Category: English

I was sexually assaulted. My husband, Marcus Sterling, was just on the other side of the wall. He remained completely indifferent to my desperate cries for help. Because he had taken off his hearing aids. Again. Throughout our three years of marriage, he was the perfect husband in everyone else’s eyes—handsome, wealthy, and incredibly level-headed. Only I knew the truth. Every time we argued, he would take off his hearing aids. He didn’t have a good temper; he just found me annoying and refused to waste his time communicating with me. That night, Marcus didn’t come looking for me. When I finally dragged my broken body back home, he was sitting under the dim light, looking down, editing a research paper for his first love, Sienna Montgomery. “I was sexually assaulted. We need to go to the police,” I said, walking up to his desk. “Yeah, my bad. I won’t do it next time,” he replied smoothly. He didn’t even look up, throwing out a practiced apology like it was second nature. I looked at his ears. His hearing aids were gone. A sudden, bitter laugh escaped my throat. This silent world of his—I really couldn’t stay in it anymore. “Marcus, let’s get a divorce.” His voice was as cold and detached as ever: “Fine. Let’s stop fighting then.”

I stared at him, my eyes completely dry. I didn’t even have tears left to cry. This was the man I had loved for three years. While I was being tormented, he was helping another woman with her work. Even when I threw the most painful truth right in his face, his only response was a lazy, dismissive brush-off. Seeing that I didn’t keep nagging like I usually did, Marcus finally put his hearing aids back in. He raised his head, his eyes falling on my torn, disheveled clothes. He frowned. “Why are you so dirty? Is that blood?” The living room was only lit by a single, dim lamp, so he couldn’t see clearly. “I tripped on the street. Just a scratch,” I said, my voice dead and flat. Marcus’s frown deepened. “After all these years, you still have that dramatic temper. It was just a routine physical exam. Even if I couldn’t make it, you could have gone by yourself. Did you really have to make such a mess of yourself just to throw a tantrum?” “Go change into some clean clothes. I’ll help you with the cuts.” I didn’t reply. I grabbed a fresh set of clothes from the closet and went straight into the bathroom. I turned on the shower, letting the freezing water pour over my head. I looked at myself in the mirror. My neck and back were covered in dark bruises and horrific, unmistakable marks. Suddenly, a sharp, tearing pain shot through my lower abdomen, as if someone were violently ripping my insides apart. I looked down. On the white bathroom tiles, a bright, shocking red was slowly spreading. That splash of red felt like a nail, pinning me to the floor. I placed my trembling hand over my stomach, grasping onto the absolute last shred of hope. Tears mixed with the shower water, pouring down my face. “My baby…” But the blood kept trickling down my legs, slowly, relentlessly. Marcus didn’t know. Just this morning, I had gotten a positive result on a pregnancy test. I was afraid it might be a false alarm, so I only told him I wanted to go to the hospital for a quick checkup. But the moment we reached the parking garage, Sienna’s call came through on his Snapchat. “Marcus, I messed up my residency case presentation. The chief of medicine is breathing down my neck. Can you log on to your laptop and help me fix it real quick?” Marcus hung up and immediately turned on his heel to head back upstairs. I stared at him, trying to suppress my rising anger, but I couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Marcus, who is actually your wife? Me, or Sienna?” His face instantly turned icy. “I’ve told you a thousand times, Sienna and I are just colleagues now. Stop being so dramatic, Elena.” “Dramatic? On our anniversary, she had a mild fever and you abandoned me to drive across town to bring her medicine. When my mother was hospitalized, Sienna said she was scared of her night shift, and you went to keep her company. Now, I’m going in for a medical exam, and you’re abandoning me for her again. Who is the one being dramatic here?” The moment those words left my mouth, Marcus’s eyes went entirely cold. The last bit of his patience vanished. “Elena, you’re too hysterical right now. It’s impossible to talk to you.” My heart sank. In the next second, he reached up and pulled out his hearing aids. It was a perfectly practiced motion. He did this every single time. Whenever I tried to talk about my pain, my disappointment, or the sheer unfairness of our marriage, he would shut himself in his own silent world. Marcus turned and walked away. He didn’t see what happened next. He didn’t see the two drunk men who dragged me into the dark corner of the garage. He actually hadn’t walked far. I saw him waiting for me near the exit for a brief moment. But he never turned around, and he never put his hearing aids back in. His world was completely quiet. And he locked my screams for help right outside his silent wall. I turned off the shower and forced myself to walk out. In the living room, Marcus—who had promised to help me with my cuts—was on a FaceTime call with Sienna. He had completely forgotten about me. His voice carried a gentle patience he had never once shown me. “I’ve fixed the errors for you. You can just print it out now.” The usually serious Dr. Sterling was actually smiling at a phone screen. “Thank you, Marcus! I knew I didn’t have to worry about anything as long as you were around,” Sienna’s sweet voice echoed through the speaker. Watching this scene now, I didn’t even feel my heart break anymore. It was just numb. I went back to our bedroom, contacted a divorce lawyer, and had a separation agreement drafted. Then, I put on a high-neck sweater to cover the bruises. And I walked out the door.

I took an Uber to a hospital further across town and admitted myself to the emergency room. It was almost 1:00 AM, and the lobby was nearly empty. Seeing how pale I was, a nurse immediately rushed over to support me. “Sweetheart, where is your family? Is anyone here with you?” I thought of Marcus. He was probably still enjoying the sounds of the night with his hearing aids on. I opened my mouth, but my throat felt like it was clogged with cotton. “I’m alone. No one is coming.” The nurse gave me a look of pure pity and helped me into the exam room. “Let’s get you checked out first.” The ultrasound room was freezing. When the cold probe pressed down on my abdomen, the pain made my fingers curl tightly. The doctor stared at the screen for a few seconds and sighed. “The embryo is unstable. I’m so sorry, but you’ve miscarried.” I couldn’t process it. “What?” She pulled off her gloves. “You need a D&C procedure immediately to prevent infection.” My brain went entirely numb. A loud ringing filled my ears, and I couldn’t hear anything else. The nurse handed me a consent form. “Elena, where is the baby’s father? We need a signature from a spouse or family member for the procedure.” I looked down at the blank line for “Emergency Contact/Spouse.” My eyes burned. After a long silence, I whispered, “Is it absolutely required? I don’t have a husband anymore. My parents are out of state, and they can’t make it in time.” The nurse’s expression softened with deep sadness. “If there’s truly no one else, you can sign the self-consent and liability waiver yourself.” I took the pen, my fingers shaking violently. “Elena Vance.” As my messy signature hit the paper, I felt a physical hollow space open up inside my chest. Marcus, the very last connection between us is officially gone. Blood tests, payments, paperwork. I had to do every single step by myself. Passing by the OB-GYN wing, I saw a young girl crying just because she had to get a blood draw. Her husband was kneeling beside her, showing no annoyance at all, gently whispering to her. “Don’t worry, baby, I’m right here. Once we’re done, I’ll cook your favorite dinner.” I averted my eyes, staring down at the cotton ball taped over the vein in my hand. So, having someone stay by your side was actually that simple. Yet in our three years of marriage, every time I caught a fever and had to go to the clinic, Sienna would suddenly fall even sicker. I never understood it. Sienna was a doctor herself, but Marcus always told me, “She has a weak immune system. She needs me more than you do.” Only now did I finally realize—Sienna wasn’t weak. Marcus just didn’t love me. Before they wheeled me in, the nurse asked one last time. “Is there really no one we can call for you?” I shook my head. “No.” As the anesthesia was pumped into my IV, I found myself wondering if Marcus would feel even a tiny bit of sorrow if he knew about the baby. But in the next second, I realized how pathetic I was being. He had blocked me out of his entire existence, yet I was still wasting my thoughts on him.

When I woke up from the surgery, dawn was breaking. My throat was incredibly dry. I opened my eyes and instinctively reached for my phone. I had been gone all night, but Marcus had only sent a single text at 3:00 AM. [Where are you?] Right below his text was an Ins notification. Marcus had gone to a karaoke lounge with Sienna. In the photo, Sienna was wearing a pretty sundress, holding a microphone, and singing right next to his ear. Marcus was wearing his hearing aids, looking down at her with pure indulgence. Marcus’s hearing loss was due to a severe childhood ear injury. In the past, I used to love humming soft songs near his ear. But Marcus always told me that his ears couldn’t handle sharp, close-range sounds, and he would promptly take off his hearing aids. He couldn’t stand the sound of my voice. Yet, he could perfectly tolerate a loud microphone blasting right next to his ear for her. I didn’t look at his Ins post again. Instead, I called him. He was still at the venue, and the background noise was incredibly loud. To his surprise, I didn’t scream, cry, or demand answers like I used to. I just said calmly, “Meet me at the police station in an hour.” I had to admit, I was still terrified to handle this part alone. There was a pause on the line. “The police station?” “Are you still trying to track down that lost wedding ring?” Two weeks ago, Marcus had lost his wedding band on his way home from work. We looked everywhere but couldn’t find it. He said we could just buy a new set eventually. But I didn’t want to replace it. We had so few memories together. So, I had filed a police report, and I had been checking in with them periodically to see if anyone had turned it in. Before I could answer him, Sienna’s whiny voice echoed in the background. “Marcus, we finally got a day off together. You promised you’d take me shopping after this.” The rest of her words were muffled. Marcus had probably covered the receiver. After a moment, his voice came back. “Elena, the ring has been gone for weeks. It’s not going to turn up, and honestly, it’s just an object. If you’re absolutely obsessed with going to the station, can I take you tomorrow instead?” I stared at the sterile, white walls of the hospital and let out a soft laugh. “Is shopping with Sienna really more important?” I paused, my voice dropping to a whisper. “Marcus, I was assaulted last night. Does that not matter to you either?” “Never mind. Don’t worry about tomorrow. Just meet me at the law firm so we can sign the divorce papers.” Silence fell over the line. If it weren’t for the faint thumping of the music in the background, I would have thought he had hung up. But I knew Marcus too well after three years. I didn’t even have to guess. The moment I started speaking, he had already switched off his hearing aids. I calmly saved the call recording and hung up. I discharged myself, took a cab to the police station, and went through the grueling process. I gave my statement, submitted the forensic evidence collected by the hospital, and signed the paperwork. The female detective repeatedly comforted me, assuring me they would catch the predators and telling me not to let this ruin my life. Looking at her, a tiny part of my frozen heart finally felt a sliver of warmth. When I got back to our apartment, it was nearly evening. Marcus wasn’t home. I stuffed the discharge papers, medical bills, and ultrasound records into a manila folder and slid it deep into his study desk drawer. It was his child, too. He deserved to know it had existed. At 11:00 PM, Marcus finally walked through the door. He was looking down at his phone, texting as he kicked off his shoes. When he saw me sitting there, his first words were: “Where the hell were you last night?” I curled up on the sofa, my body still aching all over. I didn’t say a word. Perhaps realizing I wasn’t fighting back like usual, his tone softened slightly. He walked over and held up his phone, showing me our neighborhood group chat on WhatsApp. “I’m not trying to yell at you. It’s just dangerous out there right now, and I was worried.” “Look, the police are in our neighborhood investigating. A woman was raped in our parking garage last night.” I looked up, locking my eyes onto his. “Marcus, what if I told you that woman was me?”

“Alright, that’s not funny at all.” “Just tell me next time you go out. Don’t make me worry.” Marcus didn’t take my words seriously. He patted my head dismissively and walked into the bathroom. His phone, which he left on the coffee table, kept buzzing. Even though I tried to ignore it, my eyes caught the screen. His lock screen was no longer our wedding photo. It was a picture of a girl’s back—Sienna. Sienna’s messages kept popping up on Snapchat: [Marcus, I had so much fun today. You’re still just as sweet and caring as you were when we were dating in college.] [You always said you’d only be patient and gentle with me, and that you’d always listen to my voice. I’m glad you kept that promise.] The last trace of warmth inside me evaporated. I fought through the physical pain, turned away, and crawled into bed, pulling the duvet over my head. When Marcus came out of the shower, his phone screen was still lit up. He looked at his phone, then at me, clearly torn between his two worlds. But that hesitation was already an answer in itself. Surprisingly, he didn’t reply to Sienna immediately. Instead, he climbed into bed and wrapped his arms around me from behind. “How was your physical exam? What did the doctor say?” I lay completely still, not turning around. “It went fine.” He let out a sigh of relief. Before he could say anything else, I spoke up. “Marcus, let’s get a divorce.” “I was assaulted, and the baby is gone. I don’t want to do this with you anymore.” This time, his hearing aids were in. He heard every single word. His face darkened instantly. “Elena, is this your new way of starting a fight now? Making up horrific lies?” His hand instinctively went to his ear, a gesture of sheer annoyance and exhaustion. In the next second, he pulled his hearing aids out. I watched him do it, and my entire world fell completely still. He didn’t believe me. To him, this was just another dramatic scene he didn’t want to deal with. “Fine. We’ll talk when you calm down.” Marcus and I entered a state of complete cold war for the next few days. Occasionally, I’d see Sienna posting photos of the two of them on Marcus’s Ins account. Marcus hated taking photos. In our three years of marriage, we only had one photo together—our wedding portrait. But on Sienna’s feed, every post was a beautiful gallery of their memories. I quietly liked her post, and then I blocked Marcus’s number and social media. For the next week, Marcus spent most of his time on shift at the hospital or staying at a hotel near his clinic. He never came back to the apartment. He didn’t even notice that I was packing up. I rented a small apartment on the outskirts of the city. Before I left, I placed the signed separation agreement in the center of the kitchen counter. The only reason I hadn’t left the city entirely was because the suspects had been caught, and I had to attend the preliminary court hearing. On the day of the hearing, the courthouse steps were packed with local news reporters broadcasting live. … Meanwhile, at the hospital, Marcus was doing his rounds. He noticed a group of patients gathered around the TV in the waiting room, whispering excitedly. “The sexual assault case from that downtown garage is in court today.” “So tragic. She was dragged away right from her building’s garage. I heard she was pregnant, too. Those monsters…” “Hey, Dr. Sterling, don’t you live in that building complex? Do you know the poor girl?” A patient stepped aside, pointing at the TV screen. Marcus finished writing his chart, about to shake his head, when his eyes locked onto the screen. There I was, surrounded by reporters. For the first time in his life, he desperately wished he could rip his hearing aids out, but his hands felt as heavy as lead. “Ms. Vance, did you fight back?” a reporter asked. “Yes,” I replied on screen. “Was there really no one around?” “There was.” “Did you call for help?” “I did.” The reporter looked furious. “Then who was it? Who could just stand by and do nothing?!” I paused, my voice trembling but clear. “My husband.” “He took out his hearing aids. He couldn’t hear me.” With every answer, I looked as if I were being dragged back into that cold garage all over again, my hands shaking uncontrollably. A loud crash echoed in the hospital corridor as Marcus stumbled, knocking over a medicine cart. But he didn’t care about the pain. Like a madman, he tore through the crowd and ran out of the hospital lobby, leaving his white coat behind.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “435692”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

The third time Austin Vance caught me “in bed” with another man, I didn’t panic. I didn’t scramble to put on my clothes, and I didn’t bother to explain. Sienna Montgomery, the head of the Vance Group’s legal team, stood at the front of the crowd. “Mrs. Vance, this is your third strike of marital infidelity.” “According to the prenup, you will walk away with nothing and waive all custody rights to your son.” Austin had long lost his patience. The look in his eyes was pure disgust. He threw the divorce papers right at my face. “The first time, you claimed you didn’t even know the guy.” “The second time, you said you had no idea how you ended up in that hotel room.” “Three strikes and you’re out, Elena. What’s your excuse this time?” He expected me to make up another pathetic lie. But I said nothing. I just quietly picked up the pen, signed my name on the divorce papers, and prepared to vanish from his world forever. I wondered, though—now that I had finally given him exactly what he wanted, leaving with absolutely nothing, not even our child… why was he the one losing his mind?

Sienna snatched the signed papers away instantly. As if terrified I would change my mind, she turned to Austin and said, “Mr. Vance, it’s signed.” Austin stared at me, his brows knitted tightly. He probably expected me to tear up the papers like I did the first two times. He expected me to drop to my knees, slap myself, and beg him through tears: “Please, think of our son! Just trust me this one last time!” I capped the pen and placed it back on the nightstand. “I’ll pack my things and move out as soon as possible. As for my visitation rights—” “You don’t deserve to be a mother,” he interrupted coldly. “You are never seeing Leo again.” I didn’t look up. I just let out a soft laugh. “I was actually about to say… I don’t want visitation rights either.” The coldness in Austin’s eyes didn’t waver, but he shot me a sharp, questioning look. He couldn’t comprehend my sudden “indifference.” For the past four years, he and our son were my entire world. Back then, if Leo so much as called Sienna “Auntie Sienna” one extra time, my heart would ache for days. Now, I was giving him up without a fight. It wasn’t like me. He let out a harsh sneer, seemingly finding a logical explanation for my behavior. “Throwing away your own flesh and blood for some cheap flings. Was this your plan all along when you climbed into my bed and forced me to marry you?” Listening to his venomous words, I felt absolutely no desire to defend myself. The first time he caught me “sleeping around” in a hotel, I was completely blindsided. I had begged and screamed, swearing I had never betrayed him. But Austin had always assumed I was obsessed with him. And since the man in my bed had fled, leaving only a blurry silhouette on the hotel’s security footage, Austin barely let it slide. Yet, he still took Leo away from me. To see my son once a month, I had to schedule an appointment with Sienna a week in advance. During our short visits, Sienna would tail us like a warden. If I held Leo for a second too long, I had to watch her displeased face. Even buying toys or clothes for my own son required Sienna’s prior approval, or they would never make it to Leo’s room. The emotional abuse broke me, and soon after, I was framed for a second time. I had taken a job to distract myself, but during a business trip, I woke up in a hotel room with a repulsive, overweight stranger drooling next to me. I called the police, but the medical exam showed I hadn’t been assaulted. Despite the lack of physical evidence, Austin decided I was just caught before the “crime” could happen. From that day on, I wasn’t even allowed to attend Leo’s kindergarten parent-teacher meetings. Whenever the school called, Austin sent Sienna instead. He told me to stay home so I “wouldn’t embarrass the family.” Even when our four-year-old son pointed at my face and called me a “bad woman,” Austin just stood there, saying nothing. And now, the third time… I was tired of this twisted game. I was ready to let them have each other. And yet, he had the nerve to ask why I didn’t want my own child anymore? Sienna walked up to Austin and whispered loudly enough for me to hear: “Austin, even though the prenup says she waives custody… in all my years of legal practice, I’ve never seen a mother give up her child so easily.” “Elena has cheated so many times; she probably planned this long ago. After all, a child is just baggage for a woman who wants to play around… Don’t waste your breath on her.” She looked up at me, a brief, heavy glint of triumph flashing in her eyes. I chuckled softly. She seemed to have forgotten… Four years ago, she was the one who drafted this absurd prenuptial agreement, specifically detailing the “three-strike” cheating clause. Austin’s face darkened. “You better mean what you say. Don’t come crawling back on your knees begging me later.” Leaving those cold words, he turned and walked out. I watched his retreating back, the corner of my mouth curling into a bitter smile. I won’t, Austin. My knees will never bend for you again.

Sienna looked at me, a smirk playing on her lips. “Well, Elena, a night of romance is worth a thousand bucks. We won’t disturb you and your… friend anymore!” The moment the door slammed shut, the room fell into a heavy silence. I looked down at the unconscious man still snoring on the bed. A wave of nausea hit my stomach. I had woken up much earlier than them. I could have escaped before they “caught” me. But I was just so sick of this cat-and-mouse game. I wanted it to end. I threw on my coat and walked out without looking back. The next evening, I went back to the Vance mansion to pack my things. When I pushed open the master bedroom door, I realized all my clothes and personal belongings were gone. The maid stood there, fidgeting nervously, not daring to meet my eyes. “Ma’am… your things have been moved to the backyard storage room. Miss Montgomery said… she said the master bedroom will have a new mistress soon, so we had to clear it out immediately.” I smiled faintly. Four years of marriage, and I wasn’t even allowed a decent departure. I turned and walked toward the storage shed in the backyard. Pushing the door open, I saw boxes stacked upon boxes, trash bags piled high. I knelt down and began rummaging through them one by one. Nothing else mattered, but I had to find my mother’s antique sapphire bracelet. It was passed down from my grandmother to my mother, and then to me… It was the only thing in this godforsaken house that truly belonged to me. Finally, I found it at the very bottom of a dusty box. Clutching the velvet pouch tightly in my palm, I let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief. Just as I was about to grab a few changes of clothes, a childish voice came from the doorway. “What are you doing?” I turned around. Leo was standing at the door. He looked exactly like Austin, but his arrogant, condescending posture was a carbon copy of Sienna’s. “Getting my things,” I said quietly, turning back to my packing. Usually, even if he pushed me away, I would rush to hug and kiss him. But this time, I was completely numb. “Those are not your things.” Seeing me ignore him, he stormed inside. He stomped his dirty shoe right onto my scattered clothes. “Auntie Sienna said everything in this house belongs to Daddy. You are not allowed to take a single thing.” I paused. “These are my personal belongings.” “You bought them with Daddy’s money,” he said, putting his hands behind his back. “Daddy’s money belongs to the Vance family. Strangers have no right to it.” A stranger? I looked up at him. My four-year-old son was standing over me, looking at me as if I were a thief. The coldness in his eyes was even worse than Austin’s. “I’m only taking one thing,” I said, clutching the sapphire bracelet. “The rest can stay.” “No!” He stepped forward, blocking the doorway with his arms spread wide. “You can’t steal from the Vances!” “Leo, move.” “No!” he shouted. “You’re a beggar! A thief! Auntie Sienna said once you leave, you can never come back. If you do, you’re just here to steal!” My temples throbbed painfully. “I’m telling you one last time, move.” “No! Give it to me!” He lunged forward, grabbing the velvet pouch in my hand. I instinctively pulled back, and the pouch ripped open. The antique sapphire bracelet slipped out, hitting the concrete floor. The delicate gold chain snapped, and the small diamonds framing the sapphire shattered into pieces. I froze, staring at the ruins. I remembered the day my mother put this bracelet on my wrist. She had said, “Elena, this has been in our family for six generations. Pass it down to your daughter, or your daughter-in-law…” I had no daughter. And I would never have a daughter-in-law. I only had this bracelet. It survived six generations, only to be shattered by my own son.

Leo stood beside me, suddenly murmuring under his breath: “It’s your fault for not letting go…” My eyes welled with tears as I looked at him. “I told you, this was the only thing my mother left me.” “Do you even know why your mother is rotting in that hospice care?” Leo blinked, taking a step back. “I don’t have a grandma. I only know she’s a money-draining old hag…” The blood rushed to my head. “Auntie Sienna said she stays in such an expensive room, wasting Daddy’s money when she can’t even be cured. She’s just a black hole for money—” “Say that again.” My voice changed. It was so cold and hollow, even I didn’t recognize it. Leo was startled by my expression. He bit his lip but forced himself to yell, “She is a money-draining old hag! What are you gonna—ah!” I shoved him. His foot caught on a box, and he fell backward onto his butt. He froze for a second, then burst into loud, dramatic wails. “Daddy! Daddy!” I stood there, my palms completely numb. Looking at my crying son on the floor, the words “money-draining old hag” echoed in my ears. That “old hag” was my mother. His grandmother. She was the one who, despite just undergoing major surgery, spent nights hand-knitting a baby blanket for him when he was born. She was the one who, every year on his birthday, would call from the hospice, begging the nurse to read her birthday wishes to him. And he called her a money-draining old hag. The sharp edges of the broken diamonds dug into my palm. The pain cleared my head. Austin rushed in, seeing Leo crying on the floor. He knelt down and scooped him up. “Leo, what happened?” Leo buried his face in Austin’s chest, sobbing hysterically. “Daddy! She pushed me! Kick her out! I want Auntie Sienna…” Austin held him, glaring at me. His eyes were filled with absolute disgust. “Elena, have you lost your mind? You’re physically abusing a child now?!” “I didn’t abuse him,” I said quietly. “I just shoved him.” “Is there a difference?!” I looked down at the broken pieces of my mother’s bracelet in my hand. “Yes,” I said. “Abusing him would be me trying to discipline him as his mother. Shoving him was just him getting what he deserved.” Austin stunned, looking down at his son. Leo shrank into his father’s arms, his crying softening into a whimper. “But I was just telling the truth… Auntie Sienna said that old woman is just wasting Daddy’s money…” Austin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why are you picking a fight with a toddler?” He shot me an annoyed look. “Sienna manages our family finances now. She was just stating a financial fact, and Leo overheard it. Don’t blow things out of proportion.” “You have no idea how much she stresses over managing this estate.” He glanced at the broken jewelry in my hand. His tone softened slightly, though his annoyance remained. “I brought Leo here today so we could have a proper talk. But about the… other thing, let’s keep it from him for now. I don’t want it affecting his mental health.” I knew he was talking about the divorce. I remained silent. A proper talk? About what? In our four years of marriage, the amount of time he and Leo spent talking to me wouldn’t even add up to half of what he shared with Sienna. Back in college, he was the one who pursued me relentlessly, breaking down my walls. Even without that “accidental pregnancy,” I had already gathered the courage to ignore our social class difference and say yes to him. Looking back, I wished I had never agreed. My mother was still lying in that hospice, waiting for me to visit. With that thought, I grabbed my bag and walked out of the shed.

In the living room, Sienna was kneeling in front of Leo, gently consoling him. I walked past them, expressionless. Behind me, Leo wailed louder, “Why is that bad woman ignoring me?!” He stomped his feet, throwing a tantrum. He was used to me immediately crying, hugging him, and apologizing every time he threw a fit. So when I didn’t even spare him a glance, he felt wronged. Austin said nothing, but I could feel the icy glare burning holes in my back. I didn’t stop. Just as I reached for the front door, his furious voice boomed through the hall: “Stop right there!” I paused. “Come back here and apologize to Leo,” he demanded. “You shoved him. You scared him.” I closed my eyes. Realizing this would probably be the last time we ever spoke, I didn’t want to waste energy arguing. I walked back and knelt in front of Leo. “I’m sorry,” I said, looking into his eyes one last time. “I shouldn’t have shoved you.” Leo sniffled, and suddenly, he spat right in my face. The warm saliva slid down my cheek. He said in his cute, childish voice, “Dirty woman. You deserve it.” Austin watched coldly, adding a flat remark: “You’re so busy sleeping around that even your own son can’t stand you.” I slowly raised my hand, wiping my cheek. I let out a soft laugh. “Me? Sleeping around?” These three “affairs” were set up so poorly. Did he honestly not see the loopholes? Or maybe he did, but chose to ignore them because he wanted an excuse. Fine. If that’s what he believed, so be it. “We’ve been married for four years, Austin, and you’ve been parading around with her for four years!” “You even sent my son to stay at her place. Who is the one sleeping around here?” “We’re getting a divorce. Can we stop lying to ourselves?” Sienna’s face drained of color. Tears welled up in her eyes instantly. “Elena, how could you slander me like this? Austin, I…” “Elena, it’s been four years. Are you ever going to stop this drama?” Austin glared at me, taking a slow step forward. “Fine. Since you’re so convinced we’re sleeping together…” He grabbed my wrist, dragging me toward the bedroom. The moment the door slammed shut, he pinned me down, took off his silk tie, and bound my wrists tightly before tossing me onto the floor. Then he turned, pulling Sienna into his arms, leaning close to her ear. “Do you want me?” Sienna gasped softly, then wrapped her arms around his neck. “Austin, I’ve waited so long for this…” The two of them immediately began tearing at each other’s clothes, shedding them onto the carpet. I bit my lip so hard it bled, my voice scraping out of my throat: “Austin, we’re getting a divorce! You can do whatever you want later! Why do you have to humiliate me like this?!” He paused, his hand gripping my jaw tightly. “Humiliate you? Elena, do you really think you still have any dignity left to be humiliated?” “Austin, don’t get distracted…” Sienna wrapped herself around him from behind, blowing softly against his neck. He let go of me, turning back to sink into her embrace. I closed my eyes, tears silent and bitter, running down my face. Suddenly, my phone, which had fallen onto the carpet, began to vibrate. It was my mother’s number. I struggled, dragging myself across the floor to answer it with my chin. But it wasn’t my mother. It was the frantic voice of her nurse: “Elena! You need to get here right now! Your mother heard rumors that you’re getting a divorce. She thinks she’s a burden to you and has climbed onto the roof of the hospice—” “What?!” “She said… “static”…”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “435693”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

“Don’t touch me. You make me sick.” The moment he drove that knife into my chest for another woman, I knew our five years together had come to an end. Alexander Sterling—the man who had deceived me with a fake marriage certificate for three whole years—was now holding his first love after her suicide attempt, screaming at me. “Emily! Will you only be satisfied after you drive her to her death?” The wail of police sirens grew louder outside. I touched the bleeding cut along my neck and smiled. So, in his eyes, I wasn’t even worth believing over a liar. What a pity he had forgotten one thing. I was never the kind of woman who stayed behind, waiting for someone to turn back. Since you refuse to believe me, then I’ll make sure you never find me again. Emily’s POV The espresso machine let out a long, low hiss as the rich, dark aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the cozy space behind the counter. I kept my eyes down, carefully pouring the steamed milk into the cup. With a gentle flick of my wrist, a perfect tulip patterned in the foam. “Wow, Emily. Your hands are so steady,” Amy, our college-student part-timer, said with pure envy in her voice. I set the cup on the counter, grabbed a clean towel to wipe my hands, and said nothing. My hands were steady. Even half an hour ago, when the clerk at the County Clerk’s Office looked at me with pity and said those words, my hands hadn’t shaken once. “Ms. Carter, we’ve searched the county’s marriage database. There is no record of a marriage registration between you and Mr. Alexander Sterling.” “In fact, public records show that Mr. Sterling legally married a Ms. Sophia Delaney just twenty days ago.” Five years. I had been with Alexander for five whole years. Just three days ago, when he handed me that beautiful, fancy-printed marriage certificate, the warmth in his eyes was enough to drown me. He had whispered, “Emily, you’re finally Mrs. Sterling.” Then, he immediately took the certificate back, saying he’d keep it safe until they could get a certified copy made. If I hadn’t needed the original certified copy to apply for my visa for the barista exchange program in France, I might have gone my entire life without knowing the truth. The chime above the door cut through my thoughts. Alexander Sterling walked in, bathed in the warm afternoon sunlight. He was wearing a perfectly tailored dark gray suit. He was tall, handsome, and carried himself with the effortless confidence of old money. The moment he stepped inside, half the customers in the shop turned to look at him. I stared at his familiar face, trying to find a single crack, a single hint of guilt. Nothing. He was still the same, composed, rational, and radiating that subtle, upper-class aloofness. “How did the visa application go?” Alexander walked up to the counter, naturally reaching out to cup my cheek. I tilted my head slightly, dodging his hand. His hand froze in mid-air, and his brows furrowed slightly. “What’s wrong? Is the shop too busy? Are you tired?” “I couldn’t apply,” I said, looking straight into his eyes. My voice was completely flat. “The clerk at the County Clerk’s Office said our marriage certificate doesn’t exist in their system.” Alexander’s pupils contracted instantly. But in a split second, he let out a soft laugh and shoved his hands into his pockets. “It must be a database glitch. You know how slow and buggy government systems are. I’ll have my assistant look into it tomorrow. Let me take care of the paperwork from now on so you don’t lose anything.” He lied without even blinking. The very last spark of hope in my heart died quietly in the face of his casual cover-up. “Alexander,” I said his name softly. “Have you been really tired lately?” “It’s the end of the fiscal year. The firm has a lot of loose ends to tie up. So yeah, a little,” he replied casually, his eyes already drifting toward the window. Right then, a white Porsche pulled up right in front of the cafe. The door opened, and a woman in a soft white knit dress stepped out. She looked delicate, fragile, and utterly elegant. She walked straight in, came up to Alexander, and naturally wrapped her arm around his. “Alexander, is this the cafe your girlfriend owns?” She smiled at me, but her eyes held a cold, patronizing judgment. “Hi, I’m Sophia Delaney. Alexander talks about you all the time.” I looked at her hand resting on his arm. Sophia Delaney. The first love Alexander had chased for three years, only for her to run off to the UK and marry someone else the day after they officially started dating. Twenty days ago, Sophia returned to the country, and Alexander legally married her. Three days ago, Alexander handed me a fake marriage certificate. How pathetic. Amy stood there, completely dazed. She stammered, “Mr. Sterling? Who is…” Alexander quietly pulled his arm out of Sophia’s grasp. His voice was completely calm. “She’s just an old friend. She’s going through a tough time, and I’m helping her out.” Sophia didn’t seem mad at all. Instead, her smile grew sweeter. She leaned against the counter, staring at the nametag on my apron. “Emily, since I’m a close friend of Alexander’s, do I get a discount on my coffee today?”

Emily’s POV “A discount?” I repeated the word, letting out a cold laugh. “We don’t do that here. That’ll be eight dollars. Cash or card?” Sophia’s smile stiffened. She immediately turned to Alexander, her eyes filling with instant tears of victimization. “Alexander… did I say something wrong to upset Emily? I was just kidding…” Alexander’s frown deepened. He pulled out his wallet, grabbed a black card, and handed it to Amy. His voice carried a hint of sternness directed at me. “Emily, Sophia just got back to the country and is going through a lot. Don’t take it out on her.” The way he spoke her name was so gentle. I passed him the receipt without a single expression on my face. “Here. There are two orders ahead of yours. Please wait.” I turned my back to them and started pulling espresso shots, refusing to give them another second of my attention. I could practically feel Alexander staring at my back, his frown deepening. He was probably wondering why the sweet, compliant Emily wasn’t being sweet today. For the past five years, no matter how late he came home, I would leave a light on and warm up a cup of milk for him. But that was the past. Outside the counter, Sophia tugged at Alexander’s sleeve. “Alexander, does Emily misunderstand our relationship? Maybe I should just leave. I don’t want to come between you two.” “It’s not your fault,” Alexander said, patting her hand reassuringly. “She’s just tired today.” Once their coffee was ready, I had Amy serve it. I grabbed my phone and walked straight into the back breakroom. Closing the door behind me, I leaned against it and let out a long, shaky breath. I unlocked my phone, opened Snapchat, and sent a message. “Jenny, is that offer to partner up for your new shop in Seattle still open?” My phone buzzed almost instantly. “Of course it is! I’ve been begging you to come! But wait, didn’t you just get your marriage certificate? Is Alexander really going to let you go?” I stared at the screen, my fingers typing rapidly. “The wedding is off. I can leave anytime.” “Oh my god, yes! I’m flying back next week to wrap things up. I’ll come pick you up!” I locked my phone and took off my apron. Since Alexander had made his choice, there was no reason for me to stay here and be the joke of his story. When I went back out, Alexander and Sophia were already gone. At 10 PM, I finally dragged my exhausted body back to our shared apartment. The moment I pushed the door open, I heard the sound of rushing water from the bathroom. Alexander walked out after his shower, towel-drying his hair. His phone on the coffee table started buzzing. The screen lit up with an unsaved number. I was about to walk past to pour myself some water when Alexander rushed past me like a gust of wind. His shoulder slammed hard into mine. I lost my balance, and my leg scraped violently against the sharp glass corner of the coffee table. A sharp, agonizing pain shot up my leg. I gasped, tears immediately springing to my eyes. But Alexander didn’t even glance at me. He grabbed his phone and swiped to answer. His voice carried a frantic, gentle tone I had never heard before. “Sophia, don’t be scared. Lock your doors. I’m coming right now.” He hung up, grabbed his jacket from the couch, and headed straight for the door. As he walked past me, he threw a casual line over his shoulder. “Emergency at the office. Don’t wait up.” In the past, I would have stood up, fixed his collar, and warned him to drive safely. But tonight, I just sat on the floor, holding my bleeding leg, not even bothering to look up. The front door slammed shut, leaving the apartment in a deafening, dead silence. I dragged myself to get the first-aid kit and quietly patched up my wound. Once that was done, I walked into the master bedroom, pulled out a large suitcase, and started packing. The jewelry Alexander had bought me, the matching mugs we picked out together, the scrapbook I had stayed up nights making for our wedding… Anything I couldn’t carry, or anything that had to do with him, I threw straight into a large black trash bag. It took me three hours. The once cozy, warm bedroom was now half-empty. At 2 AM, the smart lock beeped. Alexander walked in, bringing the cold night air with him. He pushed the bedroom door open. When his eyes landed on the empty vanity and the bare shelves, he froze. “Emily, what are you doing in the middle of the night?” He stared at the black trash bags in the corner. It took him several seconds to find his voice. “Where did all your stuff go?”

Emily’s POV I folded the last sweater, packed it into the suitcase, and zipped it shut. Standing up, my voice was as calm as if I were talking about the weather. “Just clearing out some old junk to throw away tomorrow. It was taking up too much space.” Alexander stood at the doorway, watching me with a tight frown. “Stop messing around and go to sleep. The photographer is coming early tomorrow for our engagement shoot. Don’t be late.” He pulled off his tie and walked into the bathroom. I watched his back, finding the whole thing incredibly hilarious. He had legally married someone else, yet he still wanted to take engagement photos with me? How did he even have the nerve? The next morning, I carried the black trash bags out. Alexander actually reached out to take them. “These are heavy. What’s inside? Let me throw them out for you.” He reached to open the bag. I placed my cold hand over his, stopping him. “Just old, useless trash. It’s dirty.” He didn’t think twice about it and tossed them into the dumpster downstairs. Watching five years of memories go down the garbage chute actually made it easier to breathe. The photographer met us in a historic district downtown. The makeup artist was already waiting in a van to do my hair and makeup. I changed into a dress I brought myself and stood on the cobblestone street, waiting for the shoot to start. On the way over, Alexander had stopped by a boutique and bought a dress for me. It was cream-colored, with vintage lace and a soft, ruffled hem. “Wear this one,” he said, handing it to me with absolute certainty. “You’ll look beautiful in it.” I took it and stared at it for a second. The style of this dress was almost identical to the white knit dress Sophia had worn yesterday. They looked like they came from the same wardrobe. I didn’t even have the energy to argue. I went back into the van and changed. Before the camera could even click, Alexander’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen, his face changing instantly. He walked off to the side to take the call. A few minutes later, he walked back with a guilty expression. “Emily, there’s an absolute emergency at the firm. I have to go. We’ll do your solo shots today, and we can reschedule the couple shots later.” The photographer and makeup artist exchanged awkward glances. Who leaves their fiancée alone during an engagement shoot? But I just nodded. “Sure. Go do what you need to do.” Alexander seemed surprised by how easygoing I was. A flash of guilt crossed his eyes, and he reached out to pat my head. “I’m sorry. Once this busy season is over, I’ll take you to Hawaii for a proper honeymoon.” “No need,” I said, dodging his hand and turning toward the photographer. “Go. Don’t let me hold you up.” After Alexander left, I finished the entire shoot by myself. Standing alone on the cobblestone street, looking down to fix my hair, holding the bouquet. The photographer kept praising me, saying, “So natural!” and “Perfect!” I smiled on cue, but I knew deep down that this “natural” look was just pure acting. When it was over, I changed into my normal clothes, wiped off the makeup, and took an Uber back to the apartment. As I reached the door, the smell of food greeted me. I pushed the door open, and the scene inside made me freeze. Sophia was wearing one of Alexander’s white dress shirts, the sleeves rolled up several times. Her hair was up in a messy bun, and she was carrying a pan out of the kitchen. Seeing me, Sophia didn’t look flustered at all. Instead, she flashed a warm, hostess-like smile. “Oh, Emily’s back! Alexander said you’d be starving after shooting all day, so he asked me to whip up some dinner.” Alexander walked in from the balcony. When he saw me, a brief flash of awkwardness crossed his face. “Sophia’s apartment had a major pipe burst, and her landlord is fixing it. She has nowhere else to go, so I told her she could stay in the guest room for a few days.” “Is that so?” I kicked off my shoes, not even glancing at the food on the table. “Enjoy your dinner. I’m going to bed.” I walked straight toward the guest room at the end of the hall to grab the charger I had left there last night. “Don’t go in there!” Alexander suddenly yelled, his voice laced with panic. But it was too late. I pushed the door open. Hanging on the wall right in front of me was a massive, professionally shot wedding portrait in a dark wooden frame. In the photo, Alexander was wearing a sharp black suit, and Sophia was in a stunning white bridal gown. They were sitting side by side, Sophia’s head resting gently on his shoulder, smiling like a dream. In the bottom right corner was the date of the shoot: exactly twenty days ago. I stared at the photo, my nails digging deep into my palms to suppress the rising urge to throw up.

Emily’s POV “Emily, let me explain.” Alexander rushed over and grabbed my wrist. “The photo isn’t what you think. Sophia’s family was forcing her to marry some creepy older guy who wouldn’t stop stalking her. We only took these photos to make her family back off and help her escape.” Playing along was an excuse. Taking wedding photos was an excuse. And bringing her into the apartment we were supposed to share as husband and wife was also just an excuse. I violently shook his hand off, my eyes cold as ice. “Alexander, don’t touch me. You make me sick.” In five years, this was the first time I had ever spoken to him with such venom. Alexander looked as if he had been stabbed. He froze completely. He opened his mouth to say something, but Sophia suddenly ran out of the living room. Her eyes were red, and tears were streaming down her face. “Emily, please don’t blame Alexander. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have been so shameless to crash here. I’ll leave right now…” She turned and ran toward the door. “Sophia!” Alexander grabbed her arm. “It’s the middle of the night, where are you going? That guy is still looking for you!” “Then let him find me!” Sophia sobbed hysterically, struggling to pull away. “I’m just a burden anyway! I’d rather die than ruin your relationship!” As she struggled, her hand knocked a ceramic vase off the side table. With a loud crash, the vase shattered into pieces on the floor. Sophia suddenly knelt down, picked up a sharp shard of ceramic, and without hesitation, brought it toward her wrist. “Sophia! Are you crazy?!” Alexander’s face turned pale. He lunged forward and knocked the shard out of her hand. But a thin line of blood was already forming on Sophia’s pale wrist. Alexander pressed down on her wound, turning to scream at me. “Emily! Are you happy now? Do you really have to drive her to suicide to be satisfied?!” I stood there quietly, watching Alexander’s bloodshot eyes and the veins popping on his neck. It felt incredibly absurd. “I drove her to this?” I let out a dry laugh. “Aren’t you?!” Alexander snapped. “She’s been pushed to the edge, and you don’t have an ounce of sympathy? You’re a woman too, how can you be so cold-blooded?!” He paused, his next words cutting deeper than any knife. “No wonder people say you were born heartless. When your mother died in that car crash, you didn’t even shed a single tear. I thought you just struggled to express your emotions, but now I see you simply don’t have a heart!” Those words ripped open the deepest scar in my soul. I was only fifteen when my mother died. I was in the passenger seat during the crash. The violent impact had caused temporary hearing loss and left me in extreme shock. I physically couldn’t cry. That was the most painful memory of my life. I had once bared that wound to Alexander, and he had held me all night, comforting me. And now, he was using that very scar as a weapon to tear me apart in front of another woman. I closed my eyes, forcing the tears back down. “Yes, I have no heart,” I said, opening my eyes to look at him with dead silence. “So both of you can go die wherever you want. Just don’t get your blood on my floor.” Alexander stared at my indifferent face, his mouth opening as if to explain. But Sophia let out a painful gasp in his arms, instantly pulling his attention back. “I’m taking her to the ER,” Alexander gritted his teeth, lifting Sophia in his arms, and rushed out the door. The front door slammed shut again. I walked over to the broken ceramic shards and knelt down. The flowers I bought yesterday were crushed, mixed with water and blood on the floor. Without any expression, I grabbed a broom and swept the mess away. Then, I went into the master bedroom, dug into the bottom drawer, and pulled out a photo. It was a photo of Alexander and me from our first year together. He had his chin on my shoulder, smiling like a boy who had just won the lottery. I took a pair of scissors and cut right down the middle, separating us. I tossed Alexander’s half straight into the trash can.

Emily’s POV Alexander didn’t come back all night. I was glad for the peace. I packed up almost everything that belonged to me, just waiting for Jenny to pick me up next week. The next day, I slept until noon, woken up by the clanging of pots and pans in the kitchen. I walked out of the bedroom and saw Alexander wearing an apron, busy at the stove. A pot of soup was bubbling, filling the air with a rich aroma. Hearing me, he turned around, a hint of awkwardness and pleading in his eyes. “You’re awake? I made some seafood chowder. Have a bowl later.” He walked over, trying to hold my hand. “I was too rash last night. I said things I shouldn’t have. Please don’t take it to heart.” I stepped back, looking at the shrimp and scallops bubbling in the pot. “Seafood chowder?” “Yeah. Sophia lost some blood, and the doctor said she needs protein. I remember you like soup too…” I looked at him and suddenly smiled. “Alexander, we’ve been together for five years. Do you even remember that I’m severely allergic to seafood?” Three years ago, Alexander took me to a sushi place. I had one bite of sea urchin and broke out in hives, which triggered an acute asthma attack that put me in the hospital for three days. Since then, no seafood was ever allowed in our apartment. Alexander froze, his face turning pale. “Emily… I… I forgot. I’m so sorry! I’ll throw it out and make something else right now!” He frantically turned off the stove, almost burning himself in the process. “No need,” I said, turning toward the bathroom. “Save it for Sophia. I don’t deserve it.” “Emily!” Alexander chased after me, blocking my path. “Do you have to be so sarcastic? I already apologized, what more do you want? I’ve already told Sophia she needs to move out once she heals. Can you please just be the bigger person?” “I am being the bigger person,” I said, looking up at him. “She can stay as long as she wants. I won’t interfere.” Alexander stared at my calm, emotionless eyes, his brows furrowed. He seemed to be searching for any sign of jealousy or hurt. Before he could say anything, my phone rang. It was Amy from the shop, saying the espresso machine was acting up and asking if I could come take a look. I hung up, put on my shoes, and left without giving him another glance. For the next few days, I left early and came back late, basically living at the cafe. Every time I went back to the apartment, Alexander was either peeling fruit for Sophia or watching TV with her. The atmosphere between them was so comfortable they looked like the actual married couple. I ignored them completely and went straight to my room to sleep. Until Sunday night. I got home after closing the shop and heard laughter coming from the living room. Along with Alexander and Sophia, there were a few of Alexander’s college buddies. “Oh, Emily’s back!” one of his friends stood up to greet me, but his expression was incredibly awkward. Sophia was sitting incredibly close to Alexander, her hand practically resting on his thigh. I gave a curt nod and headed toward my room. “Emily, since you’re back, come sit with us,” Alexander called out. “We’re celebrating Sophia getting discharged today.” I stopped in my tracks. Celebrating Sophia’s discharge, in my apartment? I turned around, looking at the group of uncomfortable faces, before letting my gaze settle on Alexander. “Sure.” I walked over and sat on the single armchair. The room fell into a dead silence. One of his friends, trying to break the tension, joked, “Man, Alex, you’re living the dream. You chased Sophia for so long back in college, and now look at you guys. Still as close as ever.” The moment those words left his mouth, the room went ice-cold. Sophia blushed and looked down, whispering, “Don’t say that. Alexander has a girlfriend now. I just view him as family.” “Family?” I let out a soft laugh. It wasn’t loud, but everyone heard it clearly. “What kind of family? The kind that brings you to live in his marital home, or the kind that takes wedding photos with you?”

Emily’s POV The living room went dead silent. His friends stared at me, holding their breath. No one expected me to put it out in the open like this. Alexander’s face darkened instantly. He stood up abruptly. “Emily, what nonsense are you talking about?!” “Nonsense?” I leaned back against the chair, looking completely relaxed, though my eyes were like ice. “Do you want me to bring out the wedding photo from the guest room for everyone to see?” Sophia’s face drained of color, and her eyes welled up with tears. “Emily, why are you doing this to me? Alexander was only trying to help…” She covered her face and started sobbing. “Enough!” Alexander yelled, pointing a finger at me. “Emily, you are being completely unreasonable! How many times do I have to tell you it was fake? Do you have to embarrass me in front of my friends like this?” “I’m embarrassing you?” I stood up, staring him down. “Alexander, you brought her into my home. You hung that photo in the guest room. And now you’re blaming me for making a scene? You have the guts to do it, but not the balls to admit it?” “You.” Furious, Alexander raised his hand high. I didn’t even flinch. I just stared at him coldly. “Do it. Hit me, and these five years are officially over.” Alexander’s hand froze in mid-air. I locked eyes with him, refusing to look away for even a second. A few seconds later, he gritted his teeth and slowly let his hand drop. He pulled at his collar in frustration. “You guys should leave. Sorry about tonight.” His friends quickly stood up and practically ran out the door. Once the door shut, only the three of us were left in the living room. Sophia cried harder, tugging at Alexander’s shirt. “Alexander, I’ll leave. I’ll leave right now. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this…” “Why are you leaving?!” Frustrated, Alexander pushed her back down onto the couch. “This is my place. Let’s see who dares to kick you out!” Watching this drama unfold, I only felt amused. “Since she’s not leaving, I am.” I turned, walked into the bedroom, and dragged out my pre-packed suitcase. Seeing the suitcase, Alexander’s expression completely changed. It was as if he finally realized what I had been doing the past few days. “Where do you think you’re going?” Alexander rushed over, grabbing the handle of my suitcase. His voice was much tighter than usual. “Let go.” “No! Emily, don’t overreact. I told you, nothing is going on between Sophia and me. Once her situation is resolved, we’ll get married immediately!” “Alexander, do you honestly think I’m that stupid?” I let out a cold laugh. “Would a man bring a woman he doesn’t care about into his home? Would he let her wear his shirt? Would he abandon his girlfriend in the middle of the night to comfort her? Is it really just sympathy?” Alexander froze. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Looking at his reaction, the very last piece of my heart shattered into dust. “See? You can’t even lie to yourself,” I said, yanked the suitcase out of his grip. “We’re done. I’ll mail you the keycard.” “No! I don’t agree!” Panicking, Alexander wrapped his arms around me from behind. “Emily, I was wrong. I won’t talk to her anymore, okay? Just don’t leave…” Right then, Sophia let out a sharp scream, rolling off the couch and curling up on the floor, clutching her stomach. “It hurts… Alexander, my stomach hurts so bad.” Alexander’s body stiffened. He instinctively let go of me and rushed over to her. “Sophia. What’s wrong?” “I don’t know… it hurts…” Sweat was pouring down Sophia’s face as she clutched his arm tightly. Alexander scooped her up, giving me a highly complex look. “Emily, wait for me. Wait for me to come back, and we’ll have a real talk.” With that, he ran out the door with her in his arms. I stood there alone as the cold night wind blew in through the open door, making me shiver. Wait for him? I pulled my suitcase and walked out into the night, never looking back. I would never wait for him.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “435694”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

On our wedding day, my bridesmaid decided to test Carter with three simple questions before the ceremony. I thought he’d ace them easily. I never expected him to get the very first one wrong. “What’s Chloe’s shoe size?” Without a second thought, he blurted out, “Size 6.” “What’s her favorite color?” “Blue.” An awkward silence fell over the bridal suite. Everyone exchanged nervous glances. He was wrong on both. Then came the final question: “What year did Chloe graduate from college?” Everyone relaxed, thinking there was no way he could mess this up. After all, we were college sweethearts. “2013,” Carter said confidently. “I made her a custom pair of crystal heels as a graduation gift that year. I’m 100% sure.” My gaze drifted to Hailey, my maid of honor, who was wearing a dusty blue bridesmaid dress and sparkling crystal heels. She bit her lip, whispering to Carter in a small, tense voice: “Chloe graduated in 2012. I was the one who graduated in 2013.” In that split second, everything clicked. The last lingering doubt in my heart vanished. I let out a cold, quiet laugh, looked down at my phone, and texted my parents: “Mom, Dad, get the car ready. I’m calling off the wedding.”

The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. “My bad. I mixed up the years. It was 2012,” Carter corrected himself coldly, acting as if it was no big deal. Hailey quickly forced a smile to break the tension. “Chloe, Carter’s just been super stressed about the wedding planning lately. It’s normal to get a little confused. Don’t make a scene. All our friends and family are waiting downstairs.” Instantly, the other bridesmaids chimed in, trying to appease me. “Yeah, babe, it’s your big day! Smile a little!” “You can punish him tonight. Don’t let a silly mistake ruin the ceremony!” They all thought I was overreacting. But only I knew that Carter had changed. Years ago, if I so much as frowned, he would immediately panic, doing whatever it took—buying me gifts, telling stupid jokes—just to make me smile. But now, his eyes were glued to my best friend, and he couldn’t seem to look away. “Fine. Let’s go,” I said. I didn’t want to make things awkward for the guests who had flown in from across the country. I followed the itinerary and let Carter carry me out to the car. As he lifted me, he laughed and said, “Have you been stress-eating lately? You definitely feel heavier than 110 lbs.” 110 lbs. That was Hailey’s weight. She had just bragged about it on her Ins story yesterday. “Have you been carrying someone who weighs 110 lbs lately?” I asked casually. Carter stiffened. He quickly shook his head. “Of course not. Don’t be paranoid.” Right then, Hailey jumped in, eager to clarify. “Oh, actually, I’m 120 lbs now, so it’s definitely not me!” I looked down, hiding my mock scoff. Guilty people always scream the loudest. But I didn’t call them out. I wanted to see how long they could keep up this pathetic show. Inside the cramped sports car, Hailey insisted on squeezing in, sitting right between Carter and me. “You don’t mind, do you, Chloe? The other shuttle cars are totally full. Let’s just squeeze.” I didn’t say a word. The entire ride, Hailey chattered away, looking far more excited than the actual bride. And Carter answered her every word. It made me feel like the third wheel at my own wedding. As we rounded a corner, Hailey suddenly tapped Carter’s shoulder. “Carter, I’m dying for those honey lavender cupcakes from that bakery uptown.” “Sure, I’ll grab some for you.” With that, Carter spun the steering wheel, taking a sharp turn in the exact opposite direction of the wedding venue. My brows furrowed. “Carter, stop. We don’t have time.” “That bakery is ten miles away. The ceremony starts in an hour. We’re going to be late.” He glared at me through the rearview mirror. “It’s on the way! Buying cupcakes takes two minutes. You’re just being petty because of those trivia questions.” I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, clenching my fists to keep from crying. When he got my graduation year wrong and I stayed quiet, I was “ruining the mood.” But when Hailey wanted cupcakes from across town, it was “on the way.” Fine. If he wasn’t in a rush, neither was I. After all, I had no intention of marrying him anyway. My phone buzzed. A text from my parents: “Sweetheart, the SUV is parked by the side entrance of the venue. We’re ready when you are.”

I don’t care for sweets, so I just stood near the bakery entrance, watching them. The baker was incredibly friendly and offered Hailey a sample of their new flavor. “Haven’t seen you and your boyfriend in a while!” “You guys look so fancy today. Going to a gala?” Hailey blushed, pointing a manicured finger toward me. “Oh, no! It’s my best friend’s wedding today. I’m her maid of honor.” The baker’s smile froze. He looked back and forth between the three of us, his expression turning highly uncomfortable. “Oh, my bad,” he apologized awkwardly. “You two come in for afternoon tea so often, I just assumed you were a couple.” “I didn’t realize there was a third party.” The “third party” he was referring to was, without a doubt, me. I waited for Carter to speak up and defend me. But he didn’t. He didn’t care at all. Instead, he bought every single flavor of cupcakes they had, walking out with three giant shopping bags. I made one passing comment: “Don’t waste food if you can’t finish them.” And just like that, Hailey burst into tears. “Chloe… I know this isn’t about the cupcakes,” she sobbed, sounding incredibly fragile. “You’re just mad because Carter spent money on me.” “I’m so sorry.” She shakily pulled two hundred-dollar bills from her purse and tried to force them into my hand. That was the final straw for Carter’s patience. His jaw tightened, and he looked at me with pure disgust. “Chloe, do you have any sense of the bigger picture?” “It’s our wedding day, and you’re choosing now to throw a tantrum? Hailey is your best friend. It’s completely normal for me to buy her some treats.” Normal? I looked at her. I wanted to laugh. The LV bag on her shoulder, the Cartier necklace she was wearing, the designer heels on her feet—Carter had bought every single one of them. Meanwhile, in our seven years of dating, the most expensive gift I had ever received from him was a electric toothbrush. Even the outdated wedding dress I was wearing today was a cheap rental I paid for myself. I had never asked Carter for a single dime. I used to think that by not caring about his money, I would get his pure, unadulterated love. How naive. In the end, I got neither. “Carter, don’t blame Chloe,” Hailey pleaded, playing the saint. “It’s her first time being a bride, so she’s probably just anxious. Please don’t fight because of me. You know my parents got a messy divorce, and all I want is for you guys to be happy.” I stared at Hailey. In that moment, my heart felt like it was being stabbed by a thousand needles. The year her parents divorced, she couldn’t sleep for months. I was the one who stayed up with her, cooked for her, washed her clothes, and held her hand through her darkest times. I never expected her to stab me in the back like this. “Yeah, whatever you say,” I murmured. It took me a long time to pull myself out of my memories. By the time my vision cleared, the tears on my face had already dried. Back in the car, silence fell over us. But it didn’t last long because Hailey… was thirsty again. “Carter, these cupcakes are kind of dry. I really need an iced matcha latte.” Her voice got quieter with every word, her eyes darting to my face to check my reaction. But my face was blank. Carter hesitated for a second. “Hailey, we are… actually running really late.” “But,” he quickly pivoted, “if you’re thirsty, let’s grab one fast.” Just then, Carter’s phone started ringing off the hook. “Carter! Where the hell are you?” “The guests are all seated! We’re just waiting on you and Chloe!” Carter ignored the calls, hit the gas, and sped toward the nearest Starbucks.

When he and Hailey came back to the car, there was a bright red mark on Carter’s neck. Noticing my stare, panic flashed through his eyes, and he quickly covered it with his hand. “The bugs around here are crazy…” Hailey blushed and nodded. “Yeah, Chloe, the mosquitoes are so bad. You don’t think it’s something else, do you?” I shook my head. “Must be a really desperate female mosquito. Biting people like a shameless animal.” Their faces instantly turned pale. “Excuse me, I need a cigarette,” Carter muttered, stepping out of the car. A few yards away from the car, Carter looked incredibly anxious. He whispered to Hailey, “Do you think… she knows?” Hailey took the cigarette right out of his mouth and took a drag. “No way. She loves you too much. Even if she suspects something, she’ll forgive you.” “I know her. She’s soft-hearted. Years ago, when I got dumped, she literally skipped her finals and flew a thousand miles just to comfort me.” “I didn’t want to hurt her either, but… I fell for you.” Her sweet words were too much for Carter. He blushed all the way down to his collar. I watched them through the tinted car window. Their silhouettes, stretched by the afternoon sun, looked so intimate. The two people I loved most in the world had hurt me the deepest. I had spent years catering to them. It was time to wake up. I looked down and called the HR director of my family’s conglomerate, Vance Group. “Hi, Audrey. You asked me what I wanted as a wedding gift, right?” “I want you to fire Hailey. Effective immediately.” Because she had failed multiple classes in college, Hailey couldn’t find a decent job after graduation. I practically begged my father to pull strings and get her into Vance Group. In just three years, she went from a receptionist to a junior project manager, her salary jumping from $40k to $150k. I paved every single step of her career. But to protect her fragile ego, I kept my family’s identity a secret, letting her believe she achieved it all on her own merit. Now, it was time to take back what was mine. When Carter got back in the car, perhaps out of guilt, he handed me a cup of black coffee. “I grabbed this while waiting for the matcha. I know you hate sweet drinks.” I didn’t take it. He shook the cup, getting annoyed. “Take it. We don’t have time for this.” I ignored him. “Are you seriously still throwing a fit over some cupcakes and matcha?” “She’s your best friend! Are you even human, being this jealous of her?” Carter was always so incredibly harsh with me. He would never dream of speaking to Hailey like this. “Chloe, I’ve been exhausted for weeks planning this wedding. Can you please grow up? Don’t make me deal with your attitude on my wedding day.” I nodded, swallowing my tears. “Thank you.” My voice was polite, cold, and distant. But it seemed to reassure Carter. He relaxed, turned on the radio, and laughed with Hailey all the way to the venue. He didn’t notice the black Maybach parked near the side entrance of the hotel. He should have recognized the license plate—it belonged to my family. But his eyes were only on Hailey, who had just tripped on her dress. “Hailey! Are you okay?” Hailey pouted, looking pitiful. “This bridesmaid dress is too long. I tripped.” Carter shot me a glaring look. “This is your fault. Why did you have to pick such a long style?” He forgot that Hailey was the one who insisted on this specific design. “She’s hurt. I’ll carry her to the bridal suite first. Find your own way up.” Before I could answer, he swept Hailey into his arms and walked straight toward the elevator.

I gathered up my heavy train and slowly made my way to the bridal suite. I could have left right then. But if I was going to run, I had to take my makeup artist with me. I was the one paying her, after all. When I finally pushed the door open, the scene inside shocked me. The celebrity makeup artist I had booked two years in advance was currently being scolded by Carter like a child. She looked like she was on the verge of tears. “Perfect timing,” Carter said, dumping a pile of cosmetics onto the vanity. “Hailey said you gave the artist a different contract. You used the premium, high-end products for yourself and left her with cheap, knockoff brands.” I stared at them, speechless. What kind of drama was this now? Hailey wiped her eyes, fake-apologizing. “I’m sorry, Chloe. I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t mean to steal your spotlight. I’ll just go wash my face. I can go bare-faced for the wedding, really!” I scoffed. “I never told the artist to do that, and I would never do something so petty.” But Carter didn’t believe me. He thought I was just acting out. “Chloe, this reverse psychology is getting pathetic. Do you really think playing hard to get is going to make me beg for your forgiveness?” I shook my head. “I don’t need you to beg.” “What is up with your attitude? Just because I got Hailey some treats, you do this? You made her cry! You need to apologize to her right now.” “Why should I apologize for something I didn’t do?” Frustrated, Carter gripped my shoulders. His grip was so tight it bruised. “Chloe, I don’t have time for your games. The ceremony starts in thirty minutes. Apologize now, or I’m calling off this wedding.” I smiled. For the first time today, a real smile spread across my face. Carter still thought he could threaten me. He had no idea I didn’t care anymore. “Okay.” My nonchalant response pissed him off even more. He was about to yell when Hailey quickly stopped him. “Carter, please don’t. It’s your wedding day.” “It’s all my fault. Go downstairs and greet the guests. I’ll handle things here.” Carter hesitated, then nodded. Before leaving, he gave me one last disappointed look. “Why can’t you be more mature like Hailey?” As soon as the door closed, I turned to my makeup artist and whispered a few words. She immediately started packing up her kit. Hailey, thinking we were just moving to another room, waved her hand dismissively. “Whatever, I don’t care. Let her get her makeup done first.” The makeup artist just rolled her eyes at Hailey’s delusion. Thirty minutes later, the grand ballroom was filled with music and laughter. The officiant gave a beautiful opening speech, then looked toward the grand entrance with excitement. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, please stand for our beautiful bride!” “Three…” Under the spotlight, Carter nervously adjusted his bow tie. “Two…” A bead of sweat rolled down his temple as he probably pictured our future together. “One…” The heavy doors swung open. But there was no one there. The officiant gasped, looking at Carter’s back, and whispered, “Where… where is the bride?” Carter spun around. The hallway was completely empty. In that moment, sheer panic set in.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “435687”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

My fiancé, Zachary, had a weird rule. He never picked up any phone calls after 9 PM. Even when we were head over heels in love. The second the clock struck nine, he would hang up on me without hesitation. One night, I was walking home late and realized someone was stalking me. Panicking, I called him. All I got was his extremely irritated voice through the speaker. “How old are you, Elena? Can you respect other people’s schedules? I’m hanging up.” That night, I spent hours at the police station making a report. I didn’t get home until the next morning. He didn’t even ask if I was okay. Until now. I was using his laptop and accidentally saw his call history synced from his phone. There was a call record from 9 PM to 9 AM the next day. A solid twelve hours. They called every single night, and it had been going on for five years. I knew that number. It belonged to his teaching assistant, Chloe. At that moment, my spine went cold. A wave of exhaustion washed over me. I sat there for a long time until my legs went numb. I silently closed the laptop, logged into my account, and canceled our appointment for the marriage license at City Hall. That call was never meant to light up for me. And I didn’t want to answer it anymore.

When the screen showed the cancellation was successful, Zachary walked out of the bathroom. Seeing me sitting there motionless, he glanced at the time and frowned. “Do you have something to say? It’s almost nine. I need to sleep.” I froze for two seconds, then shook my head. “Nothing.” He nodded. “Okay. Goodnight then.” He didn’t notice the change in my mood. He turned around and went back to his room. I stared into space for a bit. Just as I was about to stand up, his laptop screen lit up. A call from Chloe popped up on his phone and synced to the computer. And Zachary. The man who supposedly never took calls, never spoke, and never replied to messages after 9 PM—he answered it in a split second. He was so eager, as if terrified she would wait even a moment longer. I let out a mocking laugh. How sweet of him. Too bad his exception wasn’t me, his fiancée. I went back to the bedroom. Zachary had already closed his eyes, looking fast asleep. But this time, I noticed things I had never noticed before. For example, his phone was placed face down on the nightstand. And there was a tiny, barely noticeable black earbud in his right ear. I turned off the lights. In the darkness, I replied to the transfer notice my boss had sent me last week. I had declined it back then because I didn’t want to do long-distance with Zachary right after getting married. But now, it was over. My boss replied almost instantly. “Have you made up your mind, Elena? The State Department assignment at the Embassy in Paris is at least five years. If you’re sure, get your visa sorted. You leave in three days.” I typed back: “I’m sure. Thank you.” The man beside me was breathing softly. I figured Chloe must be feeling very safe and warm right now. The next morning, Zachary was standing in the walk-in closet. I got up and touched his phone. It was scorching hot. After packing the documents I needed for my visa, I glanced at him and headed for the door. As we brushed past each other, Zachary stopped me, looking confused. “Aren’t you going to tie my tie today?” I curled my lips into a small smile. “No. You should learn to do it yourself.” I paused. “Or ask your assistant to do it.” Zachary put his things down and walked over, looking at me with confusion. “Are you talking about Chloe?” Just mentioning her name softened his cold, serious face instantly. A warm smile flickered in his eyes. “She actually knows how to do it. She’s a very sweet and attentive girl. But what does that have to do with you tying my tie?” I stayed silent for two seconds. I didn’t even know where to start, so I didn’t bother explaining. “Nothing. I just don’t want to do it anymore.” Zachary pursed his lips, clearly annoyed. “Suit yourself. Oh, by the way, you don’t need to bring me lunch today. Chloe just text me. She said she’s bringing me something.” My hand froze on the doorknob. “Okay.” Zachary had severe stomach issues because of his stressful work, so no matter how busy I was, I used to cook for him every day. Well, this worked out great. I was more than happy to be free of the chore. I didn’t care about his feelings anymore. I opened the door and walked out. I went to the embassy and got my five-year work visa. Then I went to my office to collect my official transfer documents. Placing the papers in my bag, I looked at the cherry blossoms blooming outside the gates. For the first time in five years, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief.

On my way home, my boss called. He asked me to go to Columbia University’s literature department to pick up some research files for him. Hanging up, I sighed. I wanted to cut all ties with Zachary, yet he just had to be a professor at Columbia. When I arrived at the department, it was during the peak hour between classes. I couldn’t help but overhear the students talking. “I barely managed to grab a seat in Professor Miller’s class! He is so popular!” “I know, right? The girls go for Professor Miller, and most of the guys go for Chloe. Seriously, they look like a power couple.” My steps slowed down. A sudden wave of bitterness washed over me. In our five years together, Zachary had never once introduced me to his social circle. When we were deeply in love, I used to beg him to introduce me to his friends, or to post a picture of us on Instagram. But Zachary. The esteemed, serious literature professor, would always look at me like I was a spoiled child and scold me. “Elena, grow up.” “You’re not eighteen. Don’t worry about this superficial stuff. It doesn’t suit my professional image.” I had been stunned that day. And I never brought it up again. The girls next to me kept gossiping about Zachary and Chloe. “Honestly, Professor Miller’s profile says he’s engaged, but I bet it’s Chloe! Otherwise, why has no one ever seen his fiancée?” “Definitely. A guy that serious only smiles when Chloe is around.” Their voices faded as they walked away. My steps got slower and slower until I stopped by the corridor window. All the suppressed pain and humiliation of the past five years rushed over me. I took a deep breath. But it was fine. I had a way out. In three days, it would all be over. After picking up the files, I walked past the second faculty office and heard familiar laughter. “Try this! It’s seriously so good!” Through the crack in the door, I saw Chloe and Zachary sitting close together, eating breakfast. Chloe naturally held a strawberry milkshake up to his lips. Zachary hated milkshakes. Once, I made one for him, and he threw a massive fit and walked out, leaving me crying alone in the house. But now. He just frowned slightly, sighed helplessly at Chloe’s puppy-dog eyes, and drank it with pure indulgence. Chloe’s eyes sparkled. “How is it? Good?” Zachary nodded. “Not bad.” I let out a self-deprecating laugh. Behind my back, Zachary was actually capable of being this gentle and accommodating. I just had never seen this side of him in five years. Not even once. Inside the office, Zachary naturally took a napkin and wiped some crumbs from the corner of Chloe’s mouth, asking softly. “Did you sleep well last night? Any insomnia?” “Very well,” Chloe smiled. “You know I sleep like a baby as long as you’re on FaceTime with me.” She seemed to think of something. “But I heard you don’t take calls after 9 PM. Am I disturbing you?” Zachary replied without a second thought, “You are the exception.” Those four words. They twisted around my heart like thorny vines, making it hard to breathe. Hearing him say it with his own lips… After the initial suffocating pain, I just felt numb. Pulling out a thorn hurts, but once it’s out, time will heal the wound. I leaned against the wall, took a deep breath to clear my eyes, and walked away. When I got home, I pulled out my suitcase and started packing. After living here for five years, my belongings couldn’t even fill a single suitcase. In the evening, Zachary called. “Get ready to go downstairs. We’re having dinner at my mom’s place tonight.” “Okay,” I replied. When I reached his Maybach parked by the curb, I habitually opened the front passenger door. Only to find Chloe sitting there, eating a cupcake. “Hi, Elena!” Looking at the crumbs falling all over the leather seat, my first instinct was to look at Zachary. He absolutely detested anyone eating in his car. Especially me. But right now, his expression was completely calm, as if he was totally used to it. I suddenly realized. Ah, I almost forgot. Chloe was the exception in his life. Chloe hurriedly wiped her mouth and made a move to get up. “Maybe I should sit in the back, I…” I gave her a polite, calm smile. “It’s fine. You stay there. It’s just a seat.” I opened the back door and climbed in. I caught the brief flash of confusion in Zachary’s eyes. But I didn’t care. In the past, this had happened before. But every single time, Zachary would snap at me with annoyance. “Elena, it’s just a seat. Don’t make a big deal out of nothing.” Looking at the rain pattering against the window, I realized I didn’t feel sad or hurt anymore. The peace inside me was almost shocking. Yeah. It was just a seat. Just a man. To me, they were the same now. If they were dirty, I’d just throw them away.

When we arrived at the Miller estate, Mrs. Miller was waiting outside. Chloe hopped out of the car. She ran over and grabbed Mrs. Miller’s arm, acting cute. “Mrs. Miller! It’s so windy out here. Why did you come out? Let’s go inside.” Mrs. Miller smiled warmly. “I was waiting for you, darling. I felt so bad making you work under Zachary. He has such a difficult temper.” Chloe glanced at Zachary, who was standing nearby with a soft smile. Her ears turned slightly pink. “Professor Miller is great. I love working with him.” The two of them began walking inside. After walking a few steps, Mrs. Miller seemed to remember something and turned around. Her gaze cooled down when she saw me. “Oh, Elena is here too. Come in quickly, don’t freeze.” That was all she said. Zachary walked up to me, looking down with a frown. “Are you in a bad mood?” “No.” I just felt relieved. He pursed his lips. “If things are going badly at your work, I hope you don’t bring that attitude into my family’s home. I don’t want to deal with a sulking face all evening.” My hands clenched into fists at my sides, my palms stinging. It was hilarious. For a split second, I had actually wondered if he was asking out of concern. I stopped in my tracks. The love in my eyes was gone, replaced by absolute emptiness. “If I’m unhappy, I’ll show it. If you don’t like looking at my face, then don’t look.” “I am not your servant. I don’t exist to please you.” Zachary’s face hardened, his annoyance clear. “Elena, you are an adult. We are about to get married. I don’t want an emotionally unstable wife.” I let out a cold laugh. “Then who do you think fits your perfect standard?” He looked like he was seriously considering it, but I already knew the answer in his heart. “No matter what, you are the one I’m marrying.” “But I do think you could learn a thing or two from Chloe. She knows how to manage her emotions perfectly, you know?” I stared at him for two seconds. Then, I smiled. “Sure.” We sat down at the dining table. Mrs. Miller sat Chloe and Zachary on either side of her. I sat in a corner where I wouldn’t disturb them. Once the food was served, I realized something. There wasn’t a single dish on the table that I liked. Mrs. Miller was beaming, constantly putting food onto Chloe’s plate. “Look at how thin you are.” “You need to take care of yourself. Zachary told me all your favorite foods so I could have the chef make them.” Chloe smiled shyly. “Thank you, Mrs. Miller.” Mrs. Miller then paused. She looked at me awkwardly, forcing a smile. “Elena, I didn’t know what you liked to eat. Just help yourself.” Zachary placed a piece of pineapple pizza on my plate. “Next time, tell me what you want to eat in advance, and I’ll have the housekeepers prepare it.” “You don’t really have any strong preferences anyway.” “Unlike Chloe. She loves sweet and sour things, like pineapple pizza. Just like a kid.” I looked down. Staring at the pineapple pizza on my plate—the very fruit that I was highly allergic to—I lost myself in thought. Five years. We had been together for five years. And he still needed me to “tell him in advance” what I liked and disliked. Every detail he knew about Chloe’s preferences was like a slap in my face, mocking my five years of devotion. My phone buzzed. It was an email from my boss with my flight details. Tomorrow morning at 8 AM. My heart finally settled. I was free. I didn’t touch my fork during the entire dinner. Zachary didn’t even notice. I was just a ghost at the table, quietly watching the three of them act like a happy family. I couldn’t fit in. And I didn’t want to.

On the way home, Chloe sat in the front passenger seat again. Zachary was dropping her off first. I sat in the back, texting my landlord in Paris about my new apartment. “Come sit in the front,” Zachary suddenly said. Without looking up, I replied, “No need.” Silence stretched for a few seconds. “Suit yourself.” I ignored him, looking at the photos of the bright, beautiful Parisian apartment. I paid the deposit immediately. When we got home, he took a photo album out of his briefcase and walked over to me. “Want to take a look?” I took it, confused, and realized it was a wedding catalog. “Pick a dress soon. The wedding is in a month. The designers need time to make adjustments.” He pointed to a dress covered in delicate white flowers. “I think this one is perfect.” A flash of contempt crossed my eyes. He really thought of her in everything, didn’t he? If this were the old me, I would have thrown a fit. But now, I just nodded calmly. “Sure. It looks nice. Let’s go with this one.” Anyway, I was leaving in two days. What did a wedding in a month have to do with me? Zachary seemed highly satisfied with my obedience. He leaned down and planted a kiss on my forehead as a reward. “Good girl.” “This is how you should behave. I don’t like the attitude you had earlier today. Don’t let it happen again, okay?” With that, he went into the bathroom. I grabbed a disinfectant wipe and scrubbed my forehead until the skin turned red. By 9 PM, Zachary turned off the lights and got into bed. His phone was face down, his Bluetooth earbud firmly in his right ear. He didn’t notice the empty vanity table or the empty bathroom cabinets. He didn’t even see the suitcase standing by my side of the bed. Of course. Except for Chloe, he didn’t care about anyone else. In the middle of the night, I was suddenly woken up by a sharp scream coming from his earbud. Beside me, Zachary bolted upright. He panicked, shouting into his mic, his voice trembling violently. “Chloe? What’s wrong?!” In the quiet room, I could hear Chloe sobbing hysterically on the other end. The man who prided himself on being calm and never breaking his rules instantly lost his mind. He threw off the covers and ran out of the house in his pajamas. His 9 PM rule? His precious sleeping schedule? Everything was thrown out the window for Chloe. I had no intention of following him, but I couldn’t sleep either. I scrolled through my phone out of boredom. The Columbia University student forum was blowing up. “Some creep broke into the faculty housing! I think Chloe from the literature department is in trouble!” “She’s fine, she’s fine! Live update here: the creep was trying to break her window, but Professor Miller showed up!” “Holy crap, Professor Miller looked terrifying, like a wild beast. He literally beat the guy half to death!” “The NYPD is here now.” I watched the live updates. Every post had pictures. They pierced my eyes in the dark, cold bedroom. Then, someone posted a video. I clicked on it. The man who always talked about rules and decorum was acting like a madman. He was throwing heavy punches at a masked man on the ground. He only stopped when the police pulled him off. Then, he turned around and wrapped Chloe in a tight embrace. He pressed her face against his chest, shielding her from the bloody scene. “Don’t worry. I’m here.” The video instantly went viral on local social media. Everyone was praising him, saying how attractive a protective man was. I stared at the video for a long time. Then, I liked a comment that read: “They look so in love, hope they stay together forever.” I closed the app. Zachary didn’t come back that night. I wasn’t surprised at all. I slept peacefully until 6 AM. Grabbing my suitcase and my passport, I took one last look at the wedding catalogs on the table. I left my keys on the entryway table. And walked out without looking back. At the airport, I posted a public announcement on my Instagram, pinning it to the top of my profile. Then, I boarded the plane. The moment the plane took off, Zachary and I were over forever.

At that exact moment, Zachary, who was keeping Chloe company in her dorm, suddenly felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his chest. Chloe looked up, worried. “Zachary, what’s wrong? Are you okay? You look pale.” Zachary took a deep breath. After a moment, the pain subsided. He poured a glass of warm water for her. “I’m fine.” He couldn’t figure out why his heart ached so badly, so he brushed it off. “I was probably just too panicked when I heard you were in danger. Now that the adrenaline is fading, my heart is just racing a bit.” Chloe’s ears flushed. Thinking about what had happened, she was still trembling. “Thank you.” “If it weren’t for you tonight, I don’t know what…” She paused. “Please don’t tell your mom. She’ll worry herself to death.” Zachary nodded. Seeing Chloe shivering on the bed, too terrified to close her eyes, he sighed. “Go to sleep. I’ll stay here tonight. I won’t leave.” A flash of triumph crossed Chloe’s eyes. “Okay.” She closed her eyes, but her hand reached out to grab his fingers, holding on tightly. Zachary frowned. His instinct was to pull away. But seeing how shaken she was, he relented. She’s just a young girl, he reasoned. Then he thought of Elena. He had rushed out in such a hurry. He wondered how she was doing at home. He pulled out his phone and sent her a text. “Chloe is fine now. Don’t worry. Go back to sleep.” He waited. No reply. The chat remained silent. Zachary’s breathing turned heavy. But then he figured she must be asleep. It was normal not to reply at this hour. He put his phone away, gently freed his hand from Chloe’s grasp, and sat down on the single armchair across the room. The next morning. The moment he walked out of the faculty housing, Zachary realized something was off. Everyone who ran into him and Chloe was giving them weird looks. Professor Carter from the math department gave him a sly grin. “Congrats, Professor Miller! I didn’t know you and the beautiful Chloe were getting married. You kept it so quiet!” “When is the wedding? You better invite us for a drink!” His wife, Mrs. Carter, smiled. “Oh, hush, you’re too old to be drinking. But Professor Miller is a lucky man. Chloe is such a sweet girl.” Zachary was completely bewildered. He quickly interrupted. “Wait, Chloe and I are not getting married. She is not my fiancée. I’m already engaged.” He pulled two wedding invitations from his bag and handed them over. “My fiancée’s name is Elena. Our wedding is next month. You’re more than welcome to come.” Professor Carter and his wife exchanged a glance. The atmosphere turned instantly awkward. “It’s… not Chloe? But you two usually…” Mrs. Carter nudged her husband, smiling uncomfortably. “Right, right. Congratulations anyway!” They hurried away. But Zachary still caught their whispered scoffs from down the hall: “Is he crazy? He has a fiancée but spent the entire night in Chloe’s room…” Zachary frowned, feeling a knot in his chest. He only saw Chloe as a younger sister. What was wrong with taking care of her? But as he walked through the campus, more and more people kept congratulating him and Chloe. It got to the point where even his students started teasing him in class. Zachary couldn’t take it anymore. His face turned icy cold, all his usual gentle demeanor vanishing. “Quiet down. Let me make something clear. There have been a lot of ridiculous rumors about me and Chloe lately.” “I hope you all have the intelligence to stop spreading them. Chloe is my mother’s student, and she is like a younger sister to me. I have a fiancée, and we are getting married next month.” The noisy classroom fell dead silent. The students stared at each other in shock. One brave girl from the front row spoke up. “But Professor Miller, if Chloe isn’t your girlfriend, why are you two always so touchy-feely?” Zachary’s brow furrowed. He honestly couldn’t understand the question. “Touchy-feely?” “I don’t think we are. I have a fiancée. I only look after Chloe because my mother asked me to.” Several girls in the back snickered. Finally, a girl from another department spoke up boldly. “But Professor, the university forum is full of posts shipping you two, and you’ve never denied them.” “We all know she’s special to you.” “A ‘sister’? Does a sister tie your tie and feed you breakfast in public?” Half the classroom burst into giggles. Some students secretly gave the girl a thumbs-up. Zachary’s face turned incredibly dark. To him, those things were completely harmless. It was just an older brother pampering his younger sister. Why on earth would these students interpret it that way? His terrifyingly dark expression eventually silenced the classroom. Zachary spent the rest of the lecture in a quiet rage, wishing the class would just end. The way his students looked at him was deeply unsettling. They looked at him like he was a cheater. But he had done nothing wrong. Cheating… Zachary detested that word. Elena is sensible, Zachary thought. She would never think of me that way. Suddenly, his phone on the podium started buzzing frantically. He picked it up. It was a barrage of messages from his mother. “Zachary, have you seen Elena’s Instagram?! What happened between you two? Why did she cancel the wedding?!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “435685”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

The day my twin sister, Jade, got her rejection letter from Juilliard’s dance department, the entire family gathered around to comfort her. I stood quietly in the corner, staring at the acceptance notification glowing on my phone screen. I was about to tell my parents that I had made it in. But then, my phone buzzed. It was a FaceTime call—from my own number, dated ten years in the future. “Do not tell them you got into Juilliard!” My future self on the screen looked exhausted, her voice trembling. “The moment you tell them tonight, Jade won’t be able to handle it. She’s going to jump from the roof of our apartment building.” “You will spend the next eight years of your life paying for her ‘tragedy.’ And on the tenth year, Mom and Dad will make sure you get into a car accident so you can never stand on a stage again. They will steal your life to pay for Jade’s.” “Believe me, Pearl. Our parents have never loved you.” My eyes widened in pure disbelief. The camera on the screen tilted down, revealing my future self’s empty wheelchair. My legs were gone. Before I could scream, the call disconnected. Right then, my parents finally remembered that I had applied to Juilliard too. Mom rubbed Jade’s back, whispering gently, “Sweetie, look at your sister, Pearl. She only applied because she wanted to copy you. No matter how bad you think you did, she’s always there to make you look good.” Dad pointed a finger at me. “Pearl, you didn’t get in either, right?” Thinking of the chilling FaceTime call from my future self, my heart sank into an icy abyss. I shook my head slowly. “No. I didn’t get in.”

Hearing my rejection, Dad let out a sigh of relief, a familiar, predictable smile playing on his lips. “See, Jade? You only feel bad because you hold yourself to such high standards.” “Look at your sister. She failed, and she doesn’t even care.” I watched my family ignore my existence, the joy of getting into the top dance school in the country completely evaporating. “She’s always been pathetic,” Jade sneered, wiping her tears. “She shouldn’t even be compared to me.” I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell them that I was better than her. But the warning from ten years later echoed in my mind, and I slowly clamped my mouth shut. Mom patted Jade’s shoulder. “Exactly. Our Jade has been winning local dance trophies since she was a little girl. I know you’ll get in next year.” With that, Mom took a shiny Tiffany & Co. bracelet out of her pocket and clipped it onto Jade’s wrist. Then, her eyes flicked to my bare wrist. She sighed. “Pearl, you need to start putting in some effort. This bracelet is a reward for your sister’s hard work. You can’t keep being the disappointment of this family.” I lowered my head. Growing up, Jade was always the star. No matter how hard I tried, I was always “just a bit short.” A bit short on looks, a bit short on intelligence, a bit short on talent. Today was the very first time I had actually beaten Jade. I got into Juilliard. But I was still “just a bit short” of getting my parents’ love. “Pearl, you don’t think I’m being unfair, do you?” Mom asked, her voice dropping. I shook my head. “No.” My chest felt so tight I could barely breathe. “Good,” Mom said. “If you really can’t do anything else, you can just prep for the SATs again with Jade next year. It’ll save us some trouble.” “No,” Dad interrupted before I could even reply. “Her situation is different from Jade’s. She’s just not built for dancing. Prep courses would be a waste of money.” I knew what Dad meant. He thought I was too short. Unlike Jade, who supposedly had the “perfect dancer’s body.” I had heard this my entire life. Even my ballet instructors used to sigh when looking at me. “Your proportions aren’t ideal, Pearl. Your legs are too short. You two are twins, but why couldn’t you inherit even half of Jade’s physique?” They always stopped there, but I knew the rest. Why are you so useless? My parents believed my desire to dance was just a desperate attempt to copy my sister. Whatever she had, I had to grab. But it wasn’t like that. I just didn’t want to be left behind in the dark. Jade always got the custom designer tutus, the newest pointe shoes, and the spotlight with our parents’ standing ovations. Meanwhile, if I asked for a single pair of shoes, I was told I was wasting their hard-earned money. For this Juilliard audition, I had trained until my toes bled. I had ruined dozens of shoes in secret. And I made it. But to them, I was still the trash sister. Dad tossed a local community college brochure onto my lap. “Stop trying to ride on your sister’s coattails. Just apply to a local college nearby. That way, we can keep an eye on you.” I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted copper. “Okay,” I whispered. But under the table, my fingers slid across my phone screen, officially clicking “Accept Offer.” Juilliard was three thousand miles away in New York. Once I left… I was never coming back.

I went back to my room and started packing my suitcase in silence. I opened my closet. Out of dozens of clothes, only three or four faded t-shirts actually belonged to me. Mom always said, “You two are twins, just share your clothes.” But I had highly sensitive skin. Wearing cheap polyester gave me painful red rashes. They never believed me. Even if they found out I got into Juilliard, they would never love me. I knew that now. I dropped the clothes back into the closet. I packed only my absolute essentials. Suddenly, my phone rang. It was Mom. “Pearl, come down to the Italian restaurant down the street. We’re celebrating Jade’s decision to try again next year. We need to support her.” I opened my bedroom door. The apartment was completely empty. They had already left without me. They could have walked down together as a family of four. But they “forgot” me again. I wanted to say I wasn’t going. But realizing these were my last few days here, I swallowed my pride. “I’ll be there.” When I arrived at the restaurant, the table was loaded with lobster, oysters, and shrimp—all of Jade’s favorites. I was highly allergic to seafood. But they chose to ignore it. “You’re twins,” Dad had said years ago. “She’s fine, so why are you acting so dramatic? If you don’t want to eat, don’t. More for Jade.” I was used to it. The pain didn’t even register anymore. I pulled out a chair and sat down. Jade’s plate was piled high with shrimp Mom had personally peeled for her. In front of me, there wasn’t even a fork or a glass. Dad was busy pouring watermelon juice for Jade. The three of them looked like a perfect, happy family. I was just a ghost sitting at the edge of their frame. Jade smirked. “Dad, how much allowance did you send me today?” “I got $1,000 via Venmo. Pearl, you’re going to college, so you must have gotten more, right?” I looked at my Snapchat. There was a single pending transfer of $20. I didn’t accept it. Mom placed another lobster tail on Jade’s plate. “Your sister is eighteen now. She needs to start earning her own money.” Jade pouted, leaning into Mom’s shoulder. “Ugh, really? I don’t want to grow up if I have to pay for my own stuff.” Mom laughed, stroking Jade’s hair. “Don’t worry, sweetie. This $1,000 is for you to spend on whatever you want. Just focus on your prep classes for Juilliard.” “If you need more, just ask.” “Can I have $3,000 more then? I want to go to Cabo with my friends before prep classes start!” Jade squealed. Mom unlocked her phone and sent $5,000 via Apple Pay without a second thought. I saw her contact list on her screen. Jade was pinned to the top. My name wasn’t even saved; I was just a raw phone number. I used to dream about this. Kneeling by Mom’s side, being comforted, having my mistakes forgiven, and getting whatever I asked for. But the reality was, when I asked Mom for $300 to buy a cheap iPad for my schoolwork after graduation, she had scoffed. “If you put half of that energy into your dancing, you wouldn’t be such a disappointment.” Dad tapped his fork against my empty table space. “Why aren’t you eating?” “I don’t have a fork,” I said honestly. “Then ask the waiter for one!” Dad snapped. “Are you a princess? Do we have to serve you ourselves?” I looked down. I wasn’t a princess. But why did Jade get her shrimp peeled and fed to her? When the waiter finally brought my utensils, Mom tossed a single shrimp onto my plate. “There. I gave her some, and now I’m giving you some. Don’t go telling people we favor your sister.” I opened my mouth, but Dad cut me off. “Your mother gave you food. Stop making that miserable face and eat.” “Now.” I picked up the shrimp. I stared at it for a long time before forcing it down my throat. Almost instantly, my throat began to burn. Dad laughed, turning to Mom. “See? I told you she was faking her allergy all these years just to get attention.” They kept laughing and talking. I realized then that to parents who don’t love you, your very life is nothing but a joke. I stood up, my throat tightening. “I’m full.” I turned and walked out.

“Pearl!” Mom called after me. For a split second, a tiny spark of hope flared in my chest. Maybe they saw the hives breaking out on my neck. Maybe they finally realized. But Mom’s voice was cold. “Since it’s summer break, don’t just laze around. Find a summer job.” “You’re an adult now. Act like one.” Jade got a vacation to Cabo, and I got a demand to work. I stood frozen for a second, then pushed open the restaurant door. Actually, I had always been the “mature” one. I gave up my dresses, did the chores, and never asked for a penny. But because they didn’t care, everything I did was a mistake. I took an Uber to the ER alone. I sat in the waiting room, got my prescription, and paid for it myself. I was used to being alone. It shouldn’t have hurt. But then, my phone buzzed with an Instagram notification. Jade had posted. [Craving custom cake, so Mom and Dad took me out! Forever their little princess! ] In the photo, Mom and Dad were laughing, feeding Jade a slice of gourmet cake. I remembered asking Mom for a small cake for my birthday once. Her response had been freezing: “Don’t you want to be a dancer? Where is your self-control? Do you want to get fat?” The doctor’s voice broke my thoughts. “Acute allergic reaction. If you had come any later, your airway would have closed up.” It felt like a physical blow to my chest. “Sweetheart, doesn’t your family know you have a severe shellfish allergy?” Of course they knew. They just didn’t care. I sat in the cold hospital bed with an IV in my arm, watching the fluid drip down. If Jade had been gone this late, they would have called the police in a panic. But my lock screen was completely empty. Not a single text. My knuckles turned white as I clutched my phone. I opened Instagram again. Mom had posted a collage of Jade. [My beautiful girl graduated! Next stop: Juilliard!] I scrolled through Mom’s feed. It was a sea of Jade. My face appeared exactly once—in the background of Jade’s photo. My mother’s colleagues at work didn’t even know she had twins. Once, one of them saw me and was shocked. “Twins? I had no idea!” “Pearl doesn’t look like Jade at all. She doesn’t really fit in, does she?” My parents had just laughed, pulling Jade closer. “Yeah, they came from the same belly, but we wish Pearl had even half of Jade’s grace.” To them, I was just a defective buy-one-get-one-free deal. By the time my IV was finished, it was the next morning. I walked back into the apartment. My parents were in the living room packing Jade’s designer suitcases. Dad glanced up at me. “Pearl, where the hell were you?” “Does it matter? You didn’t notice anyway.” The room went dead silent. Dad’s face twisted in rage. “Do you think because you’re eighteen, you can talk to us like that?” “Staying out all night and now you have the nerve to blame us?” The hives on my hands were still red and swollen. They were looking right at them. But they pretended not to see. I clenched my fists, the skin burning. “It won’t happen again.” Ignoring Dad’s yelling, I walked back to my room. All of my belongings had been thrown into the hallway. In the trash can lay my painted plaster doll—shattered into pieces. I had painted that doll when I was eight. I had won second place in a dance competition, and they had taken us to a craft shop. That was the only time I stood next to Jade on a podium. She had won first. Before I could even finish painting it, they had abandoned me at the shop to take Jade to the movies. Jade walked out of my room, smirking. “Pearl, since you’re going to college anyway, you won’t be coming back much. I’m taking over your room, okay?” I stared at the broken pieces of my childhood in the trash. “Sure,” I said quietly. I was never coming back anyway. Let her have it.

Maybe my lack of reaction disappointed her. Jade’s smirk faltered. “You’re not even going to yell?” When we were kids, I fought for my space. But all I got was: “You’re the older sister, Pearl. Can’t you just let her have it?” Now that I was leaving, there was nothing left to fight for. I grabbed my suitcase and turned around. Dad was blocking the hallway, his face dark. “Pearl, you think you’ve got wings now, huh? You think we can’t touch you?” “Are you trying to run away to scare us?” “No,” I said, my voice completely flat. “Since you aren’t paying for my college, I have to go find a job.” “What is that supposed to mean? You think we owe you something?” Dad bellowed. “You wanted to dance, so we paid $1,500 a year for eight years of classes, even when your teacher told us you had zero talent! We never stopped you!” “And your clothes! You’re the only one complaining about ‘itchy fabric,’ so we had to buy you special outfits. That’s hundreds of dollars!” “Your food, your pointe shoes—you asked me for $800 just last semester! Do you have any idea how much you cost us?” He listed every dollar like a debt collector. My ears started ringing. “Pearl, where is your goddamn conscience?” My eyes burned, but I forced the tears back. “I’ll pay you back. Every single cent.” Dad stepped forward and slapped me across the face. The force of it spun my head around. “With what job? You failed your auditions! You’re nothing!” “Why can’t you be sensible like Jade for once in your life?!” My cheek burned like fire. Jade rushed over, fake tears spilling from her eyes as she grabbed my arm. “Pearl, stop making Dad mad!” “They do everything for us. I never tried to take anything from you!” She never had to try. Everything was handed to her on a silver platter. I shoved her off me. I barely used any force, but Jade stumbled back, crying out as if I had struck her. Mom instantly shielded Jade, glaring at me like I was a monster. “Both of you are my daughters! How could you think I don’t love you equally?” “Pearl, you are a massive disappointment.” But I knew the truth. Some daughters are just worth more than others. I turned around, opened the door, and walked out. Behind me, Dad’s voice roared through the hallway: “If you walk out that door, don’t you dare ever come back!” I pulled out my phone and booked a one-way train ticket to New York. “I won’t,” I whispered.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “435686”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

1 The night of the World Cup final, my fiancé suddenly turned to me with a wager. “If France wins, I will add ten beachfront estates to your bridal gift.” His eyes gleamed with a reckless amusement. “But if they lose, Harper gets to wear the dress and walk down the aisle in your place in three days. Deal?” I barely had time to furrow my brow before Silas’s groomsmen started hyping him up. They laughed, calling him utterly whipped, joking that this was just another extravagant way to spice up our seven-year romance. After all, everyone in our circle firmly believed France was guaranteed to win. The smile on Silas’s lips did not waver. “So? Do we have a bet?” He had no idea that just ten minutes ago, I had accidentally overheard a private conversation between him and his best friend on the balcony. “Come on, man,” Carter had laughed, handing him a drink. “Even if you supposedly time-traveled from three years in the future, are you seriously that sure France is gonna choke?” Silas had simply exhaled a thick cloud of cigar smoke, his tone absolute. “Relax. I know exactly how this plays out.” He had paused, his voice softening into something nostalgic. “Bonnie gets the marriage license, but Harper gets the ceremony. It is the only way to make up for the biggest regret of my past life.” Hearing his voice pull me back to the present, asking for the third time, I finally looked up. “Deal.” My voice was quiet, almost airy. It did not matter anyway. I was already planning to change the groom. Hearing my definitive answer, a visible wave of relief washed over Silas’s face. Right at that moment, the sharp click of a key turning in the front door echoed through the penthouse. I did not need to guess who had a spare key to our home. It was Harper. She was the executive assistant who had been by Silas’s side the longest. And, according to his balcony confession, the ultimate regret he was determined to fix in this second life. The second she walked in, the guys immediately started teasing her about the ridiculous bet. The young girl’s cheeks flushed a brilliant crimson. “Come on, guys. Please stop messing with me.” Despite her shy words, the way she looked at Silas was entirely transparent. Her eyes were bright, soft, and entirely devoted. Silas instinctively shot a nervous glance my way, checking my reaction. If this were the past, my temper would have flared. Hearing a joke with zero boundaries like that would have made my face drop instantly, and I would have demanded everyone leave. But tonight, I just quietly took a sip of my sparkling water. I did not even blink. A tiny, almost imperceptible frown formed between Silas’s brows. Then, the referee’s whistle blew on the massive screen. The match had begun. For the next two hours, the room was consumed by the game. When the final whistle blew, the room went dead silent. Silas was right. France lost. The Netherlands pulled off a massive upset. The result was enough to shatter every sports analyst’s prediction, but no one in this living room seemed genuinely shocked. His friends exchanged knowing, exaggerated looks, flashing Silas discreet thumbs-ups. Silas wore a look of smug satisfaction, though he quickly masked it with a sigh of mock disappointment. He turned to me. “Well, Bonnie. You lost.” Before I could even open my mouth, Carter jumped in from the sofa. “Don’t tell me the bride is a sore loser now? You guys picked a vintage cathedral veil anyway. Once that thick lace drops over her face, nobody in the pews will even know who the bride is. Right, Bonnie?” I looked away from them, my eyes landing on the massive engagement portrait of Silas and me hanging on the wall. Suddenly, the vibrant colors of the photo just looked incredibly cheap. “You are right. I lost.” Every single person in the room smiled, except me. They immediately turned to Harper, their tones dripping with teasing ambiguity, telling her she better go home and get her beauty sleep so she could be a beautiful bride. Silas did not correct them. He did not defend me. He just smiled and walked them out to the elevator. When he came back, he naturally closed the distance between us, reaching out out of habit to pull me into his chest. I took a smooth step back, avoiding his touch entirely. “Are you mad?” He let out an amused breath. “You are going to be Mrs. Montgomery. You have to learn how to lose gracefully. Why are you throwing a child’s tantrum over a game?” He tilted his head, his tone softening into a coaxing purr. “Tell you what. I will personally cook your favorite truffle pasta tonight to make it up to you. Sound good?” Before I could answer, his phone buzzed twice in his pocket. Silas stood up instantly, his entire demeanor shifting. “Harper cannot get a cab. It is pouring out there, and it is not safe for a young girl to be alone this late. I am going to drop her off.” My throat felt tight, lined with sandpaper. I could not hold it in anymore. “Silas. Did you already know the outcome of that match before you made the bet?” His footsteps stopped dead. When he turned back around, his face was flushed with defensive anger. “I am not a psychic! How the hell could I have predicted an upset like that?” “I genuinely wanted to give you those estates. You just have terrible luck. You cannot blame anyone else for that!” He was always like this. Whenever he felt guilty, he overcompensated with volume and aggression. He slammed the door behind him. Perhaps he thought a loud exit would drown out the deafening guilt radiating off him. The impact rattled the walls, and our framed engagement photo slipped from its hook, crashing onto the hardwood floor with a sharp crack of shattered glass. I calmly walked over, picked up a pair of shears from the floral arrangement on the coffee table, and snipped my half of the photo right down the middle. With my free hand, I dialed my father’s number. “Dad. The corporate alliance is still on. But I need you to find me a different groom.” Years ago, Silas was just one of three potential heirs my father had selected for an arranged marriage. Back then, I believed love was more toxic than poison. I had personally watched my mother catch my father in bed with his secretary. I watched her deteriorate from an elegant, soft-spoken socialite into a hysterical, broken shell of a woman. And then, I watched my father ruthlessly commit her to a psychiatric facility to protect his public image. I had built a fortress of solid concrete around my heart. But a younger, relentless Silas had forcefully torn a hole through it with his blatant, undeniable favoritism. He gave me his phone passwords without me asking. He reported his whereabouts constantly. He held my hand at every elite gala, proudly declaring to the world that I was his. He was incredibly wealthy and striking. Naturally, countless women tried to take a shortcut to the top through him. To give me total security, he had fired seventeen different executive assistants. So, I let myself fall. I watched myself sink into the illusion, entirely sober but willing. Everything changed exactly a year ago. My father demanded we finally set a wedding date. But Silas pushed back, claiming he needed to secure his absolute authority on the board of directors first. At first, I genuinely believed him. Until I walked into his office and saw his new assistant. Harper. My internal alarms started screaming instantly. With a single glance, I knew the dynamic between them was tainted. It was not a blatant, messy affair. It was a subtle, suffocating undercurrent of unspoken intimacy. When the three of us were in a room, his eyes would instinctively dart to her first. I caught the fleeting, panicked guilt in his gaze whenever I walked in unannounced. Harper wore a pair of diamond earrings that matched the exact designer collection Silas had bought for my anniversary necklace. Lately, the sickly sweet scent of her vanilla perfume always lingered on his suit jackets. One evening, I finally broke. I tried to gently express how uncomfortable their dynamic made me feel. That was the very first time he looked at me with sheer exhaustion and disdain. “Do you have any idea how many assistants I have fired because of your toxic paranoia?” he had snapped. “Seventeen. Seventeen women.” “Not a single one has lasted more than six months because you see ghosts everywhere. The entire corporate floor is whispering that my fiancée has persecution paranoia.” He rubbed his temples, his voice dripping with pity. “Bonnie, I seriously think you need to see a psychiatrist. Medically speaking, severe mental illness is hereditary…” I stood frozen in the middle of our living room, staring at the man I loved with absolute horror. “Is that… is that really how you see me?” Realizing he had gone too far, Silas let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Bonnie, look. If a wedding ring is the only thing that will finally cure your insecurity, then fine. Let’s just get married.” He made it sound like proposing to me was a charitable concession. An exhausted compromise to calm down a lunatic. I sat by the fireplace, methodically cutting up every single photograph of us. The first time we watched the sunrise on his yacht. The birthday he rented out Central Park for a private firework show. The time he tried to learn how to cook for me and nearly burned the kitchen down. When my hand started to cramp, I gathered the mountain of shredded memories and tossed them straight into the blazing fireplace. I watched them burn to ash. My phone rang violently. It was Silas’s personal driver. “Miss Astor! Mr. Montgomery got into a physical altercation at a bar. We are at the ER. Please come quickly!” By the time I arrived at the private hospital suite, Silas’s right arm was already encased in a plaster cast. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at Harper, who was sobbing by his knees. The young girl’s eyes were red and swollen. “Mr. Montgomery, this is all my fault. You would not have gotten hurt if you were not protecting me from those drunks.” “I was so terrified. What would I do without you?” Silas lifted his uninjured left hand and gently, almost reverently, stroked her hair. “It is not your fault.” His voice was a velvet whisper. “Stop crying. Be good.” Because of his movements, the collar of his hospital gown slipped open. Exposed on his chest was a faded, jagged scar. It was less than an inch from his heart. He got that scar years ago when a rival syndicate kidnapped me for ransom. Silas took a blade to the chest to shield me. Outside the ICU that night, covered in his blood, I swore to whatever God was listening that if he surBonnieed, I would love him unconditionally, just as fiercely as he loved me. Standing in the doorway now, a bitter laugh bubbled up in my throat. After all these years, he really had not changed. When he loves a woman, he is perfectly willing to throw his life away for her. It just was not me anymore. I took a deep breath and turned to leave. But the fabric of my silk coat caught on the metal door handle, making a loud, abrupt clicking sound. Both of their heads snapped toward me. The sheer panic that flashed across both of their faces was perfectly synchronized. Silas recovered first. He cleared his throat, nodding briskly at Harper, his tone shifting to formal authority. “You should head home and get some rest. We have a busy week ahead.” Harper nodded obediently, her cheeks flushed, a secret thrill dancing in her eyes. I had zero interest in spying on their twisted little romance. After she scurried out, the VIP suite fell into a suffocating, awkward silence. I stared at the scar on his chest. It looked so foreign now. “Silas. We are done. I am breaking off the engagement.” He froze. The silence stretched for two agonizing seconds before he let out a dry, exasperated chuckle. “Look at you. You are getting paranoid again. Are you really using a breakup to threaten me?” “Alright, fine. I will throw you a massive, private vow renewal the day we sign the marriage papers. Does that make you happy?” I opened my mouth, ready to explain that I was entirely serious. He cut me off, his voice dripping with impatient finality. “The bet stands, Bonnie. You agreed to it in front of all the guys. You need to learn how to lose gracefully, otherwise you are going to make us both look like fools.” I swallowed the heavy truth I was about to give him. “Okay. I accept the loss.” Since the groom was changing, I needed a new fitting for the wedding dress. As I sat in the VIP lounge of the bridal boutique, a painfully familiar voice drifted through the velvet curtains of the adjacent dressing room. “Silly girl, what is the rush? Once the seamstress takes in the waist on the ceremony gown, I will take you to shoot the bridal portraits.” “We will just shoot you from the back. We can display it at the entrance of the ballroom. How does that sound?” It was Silas. And Harper. So this was their unspoken, thrilling little secret from last night. They were going through the exhausting effort of altering my custom couture gown and shooting fake bridal portraits just to fully erase me from my own wedding day. Suddenly, a careless boutique assistant yanked open the velvet curtain dividing the suites. Silas turned and saw me standing on the pedestal, fully zipped into a breathtaking lace gown. He froze. A second later, a cold, mocking smirk spread across his face. “Bonnie, is this your new strategy? Are you planning to crash the venue in that dress just to humiliate Harper?” “Have you lost your mind? If two brides show up on that stage, the Montgomery and Astor families will become the laughingstock of the entire city!” If this had happened a month ago, his cruel words would have shattered me. I would have screamed, cried, and torn the place apart. But right now, I just felt a crushing wave of fatigue. “Relax. I am not wearing this dress for you.” Silas narrowed his eyes. “What exactly does that mean?” Before I could even reply, Harper started violently weeping into her hands. “Mr. Montgomery, Bonnie is furious with me! Is she going to force you to fire me? I cannot lose this job. My family needs the money. I… I should not take the bridal portraits anymore.” Silas did not even bother pressing me for an answer. He immediately wrapped an arm around Harper’s waist, pulling her toward the exit. “She lost the bet. Throwing a tantrum will not change anything. We will go find a different designer for your dress.” Right before he walked out the glass doors, he stopped and threw a dark warning over his shoulder. “If you keep acting like a psychotic child, I am going to delay signing our marriage license.” Once they were gone, I turned back to the towering three-way mirror. It was strange. The woman staring back at me had red, swollen eyes, but the smile on her face looked infinitely more tragic than if she were sobbing. The next afternoon, a phone call hit me like a physical blow. “Miss Astor! Your mother is having a severe violent episode. We need you at the facility immediately!” My fingers clamped around my phone, my whole body shaking. “How is that possible? Her doctors said she has been incredibly stable for months.” The head nurse hesitated for a few seconds. When she finally spoke, her tone was heavy with confusion. “A young woman came to visit your mother this morning. She brought a framed wedding photograph and showed it to her.” “She told your mother that for the last year, you have been maliciously sleeping with her fiancé and trying to destroy their marriage.” When I sprinted into the psychiatric wing, my mother was standing aggressively by the reinforced window. In her trembling hand, she clutched a massive, jagged shard of broken glass. Scattered across the linoleum floor were the shattered remains of a heavy wooden picture frame. I looked down. It was a bridal portrait. Silas and Harper. When my mother’s wild eyes locked onto me, they filled with the kind of pure, visceral hatred usually reserved for murderers. “You knew! You knew exactly what adultery did to me, and you still chose to be a filthy homewrecker!” “Why are you so utterly worthless?! I never gave birth to a cheap, shameless whore! Drop dead!” She lunged forward, wildly slashing the glass shard through the air. I could not dodge in time. The jagged edge sliced deep into my forearm, ripping open a massive six-inch gash. Flesh tore. Blood immediately poured down my wrist, dripping onto the pristine white floor. The orderlies rushed in, tackling her to the bed and securing the leather restraints. Even strapped down, she thrashed violently, her vocal cords tearing as she screamed at me. She used the most vile, venomous words imaginable to curse my existence, calling me an animal, a plague. After a nurse hastily wrapped my bleeding arm in thick gauze, I wiped the cold tears off my face. I bent down, picked up the torn wedding portrait from the glass-covered floor, and walked straight out the door. I drove directly to Silas’s corporate headquarters. When I pushed open the double doors of the executive floor, a crowd of employees was gathered around Harper’s desk. They were laughing, eating imported chocolates from a lavish pink box. “Congratulations on the wedding, Harper! Guess we have to start calling you the boss’s wife now!” “Obviously! She is the one walking down the aisle. As for that other woman, Mr. Montgomery is completely sick of her. Who could possibly tolerate a woman with severe mental illness?” “Right? The boss literally told security to stop letting her up here because she is bad for the company image.” Someone near the edge of the crowd finally noticed me. The group scattered like roaches when the lights turn on. Harper, completely unfazed, strutted toward me in her designer heels, her chin tilted in sheer arrogance. “What brings you to the office, Bonnie? Want me to see if Silas has time in his schedule for you?” She glanced at my pale face and the blood seeping through my sleeve. “You look terrible. A little mentally unstable, actually. I hear there is an empty padded room right next to your mother’s. Want me to make a reservation for you?” The image of my mother screaming in restraints flashed in my mind. I raised my uninjured arm and swung my hand back, aiming a lethal slap directly at her smug face. But a split second before my palm made contact, a massive hand clamped down on my wrist and violently shoved me backward. “Bonnie! Have you completely lost your mind?!” Silas’s grip was brutal. The violent jerk ripped my fresh stitches open. Thick, dark blood immediately bloomed through the white bandages, dripping onto the carpet. Silas froze, his eyes dropping to my bleeding arm. He instantly stepped forward, reaching for me. “How did you get hurt?” I forcefully slapped his hand away. I threw their crumpled wedding portrait squarely at his leather shoes. “Happy wedding, Mr. Montgomery. But I suggest you put your bride on a leash.” Without waiting for his response, I turned on my heel and walked toward the elevators. Silas instinctively took a step to chase after me, but Harper immediately grabbed his arm, burying her face in his shoulder. “Silas, she scared me so much.” The panic in Silas’s eyes was instantly replaced by protective anger. He wrapped his arm around Harper’s waist and guided her safely into his private office. Early the next morning, Silas’s groomsmen suited up in sharp black tuxedos and accompanied him to the luxury hotel suite to pick up the bride. They laughed and joked, drinking champagne as they went through the traditional morning routines. The atmosphere was electric and celebratory. The only anomaly was Bonnie. No one could reach her phone. Jax nudged Silas in the ribs. “Hey man, do you think Bonnie is actually pissed? What if she genuinely breaks up with you over this?” Silas let out a confident, mocking scoff. “Not a chance. That woman dreams of marrying me every time she closes her eyes.” Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind. What if she really did pull a stunt? Feeling a spike of paranoia, he quickly lifted the heavy vintage veil covering the bride’s face. It was Harper. For some inexplicable reason, a fleeting memory flashed through Silas’s mind. A memory from his past life. Bonnie, sitting on a bed in a white dress, looking up at him with shy, glowing eyes under this exact veil. He shook the ghost from his head and let out an exaggerated laugh. “Thank God. The bride has not been swapped. With how completely obsessed Bonnie is, I half expected her to sneak under Harper’s veil just to get to the altar.” The groomsmen erupted into roaring laughter. But right as the laughter peaked, a shocked voice echoed from the end of the grand hallway. “Holy shit. The Kensington heir is getting married today too? Look at this setup, it is insane!” “Wait a second… look at the bride on this poster…”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “499822”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 A week before my wedding, my best friend told me she had accidentally scraped my car and caught a minor traffic ticket that I needed to clear up. I logged into the portal to check the violation. The footage buffered for a second before revealing my best friend and my fiancé, locked in a passionate kiss at a red light. My hands shook as I pulled up the full dashcam video from that afternoon. “Jeff, are we really doing the right thing keeping Serena in the dark? You know how long she’s been dreaming of this wedding. She even dragged me along to pick out the venue. If she finds out we already got our marriage license, and that this whole ceremony is actually for me…” “Danielle, you’ve stayed by my side for years without a title just to protect her feelings. She’s the one who owes you.” Jeff’s voice was casual, completely devoid of guilt. “She gets the love, you get the legal title. I’d say that’s more than fair.” “Just coax her a little when the time comes. She’s an orphan. It’s not like she can survive without us.” My throat constricted, tight and burning. The tears I tried to hold back spilled over, dripping onto the keyboard. I sat frozen in the dead silence of the room for what felt like hours. Finally, I picked up my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t called in a long time. “Dad. I’m ready to come home. Let’s go ahead with the family reunion banquet next week.” The man on the other end gasped in pure joy. “Sweetheart, are you absolutely sure? Weren’t you worried it would make Jeff look bad? Even though he’ll still call me Dad after you two get married, you are my flesh and blood. He is just my adopted son. He could never outrank you.” He let out a hearty laugh. “This is perfect. We’ll announce your return, and then throw you the wedding of the century.” I choked back a sob. “I’m not marrying Jeff anymore.” “What?” My dad’s voice spiked in alarm. “Why? Sweetheart, I thought you loved him.” Before I could get another word out, a heavy hand snatched the phone from my grip. The device was hurled violently against the hardwood floor, the screen shattering instantly. The call went dead. I looked up to see Jeff glaring down at me, his face twisted in annoyance. Danielle hovered right behind him. “Serena, why the hell were you late for the dress fitting? Could you pretend to care about your own wedding? Danielle has been waiting for you all afternoon.” I slowly got to my feet, staring dead into his eyes. “Is the wedding really for me?” He froze. A flicker of panic crossed his face before he quickly masked it with irritation. “What kind of crazy talk is that? Have you been listening to stupid gossip again?” Watching him instinctively curl his lips into a lie, I simply closed my eyes and tapped the spacebar on my laptop. The dashcam audio filled the room. Jeff’s face drained of color. But Danielle reacted first. She stepped forward, her eyes brimming with sudden, perfectly timed tears. “I am so sorry, Serena. If you’re going to hate someone, hate me. I just loved Jeff too much.” The panic on Jeff’s face instantly melted into deep sympathy for her. He pulled Danielle into his chest, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders. “Serena, couldn’t you just pretend you didn’t know? When the day comes, you can still stand in the crowd wearing a gown. Just think of it as the three of us getting married together.” I slapped his hand away. “I’m not a prop in your sick little fantasy, Jeff. We are done. You can have her.” Jeff grabbed my wrist, twisting me back to face him. His grip was brutal, the pressure digging into my bone. He let out a mocking scoff. “What exactly are you throwing a tantrum for, Serena? You’re an orphan. If you leave me, who else is going to love you? You’ve had my heart for years. What’s the big deal about giving Danielle the legal title? She doesn’t even mind sharing, so why are you being such a brat?” Danielle looked up from his chest, her face the picture of victimhood. “Serena, I know I wronged you, but I can’t live without him. Just let me have this, please? I swear I won’t get in the way of your relationship.” Looking at her pitiful, trembling act, a wave of pure nausea washed over me. “Danielle, weren’t you the one who conveniently reminded me to check the dashcam?” She gasped, stepping closer to grab my hand, her voice cracking. “I didn’t… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I was completely exhausted by their cheap theatricals. I yanked my arm back to get away from her. But as I pulled away, Danielle’s perfectly manicured acrylic nails dug viciously into my forearm. The sharp sting made me flinch and pull back harder. Taking advantage of the momentum, she threw herself backward, hitting the floor with a loud, theatrical yelp of pain. “Serena, I know this is all my fault. Hit me if you need to, just please forgive us.” Jeff’s expression turned lethal. He shoved me back so hard I lost my footing, then dropped to his knees to gently help Danielle up. “What is actually wrong with you?” he roared. I hit the floor hard. Pinpricks of blood began to seep through the fabric over my scraped knees, and my palms throbbed. “I already told you, Jeff. I don’t want you anymore. Have a nice life together. You can stop performing now.” I held up my arm, exposing the fresh, purple crescent-shaped marks left by Danielle’s nails. “Or are you completely blind to the injuries on my body?” Jeff opened his mouth, a brief flash of hesitation in his eyes. Danielle immediately sagged against him, sobbing softly. “You know you’ve always bruised like a peach, Serena. A slight bump and you turn purple. I know you hate me right now, but please don’t use your condition to frame me.” The hesitation in Jeff’s eyes vanished, replaced by disgust. “Danielle has swallowed so much pride and suffered in silence for years just so you wouldn’t get hurt, and you actually have the nerve to frame her?” A bone-deep exhaustion settled into my chest. I turned around and headed for the door. “Like I said. Have a nice life.” Danielle’s tearful voice chased after me. “Jeff, she’s never going to forgive me. Let’s just give the wedding back to her. I can take it.” “Serena, stop right there!” Jeff barked. I paused and looked back at Danielle. “What exactly do you want from me?” Hidden behind Jeff’s back, Danielle flashed me a smug, venomous smirk, though her voice remained sweet and broken. “I just want your genuine blessing. Come with us to the bridal boutique.” Jeff stared at me with ice in his eyes. “Your buddy from the orphanage finally got a donor match for his kidney. He’s currently resting in the VIP suite at the Sinclair Holdings private hospital. As long as I say the word…” “Fine.” I cut him off. On the way to the boutique, Jeff clearly wanted to teach me a lesson. He carried Danielle in his arms, walking briskly ahead, leaving me to limp behind them on my bleeding knees. Their sickeningly sweet banter drifted back to me. “Put me down, Jeff. Serena is going to be jealous.” “You’ve been forced to walk in the shadows for years. My heart breaks for you. It’s time she learned a lesson so she stops acting like a spoiled brat.” My calves throbbed with every step, and a bitter ache spread through my chest as old memories crashed over me. Back in college, I had slightly twisted my ankle during a track event. Jeff had been out of his mind with worry, carrying me on his back all the way to the campus clinic. Danielle had sighed and said she was jealous. Jeff had laughed and told her to go find a man of her own. It turned out she did. She found mine. The bridal boutique appointment was booked under my and Jeff’s names. But when we walked in, Jeff was carrying Danielle. The sales associates froze. “Mr. Sinclair, which of these ladies is trying on the gown?” Danielle stepped forward and grabbed my arm. “Come on, let’s pick something out. It will be so wonderful when you stand in the crowd wearing a gown while Jeff and I say our vows.” The moment the words left her mouth, the associates shot me looks of thinly veiled mockery. My cheeks burned. “What kind of twisted drama is this? The main girl bringing the side piece to buy a dress?” “The main girl is way too soft. The mistress is basically marking her territory.” They weren’t whispering. Every word echoed in the lavish showroom. Danielle put on a pained expression like she felt so bad for me, but she didn’t say a single word to defend me. Jeff stood with his arms crossed, watching me intently. I knew exactly what he was doing. He was waiting for me to break. Waiting for me to beg. But I didn’t say a word. He let out a cold chuckle, grabbed Danielle’s hand, and led her toward the grand fitting pedestal, leaving me entirely alone in the crossfire of judgmental stares. I just stood there. I didn’t cry. It felt like I had completely run out of tears. A few minutes later, Jeff walked out. He looked at me with the absolute indifference one might reserve for a stranger. “I’m going to run to the pharmacy to get you both some ointment. Go in there and keep Danielle company. And drop the attitude.” The second the heavy velvet door clicked shut behind him, the fragile victim act vanished from Danielle’s face. She leaned back against the mirrored wall, crossing her arms, her eyes dripping with contempt. “What are you acting so high and mighty for, Serena?” “Yeah, I let you see that video on purpose. Jeff letting you stay on as his sidekick is a privilege. You should really learn your place in the pecking order.” I stared at her. This was the same face that once claimed she would take a bullet for me. “Why?” My voice was barely a whisper, though my knuckles were white. “Why steal your best friend’s fiancé?” She scoffed. “Steal? What do you mean, steal? He loves me more. That’s just a fact.” “You want to know the truth? I was so sick of watching you breeze through life. You never fight for anything, but you always get it all. The top grades, the center of attention, and Jeff.” “I even let you wear the horns while I sleep with your man, and you still act like you’re morally superior. Am I not a good enough friend to you?” Looking at the pure hatred in her eyes, I felt completely disoriented. When we first started college, she was this radiant, fierce energy that barged into my life. When girls in our dorm mocked me for not having parents, she was the one who stood in front of me. “If anyone says another word about her, I’ll ruin your life,” she had threatened them. When her cramps were so severe she couldn’t walk, I had carried her across campus in the freezing rain to the infirmary. She had rested her chin on my shoulder and mumbled, “I think I’m in love with you, Serena. Whoever you marry one day has to get past me first.” When she was failing her senior seminar, I dragged her into my project and did the work of two people just so she could graduate. All those memories. To her, they were nothing but garbage. I took a deep, shaky breath. My eyes stung. “Believe it or not, Danielle, you can have him. Keep the trash.” She burst out laughing. “Wow, I’ve known you for years and I never realized you were such a good actress.” “But it doesn’t matter. I always get what I want.” Before I could process her words, she grabbed my hand, forcefully yanked it toward her own face, and slapped herself hard. A sharp, violent smack echoed in the room. Five bright red finger marks immediately bloomed across her cheek. Tears streamed down her face in an instant, like she had rehearsed it a thousand times. The door swung open. Jeff walked in with a pharmacy bag just in time to see Danielle collapse to the floor, clutching her cheek and weakly grabbing the hem of my shirt like she was begging for mercy. He didn’t ask a single question. He just stepped forward and viciously kicked the back of my knees, forcing me to crash down onto the hard marble floor. “I can’t believe you,” he snarled. “You still don’t know your place, do you?” I curled in on myself, gasping for air as the pain radiated through my legs. I watched as Jeff tenderly lifted Danielle off the ground, opening the ointment he bought to carefully treat her cheek. Those same hands had wiped my tears. They had put bandages on my cuts. They had fastened the diamond necklace around my neck when he promised me forever. The absolute last shred of love I had for him popped like a cheap balloon, dissolving into dead, hollow ash. A moment later, his voice cut through the air, cold and authoritative. He pulled out his phone and waved it in my face. “Get on your knees and apologize to Danielle right now. If you don’t, I guarantee your precious brother gets thrown out of that hospital bed onto the street before you can even blink.” My phone buzzed in my pocket. A new message popped up on the lock screen. It was from my dad. “Sweetheart, don’t worry. I’ve already sent my private team to transfer your friend to a better facility.” I slowly pushed myself off the floor. Blood trickled down my shins, but I didn’t bother wiping it. I reached behind my neck, unclasped the rose pendant necklace, and tossed it right at his chest. When he gave it to me, he had said the rose symbolized a lifetime of loyalty, that I was the only one he would ever love. “Do whatever you want, Jeff.” His eyes flashed red with rage. Without breaking eye contact, he dialed a number on his phone. A few seconds later, his assistant’s panicked voice spilled from the speaker. “Mr. Sinclair! The patient… he was just transferred out. We have no idea where he went!” “What?!” Jeff roared. “Find him! Who the hell dares to mess with me in my own hospital?” He hung up and lunged at me, gripping my wrist like a vice. His tone shifted, suddenly dark and intrigued. “Well, well. I didn’t know you had it in you.” “If this is your sick way of getting my attention, congratulations. It worked.” “Now apologize to Danielle, and I’ll pretend none of this ever happened.” Looking at his dead-serious face, a dry laugh slipped past my lips. “Let me make this crystal clear for you, Jeff. You disgust me. I don’t want you.” I ripped my hand out of his grip and walked toward the exit. He instinctively took a step to chase after me, but Danielle quickly grabbed his arm. “Let her go. She’s just throwing a tantrum. The more you chase her, the more she’ll act out. Give her a few days. She’ll realize we’re doing this for her own good.” I went back to the apartment we shared and threw everything with his DNA on it into the dumpster. Love letters, hoodies, gifts, the matching coffee mugs we bought on our first anniversary. Every single piece of garbage. Without a second of hesitation. Then I packed my own bags and checked into a luxury hotel. Day one, he didn’t reach out. Day two, nothing. On day three, I was jolted awake by my phone ringing off the hook. Jeff had called me twenty times, mixed in with a few missed calls from Danielle. I debated for a second, then finally hit accept. “Who gave you permission to move out?” His furious voice blasted through the speaker. “Get your ass back here right now before I really lose my temper.” “We broke up. Where I live is none of your business.” My cold response was met with the loud sound of glass shattering on his end. “I know exactly who’s backing you now! You think you’re so smart hooking up with some old sugar daddy?” “Don’t be naive. You think whoever he is can go toe-to-toe with the Sinclair family? I’m giving you one last chance. Three seconds. Are you coming back or not?” I froze. Did he think… my biological dad was my sugar daddy? Before I could even process the sheer stupidity of his assumption, he angrily hung up. A text pinged a second later. “You are going to crawl back and beg me. You’re going to realize that without me, you are absolutely nothing.” Thirty minutes later, an explosive anonymous post skyrocketed to the top of trending topics across every social media platform. The headline read: Columbia University Valedictorian Exposed as Serial Gold Digger, Playing Both Sinclair Father and Son. Attached were candid photos of me and Jeff from our college days, side by side with paparazzi-style shots of my dad’s private butler helping me arrange the hospital transfer for my friend. I stared at the screen, my fingers slowly curling into fists. A dark, quiet anticipation started brewing in my chest. The internet descended on me like a pack of rabid wolves. [Holy shit, this is wild. The hustle is real. If she put this energy into an actual job, she’d be CEO by now.] [This is just pure trash behavior. I bet the Sinclair men don’t even know she’s playing both of them yet.] [A valedictorian? Guess they don’t teach morals in the Ivy League.] The outrage snowballed. Hordes of trolls flooded my university’s official pages, demanding action. A few hours later, I received an email from the dean’s office. My valedictorian status was suspended, and my diploma was being withheld pending an investigation. Then, they doxxed my background. Once the internet found out I grew up in the foster system, the comments turned vicious. [No wonder she’s a sociopath. Trash origins make trash people.] [Stop donating to that foster home! If they’re raising girls to be homewreckers, who knows what else goes on in there.] I scrolled through the comments, one by one. Every word was designed to be a dagger, but strangely enough, I didn’t feel a thing. My dad texted me, his messages frantic with worry. “Princess, do you want me to release a statement? I will destroy that little punk.” I typed back calmly. “It’s okay, Dad. Just make sure the foster home gets extra security. The real show is about to start.” My phone rang. It was Jeff. His tone was dripping with arrogant triumph. “Well? Have you thought it through? Are you coming to my wedding tomorrow or not?” “Don’t worry,” I said smoothly. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” The day of the wedding. Backstage. Danielle leaned against Jeff’s chest, her voice perfectly pitched to sound like a fragile little bird. “Do you really think she’ll come? What if she actually hates me now?” Jeff stroked her hair affectionately. “Relax. Look at how miserable she is without us protecting her. Stop stressing, you are the most beautiful bride in the world today.” “If she doesn’t drop to her knees and apologize to you today, the internet will tear her apart.” The music swelled, and the ceremony began. Danielle walked down the aisle, her arm looped through Jeff’s. He looked like the perfect gentleman; she looked stunning. I stood in the shadows and looked around. This was the exact wedding I had spent months planning. The vintage lace gown was the one I had pinned to my vision board. The floral arrangements, the string quartet, the lighting—every single detail was mine. It was all mine. Except the man standing at the altar. Right as they exchanged rings, I stepped out into the light and began a slow walk down the aisle. The entire grand ballroom erupted into furious whispers. “Is that her? The audacity to actually show her face!” “Shameless. Look at her walking in here like she owns the place.” Standing on the altar, Jeff looked down at me with a lazy, victorious smirk. “I thought you actually had a spine,” he mocked into the microphone. “Glad you finally snapped out of it. Now hurry up and apologize.” I stopped at the base of the steps, looked him dead in the eye, and spoke clearly enough for the entire room to hear. “I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have delayed this inevitable union.” I smiled brightly. “A man who cheats on his fiancée, and a woman who stabs her best friend in the back—you two are truly a match made in hell. I realize my mistake now.” The crowd gasped in shock. Jeff’s face turned violently purple. He opened his mouth to scream for security— “That is enough.” A deep, commanding voice boomed through the speakers. The ballroom went dead silent. My dad stepped out from the VIP section, the crowd parting for him like the Red Sea. He walked slowly, his presence suffocatingly powerful, straight toward me. Someone in the front row aggressively whispered, “Oh man, Mr. Sinclair is about to destroy her. She slept with him to get to his son, and now she’s ruining the wedding? He’s gonna bury her.” My dad stopped right in front of me. He raised his hand. The same guest hissed excitedly, “Here it comes! He’s gonna slap her!” Instead, my dad gently wrapped his warm, steady hand around mine. He turned to face the hundreds of elite guests, the cameras, and the sheer silence. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried the weight of an empire. “Allow me to introduce Ms. Serena Sinclair. She is my biological daughter, who went missing eighteen years ago.” He slowly turned his gaze toward the altar, looking at Jeff like he was a piece of trash stuck to his shoe. “As for the boy on the stage…” “He is simply the charity case I adopted years ago.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “499823”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 For three grueling months, I trained my voice for a state network audition. When I finally taped a reel I was proud of, I rushed to Lucas, the broadcasting department president. He paused it after ten seconds, tone flat. “You lack natural talent. All this effort is wasted.” Instantly, his voice softened for Hailey, a struggling junior butchering a tongue twister nearby. “Don’t worry. We’ll go line by line until it feels right.” I stood frozen. I’d won the university hosting championship while she ranked dead last. Yet he gave her patience and me only scorn. Noticing my glare, Lucas frowned. He tossed a crumpled flyer for a senior poetry recital at me like spare change. Hailey turned, offering an innocent, pitying smile. I clutched the paper and walked out without a word. Half an hour later, I pushed into a community room smelling of joint patches. A young man in a crisp white shirt was teaching seniors vocal basics. The moment he spoke, a jolt ran down my spine. Lucas always bragged about being top of his class. But hearing this man speak was my first actual encounter with what pure, terrifying professional dominance sounded like. An elderly woman in the front row slapped her thigh in sheer excitement. “Mr. Vance! With a voice like yours, you belong on the national broadcast!” The man offered a faint, polite smile but didn’t respond. His eyes swept across the room, landing directly on me hovering in the doorway. “Are you going to grab a seat, or just stand there listening?” I blinked, my grip tightening on the crumpled flyer, and hurried to an empty chair in the back corner. For the entire hour, his lecture focused strictly on the connection between breath control and emotional resonance. There was zero pretentious academic jargon. Every single sentence he spoke was a direct hit to the core of broadcasting. When Lucas taught at the university, he obsessed over the “standard”—standard pronunciation, standard pacing, standard inflection. This man was teaching the “why.” When the class ended, the seniors slowly shuffled out. I gathered my courage, walked up to the podium, and pulled out my phone. “Excuse me. Could you possibly listen to my audition tape?” He took the phone and hit play. He didn’t kill it after ten seconds like Lucas did. He listened to the entire track. Then he handed the phone back, delivering a single sentence that completely shattered my worldview. “Your technique is flawless. Your breath is stable, your enunciation is precise, and your pacing is fully controlled.” “But you aren’t confident.” I froze. “Your vocal foundation is incredibly strong. But you are missing exactly one thing—you don’t believe you are actually capable.” He looked at me. His gaze was incredibly calm, yet sharp as a razor. “Someone who doesn’t believe in their own voice will never convince an audience to believe a word they say.” I opened my mouth, but my throat was totally paralyzed. Because he was absolutely, terrifyingly right. For three entire years, right before I spoke, Lucas’s voice would echo in my skull. You have zero talent. Your voice is totally flat. You have no emotional range. Over time, I had stopped trusting my own ears. “My name is Sebastian.” He slid a printed schedule across the podium. “Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays at seven. If you decide to show up, remember one thing.” “Before you step foot through that door, you strip off every single voice out there that has ever told you no.” “In this room, the only thing that matters is what you are actually made of.” I took the paper and gave him a sharp nod. As I walked out of the community center, my phone buzzed. A text from Lucas. [I was just being honest about your tape.] [The state network audition is packed with heavy hitters. You’d just be a placeholder. I was doing you a favor by giving you a reality check.] A second text immediately followed. [Oh, by the way. I already talked to the department head about the internal campus qualifiers this Saturday. Don’t bother registering.] [We have a limited quota. We need to save the slots for people who are actually a good fit.] I stared at the screen, the blood draining from my fingers. The campus qualifiers? The university was only given a limited number of recommendation letters to send students to the state network auditions. To get a letter, you had to pass the internal campus qualifiers. And I had just discovered that the registration deadline was today. I frantically opened the university portal. The registration portal was already locked. Deadline: 5:00 PM today. It was currently 8:40 PM. I shot a text back to Lucas: [When exactly did you talk to the department? Why wasn’t I informed?] He replied instantly. [I told them last week. I knew you’d humiliate yourself up there, so I made the executive decision for you.] [Stop throwing a tantrum. Just be a good girl and listen to me.] My knuckles turned white around the glass of my phone. He had forfeited my spot an entire week ago. And he waited until the deadline passed to tell me. I took a deep, shaking breath and dialed the department head, Professor Harris. “Professor Harris, it’s Aria. I just wanted to ask… is there any possible way to late-register for the campus qualifiers?” The line was dead silent for two seconds. “Aria? Lucas specifically told me you voluntarily withdrew. Honestly, I was totally confused.” “You won the university hosting championship. Technically speaking, you’re our seeded competitor.” “I never withdrew.” “…Alright. I’ll manually add your name to the roster tomorrow morning.” “But the list has already been publicly posted. You’re registering after the deadline. People are probably going to complain.” “I don’t care. Thank you, Professor.” I hung up the phone, leaned my back against the brick wall of the alley, and closed my eyes. Lucas. What the hell are you so terrified of? The next morning, the news of my late registration spread like wildfire. The broadcasting department group chat exploded. Hailey was the first to chime in. [Wait? Didn’t Aria say she was dropping out?] Lucas immediately followed. [That was a miscommunication on my end. The department manually added her back in.] His tone was incredibly casual, acting like making executive decisions about my career behind my back was perfectly normal. Someone else replied. [But isn’t the quota three out of six? Adding another competitor makes the pressure insane.] Hailey sent a crying emoji. [Ughhh, I was already so nervous, now I’m practically having a panic attack.] Lucas instantly replied to her. [Don’t panic. I’ll give you a private coaching session tonight. We’ll run through the impromptu commentary section again.] I stared at the chat log, completely silent. At seven o’clock sharp, I walked into the senior activity room. Sebastian wasn’t wearing a dress shirt today. He had on a black crewneck sweater, the sleeves pushed up to his forearms, writing on the chalkboard. When he heard me walk in, he didn’t even turn around. “When are the qualifiers?” “The day after tomorrow.” “Timeline is tight. No group lecture today. I’m running you through a private simulation.” He turned around, leaning against the edge of the podium, crossing his arms. “Impromptu commentary. I give you a prompt. You have thirty seconds to prep, two minutes to speak.” “Clock starts now. Prompt: ‘Should young people sacrifice stability to pursue their dreams?’” I inhaled sharply, my brain spinning at a million miles an hour. Thirty seconds later, I opened my mouth. Halfway through my first point, Sebastian cut me off. “Stop.” I stared at him, my heart pounding. He was frowning, but it wasn’t a frown of disgust. “Right when you hit your third sentence, your tempo suddenly spiked.” “Why?” I thought about it for a second. “Because… I was terrified I sounded stupid, so I just wanted to get it over with.” Sebastian looked at me, his eyes growing dark and heavy. “Aria, your content is flawless. Your logic is tight, your arguments are aggressive.” “But the second you panic, you subconsciously speed up. It sounds like you are running away.” “The judges don’t give a damn how many words you cram in. They care about how absolutely certain you sound when you say them.” He picked up a piece of chalk and dragged a thick, solid line across the blackboard. “Reset.” “Drop your voice into the ground. Do not let it float in the air.” I started from the top. This time, I forced myself to leave a deliberate beat of breath between every single sentence. When I finished, Sebastian didn’t immediately critique me. He hit play on a digital voice recorder sitting on the podium. My voice drifted out of the tiny speaker. It was heavy, crystal clear, and carried a terrifying, unshakeable power. It sounded like a completely different human being. “Do you hear that?” Sebastian handed the recorder to me. “That is your voice. Trust it.” I took the cold metal recorder from his hand, the back of my throat burning. When I walked out of the community center and reached the sidewalk, I ran straight into someone who absolutely did not belong here. Lucas. He was leaning against a streetlamp, holding a cardboard tray with two coffees. When he saw me walking out of the senior center, genuine shock crossed his face. It quickly morphed into a very subtle, deeply arrogant displeasure. “Aria, have you seriously been coming here every single night?” I stopped walking. “What are you doing here?” “Dropping off coffee for Hailey. She’s in the study hall across the street running her impromptu drills.” He answered casually, but his eyes were locked onto the brass plaque mounted on the brick wall behind me. The words Senior Poetry Recitation practically glowed under the streetlights. Lucas stared at it for two seconds before letting out a soft, highly condescending laugh. “Aria, you can’t be serious.” “You’re actually taking classes here?” He shook his head, his tone dripping with the kind of patience you’d use on a stupid child. “I know your ego is bruised, but you really shouldn’t be resorting to this kind of absolute garbage out of desperation.” “Who the hell even is the guy teaching in there? Has he won a single state-level award? Does he hold any actual professional certifications?” I didn’t answer him. He let out a heavy sigh, took a step closer, and lowered his voice. “I’m just looking out for you.” “You’ve been icing me out, you refuse to let me coach you, and instead you’re coming here to hang out with a bunch of geriatrics?” Under the arrogance, there was a faint, undetectable trace of bitter jealousy. I took a step back, maintaining my physical distance. “Who I train with is none of your business.” Lucas stared at me for two solid seconds. The smirk on his face completely vanished. “Fine. Qualifiers are the day after tomorrow. When you humiliate yourself on that stage, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He turned and jaywalked across the street. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the study hall, Hailey was already looking up, watching us. When she saw Lucas approaching, she jumped up and ran to the door to greet him. She took the coffee from his hand, whispering something softly. Lucas tilted his head down, leaning right next to her ear. They were standing so close that, from my angle, their foreheads were practically touching. Hailey giggled, raising her hand to playfully push his shoulder. It was incredibly intimate. I stood completely still under the streetlamp, my fingers wrapped tightly around the voice recorder in my pocket. See you the day after tomorrow. 2 On the day of the qualifiers, the broadcasting department’s black box theater was packed to the walls. The judging panel consisted of Professor Harris, two senior broadcasting faculty members, and a special guest: Sarah, an executive producer from the state network. Six candidates. Three recommendation letters. I drew slot number four. Hailey was number three. While we waited backstage, Lucas sat in the observer’s chair right next to the judges’ table, officially representing his title as “Broadcasting Department President.” He didn’t have voting power, but he was authorized to “provide professional insight” after each candidate’s performance. Candidates one and two were perfectly average. Then it was Hailey’s turn. She was visibly shaking when she took the stage. She stumbled over the second paragraph of her mandatory read, and her impromptu commentary was totally disorganized. But she was gorgeous, she had great stage presence, and even though her voice was incredibly shaky, her tone was naturally sweet. When she finished, Lucas was the very first person to grab the mic. “Although Hailey is still a bit raw, her vocal tone is absolutely stunning, and she is incredibly moldable.” “This is exactly the demographic the state network is currently desperate for—young, fresh, and highly approachable.” “Personally, I believe her ceiling is incredibly high.” Professor Harris nodded slowly, writing something down on his clipboard. As Hailey walked off the stage, she shot Lucas a sickeningly sweet smile. It was my turn. I walked to the center of the stage and planted my feet. The spotlight hit my face. Dozens of eyes stared at me from the dark theater. I could see Lucas leaning back in his chair, his face a mask of total apathy, looking like he was settling in to watch a guaranteed trainwreck. Mandatory manuscript reading. I took a deep breath. Following Sebastian’s technique, I dropped my breath straight into my diaphragm, pulling my voice from the most stable, grounded place in my body. “Good evening, viewers. Welcome to tonight’s Evening News Broadcast—” The exact second the first sentence left my mouth, several people in the audience visibly straightened their spines. I delivered the entire manuscript with aggressive fluency. It was heavy, razor-sharp, and the pacing was flawless. Sarah, the state network producer, snapped her head up to look at me, immediately scribbling something onto her scorecard. For the impromptu commentary, my prompt was “Should anchors maintain a personal brand?” I prepped for thirty seconds. When I spoke, I ruthlessly controlled my tempo, ensuring every single sentence hit the floor like a brick. Sebastian’s words echoed in my skull. Don’t run away. Make your voice stand its ground. When my two minutes were up, the theater was completely silent. Professor Harris finally nodded. “Excellent. Incredibly stable.” I let out a quiet breath of relief and prepared to step off the stage. Lucas leaned forward and hit his mic. “I have a counterpoint to add.” He sat perfectly straight, his face an expertly crafted mask of professional objectivity. “Aria’s fundamentals are certainly passable, but as her primary coach for the last three years, I am ethically obligated to point out a severe issue.” “Her current vocal mechanics deviate drastically from the standardized curriculum we teach here.” “The state network demands absolute uniformity. If her vocal foundation is corrupted, it poses a massive liability for live broadcast disasters.” “I strongly urge the panel to reconsider her viability.” The entire theater went dead silent. I stood frozen under the spotlight, my fingertips turning to ice. He had just weaponized his position, in front of the state network producer, to publicly brand me as an untrained, rogue liability. Professor Harris frowned deeply. “Lucas, what exactly are you claiming is deviated?” Lucas stood up, radiating pure confidence. “For instance, her breath placement today was significantly lower than standard broadcasting protocol. In the short term, it sounds rich. But long-term application will permanently shred her vocal cords.” “Furthermore, this technique has not been academically vetted. It is a completely unregulated training method.” He sounded incredibly professional. He perfectly played the role of a concerned mentor looking out for my safety. The judges began whispering frantically among themselves. Sarah looked down at her scorecard, then looked back at me, her expression twisting into heavy hesitation. I stood on the stage, my throat closing up. I desperately wanted to defend myself, but I didn’t even know where to start. Sitting in the front row, Hailey tilted her head slightly, shooting me a deeply sympathetic smile. The judges debated for five agonizing minutes. Professor Harris cleared his throat. “Given the concerns raised by Lucas, we have decided to implement a sudden-death stress test.” “Aria, we are going to ask you to perform a three-minute live breaking news simulation, including an unscripted emergency interruption.” “If you can execute this flawlessly, we will dismiss the prior allegations.” I took a deep breath. “Understood.” Professor Harris handed me a freshly printed sheet of paper. It was a chaotic, disorganized mess of bullet points regarding an emergency flash flood—road closures, evacuation statistics, weather warnings. The volume of data was insane, and I was given exactly zero prep time. I scanned the numbers, my brain kicking into overdrive. “Whenever you’re ready.” I walked back to the center mark and looked up. “Viewers, we are interrupting our broadcast to bring you breaking news. At exactly 3:15 PM today, the eastern district was hit by a catastrophic flash flood. Multiple arterial roadways are currently submerged…” As I spoke, I was mentally restructuring the bullet points into fluid, broadcast-ready language in real-time. My tempo was ironclad. The data was hyper-accurate. I didn’t stutter a single time. By the two-minute mark, I hit the zone. Everything Sebastian had drilled into my body took over automatically. Breath, tempo, dramatic pauses, emotional restraint. In the final thirty seconds, I deliberately decelerated my tempo to deliver a heavy, authoritative sign-off. “This concludes our initial coverage of this developing emergency. We will remain on air to provide continuous updates.” The theater was silent for two full seconds. Sarah was the first to start clapping. “Outstanding. Your on-the-fly cognitive processing and data synthesis are exceptional.” Professor Harris nodded in absolute relief. “No issues whatsoever.” I finally let my shoulders drop. But Lucas’s face turned completely black. He never expected me to survive that test. Right as I turned to leave, he stood up again. “Professors, I have one final piece of evidence to submit.” Professor Harris scowled. “Lucas, what now?” “I need the panel to see exactly where Aria has been sourcing her training.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and held up a photo. “This is the facility she has been attending for the last several weeks. A local community center for the elderly.” The photo clearly showed the tacky paper window decorations and Mrs. Wang’s knitting basket sitting in the corner. “Her so-called ‘coach’ is an absolute nobody teaching poetry to retirees. He holds absolutely zero state-level certifications.” “I am not targeting Aria personally. But as department president, it is my ethical duty to ensure we do not send fraudulent candidates to the state network.” “If her entire training ecosystem is a joke, then passing one stress test does not guarantee long-term stability.” The theater erupted. The gossip hit the walls like a tsunami. “A senior center? Are you kidding me?” “Who the hell is she even training with?” “She probably got scammed by some con artist…” I stood on the stage, the blood rushing violently to my head. He was standing in front of the entire university, systematically stripping away every last shred of my dignity. Sarah’s face hardened, her initial approval morphing into deep skepticism. Professor Harris looked at me, his voice tight with frustration. “Aria, who exactly is your vocal coach?” I opened my mouth. His name was Sebastian. But who was he really? What were his credentials? I had absolutely no idea. In that exact moment, I had zero proof to defend myself. Watching me choke on my own silence, the corners of Lucas’s mouth curled into a victorious smirk. “Professors, I formally recommend that Aria’s candidacy be permanently revoked.” “A candidate who cannot even verify the identity of their own instructor has no right representing this university at the state level.” From the front row, Hailey chimed in softly. “He’s right… if she causes a disaster on live television, it’s the university’s reputation that burns…” I clenched my fists so hard my nails cut into my palms. Just as Professor Harris opened his mouth to deliver the final verdict— The heavy double doors at the back of the theater were violently shoved open. A low, heavy voice, radiating absolute, terrifying dominance, hit the room like a sledgehammer. “I’ll tell you exactly who her coach is.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “499824”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 In the sterile, brightly lit corridor of the maternity ward, right after we finished the paperwork for my newborn daughter’s birth certificate, my twin sister suddenly spoke. “I’m pregnant too.” She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at the infant carrier my husband was holding. A cruel, sickeningly sweet smile spread across her face. “We tried it right next to your hospital bed last month. He was so incredibly gentle. I just couldn’t control myself, so we didn’t use protection.” I stood completely frozen. The fresh incision from my C-section throbbed with a blinding pain that made it impossible to stand up straight. I couldn’t force a single sound out of my throat. Laura just kept smiling, looking like the picture of absolute innocence. “Andrew knows exactly how to love a woman. Much better than your ex-husband ever did.” Five years ago, while I was undergoing grueling fertility treatments, I walked into my bedroom and caught Laura in bed with my first husband. When my entire world collapsed and severe depression dragged me under, Andrew was the one who stayed by my side day and night. He pulled me out of that pitch-black darkness. And now, the sister who shared my exact blood and face had just shoved me back into the abyss using the exact same method. The moment Laura said Andrew was better than my ex, my eyes instinctively darted to him. The hand he used to grip the baby carrier was violently shaking. His eyes darted everywhere, refusing to look at me. He couldn’t even choke out half a syllable of denial. My body began to tremble so violently that my C-section stitches tore. A warm, dark patch of blood began to seep through my loose clothes. But I couldn’t feel the physical pain. Every single nerve in my body was completely swallowed by something infinitely colder and sharper. Laura casually pulled out her phone, opened an audio file, and hit play. Andrew’s voice filtered through the tiny speaker. “Grace is asleep. Come over here, just be quiet.” Immediately following his whisper was Laura’s soft giggle. Then came the unmistakable, rhythmic creaking of a mattress. And then, the soft jingling of the mobile hanging above my daughter’s crib. They had done it in the exact room where I was supposed to recover. Right beside my bed. Right beside my newborn baby. Other families and nurses were walking down the corridor, casting curious glances our way. Laura deliberately raised her voice. “Nora, please don’t be mad at me! I really didn’t mean to. I was just always so jealous of you. Growing up, you always got the best of everything.” She seamlessly packaged herself as the pathetic, victimized younger sister. To anyone walking by, this just looked like a petty sibling rivalry. I leaned heavily against the freezing hospital wall, my eyes locked on Andrew. “The day the baby was born, you said you were going to buy me hot soup. You disappeared for three hours. Were you accompanying her to an ultrasound?” Andrew’s face drained of all color. His lips moved, but no sound came out. Laura noticed me defensively wrapping my arms around my stomach and my baby. Her smile stiffened for a fraction of a second before melting back into that sickening sweetness. “Nora, I was actually hoping we could talk about this. Why don’t we just raise my baby and your baby together?” “They both belong to Andrew anyway. We are all family.” The memory from five years ago violently violently crashed into my skull. Back then, I was tracking my ovulation window down to the minute. My ex-husband, Simon, claimed he had to work late. Laura told me she was coming over to keep me company. I had pushed open the bedroom door holding a mug of fertility tea I had just brewed. Simon and Laura were tangled in the sheets of the very bed I had prepared for a pregnancy. Laura had worn this exact same expression. Innocent. Naive. Looking at me as if I was the one who had been caught cheating. I looked down at the tiny, sleeping face of my daughter in the carrier. Then I looked at Laura’s perfectly flat stomach, where she claimed a new life was growing. The oxygen was violently sucked out of the hallway. I opened my mouth, gasping for air like a dying fish. Andrew finally found his voice. It was horribly weak. “Nora, please let me explain…” I didn’t even look at him. I turned my head toward Laura. “How many weeks?” Laura blinked in surprise, then gently rested a hand on her stomach. Her eyes gleamed with raw, unfiltered arrogance. “Six weeks. Congratulations, Nora. You’re going to be an aunt.” Those words were like a rusted iron nail driven repeatedly into my unhealed surgical wound. I doubled over. Blood gushed from the torn incision, dripping heavily onto the pristine white tiles of the hospital floor. A passing nurse spotted the bleeding and immediately screamed for help, rushing me onto a gurney to repair the wound. Laura and Andrew followed closely behind. During the emergency suturing, I was drenched in a freezing sweat from the sheer agony. Laura simply sat in the visitor’s chair by the wall, crossing her legs and casually scrolling through her phone. She would only occasionally glance up to watch me suffer. Andrew hovered awkwardly in the doorway, too cowardly to step inside, but too guilty to walk away. 2 The moment the nurse left the room, I fought through the stabbing, needle-like pain in my abdomen and stared directly at Andrew. My voice was terrifyingly calm. “When did it start.” Andrew stammered, completely unable to lift his head. Laura locked her phone screen and answered for him. “Last Thanksgiving. Right around the time you were seven months pregnant.” “Mom told me to bring you some supplements, so she called Andrew to come pick me up.” “We hit terrible traffic on the way back, so we ended up talking for a long time. He told me your temper had gotten completely out of control since you got pregnant. He said he was exhausted.” She looked at me, her tone as casual as if she were discussing the weather. “You really did change, Nora. You used to be so incredibly sweet.” When I was seven months pregnant, I was hospitalized with severe preeclampsia. I had to endure agonizing hormone injections every single day to keep the baby safe. Every shot made me dizzy with pain. Andrew had told me he was driving across town to pick up our mother so she could keep me company. I had held his hand, crying tears of absolute gratitude. I stared a hole straight through Andrew’s skull. “I asked you to pick up my mother. Not Laura. Did you somehow forget that I never wanted to see her face again?” Andrew kept his head bowed. His fingers clenched into fists, then released. “Nora, you were different after you got pregnant. You were constantly anxious. The pressure on me was enormous…” “Laura… she looks exactly like you. But she never yells at me.” Laura jumped in immediately. “See? Even Andrew thinks I’m easier to love.” “We share the exact same face, but I know how to actually treat a man. Simon said the exact same thing years ago.” Her expression was entirely serious, as if she were stating a universally acknowledged scientific fact. My hands began to shake violently. My mind flashed back to the final month of my pregnancy. My mobility was practically gone. Our mother had forcefully insisted that Laura move in to help care for me during my postpartum recovery. She swore Laura genuinely wanted to make amends, begging me to let go of the past. Eventually, I caved. I thought that, at the end of the day, we were still blood. She had cooked me nutritious soups, walked with me in the evenings, and helped pack my hospital bag. She had even held me while crying, swearing she would protect me with her life. I ripped the IV needle out of the back of my hand, grabbed the baby carrier, and headed straight for the door. Andrew lunged forward, blocking my path. “Your stitches aren’t even healed. Grace still needs observation. Where do you think you’re going?” “To get a divorce.” I spat the words out through gritted teeth. Andrew’s face completely hardened. He forcefully ripped the carrier out of my hands. “I am not letting you take my child! Nora, calm the hell down. We can sit down and talk about this.” Laura’s ghostly voice drifted over from the corner, twisting the knife. “Nora, you have a documented history of severe clinical depression. No family court judge is going to give you custody of an infant.” “Plus, you can barely even walk right now. How are you supposed to care for a baby?” “You should just leave the baby with me and Andrew. I promise I’ll raise her exactly like she’s my own.” That sentence struck the absolute deepest, darkest core of my fears. I had a history of severe clinical depression. I was physically broken from major surgery. I had zero financial independence to fight a legal battle. Laura knew with lethal precision exactly how to completely shatter me. Since we were children, she was always the one who knew exactly where to slide the knife in. Andrew took my newborn baby and walked out of the hospital room, with Laura trailing closely behind him. As he passed me, he dropped one final sentence. “Focus on finishing your postpartum recovery. We will deal with everything else later.” The heavy door clicked shut. I could hear Laura’s voice echoing softly in the hallway. She was murmuring gently to Andrew. “She’ll come around. She eventually got over the whole thing with Simon, didn’t she?” Their footsteps faded into silence. The hospital room became suffocatingly quiet. The only sound left was the mechanical humming of the medical monitors. Five days later, I was transferred to an upscale postpartum care retreat. Under the perfectly tailored excuse of “caring for my sister”, Laura shamelessly moved into the suite right next to mine. My baby was kept in the facility’s nursery. Andrew had signed the paperwork as my guardian. I was only allowed to hold my daughter during feeding times. The rest of the day, she was strictly monitored by the staff. His excuse was beautifully crafted. He claimed he was terrified my postpartum depression would endanger the baby. 3 The nurses at the retreat were incredibly warm. Whenever they saw Laura, they constantly mistook her for me. Laura would just laugh and gently correct them. “I’m her twin sister.” Then, perfectly performing for the audience of nurses, she would wipe my face with a warm towel, feed me my meals, and ask about my pain levels. She played the role of the devoted caretaker better than a saint. The nurses constantly told me how incredibly lucky I was to have such an angelic sister. I stared at the poorly concealed triumph dancing in Laura’s eyes, refusing to say a single word. Night fell, and the retreat grew completely silent. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The pain in my abdomen made it impossible to sleep. I forced myself up, wanting to walk down to the nursery to look at my daughter through the glass. As I passed Laura’s room, I noticed the door was left slightly ajar. Andrew was sitting on the edge of Laura’s bed, holding both of her hands, speaking in a low, tender whisper. “You need to make sure you’re taking care of yourself too. The first trimester is the most delicate.” The tone of his voice was identical to the one he had used when I first got pregnant. I stood paralyzed in the hallway. I even held my breath. Laura leaned her head against Andrew’s shoulder, resting her hand elegantly over her flat stomach. Her voice was thick with honey. “Andrew, do you think our baby will be as beautiful as Nora’s little girl?” Andrew didn’t answer with words, but he reached his arm around her, pulling her tightly against his chest. I backed away, retreating to my room. As I closed my door, my trembling hand slipped, and the metal latch clicked loudly in the quiet hall. Seconds later, my door swung open. Laura walked in holding a glass of warm water, her expression completely natural. “Nora, why are you still awake? Are your stitches hurting again? Let me go get the nurse for you.” The collar of her silk pajama shirt was draped loosely open. Right on her collarbone was a fresh, dark red mark, mostly hidden beneath her hair. She pressed the glass of water to my lips and let out a soft, theatrical sigh. “Nora, Andrew told me giving him a daughter took such a horrible toll on your body.” “But he still really wants a son to inherit the family business. He told me…” “He told me it would be best if I gave him a son, so you wouldn’t have to suffer through the pain of pregnancy a second time. Don’t you think he is just the most considerate man in the world?” The next morning, my mother called. Before I could even breathe a word, she launched into a lecture. “Laura told me she has been staying up day and night to take care of you at that center. She says you are recovering beautifully.” “You are the older sister. Reign in your temper and stop causing so much unnecessary drama.” My knuckles turned completely white around the phone. I asked her point-blank if she knew Laura was pregnant. The line went dead silent for a very long time. “Laura told me. But that was Andrew’s mistake. Your sister is a victim in this too.” “You two are blood. You cannot let a man destroy your sisterhood again.” I ended the call and violently hurled the phone at the wall. The screen shattered into a hundred pieces across the floor. That afternoon, Andrew came by to drop off some supplies. He set the bags down, sat on the edge of my bed, and his eyes suddenly grew red and teary. “Nora, I know I failed you. I know I did.” “But Laura… she’s already pregnant. I can’t just abandon her and the baby.” “I promise you, for the rest of our lives, you will be the only legal Mrs. Andrew. No one will ever replace you.” He said all of this while holding a bag of newborn clothes he had bought for our daughter. Sitting right next to the baby clothes, in a clear plastic pharmacy bag, were two premium bottles of prenatal folic acid. Those were for Laura. At three in the morning, the hallway creaked again. I pressed my pillow violently over my ears. But I still heard Laura’s door open. I heard Andrew’s muffled cough. And then the door clicked shut. On the day I was finally cleared to leave the retreat, Andrew drove his SUV to pick us up. Laura naturally walked right over to the passenger side, opened the door, and slid into the front seat. I sat in the back, holding my baby. Laura adjusted the sun visor to reapply her lipstick. Then, she casually rested her hand over Andrew’s right hand, which was resting on the gear shift. Andrew didn’t pull away. He just nervously flicked his eyes to the rearview mirror to gauge my reaction. When we got back to the house, I realized Laura’s belongings had already been brazenly unpacked in the guest bedroom. I walked straight in, shoved all of her expensive clothes and cosmetics into garbage bags, and dragged them to the front door. Andrew sprinted over, physically blocking me. “Nora, she is pregnant! Where exactly is she supposed to go? I haven’t even had time to lease an apartment for her yet.” Laura stood at the top of the staircase. One hand rested protectively over her stomach, her eyes rimmed with red. She bit her lip, looking perfectly pathetic, completely silent. Andrew looked at her, then looked back at me. He bent down, picked up the garbage bags, and carried them right back into the guest room. I locked myself in the master bedroom, pulled out my laptop, and booked a consultation with a divorce attorney to fight for custody. After hearing my situation, the lawyer’s tone was incredibly grim. “They can argue that your history of severe clinical depression makes you mentally unstable. That is a massive disadvantage in a custody battle.” “If opposing counsel manages to subpoena your past psychiatric records…” I asked who would even give them those records. The lawyer sighed. “Anyone with intimate knowledge of your medical history.” 4 Laura knew every single detail of my psychiatric history. That afternoon, I tried to order some baby wipes online. My banking app flagged my password as incorrect. When I confronted Andrew, he looked at me with total self-righteousness. “I consolidated our finances to make managing the household easier. You are incredibly emotionally unstable right now. The money is safer under my name.” My salary account, my personal savings, and my medical insurance payouts. Every single cent had been transferred into a joint account solely controlled by him. Laura was changing Grace’s diaper nearby. She didn’t even lift her head. “Nora, your health is so fragile right now. Let Andrew handle the stressful things like money. You just focus on resting.” At dinner, Laura cooked an extravagant meal. Andrew took one bite and endlessly praised her culinary skills. Laura served a bowl of rich soup and handed it to Andrew. Then, she scooped another bowl and placed it directly in front of me. “Nora, childbirth drains a woman’s vitality. You need to drink more soup to recover.” I picked up the porcelain bowl. The distinct, herbal scent drifted into my nose. It was the exact custom recipe I had consumed every single day to protect my pregnancy. She was using my recipe to feed my husband, and to nourish the bastard child in her own stomach. After dinner, I sat in the master bedroom, trying to coax Grace to sleep. From the guest room next door, the rhythmic, heavy sounds of Andrew and Laura panting bled through the walls. Grace suddenly started crying. Nothing I did could soothe her. The noises in the guest room abruptly stopped, but the sliver of light under their door remained burning for the entire night. I sat on the edge of the bed holding my screaming daughter until the sun came up, my eyes burning like dry sand. On the third day, I walked into the living room. Sitting perfectly centered on the glass coffee table was an ultrasound printout. The medical notes were crystal clear: “Intrauterine pregnancy. Fetal pole visible.” Laura had left it there on purpose. When I picked up the glossy paper, my legs simply gave out. I slid down the side of the sofa, collapsing onto the hardwood floor. Grace woke up in her bassinet, reaching two tiny, fragile hands toward me. I crawled over and grabbed her hand. Her tiny fingers wrapped tightly around my index finger. In that exact moment, only one singular, horrifying thought consumed my brain. If I stayed alive, and she grew up in a house controlled by Laura… would they eventually twist her into a malicious, toxic monster just like them? That thought drowned me in absolute terror. In the dead of night, when the house was completely silent, I opened the bottom drawer of my nightstand. I took out a full bottle of my old heavy antidepressants and swallowed every last pill. The dry pills scraped my throat. I gagged violently, but forced them all down. But I knew it wouldn’t be enough. Fighting the heavy, suffocating fog clouding my brain, I dragged my body up the stairs to the second-floor balcony. I took the heavy laundry rope, tied it into a tight loop, and slipped it over my neck. I kicked the wooden chair away. The rope snapped taut instantly. The sheer violence of the asphyxiation and the crushing agony tore through my throat. The brutal, primal struggle of my dying body created a massive commotion. Andrew sprinted up the stairs like a madman, grabbed a pair of garden shears, and violently cut the rope. I crashed heavily onto the wooden floorboards of the balcony. Right before the world went entirely black, my eyes locked onto the face standing directly behind Andrew. It was Laura. She didn’t look panicked. She was smiling. I didn’t know how much time passed before the sterile, rhythmic beeping of hospital monitors pierced my ears. A woman’s voice cut through the dark, crisp and entirely rational. “Nora, your daughter is waiting for you in the nursery.” “If you die today, whose last name is she going to take? Who is she going to call Mom? Your sister?” “You aren’t too weak to live. You just spent all your energy hating yourself.” “You hate yourself for being blind. You hate yourself for not being good enough. But did it ever cross your mind that you aren’t the broken one? They are just completely rotten.” My index finger twitched. My consciousness violently clawed its way up from the bottom of the ocean. A different kind of rope had caught me. It was the memory of my daughter’s very first, piercing cry when she entered the world. I lay in the ICU for two full days. The voices outside my door drifted in and out. I heard Laura on the phone. “Mom, she’s fine. Don’t bother coming to the hospital. Just like last time, she didn’t manage to die.” On the third day, I fully woke up. I opened my eyes to the blinding white ceiling. My throat felt like it had been torched with gasoline. A thick bandage was wrapped tightly around my neck. Laura was slumped by the side of my bed, her eyes perfectly red and swollen. When she saw my eyes open, she lunged forward, grabbing my hand. “Nora!” I looked at her with total, blank confusion. “Who are you?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “499825”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel