harper in the store?” “It is! Two actresses who debuted together: one is selling the bags, the other is endorsing them. Tsk tsk.” At that moment, Stella announced she was going to do a “What’s in my bag” segment. “Here are my tissues.” “Here’s my cardholder.” “Ah, and this is my VALERIA Black Card. You can only get upgraded to this VIP Black Card if you spend over a million dollars a year. You get a lot of perks, like— You guys know, some luxury stores won’t bring out all their new arrivals for you to see. But with this card, when I go to the counter, I can pick from every new arrival in the store.” She could barely hide her urge to show off. I sneered aloud: “But that card of yours is already expired.” “What?” Stella rolled her eyes at me. “Harper, you’ve probably never even seen this card before, right? I’ll forgive you. If you don’t know what you’re talking about, don’t speak.” I spoke loudly and clearly: “The Black Card was upgraded and redesigned two years ago with a new pattern. That card in your hand expired at least two years ago.” “Furthermore, for clients holding the VIP Black Card, there’s absolutely no need to come to the counter personally. We deliver the new arrivals directly to their mansions for them to choose from at their leisure.” As my words fell, a comical silence filled the room. 05 Stella’s live stream was forced to pause. She was livid. Actually, I wasn’t even finished. I wanted to look up the registered owner of that card. It was more than likely someone else’s. She had gotten her hands on an expired Black Card from somewhere and dared to show it off without knowing a thing about how it worked. Stella and her crew surrounded me, uttering threats. “Harper, once I officially become VALERIA’s spokesperson, you are dead meat!” “Oh, I’ll be waiting.” Her agent wasn’t about to be outdone: “Little girl, do you not understand how this industry works? I have plenty of ways to ruin you.” “Such as?” “I can make sure you can’t survive in this city! Unless you clarify things right now, apologize, and say you made it all up.” The agent was a greasy, overweight man with a sleazy look in his eyes. “And if I don’t? A young girl walking home alone at night… things can get dangerous.” “Sure,” I agreed quickly. The live stream resumed. The number of viewers had doubled; everyone was here for the drama. Stella smiled sweetly: “Sorry for the wait, everyone. The signal was bad just now. My card is actually a personalized, custom-designed card. Harper just saw it wrong.” The camera turned to me. I smiled faintly, and in front of millions of viewers, I dialed my phone. “Hello, 911? I’d like to report a theft. Someone stole a bag from our store valued at $180,000.” 06 The color drained from both Stella’s and Brenda’s faces. The police arrived quickly. Stella panicked: “I bought this bag myself! The store manager can testify!” Brenda nodded sycophantically. Police Officer: “Then please show us the receipt.” Stella was dumbfounded. Brenda quickly changed her tune: “It was borrowed!” “Borrowed?” “Yes, I lent it to her! I am the manager of this store. Officer, someone intentionally filed a false police report, thinking everyone has as much free time as she does. You must teach her a lesson.” She glared at me. But Manager Brenda didn’t know that I was waiting for exactly that sentence. “Well, that makes things easy, Officer. Manager Brenda just confessed to stealing the bag.” Brenda shrieked: “Are you deaf? I said it was borrowed!” “Borrowed from whom? Do you have a loan agreement?” “I am the store manager! I don’t need a loan agreement from anyone!” “Brenda, you must be confused,” I looked at her coldly. “You are only a store manager, not the owner of VALERIA. Every item on display in this store belongs to VALERIA, not you! What right do you have to lend a bag to someone else?” “Taking company property without permission is theft.” “Or perhaps—you used to do this all the time?” Brenda was left speechless, her face ashen. The police took her away. Stella managed to escape being arrested, but because of the huge commotion, a massive crowd of onlookers had already gathered. In no time, videos of the incident from every angle were all over the internet. Stella was trending again. If the card and the bag were fake, what else was real? Was her collaboration with VALERIA fake too? Stella was mocked relentlessly across the internet. But, this was only the beginning. 07 Later, Stella’s agent actually came looking for me. I didn’t even give him a chance to speak; I just played the recording of him threatening me. “Tell me, if this gets out, what will people think?” “I’m guessing the internet will say: an agent with such blatant disregard for the law couldn’t possibly manage any decent artists.” “Tsk. Even if you don’t care about Stella, do you really want to drag down all the other artists you manage?” Hearing this, the agent completely changed his tune, begging for a settlement. However, surprisingly, Brenda soon returned to work. She hadn’t received any punishment and continued to serve as the store manager. In fact, she was even more arrogant than before. She started making things difficult for me openly, leading the others to ostracize me. I investigated the past complaint records. I found that every time Brenda received a severe customer complaint, she returned to work completely unscathed. A coworker quietly told me that Brenda’s husband was a mid-level executive. Her past complaints, and even the recent “stolen bag” incident, were all suppressed by her husband. No wonder. I went home and reported this to my parents. My dad said: “Good job, sweetie. You can just fire her directly.” I shook my head: “Firing her directly wouldn’t be fun.” “Then what do you want to do?” I chewed on some lobster and said slowly: “During this time, I’ve noticed the discipline at our physical stores is very loose, and there’s even a phenomenon of ‘judging customers by their appearance.’ I plan to make an example out of someone for all the store managers globally, and Brenda is the perfect target. It’s not too late to execute her once I’ve sharpened my knife.” My dad laughed heartily: “That’s my girl.” 08 On Sunday, Brenda and I were on shift together. In the evening, a customer came into the store. She was an older woman, slightly hunched over, dressed very plainly, and the tote bag in her hand even had patches on it. Brenda rolled her eyes, sat down on the VIP sofa, and started playing on her phone. The older woman said she wanted to look at some bags. Brenda replied impatiently: “They’re all on the shelves. Look for yourself.” The woman then said she was looking for a dark-colored shoulder bag. “We don’t have any! Do you even know how much a bag here costs? Can you afford it?” The older woman froze. I quickly went over, poured her some tea, brought out all the shoulder bags we had, and let her choose. She didn’t like the first few she looked at. Brenda gloated from the side: “Serves you right for having zero sales. Go wait on the poor ghost.” “Shut up. Is that how you speak to a customer? Ma’am, please ignore her. It’s your right to buy or not; don’t lower yourself to her level.” The older woman thanked me profusely. Then, she pointed at three bags I had brought out and said, emotionally: “I’ll take them all.” Me: “Excuse me?” “And please recommend a men’s briefcase for me too.” “Oh, and do you have clothes here? Put together an outfit for me, shoes included.” Brenda was dumbfounded: “Do you know how much all of this will cost? You can’t afford it!” The older woman finally lost her temper: “Who says I can’t afford it? My son’s tech startup just went public. I could buy out your entire store!” Brenda was completely stunned. It turned out she was a literal gold mine. The older woman bought a massive pile of items. Finally, from her patched-up tote bag, she pulled out the keys to a Maserati. Before leaving, she glared at Brenda. “If it weren’t for this young lady’s good attitude, I would definitely file a formal complaint against you!” Brenda had already changed her tune, bowing and scraping: “Ma’am! Let me walk you to the parking lot. How about this, let me add you on WhatsApp. Next time you come, let me know in advance, and I will definitely give you the best service.” “Get lost! Don’t even think about getting a single cent of commission from me!” Brenda: “…” Hehe, having a VIP customer back you up feels amazing. After the customer left, Brenda glared at me, venting her frustration. “Harper, how did you speak to me just now? Telling a senior colleague to shut up, are you polite? Is that how your parents raised you?” I completely ignored her. She was furious: “Looks like I’ll have to teach you a lesson myself!” Brenda rushed over and tried to slap me. I ducked and dodged it. In return, I gave her two slaps. “You want to talk to me about politeness? That was for the customer just now.” I followed up with a few more slaps. “And these are for all the customers you’ve looked down on in the past.” Brenda screamed: “You little bitch! Believe it or not, I’ll ruin you!” I curled my lips into a smile and walked away gracefully.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “424278”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On our wedding anniversary, I put on sexy lingerie and nervously sent my sexually indifferent husband a selfie. Our chat history was nothing but 1s and 2s. Me: “Working late tonight?” Him: “1” — meaning yes. Me: “Coming home tonight?” Him: “2” — meaning no. This time, instead of a number, he sent a 60-second voice message. I played it. A woman’s moans came through: “Wait until I finish having sex with Professor Moore, then I’ll send him back.” “You take care of his daily needs. I’ll take care of his physical needs. Nice and clear division of labor.” My hands trembling, I closed the app, got dressed, and drove to the lab. Through the crack in the door, I saw Ethan holding a woman, moving wildly. Heavy breathing, stifled moans — he had never treated me like that. But I was his wife. I stood outside the door for a very, very long time. Finally, I raised my hand and knocked. When Ethan emerged, his expression was calm. Not a trace of embarrassment at being caught in the act. His dark eyes settled on my face. After a moment’s pause, he spoke deliberately: “Let’s talk about this at home.” His slender hand reached toward me. I didn’t move. For the past twenty years, whether it was dates, confessions, proposals, or even the pathetically rare sex we had — I’d initiated all of it. “Fiona?” For once, he used my nickname, but his head was still tilted to the side, his gaze directed behind him. Looking at that woman whose face he was carefully blocking with his body, shielding her from view. My nose stung. I forced a dry laugh: “Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Only then did he turn his head. The look in his eyes now held guilt and pleading. “Fiona, can we just go home first? Please?” Without waiting for a response, he grabbed my collar and roughly pulled me aside. Then he turned back and gently instructed the woman: “You should go. Quickly!” The clicking of high heels drew closer and closer. Ethan’s gaze followed her retreating figure, growing more distant. He watched her so intently that he didn’t even notice the cut on my cheek from where I’d been scraped against a nail on the wall. Ethan hadn’t always been this cold to me. During those college years when his condition improved, he’d acted like a normal person, caring about my joys and sorrows. After we married, he’d cancel urgent meetings and experiments on nights when I had my period, using his burning palms to warm my stomach. He’d clumsily write me love letters by hand before my birthday, trying to make up for the regrets of our youth. But those warm, sweet memories couldn’t compete with the pain on my face right now. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I forced them back. Taking a deep breath, I shook off his hand: “Stop looking. She’s gone.” His body stiffened. He hesitated, not daring to turn around. This time I didn’t wait for him. I headed to the car first. We arrived home close to 11 PM. The moment I changed out of my shoes, hands lifted me from behind and placed me on the sofa. I turned to see Ethan retrieving the first aid kit, kneeling before me. The concern in his eyes didn’t seem fake. “I’m sorry…” I didn’t respond, letting him carefully treat my wound while his neck was still covered in hickeys. Just like years ago when we exchanged wedding rings, when he’d publicly vowed to love me forever. The same posture. The same eyes. But everything had changed. Blood-stained cotton balls fell into the trash. As Ethan closed the first aid kit, I held out my hand to him: “Your phone.” He didn’t move, but the concern in his eyes faded, replaced by barely suppressed impatience. “Don’t make trouble for her. I’ll end things with her.”

I bit down hard and laughed. This man’s earlier concern, his kneeling — it was all for this moment. So I wouldn’t make trouble for the woman who held his heart. How could I possibly listen? Brushing past him, I grabbed his phone from the table. The lock screen showed that woman’s shy, smiling face. The password was still my birthday. But the pinned chat on his SnapChat had been changed to this woman named Chloe. Their chat thread was incredibly active. He replied to her every message instantly. But my chat with him was a wasteland. The last message was from half a month ago. “Coming home for dinner?” He hadn’t replied. The next day after work, he’d sent a dismissive: “Too busy, forgot.” I knew he had a national-level project underway, so I’d been understanding, not making a fuss, racking my brains to make him nutritious, healthy meals. But I never imagined that all the care I gave him, he’d spent on someone else. Even his “busy” was just being busy screwing someone in the lab. [Your wife hasn’t seen you in half a month. Are you coming home tonight?] [Bored with her. Not going.] The hand gripping the phone trembled slightly. Twenty years. The best years of a woman’s youth. I’d spent it all on this man, and all I got in return was “bored with her.” Those words blurred through my tears into an indistinct mess. I bit my lip, forcing my eyes open wide, reading word by word. Reading how this rigid man who’d lecture about physics even during sex had dressed up in costumes to play elaborate roleplay games for this woman. Reading how at the science award ceremony I’d begged him multiple times to take me to — events he’d always refused — he’d brought her instead, letting her accept congratulations in my place, under my name. Reading how when Chloe asked him “Do you like your wife or me?” he’d replied without hesitation: “She’s old now, loose down there too. Can’t compare to you.” Turning the entire first half of my life — spent devotedly helping him ascend to greatness — into one massive joke. My eyes burned. I returned the phone to Ethan. The more I read, the more I felt like a complete fool. “Fiona, I’m a man. I have needs and desires. Things with her got out of hand, we couldn’t help ourselves.” “I hope you can understand and not make a scene. Let’s just end this here, okay?” His voice remained gentle. Even his lies sounded so convincing. But I stubbornly wanted answers. I pointed at the pinned profile picture, my voice hoarse: “Of all people to cheat with, why her? Why the woman who killed your parents?” I raised my voice, grabbing his collar, my words tearing through the air: “Have you forgotten how your parents could have lived, but she ran them over again and again, grinding them into pulp?” Ethan turned his face away. After a long pause, he finally spoke: “She was young then. It wasn’t intentional.” “And my parents shouldn’t have been out that late at night. They brought it on themselves…” I carefully savored those two sentences. And couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. Laughing at my own blindness. When Ethan’s parents died and his relatives refused to take him in, Chloe — afraid he’d press charges — had systematically driven him insane. She’d made him crawl on the ground and drink urine, bark like a dog, spreading videos of it everywhere. His miserable state was burned into my memory for twenty years. Even after he recovered, I’d kept track of Chloe’s whereabouts. But I never anticipated this. Not only had Ethan forgiven his parents’ murderer first, he’d climbed into bed with her. During every night he’d lied about working late, he’d tried every position with her. He said they couldn’t help themselves, overcome by passion. So what were my meddling twenty years worth? Thunder rumbled as his phone rang simultaneously. Ethan didn’t even glance at me before answering. “Ethan, my thesis data got rejected. If I miss tonight’s deadline, my entire project is ruined…” Chloe’s voice was sweet and cloying. The man’s throat bobbed as he immediately rushed to the entrance to change shoes, not forgetting to coo at her: “Don’t worry, baby. I’m coming right now.” He responded as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if I didn’t exist. I whirled around and blocked his path: “You’re not going!” Ethan frowned, irritation rising in his eyes. “Fiona! This is about Chloe’s future. She’s not useless like you. Get out of my way!” The word “useless” nailed me in place. I forgot how to react. Ethan’s patience completely evaporated. He grabbed my collar and shoved me aside. My wound struck the corner of a cabinet. I hissed in pain. Instinctively, I called out: “Ethan, it hurts…” The only response was the earth-shattering slam of the door.

Liquid dripped down my face. I didn’t bother with it. Like a walking corpse, I pulled out tonight’s lunch box of food I’d lovingly prepared. Opened the lid, grabbed my fork, and mechanically stuffed the still-warm food into my mouth, chewing as if punishing myself. But thinking about how this lunch box had also been at the lab tonight made my mouth, my stomach, churn with revulsion — like I’d swallowed countless needles. I rushed to the bathroom and retched into the toilet. As tears streamed from my eyes, the doorbell rang. It was Ethan’s supervisor. “Fiona, Ethan’s at City General Hospital. Get here quick!” Instinctively, I asked: “What happened? Is he okay?” Before he could answer, a strange woman’s sobbing voice came through the phone: “If it weren’t for helping me get that corporate data, you wouldn’t have been forced to drink so much you got gastric bleeding!” “I’ll go heat up some milk for you right now…” Ethan’s weak voice protested: “Don’t… just stay with me. Let her do that kind of grunt work.” “Is that… appropriate?” “Why wouldn’t it be? Taking care of people is her only talent. Remember this — your hands are meant for writing papers, conducting experiments, winning awards. They shouldn’t be wasted in a kitchen…” My throat felt like it had been scraped raw, like a fire burning it over and over. I stared at my gaunt, withered reflection in the mirror. Suddenly I understood. In this genius physicist’s eyes, I — his wife — was only fit for menial labor. Only fit to serve. Elevate his mistress to the clouds. Reduce his wife to a maid. What a perfect arrangement. “Fiona, Ethan’s bleeding quite a bit. When are you coming?” I wiped away my tears and spoke slowly into the still-connected call: “Boss, I won’t be coming to the hospital. But feel free to invite me to the public denouncement when his affair with Miss Chloe gets exposed!” I hung up. My heart felt no better. I drifted ghost-like to the bedroom, gazing at the bright moon hanging high. Suddenly, I laughed softly. Ethan had probably long forgotten that back then, I’d been the top student at our university besides him. He’d already been specially recruited by the National Physics Research Institute. For my sake, he’d secretly torn up that offer letter, insisting on going to another city with me for college. I’d gotten angry at him for the first time: “Are you crazy? How can you waste your talent like this?” He’d stubbornly shaken his head, his eyes redder than blood. “Wherever you go, I go. Without you, I don’t want anything!” He’d even taken that offer letter covered in tape and knelt at my parents’ door, kowtowing repeatedly. “Uncle, Aunt, please believe me. Fiona is my entire life.” “I’d rather die than let her down.” When Ethan was serious, stars would appear in his eyes. And I’d naturally believed him completely. When he said forever, I thought he meant forever. Later, I gave up my studies, became a homemaker, lost myself in his ever-ascending career, becoming increasingly marked by domestic mundanity. I earned no praise, only insults calling me “useless.” Life really is full of reversals. Just like tonight — I’d gone to the lab to tell him he was going to be a father. What should have been a surprise turned into a nightmare.

The next day, when I returned home from the lawyer’s office, my parents suddenly called. Their tone was unusually stern. “Fiona! Tell us the truth. Did you do something to betray Ethan?” I was stunned. I didn’t know how to explain that Ethan had cheated and I wanted a divorce. After a few seconds of stunned silence, I chose to deflect. “Mom, Dad, nothing like that happened…” My mother’s heavy breathing came through the phone. “Our house got splashed with red paint by some woman named Chloe. She says you’re shameless, that you seduce her husband every night!” “What’s going on? The neighbors are all pointing fingers at us, saying you couldn’t control yourself, that while Ethan was working late, you were out there sleeping around…” My hot-tempered father snatched the phone away, shouting at the top of his lungs: “Are you really that cheap? That desperate? Because of you, people are talking behind our backs. Your mother’s fainted several times… If you don’t fix this, we’re cutting you off!” Bang! The call disconnected. Almost simultaneously, a soft laugh came from the bedroom. The door opened. Chloe stood inside. She looked younger than her profile picture, with luminously pale skin and bright eyes. In her hands were the shredded pieces of my pregnancy test results. “Like the gift I sent your parents?” She smiled sweetly. But it made my blood run cold. I pulled out my phone to call the police while demanding: “How did you get in here?” She slapped the phone out of my hand. Shaking her head with a mocking laugh: “Stupid! Your husband gave me the key, obviously.” I stood frozen, my entire body shaking with rage. She looked at me, tilting her head with a smile. “Can’t handle this already?” “What if I told you I don’t just have your house key — I also have his project authorship rights and his research institute paycard? What would you do then?” I took a breath, forcing down the fury rising in my chest. “You saw it yourself. I’m carrying his child. I’m his legitimate wife. He won’t destroy his academic career and future for you!” She froze for a second. Then burst out laughing. “Really?” She suddenly stood up, slowly walking toward me, her eyes dropping to my still-flat stomach. Lips curling, her voice drawling slowly: “You think having a baby will tie him down? Just like you thought spending twenty years with him would guarantee you his whole life?” “Stupid! So stupid!” She threw her head back, laughing wildly. Her voice was shrill and piercing. Then I watched as her hands slowly moved to her own stomach. Her clothes were thin. Thin enough that I could clearly see her swollen belly. Chloe glanced at my stunned expression, her face unable to hide her gloating. “Fourteen weeks along. Ethan said once he finishes this current project, he’ll tell you he wants a divorce. He’s even reported it to his superiors.” “If I were you, I’d spread my legs and find another man…” Fourteen weeks… Fourteen weeks ago, she’d already had a key to my home. She’d probably been in my marital bed, on the sofa, even in the shower — in every corner of our shared home. He’d mounted this woman, taking her again and again. The clinking sounds of lab equipment bottles came crashing back into my ears. Boom! My carefully maintained composure shattered under the weight of my rage. I grabbed the ashtray from the table and hurled it at her. Ahhh! She couldn’t dodge in time. It hit her squarely, blood streaming from her forehead. The suffocating pressure I’d been holding back, mixed with fury over my parents being terrorized, formed a tidal wave. I didn’t stop. Instead, I lunged at her like a madwoman. Straddling her body, I grabbed her hair and slammed her head against the table. Bang! Her piercing screams were music to my ears in that deadly silent space. The blood spurred me into deeper frenzy. I tore at her scalp while cursing at the top of my lungs: “Bitch! Whore! Husband-stealing slut! Why don’t you just die! I’ll kill you!” I’d lost all reason. Completely consumed by rage. Chloe’s face was covered in blood. Her forehead crimson, her nose crimson, her mouth crimson. She screamed until her voice went hoarse. But I showed no mercy, clawing at her face, biting her ear, kicking her stomach with my feet. She shrieked as blood seeped from between her legs in a spreading stain. I stared at the bright red beneath her, pausing for a few seconds. Just those few seconds — and my lower abdomen took a brutal kick. Pain exploded across my belly. My entire body flew backward. Splurch! Flesh pierced through. The tip of an umbrella protruding from the entryway plunged deep into my body. No! I heard Ethan’s terrified scream.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “386467”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I lost a bet during a game with my friends, and my punishment was being forced to post a specific status on my social media: [I’m two months pregnant. I suddenly really wanted some grapes, but my husband refused to buy them for me. Then I wanted some green grapes, and he still refused. The marriage is over, we’ve broken up, I got rid of the baby, and I finally ate my grapes. From now on, the creature known as a ‘husband’ no longer exists in my world.] The male lead of my loveless, ghost-town of a marriage was instantly summoned back from overseas overnight by our panicked parents. After a grueling three-way interrogation, the truth came out. When the man who took the blame for my prank finally came home, he had his assistant haul in three massive boxes of red grapes and three boxes of green grapes. His face was as cold as the Grim Reaper himself. “Since you love eating them so much, this time, I’m going to let you eat until you drop.” 1 After hitting “Post” on that status, I casually tossed my phone onto the luxurious marble table and lazily scanned the room. “How was that? Satisfied?” My friends around the table all gave me a thumbs-up. Leo even cursed in absolute disbelief, picking up my phone to verify it. “Serena, you are insane! You seriously didn’t filter a single person from seeing this.” I couldn’t be bothered to respond to their flattery, simply waving my hand to deal the next round of cards. I was used to doing whatever I wanted. As for the absolute tsunami this post would cause once my parents and my in-laws saw it? I didn’t even want to think about it. While shuffling the cards, Chloe leaned in close to me. With an “I-know-exactly-what-you’re-doing” smirk, she offered her expert analysis on my bold move: “If you didn’t want to post it, who could force you? You did this on purpose. You just wanted to summon CEO Thorne back from overseas, didn’t you?” Chloe had been reading way too many billionaire romance novels lately. Her head was full of cliché, dramatic plotlines. I decided not to argue with her and just gave a dismissive reply: “Mhm. You’re completely right.” In our elite New York social circle, whenever anyone brought up me and Ethan Thorne, they would always sigh and call it a spectacularly doomed, toxic karma. When we first met as college freshmen, I was the arrogant, high-and-mighty heiress of the Vance family, sitting comfortably at the absolute center of the Manhattan socialite scene. Whenever the Thorne family was mentioned, people would scoff and call them “tasteless new money who didn’t belong in high society.” Naturally, Ethan was completely ostracized by our circle. And I was the undisputed ringleader of that isolation campaign. But the eighteen-year-old Ethan couldn’t have cared less. His demeanor back then was entirely different from how he is now. He was loud, arrogant, and perfectly content doing his own thing. To crush his arrogance, I personally stepped onto the battlefield. I pretended to be deeply in love with him, chasing him relentlessly for over six months. Just when he had completely fallen for me, I ruthlessly dumped him. Then, I joined my friends in kicking him while he was down, mercilessly mocking him for thinking he was ever good enough for me. With such bad blood between us, we were supposed to hate each other for the rest of our lives. But fate has a twisted sense of humor. Three years ago, a massive economic crisis hit, severely impacting all the old-money families in New York. Desperate for capital and protection, my father swallowed his pride and went begging to the Thorne family—the only ones who emerged from the crisis unscathed—proposing a corporate marriage. I didn’t dare tell my father about the horrible things I had done to Ethan in college. I spent every day living in pure terror, waiting for my father to be thrown out onto the street. But to my utter shock, the Thorne family agreed. At first, I was certain this was Ethan’s grand revenge. The Thorne family was no longer just “new money.” Their business empire had expanded at a terrifying rate, becoming a top-tier conglomerate that everyone in the city looked up to. And Ethan, who had entered the family business early, was already a high-ranking executive, flying all over the world. Forget about revenge—in our three years of marriage, I had only seen him a grand total of three times. The first year, I lived in constant fear, treating every day like walking on eggshells, terrified that one wrong move would anger my billionaire husband. The second year, I comfortably spent my exorbitant allowance, lived in our massive, empty penthouse, and completely forgot my place. Chloe was hopelessly obsessed with our dynamic, treating us like her favorite fictional couple. “CEO Thorne is absolutely true love to you! Why do you think he travels the world working himself to the bone? It’s so you can buy priceless jewelry without blinking and rent out private islands for your parties!” I didn’t say a word. A few cards slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor. “I’m done. I fold this round.” If I hadn’t known that Ethan was keeping a bright, beautiful woman in his luxury mansion in Dubai, my romantically delusional brain might have actually believed he was tolerating me out of lingering affection. But as time went on, I figured it out. This marriage was completely optional to him. He just married me to have a mascot sitting at home to shut down the public gossip. This mascot could be Serena Vance, or it could be literally anyone else. 2 I was woken up by our housekeeper. The consequence of staying up all night drinking was that my sleep schedule was completely flipped. It had been exactly twenty-three hours since I made that fateful post. “Ma’am, the main estate sent a car for you. It’s waiting downstairs.” I frustratedly ran a hand through my messy hair, trying to calculate what important date today was. After washing up, I checked my phone. One look nearly gave me a heart attack. Aside from the countless frantic, concerned messages from my parents and in-laws, even Ethan—whom I hadn’t spoken to in four or five months—had sent me a single “?”. My hand trembled, and I replied with a “?” of my own. He replied instantly: > [I’m at the main estate. Come over.] My brain practically exploded. It was months away from Thanksgiving. Why the hell was Ethan suddenly back in the country?! On the ride to the estate, I scrolled through all the unread messages and finally remembered the post I made last night after losing that stupid game. Ethan’s time was unbelievably valuable. Even during our wedding vows, his assistant was standing nearby checking his watch. Now, because of a joke post, he was summoned back from Dubai overnight by our parents?! When I stepped out of the car, my legs felt like jelly. The Ethan I was most familiar with was the arrogant, reckless boy from our youth. The day he got his driver’s license, he totaled an obscenely expensive supercar. He didn’t even flinch, just kicked the shattered headlight and complained, “What a piece of junk.” He was not this terrifying, awe-inspiring CEO. From his perfectly tailored cuffs to his impeccably styled hair, every single movement screamed “corporate elite.” It was as if he was born in a boardroom. Right now, this corporate elite was occupying a single armchair, while our four parents sat opposite him on the sofa, looking incredibly stern, like a tribunal preparing to pass judgment. The moment I walked in, my mother-in-law’s expression softened. She smiled and came over to take my hand. “It’s my fault. I didn’t realize Serena was feeling so wronged.” My own mother followed closely behind, casting a hesitant, pointed look at my stomach. Thanks to my frequent, spontaneous vacations around the world, I had successfully created the illusion that I regularly flew out to visit Ethan. Therefore, they had absolutely no idea about the true, nonexistent state of our marriage. In their eyes, while Ethan and I might not have a fiery, passionate romance, we were mutually supportive and harmonious. I opened my mouth, struggling to find the words, and silently explained: “Mom… I’m not pregnant…” Compared to my mother-in-law, my own mother knew exactly what kind of trouble I was capable of causing. She instantly gave me a “I knew you were pulling some kind of stunt” look and stood back, waiting to see how I would clean up my own mess. Three other pairs of eyes stared directly at me, waiting for my explanation. I had never faced an interrogation like this in my life. Desperate, I looked at Ethan, praying that the male lead of this ghost-town marriage would throw me a lifeline. The man fought cutthroat corporate wars in Dubai, only for a massive scandal to drop on his head in New York. Yet, Ethan didn’t seem angry at all. And from the looks of it, he hadn’t sold me out yet. Time ticked by. Just as I was losing all hope and frantically trying to piece together a lie in my head… Ethan finally spoke: “I’ve been too busy with work lately, and I haven’t had time to spend with Serena. She was just throwing a tantrum at me. It’s a misunderstanding. I’m sorry for making you all worry.” Ethan was too brilliant and intimidating. He held absolute authority in the family. As soon as he said those words, the four elders immediately understood and nodded in relief. “We were just overreacting. But since you’re already back, you need to spend more time with Serena.” Ethan nodded in agreement. 3 For the entire ride back to our penthouse, I didn’t dare say a word. I drafted a dozen apologies in my head, only to swallow them back down every time. I was stressing so much my face probably looked like a wrinkled prune. When Ethan, pulling his suitcase with one hand and loosening his tie with the other, headed straight for the master bedroom, I finally snapped out of it and blocked his path. Under his confused gaze, I explained awkwardly: “The room is a bit messy. You should go shower in the guest room first, and I’ll bring your luggage in for you.” It was more than “a bit messy.” There was absolutely nothing belonging to Ethan in that master bedroom. He only came back to sleep here one night a year. The last time he was here, the moment he left for the airport on New Year’s Day, I packed up all his belongings and threw them into the guest room. “I’m just going to change my clothes and leave. I have a business dinner in a bit.” Ethan truly was a workaholic. Even though it was already nine o’clock at night, and he had only been back just long enough to take the blame for my prank, he had already scheduled a business meeting. He easily sidestepped me and pushed open the door to the master bedroom. By the time I reacted, it was too late. Ethan stood at the entrance of the massive walk-in closet, staring in absolute silence at the mountains of women’s clothing from every season. “Where are my clothes?” I laughed nervously. “I… I sent them out to be dry-cleaned and maintained. When they were delivered back, the staff didn’t know, so they accidentally put them in the guest room. I haven’t had time to move them back yet.” I didn’t expect this pathetic lie to fool Ethan. He just gave me a deep, unreadable look, took off his suit jacket, and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his dress shirt. It was like he had stripped off his cold, elite exterior. For a brief second, I caught a glimpse of the reckless, youthful Ethan I used to know. The doorbell rang. The next second, Ethan’s secretary walked in with several people, carrying large and small boxes into the apartment. When I finally saw what was inside those boxes, the room spun. My karma had finally arrived. Ethan appeared behind me, gesturing with his chin toward the boxes of red and green grapes. “Eat. Since you love them so much, this time, you’re going to eat until you drop.” I wanted to cry. “I’m sorry.” His face was as cold as ice. “I’ll be back in two hours. You can finish them all by then, right?” When Ethan returned from his business dinner, the apartment was in chaos. The housekeeper was busy moving his belongings back into the master bedroom, while I was squatting in the living room, frantically stuffing grapes into my mouth. I really tried my best. I managed to finish half a box. I thought that showing genuine effort would at least earn me a sliver of forgiveness. But when he saw my cheeks bulging with grapes, his expression grew even colder. He had clearly been drinking. His breathing wasn’t as steady as it had been two hours ago. He walked up and looked down at me. “Serena, where is your brain?” Honestly, no matter how bossy I acted behind his back these past three years, the moment I was in front of Ethan, I couldn’t help but cower. After all, when you have a guilty conscience, you’re always afraid of getting caught. “But I really tried my best! I seriously can’t finish them.” I was so pathetic! I sounded so weak, my voice was literally trembling. He reached out to pull me up, his brow furrowed deeply. “Get up. Go wash up and go to sleep.” He was letting me off the hook. I let out a massive sigh of relief and practically skipped to the bathroom. But the moment I laid down in bed, karma struck again. In just one short hour, I had to run to the bathroom three times. Ethan, sleeping next to me, finally lost his patience. Resigned to his fate, he got out of bed, threw on some clothes, and grabbed a cashmere blanket to wrap me tightly over my pajamas. “Get up. We’re going to the hospital.” I was so weak and dehydrated from diarrhea that I couldn’t even stand up straight. I waved him off weakly. “It’s fine. I’ll just find some stomach medicine.” Ethan’s patience had entirely run out. Ignoring my protests, he scooped me up into his arms. The last time I was this physically close to him was on our wedding day. 4 The wedding was entirely planned by our in-laws. The Thorne family favored traditional ceremonies, so everything from the bridal pickup to the reception was very grounded and classic. At 9:00 AM, the designated auspicious time, I sat drowsily on the edge of the bed. The priceless diamond tiara on my head was so heavy I could barely breathe. The sound of festivities grew louder. Surrounded by a crowd of groomsmen, Ethan calmly and flawlessly passed all the ridiculous “tests” my bridesmaids had set up. That day, he actually had a smile on his face. In a daze, I almost forgot that this was supposed to be a dull, arranged corporate marriage. When he finally found my hidden bridal shoe, the way he picked me up was incredibly gentle and reverent. Amidst the cheering crowd, a suspicious hint of red crept up the tips of his ears. For a moment, I forgot all our past grudges. Leaning against his chest, my heart pounded like a drum. That was the only moment of genuine warmth in our three years of marriage. When the driver pulled the car around today, Ethan had already been holding me at the entrance of our building for ten minutes. Miraculously, my churning stomach quieted down for those ten minutes. I felt incredibly warm. Because we had been holding the same position for so long, I tried to shift slightly in his arms. He looked down at me. The night was too dark for me to see his expression clearly, but I felt the arm around my waist pull me even tighter against him. I gathered my courage, raised my arms to wrap around his neck, and rested my head on his shoulder. “When is the driver getting here?” “Almost.” His voice was right next to my ear, his breath brushing against my skin, tickling me like a feather. Being young and impulsive, my heart was effortlessly stirred with thoughts I definitely shouldn’t be having. This highly inappropriate fluttering feeling lasted until the next day. The following morning, my face flushed as I reminisced about the decidedly not-safe-for-work dream I had the night before. I pushed open the bedroom door and walked out. The male lead of my dream was sitting in the living room wearing loungewear, a laptop balanced on his knees, looking intensely focused. “Why are you still here?!” My voice pitched up in shock, sounding a bit grating. “Serena, my name is also on the deed to this apartment.” I knew I had misspoken, so I quickly tried to explain while calming my racing heart. “No, that’s not what I meant. I mean, aren’t you going back?” “Back where?” “Dubai.” It had been three years. I had never, ever woken up the next morning to find Ethan still in the apartment. He kept looking at his laptop and replied coolly, “I’m taking a vacation. For a month.” I was shocked beyond belief. Ethan, the CEO of a multinational conglomerate, with a million things on his plate, right in the prime of his career, taking a one-month vacation? It felt incredibly extravagant. When Chloe heard my rant, she bravely defended Ethan: “Even a dog would shake its head at that! Machines get downtime for maintenance, but Ethan doesn’t?” I replied in agony: “Do you know what this means?! It means I can no longer stay out all night! I have to come home for three meals a day on time and play the role of the perfect, dutiful wife!” Looking at the text message my mother-in-law just sent, I felt even more dead inside. “It also means I might actually have to give Ethan a baby!” My mother-in-law told us to “work hard” and said she believed in Ethan’s abilities. I put my phone down and looked up, meeting Ethan’s gaze. He had clearly just finished replying to our parents’ messages too. His eyes held a rare hint of unnatural awkwardness. 5 Living alone with Ethan was awkward beyond description. Our only shared topic of conversation was that we went to the same Ivy League university. And in our only shared memories, I had repeatedly played him for a fool. After suffering through an entire day of awkward silence, I finally couldn’t take it anymore and tried to break the ice. I carefully chose my words: “Um… do you remember…” Every single mutual topic we had was a landmine. I suddenly felt like I was being too reckless, but the words were already out. Ethan generously looked up and gave me his full attention. I braced myself and stepped right on the landmine. “Carter’s kid… he’s already two years old.” Carter was the only son of the Carter family, a notorious playboy. In college, he worshipped the ground Ethan walked on, and his lifestyle was obscenely lavish. When our friend group used to get together, we would always bring him up, mocking him for slumming it with Ethan, saying he was useless and would probably die in a pile of women. Yet, out of everyone in our social circle, he was the first one to get married and the first to have a kid. When Ethan went abroad, Carter completely disappeared from our radar. The next time we heard about him, it was because he was marrying a young, brilliant university professor from a highly respected, academic family. It was an opulent, century-defining wedding that made everyone envious, giving their little-known, older-woman-younger-man romance the perfect happy ending. Ethan looked at me, seemingly speechless. He finally said, “Carter’s son is my godson.” My eyes widened in pure shock. “How did I not know this?” I realized with a jolt how terrible of a wife I was. My knowledge of his social circle was stuck in our college days. I thought everything had stayed in the past, and I knew absolutely nothing about his current life. Ethan casually dropped another bombshell. “And you are his godmother. For his one-month celebration, I gave him a solid gold lock on your behalf.” So it wasn’t like I had imagined. He didn’t just come back once a year and essentially live permanently in Dubai. For Carter’s son’s one-month and two-year birthdays, Ethan had flown back personally, and even stopped by our apartment each time. It’s just that our timing was terrible, and we never actually crossed paths. “On his first birthday, I called you to ask if you wanted to come with me.” Before I could object, he continued: “A man answered the phone. He said you were sleeping and told me to screw off.” I practically slid right off the sofa, my legs trembling and my heart hammering in my chest. Ethan, however, looked completely unfazed by the possibility that he had been cheated on, and gently helped me back up. “Listen to me, it’s not what you think.” No man would ever casually answer my phone, and I definitely wouldn’t be sleeping next to another man. Except for one person: my younger cousin, Mason. He was two years younger than me. We grew up so close we practically shared everything. He wasn’t my biological brother, but he might as well have been. Ethan knew Mason existed, but their only interaction happened back in college… when I dumped Ethan. To ensure my humiliation of him was complete, I chose to break up with him at Mason’s birthday party. In front of everyone, the usually wild and arrogant young heir lost all his composure. He grabbed my hand, and his first instinct was to apologize. He had no idea what he had done wrong; he just desperately, humbly apologized and begged me not to end it. I impatiently shook off his hand, looking down at him with extreme arrogance. “Out of all the boyfriends I’ve had, you are the hardest to get rid of. A breakup is a breakup. I’m bored of you. Understand?” The scene was pure chaos. Looking back on it now, I genuinely felt like I couldn’t breathe. Mockery and insults flew from every direction, piercing Ethan like knives. But his eyes were only on me. Even though so many people looked down on his background, he was always proud. He had this lazy, indifferent look in his eyes, and occasionally, when he felt like it, he would use his wealth to aggressively shut down the snobby cliques that tried to corner him. None of us wanted to admit it, but we—this group of people—didn’t actually look down on him. We weren’t isolating him. We were just deeply insecure that our status was being challenged by him, and we couldn’t do anything about it. Wearing the crown of “old money,” we were secretly jealous of Ethan’s freedom and audacity. And no one wanted to admit that ever since Ethan beat a trash-talking rich kid half to death and then casually threw down a massive stack of cash to settle it, we had subconsciously started to fear him. The ability to force a powerful family’s heir to swallow his pride and accept a payout—that required terrifying financial power. My harsh words struck a massive blow to Ethan. Someone laughed: “Look at him. He looks like an abandoned dog.” Mason shoved his way to the front of the crowd, kicked the devastated Ethan to the ground, and laughed with his hands on his hips. “Who the hell do you think you are? You think you’re good enough for my sister? We wouldn’t even let you be her dog; you’re bad luck.” Given that background, I didn’t even dare invite Mason to our wedding. “So, what is the truth?” Ethan looked at me, his tone perfectly calm. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead. I prepared for the worst. “That was Mason.” Ethan’s expression softened. It wasn’t the angry, resentful reaction I had expected upon hearing his enemy’s name. Instead, he seemed to suddenly relax, the tension leaving his face. “Okay, I understand.” The storm I had braced myself for never came. Ethan answered a phone call. I sneaked a glance at him, and he caught me staring. The person on the other end seemed to be a close friend. The corners of his mouth lifted into a smile. He kept his eyes on me, but said to the phone, “Yeah, she’s home. Alright, let me ask her.” I snapped back to reality when I heard him ask me: “Do you have any plans later? Let’s go see our godson.” Caught red-handed staring at him, I felt incredibly guilty. I nodded frantically, agreeing to whatever he said. 6 Carter should absolutely hate my guts. In college, he followed Ethan’s every command. When I was dating Ethan, Carter treated me with the utmost respect, always greeting me with a huge smile. Later, when I teamed up with everyone to orchestrate that massive humiliation against Ethan, Carter stormed into my house, looking so terrifying I thought he was going to murder me. Somehow, he held back his rage. He just pointed at me and said, “Serena, don’t you ever regret this.” How could I not regret it? I regretted it to death. The moment Ethan was kicked out of Mason’s party, I instantly regretted it. A spot in my chest went numb with pain, but I still had to force a smile and deal with the empty flattery of my friends. I fully expected Carter to give me the cold shoulder today. But the moment I stepped through his front doors, he and his wife were holding a little toddler, greeting us with warm smiles. Honestly, I knew almost everyone in the room by reputation. Every single one of them was a top-tier talent in their respective fields, armed with power and influence. Birds of a feather flock together. I thought about my group of aimless, partying friends, and for a moment, I felt so inferior I couldn’t even lift my head. Someone joked, “When it comes to being protective of a wife, Ethan is on another level. It’s been three years, and you finally bring her out for us to see.” Ethan peeled an orange for me, meticulously removing the white pith. “Serena and I don’t get to see each other much. Whenever I come back, I barely have enough time to spend with her. Why would I waste time on you guys?” Even though I knew he was just playing the part for the crowd, my heart still betrayingly started hammering against my ribs. I looked up at him, and he was looking back at me. His gaze was intense and gentle, just like it was all those years ago. Someone walked in. When he saw me, he froze for a second before easily falling into familiar banter. “Long time no see, sister-in-law. You’re looking even more beautiful.” I looked up at him, taking a long time to dig his identity out of my memory. He was Ethan’s absolute best friend, Colin. They had known each other long before Ethan’s family struck it rich. After graduating, he followed Ethan overseas as his right-hand man. He had fought his way up and was now a powerhouse executive in the Thorne empire. When we got married, he was still in Dubai managing the mines. So, this was our first time seeing each other in six years. I smiled back. “It really has been a long time.” The little toddler, encouraged by his mom, waddled over to me. He timidly hugged my leg and handed me a paper airplane he had folded himself. “Godmother, you’re even prettier than my mommy.” Everyone burst out laughing. Blushing, I accepted my godson’s gift and dug a piece of chocolate out of my purse for him. The atmosphere in the room suddenly shifted. Ethan stared at the chocolate in my hand, looking uncharacteristically distracted. The arrogant, eighteen-year-old Ethan had one fatal flaw: he was prone to low blood sugar. But he never cared. He still drank himself into a stupor every night. At the underground street racing tracks on the outskirts of the city, he would get behind the wheel of a supercar and slam the gas pedal like he had a death wish. While I was chasing him, I found out about this. I started stocking my purse with all kinds of snacks. Different types of candies, chocolates, and even a bottle of glucose water were always on hand. A dizzy, disoriented Ethan peeled open a candy I gave him, popped it into his mouth, and spit it out a second later. “Disgusting.” I patiently offered him other options. “I have other brands. See which one you like?” “They’re all disgusting.” To capture his heart, I put in an insane amount of effort. I heard there was a private, artisanal chocolate shop in the UK famous for its handmade chocolates. I flew thousands of miles just to buy it, carefully protecting it all the way back to New York. Finally, I earned a genuine look of appreciation from Ethan. After that, I always kept it stocked in my bag. When we were dating, every time we met, the first thing I did was pop a piece of that chocolate into his mouth. The little toddler was a good kid who knew how to share. He broke off a piece and gave it to his mom. Carter’s wife ate it and looked incredibly surprised. “I know this brand! But didn’t the owner of this shop turn out to be an international fugitive? He got interviewed by local media because his chocolate was so good, which blew his cover, and he was arrested and sent to prison, right?” As soon as she said that, everyone turned to look at me. Back in college, Ethan used to brag endlessly. He told anyone who would listen that his girlfriend was the absolute best, flying to the UK once a month like clockwork just to buy his favorite chocolate. So almost everyone in the room knew the backstory. I laughed awkwardly. “Um, I actually made this myself.” I didn’t understand why, even after breaking up with Ethan, I kept up the habit of flying all the way to the UK to buy that specific chocolate. Until one day, I went back to the shop, and it was completely empty. The only person left was the fugitive’s apprentice, sitting there crying over the recipe. I stayed in the UK for over six months. I enrolled in baking classes, visited every chocolate factory in the surrounding countries, and finally found a master chocolatier who could reverse-engineer and recreate the exact flavor. I learned the craft from him.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “424279”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On the day of my prenatal checkup, the doctor and my husband forcibly took me into the abortion operating room. I was just about to ask if there had been a mistake. But my husband calmly spoke up: “There’s no mistake.” “I’ve taken in a female college student, and she’s pregnant too. I promised her that in this life, I would only have one child.” My voice couldn’t stop trembling: “What do you mean?” He smiled and said: “I just want you to adopt Nina’s child. I’m making you abort your own child because I’m afraid you’ll be biased in the future and treat my child with Nina badly.” He calmly handed me the surgery consent form: “Be good, sign it, and my wife you’ll always remain.” I gave him a deep look, then turned and staggered toward the operating room. “Ethan Turner, I hope you don’t regret the decision you made today.” He didn’t know that in this world, I was the only one—the only one who could bear him a child. Because he, suffering from azoospermia, was destined to be infertile.

I woke up three days later. The first words I heard were: “Mr. Turner, you really took a huge risk this time. Not only did you force the abortion of an eight-month fetus, but you also demanded her uterus be removed at the same time. Your wife almost bled out—we nearly lost her.” Ethan’s indifferent voice responded: “I promised Nina that I’d only ever have one child in this lifetime—hers and mine. The safest way to ensure that is to have Sophia’s uterus removed so she can’t conceive again.” His gaze swept over and met mine directly. Ethan showed no sign of panic. He reached over to tuck the blanket around me, saying with a touch of helplessness: “You heard? I had no choice. Nina said that only if the wife is disabled and unable to bear children can we legally adopt. Since you needed the abortion anyway, I figured I’d have your uterus removed at the same time. Save you from going through another surgery.” Seeing tears in my eyes, he gently wiped them away, saying with slight mockery: “I didn’t expect removing the uterus during pregnancy would cause hemorrhaging. Lucky for you, the elite gynecologist I hired for Nina was already at the hospital. You benefited from Nina’s good fortune and survived.” My whole body trembled as I mustered all my strength to slap his face. My heart felt like it was tearing apart: “Ethan, you’re not human.” But my hand only grazed his cheek weakly, leaving not even a red mark. A petite figure suddenly screamed and rushed over, slapping me hard across the face. I fell back onto the bed, the oxygen tube slipping off as I gasped for air. Looking up, I saw a young woman with tears in her eyes, standing in front of Ethan, shouting at me: “How dare you hit him! Do you know he’s been standing guard outside the ICU for three whole days because of you? If I hadn’t brought him nutrition meals every day, he would’ve collapsed.” “The man I care so deeply about—why should he be your tool for venting your emotions?” I didn’t miss the flash of emotion and tenderness in Ethan’s eyes. I had seen that look before. It was the same look he gave me when I got alcohol poisoning from drinking on his behalf and miscarried our first child. It was the same look when debt collectors threatened to chop off his hand, and I knelt crying and begging them, pawning my mother’s only keepsake to buy his freedom. I had done so much for him. But in the end, it couldn’t compare to a single tear from his new love. My heart felt like it was being stabbed with a dull knife, over and over. I propped myself up, looking at their affectionate display, and laughed bitterly: “Should I be grateful to him then? Grateful that for you, he aborted my full-term baby, secretly removed my uterus, nearly killed me, yet still deigned to stay by my bedside until I woke up?” Nina’s tears fell like broken pearls. She stared at me stubbornly: “It’s all my fault, okay?! I’m the one who hurt you! I’ll atone for it, okay?!” Like a madwoman, she shoved Ethan aside, grabbed the fruit knife from my bedside table, and thrust it toward her own belly: “I’ll cut out my baby and my uterus right now to make it up to you, okay?!” Ethan grabbed her tightly, gripping the knife handle as blood dripped down continuously. He looked up at me coldly, frozen in shock: “Sophia, are you satisfied now?” He carefully lifted the unconscious Nina in his arms and left without looking back, leaving only one sentence: “Seems I’ve been too good to you, making you think you can do whatever you want. Since that’s the case, you’d better learn what suffering really means.” I watched his retreating figure, laughing through my tears. The man who once promised to cherish me forever and never let me suffer had finally died in the passage of time. Ethan’s bodyguard coldly dragged me up and threw me out the door. “Starting today, everything Mr. Turner gave you will be taken back. If you want to keep staying in this hospital room…” I smiled bitterly and turned to leave. “No need. I don’t want anything from Ethan anymore.” My phone and wallet were all confiscated. Because they were all things Ethan had given me. Penniless, I stood on the street, desperately trying to flag down a car to take me home. But every time a kind person stopped, Ethan’s bodyguard would dutifully say: “If you’re not afraid of offending Mr. Turner of Empire Group, go ahead and let her in your car.” They would shake their heads helplessly at me and quickly drive away. The bodyguard looked at my barely-standing body and said coldly: “Mr. Turner asked me to tell you, this is what happens when you defy him and refuse to obey. If you’re willing to apologize to Miss White and agree to personally care for her during her pregnancy, he’ll have me take you home.” I turned a deaf ear, simply started walking step by step toward home.

Blood dripped down my thighs onto the asphalt road, drawing sideways glances from passersby. But I was completely numb, walking step by step until darkness fell and I finally reached my front door. The brightly lit room drove away the cold of the deep night. I raised my already frozen fingers and entered the passcode, but was met with an error beep. I gritted my teeth and entered the code again and again, the system repeatedly telling me it was wrong. Finally, the maid, annoyed beyond patience, strode over and opened the door, saying coldly: “Ma’am, stop trying. Until you apologize to sir, you can’t use anything sir bought.” “This house was bought by sir. If you don’t apologize, you can’t come in.” She looked me up and down and sneered: “If you ask me, just apologize already. What kind of status does Mr. Turner have? There are plenty of women out there waiting to take your place. Look at yourself—no family background, no looks. Over thirty and now you can’t even have children…” “He has another woman pregnant outside, and he still hasn’t divorced you. He’s already being good to you. What are you making a fuss about…” I interrupted her softly: “I won’t go in. I just need to get one thing.” The maid choked, then said sarcastically: “Everything you own was bought by Mr. Turner. What could possibly belong to you? You’re not planning to steal Mr. Turner’s jewelry and bags to sell, are you?” I said calmly: “I just want to get my medical test results. Is that not allowed?” The maid rolled her eyes, went upstairs, and threw down a manila envelope at me. I picked up the envelope and looked at the azoospermia report with Ethan’s name on it, smiling silently. This was the pre-marital medical examination report from when Ethan and I got married ten years ago. The moment I received the test results, my feelings were mixed. I didn’t know how to tell Ethan about this. Proud as he was, how could he accept being a defective man? How would his peers use this to suppress him? But fortunately, the doctor told me a secret—my physiology was special. I could activate Ethan’s inactive sperm and conceive. “Miss Cole, Mr. Turner is truly blessed to marry you. You’re the only person with such a special constitution I’ve ever encountered…” I had thought I would bury this secret in my heart forever and never let Ethan know. But I never imagined that one day, I would have to reveal this secret myself. I took out the little change in my pocket, made more than a dozen copies of this document, and handed them to a courier. Each copy had the address of a company hostile to Ethan and the private contact information of those CEOs. I said softly: “Please deliver these as quickly as possible. Just tell them this is a gift from Mrs. Turner. They’ll definitely give you a generous tip.” Ethan, this is my final gift to you before I leave. I hope you like it. Leaving the marital home Ethan and I shared, I returned to the small studio apartment where we lived when we started our business ten years ago. Back then we were dirt poor, living only in the most run-down rental in the urban village. The environment was terrible, but we were happy then. Too poor to afford anything but instant noodles, Ethan would lie and say he’d eaten well at business dinners, dumping both portions into my bowl. And late at night I’d see him standing at the sink, drinking glass after glass of tap water to fill his stomach. Our wedding ceremony was held in that shabby rental too. No banquet, just a plain silver ring that cost less than a thousand dollars. This place meant everything to me. So even after we moved to a luxury villa worth a hundred thousand per square meter, I secretly bought that rental property, fantasizing that when Ethan and I grew old, we’d move back there to live. I never imagined that one day, when my marriage to Ethan ended, I would return to where we first began.

I turned the doorknob and pushed open the door to see two intertwined figures on the sofa. And the matching couple’s pajamas I had treasured in the closet—the ones Ethan and I once wore—were now on Ethan and Nina. My mind went blank. I couldn’t control my questioning: “Ethan! How could you bring her here! You know this is our—” Before I could finish, Nina had already efficiently slapped herself across the face. With a swollen face, she stood in front of Ethan, glaring at me with tears: “Mrs. Turner, I just wanted to understand Ethan’s past life, so I begged him to bring me here.” “If you’re unhappy, I can kneel and apologize to you. Just please stop hurting him.” Ethan was heartbroken. He cupped her face, blowing on it repeatedly. He looked coldly at the bodyguard. The bodyguard behind me immediately grabbed my arms. His hand like a fan slapped my face hard. Over and over, my ears rang. I don’t know how long it lasted before they finally stopped and released me. I fell to the floor. Ethan looked at me with an expressionless face: “Sophia, why do you insist on making yourself miserable? If you’re not feeling well, just go home and rest. Why did you have to follow us here to cause trouble?” I smiled bitterly: “Go home? Do I still have a home? Is it even my home anymore?” I looked at him with red eyes, tears mixing with nosebleed dripping on the floor: “Ethan, why did you bring her here…” “You can fool around with her anywhere you want! Why did you have to defile this place!” “The thirty-year-old Ethan is already rotten to the core. Why do you have to destroy the only memory the twenty-year-old Ethan left me?” Ethan’s eyes flickered for a moment, but then turned to anger: “I’m rotten to the core? How am I rotten? Sophia, don’t forget—if it weren’t for me, you’d be stuck in this cramped rental for life!” “Don’t forget, the money you used to buy this place came from my account! This place belongs to me too! I can do whatever I want with it!” He laughed bitterly in anger: “You say I’m defiling this place by coming here?! Forget defiling it—even if I blow up this dump, it’s none of your business.” He had his men drag me out and placed several pounds of explosives outside the shabby building. With one command, the house that held our only happy memories together was reduced to rubble. In the flames filling the sky, my tears wouldn’t stop falling. Ethan stared at the tears on my face. His anger dissipated somewhat, his tone cold: “Sophia, what do I have to say to make you understand?” “I gave you the status of Mrs. Turner. I let you live in the best villa. I let you carry bags worth hundreds of thousands. Even the clothes you’re wearing now are haute couture that ordinary people could never afford in their lifetime. Haven’t I been good enough to you?!” “You’re already thirty years old. You’re not young anymore. Do you really expect me to still love an aging you?” “I give you the dignity of being my wife, I give you a comfortable life. All you need to do is turn a blind eye and accept Nina and the child. Is that so hard?” I met his gaze and said word by word: “I’m not willing.” “Ethan, you’ve erased everything we had with your own hands.” “Let’s divorce.” Anger and irritation flashed in Ethan’s eyes. He looked at me and said flatly: “Divorce? Impossible. Even if I don’t love you anymore, you’re still my most important person. I won’t divorce you.” He looked at me, saying each word clearly: “Sophia, I’ve never wronged you. If anyone’s been wronged, it’s Nina—I couldn’t give her a proper status, making her stay with me without name or title in her best years.” “I was going to give you some dignity, but I didn’t expect you to be so unreasonable, making things this ugly.” He turned around, knelt on one knee, pulled out a huge pigeon-egg diamond ring from his pocket, and said affectionately to Nina: “Nina, I regret meeting you so late.” “I can’t give you a proper status in this lifetime, but I want to give you the grandest wedding and let everyone know you’re the one I love most.” Nina covered her mouth, her eyes reddening, but she still turned her head away, looking dejected: “I can’t accept! I love you, so I’m willing to put aside my self-respect and degrade myself to be your mistress, but I don’t want everyone to know I’m your mistress!” “Unless…” She turned to look at me: “Unless Mrs. Turner witnesses our wedding and admits in front of everyone that the unloved one is the real mistress, that she’s the third wheel!”

I looked expressionlessly at the malice in the young woman’s eyes. Seeing my silence, Ethan said coldly: “Sophia, don’t forget—your parents’ ashes are buried in the cemetery I bought.” “You wouldn’t want them to end up like this house… would you?” My heart felt like a huge chunk had been carved out with a knife. Even breathing tasted like blood. I slowly nodded. “Fine. I’ll go.” Nina broke into a smile and threw herself into Ethan’s arms. He took Nina to order wedding dresses and book the venue. Before leaving, he paused. Rarely, he explained to me peacefully: “Sophia, it’s just a wedding. It won’t shake your position as Mrs. Turner.” I said calmly: “Okay.” He looked at me deeply, finally showing a smile: “You don’t need to take care of Nina during this time. Rest well in the hospital. After the baby is born, we’ll take the child on a family trip. Consider it my compensation to you.” I still calmly said okay. Only then did Ethan leave satisfied. On the wedding day, Ethan was afraid I’d cause trouble, so he had bodyguards take me to the dressing room early to watch over me. Nina acted coquettishly, saying her wedding dress was too heavy and she couldn’t put on her shoes. “Mrs. Turner, help me out.” Ethan frowned slightly, instinctively looking at me. I lowered my eyes, knelt down, lifted the wedding dress, and helped her put on her shoes. Ethan looked at me with a complicated expression, pursing his lips as if wanting to say something, but Nina pushed him. “Honey, I’m thirsty. Go get me some orange juice.” Hearing this, Ethan smiled and ruffled her hair, then turned and walked out. As soon as he left, Nina kicked me in the chest. She looked at me mockingly and said: “Sophia, you don’t think I’m some gold digger clinging to a rich man, do you?” “You probably don’t know—Ethan and I have been in love for nearly ten years too.” Seeing the shock in my eyes, she smiled viciously: “Ethan said I was too young and shouldn’t suffer with him, so he only dated me while marrying you.” “He was afraid of wronging me. The first money he earned, he told you was taken by debt collectors, but actually he bought me designer bags. Every time I felt wronged, he’d have those people come to your house and stage debt collection scenes, taking the money to buy me bags.” “One million eight hundred thousand in total. Oh, and there was a worthless bracelet that I threw away.” My whole body trembled uncontrollably. One million eight hundred thousand—that was the money I earned over those years to pay off Ethan’s debts. At my most exhausted, I even collapsed on the assembly line and nearly got pulled into the machinery. When Ethan found out, he held me trembling, saying it was his fault. How ridiculous that I comforted him then, smiling and saying I didn’t blame him… It was all fake! He’d been lying to me all along! Nina kept chattering: “Later when you got pregnant, I was so angry I wouldn’t let him touch me. So he staged a scene with business partners, getting you so drunk you miscarried. You don’t even know—when you were unconscious in the operating room, he was calling me, begging me not to be angry at him.” These words hit me like a bludgeon. Everything went dark before my eyes. Nina’s face suddenly turned vicious, full of resentment as she looked at me: “But he loves me so much, yet still won’t divorce you and marry me!” “You’re just relying on Ethan’s soft heart and sentimentality, relying on the fact that you suffered through his startup days with him to suppress me.” She suddenly laughed: “Tell me—if Ethan knew you hurt the child in my belly, would he still care about that bit of history between you two?” All my hair stood on end. I immediately turned to run out. Behind me, Nina grabbed a champagne bottle and smashed it hard against her own belly, screaming. “Ethan! Save me!” The dressing room door was kicked open by Ethan. He grabbed my wrist and threw me to the floor. His eyes were bloodshot as he looked at Nina collapsed on the ground, blood spreading from under her dress. “It wasn’t me…” My explanation was choked off by Ethan’s hand around my throat. His eyes blood-red, he roared at me: “Sophia! You won’t even spare a child! You disgust me!!” “You caused Nina to lose her child. Don’t blame me for going after your dead parents.” Through my terrified, agonized tears, he directly ordered: “Dig up Sophia’s parents’ graves. Grind their bones to dust and flush them down the sewers.” “No!” I screamed: “Ethan! You maniac! The dressing room has surveillance cameras! Go check them! It wasn’t me!!” Sophia trembled as she stood up, turned and ran toward the window: “Without the child, what’s the point of living? I might as well die!” “Mrs. Turner, frame me however you want!” Ethan’s face changed drastically. He shoved me aside and rushed over to grab Sophia. He looked at me with a cold expression, saying each word clearly: “Sophia, you’ve exhausted the last bit of affection I had for you. For hurting my love and my child, I won’t let you off.” He said coldly: “Send her to prison. Tell the people inside to take good care of her.” “I don’t want her to have a single good day in there.” … Ethan ran red lights all the way to the hospital. He carried Nina and rushed directly into the emergency room: “Save my love and my child! If you can save my child, I’ll donate ten million to your hospital!” The on-duty doctor was startled and stared at Ethan in shock: “Mr. Turner?” He frowned, looking at Ethan, then at Nina lying pale and fragile on the bed. He asked in confusion: “Your child? Mr. Turner, you have azoospermia and are infertile. How could you have a child?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “386468”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

The boy I secretly loved jumped to his death. Given a second chance at life, I finally told him everything. But he threatened me, saying if I truly loved him, I had to die with him. 01 I woke up and realized I had traveled back in time. I was back to exactly one month before Leo Sterling’s suicide. Leo, the boy I had pined for over three years, had jumped from the roof of the library. His body sat in the morgue for a week. No one came to claim him. Not a single family member or friend appeared. I used every cent of my savings to pay for the storage and the service. In that moment, it felt like he finally belonged to me. The police had found a single, private post on his locked social media: In this world, no one loves me. This time, I was going to shout my love for him from the rooftops. But when I finally cornered him and confessed, he just gave me a polite, distant smile. “Thank you,” he said. That was it. “Can I have your number? Or your Instagram?” I was relentless. Eventually, he sighed and gave in. Leo was the star of the psych department, a year ahead of me. He was so brilliant, so untouchable, that I never dared to speak to him before. To catch up to him, I had spent my nights buried in textbooks, barely eating or sleeping, just so I could get into the same graduate program. But in my last life, he was gone before I could even say, “Hello, senior.” I didn’t waste time. My first DM was a direct hit: [Leo, I’m actually in love with you.] There was no response. I figured he was shy. I was about to send another message when I realized… he had blocked me. The little red exclamation mark mocked me. I looked like a total stalker. I tried to add him again. Blacklisted. I was banned from even sending a request. My plan had failed before it even started. I only had 29 days left. That night, I dreamed of his death on a loop. I couldn’t hold onto him. He kept slipping through my fingers, falling over the edge again and again. Finally, I broke. I jumped with him. The sensation of weightlessness snapped me awake, drenched in sweat. My roommate asked what kind of nightmare I was having. “I dreamed my uncle turned my pet fish into stew,” I lied. She didn’t believe me. It was just a fish, after all. I first noticed Leo because of a fish. He had been crouching in front of a vendor at a local market, insisting on buying a tiny, sick fish with pinecone scales—dropsy. The vendor refused to sell it, calling him an idiot. “The thing is going to die in an hour,” he’d said. I followed that “idiot” as he carried the fish across half the city. He ended up at the edge of a lake. “Go have some fun for your last few hours,” he whispered to the water. Back then, I thought he was just pure and kind. Now I realize he was talking to himself. Was he happy in his final hours? 02 The campus wasn’t that big. Finding Leo was easy. “What exactly do you want?” he asked, finally losing his patience with my stalking. I waved my phone. “Unblock me.” “No.” “Then I’ll keep following you.” He shot me a look but didn’t budge. “Suit yourself.” So, I became Leo’s shadow. Even if he ignored me, I was content. If I kept my eyes on him, he couldn’t jump, right? The next morning, I was waiting at the entrance of his dorm. Unlike before, he didn’t walk past me. He stopped. “Have you eaten?” I shook my head. I’d been there since 6:00 AM to make sure he didn’t sneak out early. He tossed a carton of milk into my lap. “It expires today. Don’t let it go to waste.” I knew it was his way of caring. I scrambled up and followed him. “Can I have my Instagram back today?” “No.” “Leo!” He turned, frowning. “What?” “I love you even more than I did yesterday!” He rolled his eyes and kept walking toward his advisor’s office. I went back to my room to catch up on sleep. My roommates were baffled. Leo was polite to everyone else, but he was incredibly prickly with me. But this was the real him. Not the masked, “normal” version he showed the world. Because I’d been up so early, I slept until noon. I completely missed the end of his seminar. I ran to the science building, hoping for a miracle. Leo was standing right in the sun, looking like a lost kid. I ran up and held my umbrella over him. “Why didn’t you wait in the shade?” He looked down at me. “Who said I was waiting for you?” Okay, fine. He just enjoyed the June heat. Sure. I followed him to the dining hall. His tray was piled with nothing but fried chicken. I started a lecture on balanced nutrition. “Mhm,” he grunted, ignoring me as he added more nuggets to his plate. “Leo, you’re going to get a stomach ache.” “Summer,” he said, staring at me like I was a simpleton, “don’t try to lecture a med student on basic biology. Your logic is flawed.” I shut up. I bought a double serving of vegetables, planning to force some on him. But by the time I got my food, the seat next to him was taken. Three girls were sitting there. Leo wasn’t prickly with them. He was charming. He laughed at their jokes. He was the perfect gentleman. I watched him from across the room. How could someone who looked so normal be planning to end it all? Someone bumped into me, spilling my iced tea all over my arm. “I am so sorry!” the guy said, frantically grabbing napkins. “I’ll get you a new one,” he insisted before I could say no. He ran off to the line. The seats near Leo were full. I sat down nearby to dry my arm. Someone sat across from me. I thought it was the tea guy. I looked up. It was Leo. He looked furious. “Who is he?” he demanded. I told him I didn’t know. He just bumped into me. Right then, the guy returned with a fresh tea, apologized again, and left. I pushed the tea toward Leo. “I only got it because I couldn’t carry two.” He stared at the cup. He didn’t touch it until I swapped my cup for his. “Good?” I asked. He dropped the act and went back to his chicken. I started moving greens onto his plate. He looked disgusted, but under my glare, he finally ate a piece of broccoli. “Don’t be a picky eater, Leo.” He swallowed it like it was poison. 03 Leo seemed normal, but after two weeks of watching him, I realized he didn’t have any real friends. He was a master of boundaries. He was “social,” but no one was close. But what about his family? His mentors? He was a top-tier grad student. Why did no one show up to his funeral? I didn’t have time to solve the mystery. I only had 15 days left. “Leo, when are you going to unblock me?” I asked, licking an ice cream cone. If it weren’t for the deadline, I would have enjoyed this slow, hidden tension between us. “Depends on my mood.” He wiped a drop of cream off his hand with a look of pure disdain. He hated sweets. “Sigh. I guess I can’t have dinner with you tonight.” He looked at me. He wanted to know why, but his pride wouldn’t let him ask. “Group meeting. We’re designing the new athletic uniforms,” I said. “I’ll be busy all night. You won’t hear from me.” My phone buzzed. A notification. Leo_S has sent you a follow request. He kept a straight face. Stupidly stubborn boy. At the meeting, I realized the guy who bumped into me—Ross—was there too. He was a junior in design. My advisor was a friend of his father’s; he was just there for the “legacy” credit. “I mean, I have the skills too,” Ross joked. During the meeting, I checked in on Leo’s dinner. He didn’t reply, just sent a photo of a salad. [Good boy! As a reward, I’ll come see you at your dorm after this.] I held my breath, wondering if he’d block me again. He replied with a single character. [.] A period. I guess that meant “Read.” It was after 9:00 PM when I finished. Leo was waiting in the lobby of the building, wearing a black hoodie. Ross followed me out, complaining about the late meeting. The moment Leo saw him, he turned and walked away. I apologized to Ross and ran after Leo. “Leo!” He didn’t answer. He sat on a stone bench. “He’s just a legacy student in my program,” I explained. “I don’t like him,” Leo muttered. I sat close to him. “I hate legacy students too. We are united in our hatred!” He didn’t say anything. Silence stretched between us. Nearby, a couple was making out in the shadows of the campus trees. I swallowed hard. “Leo… can we hold hands?” Silence. I gathered my courage and reached for his hand. I gripped it. He didn’t pull away. My confidence surged. I looked him dead in the eye. “Can we kiss?” He let out a short laugh. “Summer, do you have no shame?” I pointed at the couple in the trees. “They’re doing it.” “They’re a couple.” “Then be my boyfriend.” I felt his hand stiffen. I held on tighter, terrified he’d let go. He didn’t answer for the longest time. I was about to ask again when he reached out his other hand and covered my mouth. “Don’t say it.” He led me back to my dorm with one hand in mine and the other firmly over my lips. “If you stop talking, I’ll let go.” I nodded. The second he released me, I whispered in his ear: “Leo, I love you even more today.” 04 Work for the project ramped up. I saw less of Leo. Before, I waited for him. Now, he waited for me. My roommates thought I’d finally won him over, but my heart was constantly on edge. Then Ross found me. I didn’t want anything to do with him, but he wanted to talk about Leo. I had lied to Leo, telling him I’d be working all night so he’d go home. “Do you know about Leo’s parents?” Ross asked, getting straight to the point. “His parents were… well, it was a scandal. They were related. His dad bailed as soon as Leo was born. I think the guy is a total freak, Summer. You should stay away.” “Thanks for the info,” I interrupted. “But I know who he is better than you do.” “Why do you think he’s in psychiatry? He’s looking for his own cure,” Ross sneered. I couldn’t stand the slander. “I appreciate the warning, but we aren’t close enough for you to talk about him like that. You’re overstepping.” Ross looked stunned, insisting he was just looking out for me. I brushed him off, saying I’d keep it in mind. Leo heard that last part. “Looking out for what? Looking out for me?” Before I could explain, he grabbed my arm and dragged me away. His grip was tight, almost painful. He didn’t stop until we were in a secluded corner of the park. “Summer, you said you loved me.” I expected him to scream. Instead, he just sounded broken, like I’d betrayed him. I didn’t know what to say. He let out a bitter laugh. “Forget it. Go away. Don’t come back.” He turned to leave. I lunged forward and hugged him from behind. “Leo… was it really that bad?” I felt his body go rigid. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. I’m just here.” He turned around and pulled me into his arms. Ross was right. The story was dark. His parents’ “forbidden” love wasn’t a romance; it was a curse. His father saw Leo as a living reminder of his “sin” and vanished. His mother blamed Leo for everything. The verbal abuse was worse than anything physical. He realized he was “broken” in high school. By day, he pretended to be normal. By night, he struggled with the urge to disappear. One night, he was googling ways to end it without pain when a quote popped up: The world isn’t perfect, but there is always someone watching over you. “I thought… maybe I’ll wait. Maybe someone will actually come.” “Leo…” I whispered, stroking his back. “So, Summer, this is your last chance to run.” I shook my head. “I’m not running.” I had lost him once because of my cowardice. This was my second chance. “Leo, I won’t regret this.” He held me tighter. “So… are you my boyfriend now?” He pulled back immediately, his “prickly” persona returning. “No.” “Why?! You’re literally cuddling me!” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “You haven’t done a proper confession yet.” Was he serious? I confessed every single day. “A formal one,” he insisted. I sighed. Fine. I’d plan the most romantic confession ever. 05 The month was almost up. I set the date for the confession on the same day he was supposed to jump. I wanted to turn his death day into our anniversary. A rebirth. I found an empty classroom. I covered it in printed photos. Screenshots of every time I told him I loved him. Candid photos of him I’d taken. Every meal he’d “reported” to me. I was a nervous wreck. I should have been watching him more closely, but I let him go alone to see his advisor. I waited in the classroom for two hours. He didn’t show. My DMs went unanswered. I went to find him. As I was heading down the stairs, I saw his advisor, Professor Miller, rushing past the window. “Oh my god, someone jumped!” “Who would do that on campus?” My legs turned to jelly. Panic surged through me. I ran to the building and pushed through the crowd. The person in the pool of blood was unrecognizable, but I knew the clothes. “Leo…” I whispered. I tried to reach him, but hands held me back. A blinding white light swallowed my vision. I passed out. 06 I was in a loop. I woke up in my dorm room again. I checked my phone. It was five days before the jump. I tried to message Leo. He wasn’t in my contacts. “Fuck!” I cursed. The universe was playing with me. I ran to find his classroom. I waited for him to come out. When he did, he walked right past me like we were strangers. “Leo…” I grabbed his hand. He pulled away coldly. “Do I know you?” He didn’t remember me? Was I starting from zero? Or was the last loop just a dream? I was stuck in a circle of “is this real?” But I knew his death wasn’t a simple suicide. Everything had been getting better. He was trying to save himself. I wandered the campus, looking for clues. My advisor called me into a meeting. The advisor! I remembered that Leo always seemed darker after seeing his advisor. And I saw Professor Miller running away the day Leo died. He was involved. At the meeting, Ross was there again. I didn’t plan on talking to him, but he approached me. “How’s it going? Leo hasn’t been bothering you, has he? I told you he was a creep. Glad I could help.” “What are you talking about?” I demanded. Ross looked confused. “You said Leo was stalking you. Saying crazy things about ‘regretting’ things.” My heart stopped. Leo was in the loop too? Then why was he pretending he didn’t know me? I stood up abruptly, startling my advisor. “Summer, what’s wrong?” I didn’t answer. I grabbed my bag and ran. I had to find him. If he remembered, he knew what happened that day. He was hiding. I waited at his dorm for two days. He didn’t show. He was avoiding me because he thought I had “regretted” him. I realized that before, I only found him because he let me find him. He didn’t believe I loved him, but he’d made a bet on it. I went to Professor Miller. The man always gave me the creeps. When I asked for Leo, his expression shifted from tension to a forced smile. “Oh, so you’re the girl he said didn’t want him anymore.” I didn’t have time for small talk. “Professor, it’s urgent. Where is he?” He gave me an address. A tenement building off-campus. Before I left, I looked at him. “Are you seeing Leo the day after tomorrow?” His eyes flickered. “No. Why?” I lied. “It’s my birthday. I want him to spend it with me. I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t busy with school work.” He waved me off, telling me to have fun. 07 Leo wouldn’t open the door. “Leo! Open up! I’m sorry! Please!” I was begging like a stray dog outside his door. Whoever “Summer” was in this loop, she had ruined everything. “I have a secret! Just listen!” I whispered through the door frame. “The person before… that wasn’t me.” “You’re lying,” his voice came from inside, low and hollow. “I’m not! Just open the door!” “Go away.” “No!” I sat down on the floor. I wasn’t leaving. The hallway of the old building was damp. Then, the sky opened up. A downpour hit the city. The roof of the hallway leaked, soaking me to the bone. I shivered, knocking again. “Leo, I’m freezing. I’m going to get sick.” “I saw you walk into the rain on purpose,” he said through the door. Dammit. He’d been watching. “Fine. Then throw me an umbrella so I can go home and change.” I was ready to bolt the second the door cracked. It opened. He didn’t throw an umbrella. He threw a towel over my head. “Dry off and get in here.” He looked lethal. He leaned against the wall, glaring at me. “Talk.” I told him everything. From his first death to the loops. I told him the logic. He didn’t jump. The Summer in his timeline had disappeared and was replaced by a Summer who didn’t know him. He thought I was playing a game with him. I told him the jump had to do with his advisor. He laughed. “That’s a hell of a story. You spent days coming up with that?” “Leo, I know it sounds insane, but it’s what’s happening.” “You regretted being with me, Summer. Just admit it.” He tossed an umbrella at my feet. “Get out.” I grabbed his sleeve. “I’m not going anywhere.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “424280”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel