Category: English

Right before graduation, I ended up getting a new roommate: a senior from the local university. Her name was Hannah. She was gentle, polite, and whenever she saw me in the kitchen, she’d flash this incredibly sweet smile and say, “Hey, Moore.” But lately, the dynamic in the apartment had shifted. Deep into the night, the unmistakable sound of the shower running would bleed through the thin drywall. Worse, it was always accompanied by a soft, breathy, and undeniably intimate moaning. It was the kind of sound that made my face burn in the dark. After tossing and turning for nights on end, I finally broke down and shot her a text. “Hey, the walls in this place are paper-thin. Do you think you could shower a little earlier in the evening?” A minute later, my phone buzzed. She replied with a confused emoji. “I’ve been buried in my senior thesis. I’ve been crashing at the dorms for the past week. I haven’t even been home.” 1 “Is the bathroom leaking? If it is, maybe call a plumber to look at it, and I’ll Venmo you my half of the bill.” Hannah’s follow-up text glowed on my screen. A water leak and someone taking a shower were two entirely different sounds. I wasn’t an idiot. And more importantly, a leaky pipe didn’t moan. This hadn’t just been a one-time thing, either. It had been going on for days, severely cutting into my sleep and leaving me feeling like a zombie during my morning shifts. I was a grown man; I wouldn’t have brought up something so painfully awkward with a female roommate unless it was genuinely disrupting my life. But her reply threw me. Had she really been gone that long? I worked a soul-crushing nine-to-five corporate gig and was usually dead to the world by nine in the evening. If I was being honest, I hadn’t paid any attention to her comings and goings. Rubbing my temples, I sighed, brushing the whole thing off as a weird misunderstanding. “Hey, Moore. Don’t ghost us after work. Whole department is going out for drinks,” a coworker said later that afternoon, clapping a hand heavily on my shoulder. Every bone in my body wanted to say no. I was running on fumes. But I was gunning for a promotion to supervisor, which meant playing the corporate game and making nice with the team. I forced a smile and agreed. The “quick drinks” dragged on past midnight. By the time I left, the world was spinning. When I finally reached the front steps of my apartment building, I practically collided with the heavy glass door, my legs feeling like lead as I began the climb up to the second floor. Thank God I lived low down in the building. A few heavy steps, and the motion-sensor light flickered to life, casting a sickly yellow glow over the landing. I spent an embarrassing amount of time fumbling with my keys. Right as I managed to slide the key into the deadbolt, I glanced down. Sitting perfectly centered on the welcome mat was a piece of paper. I picked it up, squinting. It was a piece of blackened, charred ritual parchment—the kind of morbid, occult junk you’d find at an alternative witchcraft shop, usually burned to ward off spirits or mourn the dead. What a sick joke. I tossed it aside, muttering under my breath about bored teenagers in the neighborhood. But the moment I stumbled into the pitch-black apartment, the oppressive silence of the living room hit me. Instantly, my alcohol-fogged brain latched onto the bathroom. For an entire week, right around this time, the shower had turned on. I swallowed hard, the sound loud in the empty room, and forced myself to look away from the hallway. Don’t think about it. Still, the adrenaline had sobered me up a fraction. I hurried into my bedroom and threw the deadbolt. Sitting on the edge of the bed, my mind raced, echoing the text Hannah had sent me hours ago. I haven’t even been home… The more I thought about it, the more the silence seemed to press against my eardrums. I couldn’t sleep. I lay there, tossing and turning, my knuckles turning white as I gripped the edge of my blanket. And then, exactly what I feared most happened. Through the wall, the hiss of the bathroom shower roared to life. A split second later, that cloying, breathy moan followed. My heart slammed against my ribs. A cold sweat broke across my skin, a sudden, icy draft sweeping through the room. Listening to the crystal-clear sound of the running water, I knew I wasn’t imagining things. Hands shaking, I grabbed my phone and fired off a desperate text to Hannah. “Did you come back tonight?” The message sat on Delivered. No reply. But the noise in the bathroom didn’t stop. In the past, it usually faded out just past midnight. Tonight, it showed zero signs of slowing down. In fact, it was getting louder. I could hear my own rapid, shallow breathing. The pale moonlight sliced through my blinds, illuminating the floor, but my eyes were locked in a dead stare on my bedroom door. I was paralyzed, waiting for the handle to slowly turn. Then, the sliver of space beneath my bedroom door lit up. Flicker. Flicker. It was the living room light. This was a cheap, rundown apartment complex. The light switches were ancient, heavy plastic toggles that required a firm, loud clack to turn on. But the light in the living room was flickering on and off, completely silently, with no warning at all. 2 I’ve never been a brave guy. Put me in an empty house, and I won’t even watch a horror movie. But living it? It felt like every terrifying image I’d ever seen on a screen was suddenly downloading directly into my brain. The scream I wanted to let out was lodged like a stone in my throat. I shifted onto my back, squeezing my eyes shut. Breathe, Moore. Breathe. I tried to rationalize it. I told myself that ghosts didn’t exist, that this was either a bizarre plumbing issue, an elaborate prank, or the result of sleep deprivation and too much cheap whiskey. It took ten agonizing minutes of mental gymnastics to convince myself I wasn’t going to die. Whether it was a sudden surge of courage or just hitting the absolute ceiling of my fear, something inside me snapped. I swung my legs out of bed and grabbed the heavy aluminum baseball bat I kept by the nightstand. My grip was tight enough to bruise. Step by agonizing step, I moved toward my bedroom door. The light under the crack was still pulsing. The water was still running. I wrapped my sweaty fingers around the deadbolt, threw it back, yanked the door open, and stepped out, letting out a guttural roar. “Who the hell is out here?!” 3 Instantly, a violent chill racked my body. The living room was pitch black. The bathroom was dead silent. It was as if someone had hit the mute button on the entire apartment. The noises, the lights, the sheer wrongness of the atmosphere—it all vanished so abruptly it made my ears ring. It felt exactly like waking up from a falling nightmare. One second, terror. The next, nothing. I couldn’t process it. My chest was still heaving, the terror still pooling in my gut. Swallowing past the sandpaper in my throat, I kept the bat raised and reached out to flip the living room switch. It required a solid, forceful push, letting out a loud CLACK before the room flooded with cheap fluorescent light. Looking at the switch, I realized something. If someone had been flicking that light on and off as fast as I’d seen it under the door, they couldn’t have done it without making a racket. Still, the light made the space feel a fraction safer. I let out a shaky breath. I turned my attention to the hallway. I had to know what was in that bathroom. I slid open the frosted glass door of the shower. Nothing. The tub was bone dry. There wasn’t a single drop of water, let alone a leak. But I knew what I’d heard. This building was an ancient relic; the units directly above and below mine had been vacant for months. There was no chance I was hearing a neighbor. What the hell is going on? I turned on the faucet and splashed freezing water onto my face. I was completely, terrifyingly sober now. To prove to myself that someone was just screwing with me, I walked over to Hannah’s bedroom and knocked on the door. Dead silence. I tried the handle. Locked. Since we were practically strangers sharing a lease, we both had a strict habit of locking our doors when we left. But I was already down the rabbit hole tonight. I needed an answer. I walked over to the water cooler in the kitchen, filled a glass to the absolute brim, and set it carefully on the floor, right flush against her bedroom door. Her door opened outward. If she was in there, the moment she opened it, the glass would tip, the water would spill, and I would hear the heavy thud of the glass hitting the faux-wood floor. I wanted hard proof of whether she was in there or not. 4 Satisfied with my trap, I went back to my room, locking my own door behind me. Even back in bed, sleep felt impossible. I don’t know what time it was when I finally started drifting into that liminal space between wakefulness and sleep, but I was suddenly jolted awake by a sharp noise from the living room. Thud. Clatter. It was the unmistakable sound of a heavy glass tipping over and rolling across the floor. A massive wave of relief washed over me. The tension left my muscles in a rush. A prank. It had to be Hannah, or someone she brought over, messing with me. With the adrenaline gone, a bone-deep exhaustion took over. I figured I would give her a piece of my mind in the morning, tell her that scaring the hell out of her roommate wasn’t funny. I closed my eyes and fell into a heavy, dreamless sleep. My alarm went off the next morning like a siren. Between the hangover and the emotional rollercoaster, my head felt like it was splitting open. But I was a single guy trying to build a savings account, desperately working toward a future where I could actually afford a ring and a family one day. Calling in sick wasn’t an option. I forced myself upright. Before I even brushed my teeth, I marched out to the hallway, ready to confront her. I froze. The glass of water was sitting perfectly undisturbed, right where I had left it. It hadn’t been moved a single inch. A spike of genuine anger pierced through the confusion. A joke was a joke, but this was psychological torture. I banged on her door, hard. “Hannah, open up. We need to talk. You’ve been scaring the absolute hell out of me for days. Can we drop the act now?” Nothing. “Hannah, I know you’re in there! Stop playing games and come out.” I stood there for ten minutes, knocking and calling her name. The room behind the door remained utterly, completely dead. I threw my hands up in exasperation. How could a brilliant, seemingly normal college kid be this twisted? I had to leave for work, so I decided to drop it until tonight. I walked into the bathroom to brush my teeth. As I leaned over the sink, I noticed a ring of dried water droplets on the porcelain edge. It was from when I had splashed my face with cold water the night before. At first, it didn’t register. Then, a cold realization slammed into me. I took a slow step backward out of the bathroom, my eyes locking onto the glass of water in front of Hannah’s door. I heard that water spill last night. I heard the glass roll. So why was the floor bone dry? Furthermore, I hadn’t heard the sound of someone mopping it up or refilling the glass from the cooler. Most importantly: her door opened outward. If she had opened the door, knocked the glass over, and then refilled it… there was physically no way she could have placed the full glass back in that exact spot, flush against the wood, and closed the door behind her without knocking it over again. It was impossible. A fresh layer of cold sweat erupted across my skin. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I jumped, nearly biting my own tongue. Hand trembling, I pulled it out. It was an iMessage from Hannah, finally replying to what I’d sent her the night before. “I didn’t come back. I told you, I’m too busy to come home right now.” 5 I practically ran out of the apartment, struggling to pull my jacket on as I took the stairs two at a time. The crisp morning air hit my face, but my mind was stuck in the dark of that apartment. The sounds had been so vivid. So clear. I couldn’t have imagined them! But if Hannah wasn’t there… where the hell were those noises coming from? “Hey! Moore.” I stopped in my tracks. It was Mr. Henderson, the building’s elderly superintendent, dragging a mop bucket out of the utility closet. He leaned on the handle, looking at me with a worried frown. “You get into some trouble recently, son? I’ve found charred ritual papers—witchcraft looking stuff—outside your door more than once this week.” Right. The burned paper I’d seen last night. I rushed over to him. “Mr. Henderson… has anyone ever died in that apartment?” He blinked, surprised, then gave a dry chuckle. “Kid, look at this building. People have died in every unit.” “No, I mean—was there a murder? A suicide? Something unnatural?” Mr. Henderson narrowed his eyes, thinking for a moment, before shaking his head firmly. “No. Nothing like that.” I didn’t know if that made me feel better or worse. I thanked him and hurried toward the subway. As for offending someone? I could say with absolute certainty that I hadn’t. I kept my head down, paid my taxes, and minded my own business. I spent the entire workday staring blankly at my monitor. I couldn’t shake the creeping dread. During my lunch break, I called the landlord. I asked him point-blank if there was a dark history to the unit. He swore up and down there wasn’t. But his denial only made the knot in my stomach tighter. I made up my mind right then: I was breaking the lease. I didn’t care about the penalty. I couldn’t spend another week in that place. 6 I don’t know how I survived the workday. The walk back to the apartment felt like a march to the gallows. My heart pounded against my ribs with every step. If this kept up, I was going to have a genuine psychotic break. When I reached my door, I scanned the welcome mat. No charred paper. Clean. I let out a breath and pulled out my keys. But just as I unlocked the deadbolt and pushed the door open, a heavy shoulder shoved past me, forcing its way inside. It was a guy I’d never seen before. “Hey! What the hell are you doing? You’ve got the wrong place!” I yelled, dropping my bag and chasing him into the living room. He ignored me completely, his eyes wild as he started screaming at the top of his lungs. “Hannah! I know you’re in here! Get out here and look me in the eye!” He was looking for Hannah. Judging by the desperation in his voice, he was one of her romantic orbiters. I remembered her mentioning a guy named Trevor who wouldn’t leave her alone. “She’s at the dorms,” I said, keeping my distance. “She’s not here.” Trevor whipped around, glaring at me. He closed the distance between us in three aggressive strides. “You really think you can compete with me for her? Look at you. You’re pathetic.” I blinked, totally lost. “I think you’re confused, man. We just share rent.” Trevor let out a dark, mocking laugh, his upper lip curling in disgust. “So you’re broke and you’re a coward. You won’t even admit it to my face.” He shook his head. “Hannah told me to back off. She said she had a boyfriend now. And I know it’s you.” The guy looked genuinely unhinged. His eyes were wide, and he couldn’t stand still, his head twitching as he spoke. I had zero desire to deal with this drama. I told him plainly that I wasn’t her boyfriend and demanded he leave my apartment. Instead of leaving, Trevor pulled out his phone, opened his messages with Hannah, and hit the voice memo button, holding it up like a microphone. “Hannah, your taste in men is garbage. He won’t even claim you. This is the loser you picked over me?” He sent the audio, then looked me up and down. “I’m calling fair game. If I win her back, you pack your shit and leave. Or I’ll knock your teeth down your throat.” With that final threat, he turned and stormed toward the door. As he turned, his jacket rode up, and I caught a glint of silver clipped to his belt. A switchblade. He had flashed it on purpose. I rubbed my face, exhausted beyond belief, and immediately texted Hannah. “Who the hell was that guy? What did you tell him? You know I have a girlfriend, please don’t drag me into your mess.” A long while later, she sent back a single character: “K.” I didn’t push it. I had said my piece. But looking out the window, the sun was already starting to set. The shadows in the apartment were lengthening. I didn’t know if the terror from the past week would return tonight. I glanced at the hallway. The glass of water was still sitting exactly where I’d left it. I knew for an absolute fact now that Hannah wasn’t home. Nobody could stay locked in a room for twenty-four hours straight without at least coming out to use the bathroom. Taking a deep breath, I decided to try a different approach tonight. I was going to use a camera. 7 I dug out my old backup phone, set it on the bathroom vanity, and made sure it had a full charge. Right before getting into bed, I hit record. If there were noises, the mic would pick them up. If something was in there, the lens would capture it. With the trap set, I crawled under the covers. Between the corporate grind and the relentless anxiety, my body had reached its breaking point. Exhaustion pulled me under almost instantly, dragging me into a deep, dreamless void. But sometime in the dead of night, a sharp, piercing ringtone ripped me out of my sleep. It was the FaceTime ringtone. I groaned, blindly slapping the nightstand until my fingers brushed my current phone. I pulled it to my face, squinting against the harsh glare of the screen. When I read the caller ID, all the air left my lungs. It was my backup phone. My old phone was video calling my current phone. But my old phone was sitting on the counter. Inside the empty bathroom.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “404083”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The year I turned eight, the woods surrounding our valley developed an appetite for human flesh. That afternoon, I was the only one in the yard when the two voices drifted over the fence. “The Hollow is going to eat its way through this town tonight.” “Yeah. It’s a damn shame. These folks have no idea the hell that’s coming for them.” 1 Our community was one of several off-the-grid settlements nestled deep in the Appalachian mountains. That year, the neighboring settlement over the ridge had gone dead quiet. Nobody had come down to the county hardware store or the farmers’ market for weeks. My dad, Thomas, couldn’t shake the bad feeling in his gut. He gathered a few of our strongest guys and hiked up the logging trails to check on them. What they found was a ghost town. All three hundred and seventeen residents, gone. Devoured. The scene was something out of a slaughterhouse nightmare. I don’t know what specific horror my dad saw out there, but when he came back, his face was carved from stone. He was our town’s unofficial mayor, the man everyone looked to, and he immediately ordered every able-bodied person to the perimeter to start building a reinforced timber wall. I was left alone in the yard to entertain myself. It was a gorgeous string of days. The wind was pushing cotton-ball clouds across the sky, leaving feathery trails in the blue. Bored out of my mind, I was squatting by the foundation of the house, poking a stick into an anthill. Faintly, almost obscured by the rustle of the trees, two bizarre voices drifted to my ears. “The Hollow is going to eat its way through this town tonight.” “What’s the point of building walls? No fence is gonna keep that thing out. Man, disaster is right on their doorstep.” The moment the words hung in the air, the entire yard seemed to fall into a vacuum of silence. A spider crawled noiselessly across the brickwork. The wind pushed a cloud directly over the sun, casting the deep forest into a sudden, menacing shadow. The distant peaks seemed to solidify into a bruised, impenetrable black. An involuntary shiver violently racked my small body. The Hollow?! I dropped my stick instantly, pressing my back against the wall, straining my ears to eavesdrop. A second voice, slightly higher and more nasal than the first, chimed in. “I don’t know, I’d say they have a fighting chance of not getting eaten.” “Oh? And how do you figure that?” “Word is, The Hollow is practically human, and it’s got its habits. Whenever it hits a new town, it always sniffs around to see if the meat is fresh. If they hang a slab of raw meat at the foot of their beds, and pretend to be dead asleep—absolutely dead silent—The Hollow will think the room is full of rotting meat. It’ll pass right by.” The sun broke free from the clouds, the wind rustled the tops of the pines, and the voices vanished completely. But I understood. I understood perfectly. The people in the neighboring settlement hadn’t just disappeared. They had been eaten by The Hollow! Every ounce of childhood playfulness evaporated from my bones. I sprinted toward the perimeter where the men were hauling timber, screaming for my dad. But when I stood there, breathless, and repeated everything I’d heard, the men just wiped the sweat from their brows and laughed. “Look at the little storyteller we got here,” one of them chuckled. “That’s a good one, kid. ‘The Hollow’.” “I’ll give her credit, she tells it like it’s the gospel truth.” 2 The sting of their condescending amusement hit me hard. My face flushed a violent, desperate red. “I’m not making it up! I heard them! Clear as day!” I whipped my head toward my dad, terrified he would brush me off too. “Dad, I swear I heard it. The people over the ridge—they were eaten. That’s why there were no bodies left.” “Maeve, who did you hear this from?” My dad’s gaze cut through the laughter like a hunting knife. His eyes locked onto mine, so intense that I instantly wilted. The conversation I’d overheard had been so mesmerizing, so terrifying, that I hadn’t even thought to peek over the fence to see who was speaking. I swallowed hard, my confidence crumbling. “I… I didn’t see them. But I swear on my life I heard them, Dad. You have to believe me.” “I believe you.” I blinked, stunned. Before I could even process his words, Bobby, a hotheaded mechanic from down the road, scoffed loud enough for everyone to hear. “Thomas, you’ve gotta be kidding me, right?” My dad turned to face him. He was silhouetted against the glaring sun, but I could see his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white. The veins in his neck pulled taut against his skin. “I believe Maeve,” my dad said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “Not just because she’s my daughter. But because The Hollow is real.” The lingering chuckles died instantly. “Years ago, when I was working construction down in the valley for old man Vance, he told me stories about things in these mountains. Things with a hunger. I thought it was just campfire bullshit.” The silence in the clearing was so absolute you could hear the pine needles dropping. “Until I went up that ridge yesterday. Until I saw the bone fragments left behind. There were bite marks. Human teeth marks. But the jaw span… Jesus, folks, it wasn’t an animal that did that.” He looked around the circle of pale faces. “Three hundred people, gone in a single night. Not one survivor. If it’s not The Hollow, what the hell else could it be?” “That’s why I ordered this wall built the second I got back. I just wasn’t sure, and I didn’t want to incite a panic until I knew what we were dealing with.” For the younger guys who had barely ever left the county, this was too massive, too horrifying to swallow. But the older folks—the ones who had lived in these mountains their whole lives, who knew the deep, dark folklore—finally spoke up. “Thomas is right,” an old timer wheezed, leaning heavily on his shovel. “It’s true. The Hollow… God help us, I remember now. The old stories say it lives deep in the bedrock, only wakes up when it’s starved.” Another elder nodded grimly. “My granddad’s whole bloodline was wiped out by it. Skinned them, drank the marrow. They say from a distance, it looks like an old hunched man, but it’s five times the size of any normal person. Don’t let the shape fool you. It’s an abomination that comes down the mountain to eat people alive.” Once the town elders validated it, the reality set in. Tools dropped to the dirt. The men building the wall backed away from the timber, their nerve entirely broken. Bobby’s hands were shaking so hard he dropped his hammer. His voice cracked. “So… what the hell do we do?” “We do exactly what Maeve said,” my dad ordered, his authority absolute. “Tonight, every family hangs a slab of raw meat at the foot of their bed. And no matter what you hear, no matter what you see, nobody makes a goddamn sound.” My dad was a man of his word. He slaughtered the only cow we owned and butchered it, distributing the raw cuts to every family in town. Long before the sun dipped below the tree line, people were scrambling back to their cabins, locking themselves inside, paralyzed by fear. My dad took my hand and walked me home. After deadbolting the heavy front door and pulling down the steel shutters, my mom pulled me into her lap. Her heart was hammering against my back like a trapped bird. “Is this really going to work, Thomas?” she whispered into the dark. “We have to try,” he said softly. “Whatever or whoever gave Maeve that advice at a time like this… it’s either an angel or a devil.” “But how do you know it wasn’t The Hollow itself trying to trick us?” My mom’s question hit like a physical blow. The realization washed over me late, but when it did, every hair on my arms stood on end. It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water down my spine. Absolute, suffocating dread. Thank God, my dad replied steadily, “Because The Hollow doesn’t walk in the daylight. And before today, nobody except me and a few of the old-timers even remembered what it was.” I let out a shaky breath, but then my mind spun again. I’d almost rather it be some sick prank by the neighbor kids. At least then, there wouldn’t be a monster. I closed my eyes and prayed silently to a God I hoped was listening that the meat trick would work. In the corner of the bedroom, the raw beef dripped blood onto a towel. Drip. Drip. Drip. Time bled away. Night fell. 3 The town felt like it had been suffocated under a heavy, black quilt. Not a single porch light. Not a single candle. The silence was deafening. I knew, with absolute certainty, that behind every locked door, people were lying rigid in their beds, faking sleep. The three of us lay in the dark, our eyes glued to the foot of the bed. Everything we had, our very lives, rested on that dripping piece of meat. The moon crested the pines. The wind picked up. My eyes were burning from staring without blinking. I closed them for just a fraction of a second. When I opened them, a shadow had materialized outside our bedroom window. It was jarring. Violent in its suddenness. The Hollow really did look like an old man. But twisted. It was hunched over at a grotesque angle, yet its back scraped the roofline of our two-story house. Its jaw hung slack, drooping unnaturally all the way to its sunken chest. I could hear it taking wet, labored snorts as it dragged its massive feet toward our front door. CRACK. The front door splintered open. I caught a flash of two eyes glowing like hot coals in a furnace, and I yanked the quilt over my head, squeezing my eyes shut. A smell hit me—a gag-inducing wave of rotting meat, copper blood, and stagnant swamp water. I bit down on my own lip so hard I tasted iron, just to keep the whimper trapped in my throat. “Tsk. Why does it smell like dead rot in here?” a voice hissed. It sounded like grinding stones. “Spoiled. It’s all spoiled meat.” The heavy, dragging footsteps slowly retreated. Just as I thought the nightmare was over and went to take a breath, my mom’s hand clamped down brutally over my mouth. I peeked out from the blanket. In the pale moonlight spilling through the ruined doorway, the top half of The Hollow’s face was hanging upside down from the top of the doorframe. It was peering into the room. Those glowing red eyes swept over our bed, manic and starving, terrified of missing a single morsel. My heart pounded so violently I thought my ribs would crack. Finally, The Hollow muttered in disappointment, “Nothing but dead rot.” The massive shadow stood upright. The floorboards groaned, the earth outside thudded heavily a few times, and then, it was gone. It wasn’t until the morning sun broke over the ridge that anyone dared to move. People gathered in the street, their faces pale but alight with the euphoric, hysterical relief of having survived. “Holy mother of God, it’s real. The Hollow is real.” “Thomas, we’re safe now, right?! Do we still need to finish the wall?” “Damn right we finish the wall,” my dad said firmly. “We prepare for the worst.” Slowly, the crowd dispersed, exhaustion taking over. I felt the adrenaline crash, leaving me hollowed out. I dragged myself toward the porch, desperate to sleep. But right as my eyes started to droop, those two voices drifted back into the yard. “Why the hell are they celebrating? Do they think The Hollow packed up and left?” “The Hollow gets smarter every day it’s in a new hunting ground. Raw meat ain’t gonna fool it twice. What are they gonna do tonight? I heard it muttering to itself—it said if it doesn’t get a meal, it’s not leaving. But once it gets a taste, it’s gonna eat the whole damn town!” 4 “Tsk, let me think… I remember The Hollow has a sweet tooth. Actually, wait. It hates…” The voice paused, and I couldn’t help myself. I stretched my neck, leaning as close to the side yard as I dared, straining to hear. “It hates sugar! All they gotta do is keep a piece of hard candy tucked under their tongues. But they can’t swallow it, and they sure as hell can’t spit it out. If they just let it sit there, The Hollow will be repulsed and leave on its own.” “Are you for real? Don’t be messing around now. This ain’t a game.” “Why would I lie? Shh, shut up, I think someone’s listening!” For a long time, the yard was dead silent. My dad’s question from yesterday echoed in my mind. Who exactly was I listening to? Curiosity overpowered my lingering exhaustion. I crept toward the low wooden fence that separated our yard from the animal pens, determined to peek over and see who was talking. Suddenly, a heavy hand landed on my shoulder. I jumped out of my skin, whipping around. My dad was standing right behind me. He shook his head sharply and pressed a finger to his lips. He had heard them too. Together, moving with agonizing slowness, we backed away until we were on the other side of the yard. Only then did he drop to a crouch and whisper, “Don’t spook them. Maeve, the voices you heard yesterday… did they sound like that?” I nodded frantically, my pulse racing. “Dad, they said The Hollow didn’t leave! They said we have to sleep with candy in our mouths tonight!” My dad frowned deeply, his eyes locked on the low, squat structure hugging the fence line—our duck coop. Inside, our eight white ducks were waddling around, casually preening their feathers, occasionally letting out a soft quack. “That’s damn strange,” my dad murmured to himself. “There wasn’t a single human being over there.” “I know,” I whispered back. “I never saw anyone either. Just the voices.” My dad fell silent, staring at the coop. My mom’s terrifying theory from the night before crept back into my mind. I tugged his flannel sleeve. “Dad… do we still trust them?” He reached down and ruffled my hair, his face lined with an impossible weight. “Better safe than sorry, kiddo. Go inside. Get that big jar of butterscotch from the pantry and start handing them out.” Sometimes, a little sweetness is the only thing that can push back the dark. 5 But when my dad called an emergency town meeting to announce the new plan, the crowd pushed back. Hard. “What? Hard candy? Since when does a piece of butterscotch stop a monster? That’s crazy talk.” “Thomas, what if that thing gets right up in my face? If I panic and swallow it by accident, I’m dead meat!” “This is starting to sound like a whole lot of voodoo bullshit,” Bobby chimed in, crossing his arms. My dad swept his gaze over the sea of panicked, exhausted faces. When he spoke, his voice boomed over the clearing. “Three hundred people over the ridge were chewed down to the marrow in one night. And you think candy is the unbelievable part?” The crowd immediately shut their mouths. “If you want to live to see tomorrow, you do as you’re told. Anyone who doesn’t want to end up in its teeth, line up and get your candy from Maeve.” As they reluctantly shuffled forward, my dad added, “And the wall construction continues. The more barriers we have, the better we sleep.” Ultimately, the terror of The Hollow easily overrode their skepticism. Night descended, wrapping the valley in a chokehold. I lay in bed, pressed tightly against my mom’s side, a piece of butterscotch wedged firmly beneath my tongue. But my mind was racing. My heart wouldn’t settle. Something was wrong. Why did I feel like something was terribly wrong? Those two voices… it felt like they had spoken up knowing I was listening. My dad said The Hollow didn’t walk in the daylight. But what if… What if those voices belonged to Lures? The old stories said monsters sometimes sent Mimics ahead of them—twisted spirits that sounded like neighbors, feeding bad advice to humans to lead them right into the monster’s jaws. Before I could spiral any deeper into the panic, The Hollow arrived. And this time, it came early. It sounded frantic. I could hear its massive, dragging footsteps pacing back and forth on the gravel road outside. I could hear the sickening pop and crack of its joints as its elongated neck whipped back and forth. “Makes no sense,” it hissed, its voice like rusted metal scraping together. “The cabins aren’t broken. There’s life here. Hot blood. So why the hell do I only smell cow blood and sugar? Where are they?!” It was lingering longer at every single door. More than once, I felt the oppressive weight of those glowing red eyes peering through the cracks in our boarded-up windows, staring unblinkingly into the dark room. I clenched my jaw, using every ounce of willpower to keep my tongue clamped down over the candy, terrified my own saliva would cause it to slip down my throat. The Hollow stopped outside our cabin. It stayed there for an agonizingly long time. I heard the wet, sickening sound of its cheek pressing flush against the glass of our window. “The meat in here is tainted. How am I supposed to eat this? Son of a bitch, I’m starving! This whole town is repulsive.” It dragged its claws down the siding of the house. “Fine. Fine. Let them rot. I get sharper the hungrier I get. A few more days of scaring them like this, their meat will seize up. Fear makes the muscles tight. Makes it taste better. I’ll rip them all out of the floorboards eventually. Let’s see where they hide then!” It stood outside our window for what felt like an hour, breathing heavily, before finally stomping away in a furious, defeated rage. The silence rushed back in. When dawn finally broke, the townspeople gathered in our yard, their faces drawn but filled with the desperate, giddy luck of the surviving. 6 But after two nights of cheating death, the adrenaline was wearing off, replaced by a creeping, toxic paranoia. The whispers started. And honestly, they mirrored my own dark thoughts. “It ain’t right,” Bobby muttered to a group of men resting by the wall. “The more I think about it, the more it stinks.” “What do you mean?” someone asked. “I mean, how convenient is it? Raw meat and candy, and we magically survive? Little Maeve says she’s hearing two voices giving out the master plan. Ain’t it a bit too perfectly timed? How do these voices know exactly what the beast is thinking?” A woman gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “Lord Almighty… do you think they’re Lures?” “Exactly!” Bobby pointed a dirty finger in the air. “The settlement over the ridge got wiped out, right? What if two of ’em got turned into Mimics? They’re out here playing us. Didn’t you hear the monster last night? It said it wanted to scare us to make the meat taste better!” My dad stood a few feet away, his jaw clenched, staring at the ground. I knew the weight he was carrying. As the leader of this town, a single wrong call meant everyone’s blood was on his hands. “Thomas, honey,” my mom whispered, stepping up beside him. “The folks have a point. We can’t ignore the possibility. What if we’re taking orders from the monster’s own bait?” “I know,” my dad sighed, running a trembling hand over his face. “But until we have another option, following those voices is the only thing keeping us breathing.” The perimeter wall wasn’t even half finished. We were boxed in by deep woods and jagged mountains. There was nowhere to run. “We take it one night at a time,” my dad said grimly. “And God willing… I need to find out exactly who the hell is doing the talking.” He shot me a loaded glance. That afternoon, the bizarre, ghostly voices returned. I was waiting for it. I tracked the sound instantly. It was coming from directly behind the hay bales piled up in the corner of the duck coop!

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “404099”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On the day of my vasectomy, Valerie vanished. The nurse stood by my bed, tapping a manicured fingernail against her clipboard. She needed my wife’s signature. Clinic policy—they wouldn’t push the twilight anesthesia without the emergency contact present to sign the final release. I called Valerie once. It rang out. I called a second time. Sent straight to voicemail. On the third try, she finally picked up. The background was a chaotic blur of sirens and street noise. She told me her grad student, Neil, had been in a traffic accident. I looked at the clock on the wall, the second hand ticking away my remaining dignity. My voice trembled. “You took the whole day off to be here. Why are you the one handling this? Come back. They won’t make the incision until you sign. The prep is done, Val. We’re just waiting on you…” “He’s fragile, Harvey,” she cut in, her tone sharp, clipped. “He’s not like you. I can’t just leave my student’s safety in the hands of strangers.” A bitter, acidic lump rose in my throat. I couldn’t keep the anger out of my voice. “Is he actually hurt, or is he just playing you again so I have to lie here on an operating table waiting for you to care?” Her breath hitched. I could feel her finger hovering over the ‘end call’ button. I practically roared into the receiver. “Valerie, if you hang up this phone, we are incredibly, permanently done.” She sighed, a long, patronizing sound. “Just calm down. Don’t be melodramatic about a minor outpatient procedure.” The line went dead. The dial tone hummed in my ear. Ten minutes later, the doctor made an exception, and I was wheeled into the surgical suite alone. When I woke up, groggy and aching, the first thing I saw was my phone screen lighting up with an Instagram notification. A post from Neil. So grateful to Professor Val for rushing over to save the day! Totally my fault, got too spacey and scraped my bike against a curb… The attached photo was taken in Valerie’s private office at the university. He was holding up his arm, sporting a cartoon band-aid. The exact same brand of band-aids I bought for our infant son. … 1 I set the phone face down on the scratchy hospital blanket. Outside my curtain, I could hear two nurses whispering. “That couple out in the waiting room is exhausting,” one muttered. “Last month the kid twisted his ankle and insisted on coming to the ER. Today he bumps his bike and they’re back. The woman treats him like he’s made of spun glass. I heard she’s his professor. Talk about crossing boundaries.” The other nurse sighed, her voice drifting closer to my bed. “Yeah, well, compare that to this guy. Went through surgery and his wife hasn’t shown her face once. Night and day.” I couldn’t see Valerie from where I lay, but through the thin drywall, I could hear her. I could hear the devastating softness in her voice. Neil had a scratch on his arm. A literal scratch. And she kept asking him if he needed ibuprofen, her tone dripping with an agonizing, unfiltered tenderness. She didn’t spare a single thought for her husband, who had just undergone surgery to ensure she wouldn’t have to go through another difficult pregnancy. She didn’t think about me, stitched up and swollen, or our newborn son waiting at home. My mother sat in the plastic chair beside my bed. Her eyes were rimmed with red, but she forced a tight, reassuring smile for my sake. My father, however, was trembling with rage. He stood up, ready to storm out into the waiting room and drag my wife in by her collar. I reached out, my fingers weak, and caught the sleeve of his flannel shirt. “Dad. Don’t.” He froze. When he looked back at me, his eyes were wet, his voice thick with unshed tears. “Her parents died when she was young, Harvey. Your mother and I treated her like our own flesh and blood. And this is how she repays us? She abandons you and her baby for some college kid?” I managed a weak, fractured smile, my grip on his sleeve loosening. “It’s fine, Dad. Really. Let it go.” Because I had been through this too many times. Like last Christmas, when we were supposed to drive to my parents’ house. We had just pulled into their driveway when Valerie got a call and immediately threw the car into reverse. She told me it was an emergency. I believed her. I told her to go, to be careful. Two hours later, I walked to the pharmacy down the street and saw her kneeling in the parking lot, tying Neil’s shoelaces. When I confronted her, she swore he had tumbled down a flight of concrete stairs and was badly hurt. I found out later he had tripped on a single step. The explanations. The screaming matches. The broken plates. It always ended the same way. She believed him, implicitly, entirely. Once you get used to the cold, you stop complaining about the draft. My phone buzzed. A text from Valerie. Neil is still feeling a bit shaken up. I’ll swing by later to check on you and the baby. Don’t wait up. No explanation. No apology. I stared at her contact photo. It was a candid from our wedding day. In the picture, her smile was soft, radiant, her eyes locked entirely on me. We had been college sweethearts. Eight years together before we finally tied the knot. She stayed in academia, clawing her way up to a tenured professorship. I stepped back, launching a freelance consulting firm from home so I could manage the house. We were the golden couple of our alumni circle. I genuinely thought we would grow old together, sitting on a porch somewhere, quietly in love. Until year seven. Until Neil. Suddenly, his name was the only thing in her mouth. He sought her out during office hours. He “accidentally” bumped into her at off-campus coffee shops. He kept his hand raised until the lecture hall emptied out. At first, I thought he was just an eager, overachieving kid. I even added him on social media. I invited him to the house for the end-of-semester dinners, trying to play the supportive faculty husband. Looking back, I realize that was when he decided he was going to take her from me. And me? When you accumulate enough disappointment, the heavy weight of it eventually crushes your desire to hold on. I didn’t want her anymore. Valerie. I was just… done. My thumb moved automatically, scrolling down my contacts to a number I hadn’t dialed in years. It rang once. A woman’s voice answered, smooth and steady. “Harvey?” I gripped the phone, the plastic digging into my palm. I let the silence stretch for three seconds. “Years ago, you told me that if my marriage ever fell apart, you’d be waiting. Does that still stand?” “It always stands.” “Okay,” I breathed out. “I’ll see you in three days.” 2 The familiar, urgent click of Valerie’s heels echoed down the corridor. I hung up the phone and slipped it under my pillow. I looked up just as she pushed the curtain aside. She was looking down at her screen, a soft, intimate smile playing on her lips. I knew that smile. I had mapped the corners of it for a decade. It used to be mine. Now, it belonged to Neil. A sharp, phantom pain flared in my chest, bitter and suffocating. Right on cue, my phone rang again. It was an unrecognized campus number. “Mr. Harvey? Congratulations. The literary analysis paper you submitted has won the Alumni Fellowship’s grand prize. The ceremony is in three days. We’d be honored if you attended.” I blinked, momentarily stunned. “Thank you. Yes, I’ll be there.” Valerie walked further into the room, and I quickly ended the call. She glanced first at the plastic bassinet where our son was sleeping, then at me. Her brow furrowed in that familiar, maternal way. “Why are you still awake? You just had surgery. You need to rest, Harvey. You’re going to make yourself sick.” The concern in her eyes looked incredibly real. But after witnessing the display with Neil earlier, her concern just made my stomach turn. I didn’t say a word. She stepped closer, reaching into her designer bag. She pulled out a braided leather bracelet, adorned with a small silver charm, and tied it around my wrist. It was an intention bracelet. The kind you get at high-end spiritual retreats. I looked at her, genuinely shocked. Valerie was not a gift-giver. She forgot anniversaries. She barely remembered birthdays. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there when you went under,” she murmured, her voice dropping into a register of practiced sweetness. “Thank you, honey. For doing this for us.” A second later, her phone—which she had carelessly tossed onto my tray table—lit up. A text notification. Neil’s face. Did you make it to the hospital, Professor? Is the old man’s ego bruised? I told you to go back to him earlier, but you’re always hovering over me like a worried little mom. Btw, please don’t tell him you drove all the way to Sedona to get that protection charm for me. He’d probably throw a fit. The words burned themselves into my retinas, one by one. I slowly lifted my chin and locked eyes with Valerie. The blood drained from her face. She lunged for the phone, panic wiring her movements. I was faster. I snatched it, swiped up, and opened the thread. The chat history was meticulously deleted. Nothing but those three incoming texts. But I saw the contact name. Neil 🤍 3 For all her academic brilliance, Valerie was remarkably careless in her personal life. She had over a hundred contacts in her phone, and she never bothered with emojis or special nicknames. Except for me. And now, Neil. I closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the pillow, pretending the exhaustion had simply overtaken me. I heard Valerie let out a shaky, silent exhale of relief. But the moment she turned her back to speak to the nurse, I ripped the braided leather bracelet off my wrist and dropped it straight into the biohazard bin. Three days later, I checked myself out of the hospital and took an Uber to the university campus, entirely behind Valerie’s back. The awards ceremony was held in the grand alumni hall. I was wearing an old, slightly frayed tweed suit—the only pair of trousers loose enough to accommodate my surgical swelling. Standing amidst the polished academics, I felt like a ghost haunting my own past. “Harvey! Man, it really is you!” An old classmate clapped me on the shoulder. “Heard you took the fellowship prize! Incredible.” “You were always the prodigy of the Lit department,” another chimed in. “We all thought you’d get the tenure track, but you stepped aside for Val.” “Look at you guys now. She’s the big-shot professor, you run a company from the living room. Modern gender roles at their finest, huh?” I forced a polite smile, though my facial muscles felt like concrete. Suddenly, a ripple of whispers swept through the crowd near the entrance. I followed their gaze. Valerie entered through the heavy oak doors. Trailing right behind her was Neil. She leaned in and whispered something to him. He ducked his head, laughing softly, a blush creeping up his neck. The perfect picture of a bashful, adoring boy. A few of his frat buddies were standing nearby. One of them shoved Neil playfully. He stumbled, crashing directly into Valerie’s chest. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t step back. Instead, her arm naturally wrapped around his waist to steady him. She looked down, smiled, and gently patted his back. The physical intimacy was so fluid, so deeply ingrained, it looked like a choreographed dance they had practiced a thousand times. The alumni around me went dead silent. A few shot me glances heavy with excruciating pity. I lowered my eyes, adjusting my cuffs. “Excuse me. I need to use the restroom.” The water from the brass faucet was freezing. I splashed it on my face, gripping the edges of the porcelain sink. When I looked up, there was someone else in the mirror. Neil leaned against the tiled wall behind me, a smug, venomous little smirk on his face. “Well, if it isn’t the supportive husband. Don’t take what those guys did out there too seriously. We’re just young. We like to mess around.” He took a step closer, his voice dropping. “Though I gotta admit, showing up to campus days after getting snipped? Screams insecurity, Harvey. Had to come keep an eye on your wife?” I grabbed a paper towel, dried my hands methodically, and turned to face him. “Neil, I’m here to accept an award.” I tossed the towel into the trash. “But let me give you some free advice. Focus on your thesis. Stop playing house with married women. Take it from someone who knows—when a woman decides to walk, you won’t be able to run fast enough to catch her.” His face twisted in ugly, bratty fury. He scoffed, spun on his heel, and stormed out. I took a deep breath, smoothed my tie, and walked out to the auditorium. I was just approaching the steps to the stage when a hand clamped down on my wrist like a vice. Valerie stood there, her eyes blazing, her chest heaving beneath her silk blouse. “Harvey, how could you stoop this low?” I stared at her, genuinely bewildered. She dropped my arm in disgust, grabbed Neil by the hand, and marched up the stairs to the podium. She snatched the microphone from the dean’s hands. “Excuse me. Everyone, please listen,” her voice rang out, echoing off the vaulted ceiling. “My husband, Harvey, is a stay-at-home father. He does not belong on this stage. The paper that won this fellowship is plagiarized.” The hall erupted into a shocked, deafening murmur. “He accessed my private laptop at home,” Valerie continued, her voice trembling with righteous indignation. “He stole the core thesis from one of my graduate students. This award belongs to Neil.” Neil stood beside her, covering his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking as if he were weeping. But through the gaps in his fingers, his eyes found mine. They were gleaming with triumph. The whispers turned into daggers, flying from every corner of the room. Plagiarism? Are you kidding me? The sheer audacity to show up here. He should just stay home and wash bottles. What a joke. I heard his wife spends all her time with that student anyway. Karma’s a bitch. Get him out of here! Fraud! Every word was a physical blow, slicing through the air. I walked up the wooden steps. Slowly. I stopped inches from Valerie. I forced myself to keep my eyes wide so the tears wouldn’t fall. “Valerie. In your eyes, I’m just a pathetic, washed-up househusband, aren’t I?” My voice cracked. “So you’ll believe whatever garbage he feeds you? You’ll stand up here and destroy me?” Her brow furrowed in deep, unmasked revulsion. “Did the surgery sever your moral compass too, Harvey? You stole from my student, and you have the nerve to play the victim?” She shook her head. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.” Neil immediately played his part. He stepped forward, timidly tugging at the sleeve of her blazer. “Professor, please. I’m sure he didn’t mean to. Maybe he’s just acting out because he’s mad at me…” He didn’t get to finish the sentence. I closed the distance between us. I raised my hand and slapped him across the face. Hard. The sharp crack echoed through the microphone. Neil shrieked, stumbling backward, clutching his cheek. Valerie moved purely on instinct. She lunged forward to protect him, shoving both of her hands violently against my chest. I was already off-balance. The force sent me tumbling backward toward the edge of the stage. As I fell, survival instinct kicked in. I reached out and grabbed the closest thing I could find—the belt loops of Valerie’s slacks. The momentum dragged her down with me. We hit the polished hardwood. But as she fell over me, her knee came down with the full force of her body weight, crashing directly into my groin. A blinding, agonizing explosion of pain ripped through my nervous system. I curled into a fetal position on the stage, the world going white. It felt like I had been torn apart from the inside out. I could feel something warm and wet seeping through the fabric of my trousers, sliding down my thigh. Through the haze of agony, I saw Valerie look at me in sheer terror. She reached out, her hands hovering, wanting to help. But Neil grabbed her sleeve. He was sobbing now, real tears streaming down his face. In the final second before the darkness swallowed me, I watched my wife hesitate. Then, she turned her back to me, wrapped her arm around Neil, and walked him toward the campus clinic. I woke up back in a hospital room. My mother was sitting by the bed, rocking my infant son. Her eyes were swollen shut from crying. When she saw me blink, a fresh wave of tears spilled over. “Harvey. Oh, thank God. You’re awake.” Her voice shook violently. “That monster. That absolute monster. How could she push you? Your father was out of town, but he’s driving back right now.” 4 The baby in her arms started wailing. It was a thin, desperate sound. He was so small he couldn’t even open his eyes properly, and he was crying himself hoarse. I shifted, instinctively wanting to hold him. A tearing, white-hot agony flared below my waist. “Mom. Give him to me. Let me hold him.” She slammed a hand down on my shoulder, physically holding me back. Her whole body was vibrating. “You can’t! You had a secondary rupture, Harvey. You were in surgery for three hours. The doctors…” She choked on a sob. “They said the damage is permanent.” Her tears splashed hot against the back of my hand. “You’re hooked up to a dozen IVs right now. Your infection markers are off the charts. Harvey, if I lose you, I won’t survive it.” Trace was still crying. And I didn’t even have the physical strength to lift my arms to take him. The heavy wooden door pushed open. Valerie walked in. Neil was right behind her like a shadow. She stopped at the foot of the bed. When she saw the tubes, the monitors, the sheer paleness of my skin, the color drained from her face. A flicker of genuine horror crossed her eyes. But Neil gently bumped his shoulder against hers. She blinked, her spine straightening, and her face hardened into ice. “Harvey. You know how seriously I take academic integrity. I despise plagiarism more than anything. Apologize to Neil right now, and we can put this whole ugly mess behind us.” I closed my eyes. I couldn’t look at her. My mother stood up. She stepped between Valerie and my bed, holding my crying son against her chest. “You have the audacity to show your face in here?” my mother hissed, her voice vibrating with pure hatred. “My son went under the knife for you. He was bleeding out on a stage, and you pushed him because of him?” “Look, I shouldn’t have shoved him, I know,” Valerie snapped, defensive. “But that’s separate. He stole a manuscript. He committed fraud.” “Fraud?!” My mother pointed a trembling finger at Neil. “You brought your little homewrecker in here to humiliate my son? He is permanently disfigured because of you, and you come in here to demand an apology? What kind of sociopath are you?!” She took a step forward. “We trusted you with our boy!” Neil shrank back against the doorframe, his eyes wide and watery, playing the terrified victim flawlessly. Valerie’s jaw clenched. “Don’t you dare speak to him like that.” My mother, blinded by grief and rage, shoved her shoulder. “Get out! Both of you, get the hell out of this room!” Valerie threw her hands up and forcefully shoved my mother back. My mother caught her heel on the linoleum. She pitched backward. Her arms flew open to break her fall. Trace slipped from her grasp. I watched, paralyzed, as that tiny, fragile bundle wrapped in a hospital blanket sailed through the air. He hit the hard tile floor. There was no sound. No cry. Nothing. My jaw unhinged, but there was no air in my lungs. “MOM! THE BABY!” The scream finally ripped from my throat, tearing my vocal cords, shattering the sterile quiet of the ward. Nurses and doctors flooded the room in a tidal wave of blue scrubs. Valerie stood frozen, her hands suspended in the air, her face ashen. In the chaos, Neil grabbed her elbow and dragged her out into the hallway. They tried to resuscitate him for a long time. But he was gone. … My parents pushed my wheelchair over the uneven grass. I held the small, heavy wooden box in my lap. My eyes were bloodshot, burning, but I couldn’t cry. The well was completely dry. When we reached the plot, I forced myself out of the chair. Still in my hospital gown, shivering in the wind, I dragged my feet toward the tiny granite headstone. It bore his name. Trace. Trace. I picked the name. Because that was all he’d ever be. A trace of a life. He didn’t even get to open his eyes to see the sun. He died because his father was a fool who fell in love with a monster. I sank to the damp earth, pressing my cheek against the cold wood of the urn, whispering a final, silent apology to my son. Footsteps crunched violently against the gravel behind me. Valerie sprinted toward me. She grabbed the shoulders of my gown and hauled me upward with terrifying strength. “Where is he?! Where did you hide my baby?!” She shook me, her eyes wild, bloodshot, scanning the cemetery like a lunatic. “Is this some kind of sick joke, Harvey?! Are you trying to torture me into coming home?! Neil called his friends at the hospital! They said the baby was perfectly fine!” I said nothing. I just stared past her, at the small headstone. She kept screaming. Cursing. Threatening me with lawyers. My mother, overcome by the sheer cruelty of it, collapsed onto the grass in a dead faint. My father scrambled to find her heart medication in her purse. But I didn’t hear a word Valerie was saying. All I could hear was the echo of my son’s desperate, hungry cries from the hospital room. He was so small. He had been so hungry. He had been in pain, and he was terrified. And his mother hadn’t even looked at him. She was too busy protecting another man. I finally brought my eyes to hers. My voice was a hollow rasp. “He’s dead.” She froze. “Because of you. He is dead.” Neil stepped up behind her, gently looping his arm through hers. He let out a theatrical sigh. “Professor, I think he’s having a psychotic break. Wishing death on his own child just to punish you? He probably bought an empty box online just to put on this whole show. God knows what’s actually in there. It’s truly sick.” Valerie stared at me, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “Harvey,” she ground out through her teeth. “I am going to ask you one last time. Where is my son?” I looked through her. I turned, crouched down, and reached for the box. She lunged past me and snatched it from my hands. “Let’s see what kind of prop you put in this fake urn to guilt-trip me!” She ripped the lid off. A sharp gust of wind swept across the hill. I knelt in the dirt, entirely paralyzed, as I watched the pale gray ash lift from the box. It swirled into the air, scattering over the grass, over the marble, over the dead leaves. Valerie stopped breathing. She looked down at her hands, coated in a fine, pale dust. Her lips parted. Her face turned the color of bone. “Is… is this…”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “404084”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Just as I tipped off my childhood best friend, telling him to bring Manhattan’s reigning IT girl to catch me red-handed after I had supposedly slipped a roofie into her billionaire fiancé’s drink, a few lines of glowing text materialized in the air right before my eyes. [The villainous side-chick and her bestie are actual morons. Do they really think the heir to the Winslow empire got drugged? The glass was swapped ages ago!] [Seriously. The main couple gets into one little fight, and these two try to swoop in. Trash really does attract trash.] [Whatever, they’re just pawns in the main couple’s twisted foreplay. As soon as the female lead kicks the door down and realizes the male lead is perfectly fine—and was just testing this little pick-me girl—they’ll finally get their happily ever after.] [Yep! And the side-chick and her buddy are going to get tossed off a yacht into international waters!] A violent shudder ripped through me. I violently dodged Cole Winslow’s searingly hot mouth. “Mr. Winslow! Let’s get you to a hospital!” Cole’s eyes narrowed into dark, dangerous slits. His voice was a low, gravelly rasp, thick with a dangerous kind of frustration. “What?” Honestly. … 1 I knew my current setup—one shoulder of my blouse strategically slipping down, my eyes pooled with practiced, misty tears—made my sudden shift to playing the responsible citizen entirely unconvincing. But my voice trembled anyway. “You’re not acting right. I think someone spiked your drink. I’m taking you to the ER right now.” I tried to scramble off the sofa, but Cole’s hand snapped out, his fingers wrapping around my wrist like a vice. With one effortless tug, I was yanked right back, trapped flush against his chest. His breathing was undeniably heavy, but the curve of his lips was pure, mocking amusement. “And how would you know I was drugged? Maybe I’m just running a fever.” Because I’m the one who drugged you, you lunatic. Also, his body was entirely too hard against mine. It was incredibly distracting. Desperate, I tried to squirm into a safer position. Cole’s arm banded around my waist, his voice dropping an octave into a lethal warning. “Don’t move if you want to live.” I froze. Completely and utterly still. Which gave me ample time to read the floating, holographic text scrolling in my peripheral vision. [The combined IQ of the side-chick and her boy toy is hovering somewhere around room temperature.] [Agreed. Who buys a knock-off aphrodisiac from the dark web that looks like a damn Alka-Seltzer tablet?] [I was howling when she handed him the glass and it was literally fizzing and bubbling.] [When you’re too stunned to speak, you just have to laugh.] My stomach plummeted as the memory hit me. When I had handed Cole the glass, I hadn’t dared to look him in the eye. The water had been aggressively carbonated, bubbles violently shooting to the surface. Cole had raised an elegant brow. “I asked for still water.” I had been sweating bullets, lying through my teeth. “It’s… purified sparkling.” He had just let out a low chuckle, taking the glass from me, the pad of his index finger deliberately tracing the sensitive center of my palm as he did. Then, room service had called. I had stepped away to answer the phone. That had to be when he swapped the glasses. … Cole had known from the absolute beginning. And yet, he had sat there, playing along with my pathetic little charade. Cole had the kind of aristocratic, ruinously handsome face that belonged on the cover of Forbes, but right now, the corners of his eyes were flushed a deep, sinful red. His lips were darker than usual, and his chest rose and fell in a jagged rhythm, like a man fighting to breathe. Beneath the crisp white of his dress shirt, his muscles were tense, a thin sheen of sweat making his pale skin gleam under the dim penthouse lighting. Wait a minute. There had only been two glasses on that table. Because I was so nervous, I had chugged my glass for liquid courage. I took a rapid inventory of my body. I felt fine. No sudden surges of heat, no loss of control. I whipped my head toward the coffee table. Cole’s glass was empty. When I had turned back from the phone call, I remembered seeing the bubbles still rising in his glass. He had taken a long sip, his dark eyes fixed on me over the rim. There had been a challenge in his gaze. And something else. Something… feral. The floating text suddenly exploded with realization. [Wait, is the male lead just acting? Give him an Oscar.] [No, look at him. I think he actually drank the spiked one.] [The tension is literally going to blow up my screen.] [Relax, everyone. Don’t forget the female lead is on her way. She’s the ultimate antidote.] [The male lead is so unhinged. I love it.] [He’s about to play Blair Kensington like a fiddle.] Blair Kensington. Manhattan’s untouchable heiress. So, Cole and Blair were the destined protagonists of this universe. And my childhood best friend, Miles, and I were nothing but the pathetic clowns paving their road to true love. And I had just texted Miles. “Come catch us.” “Copy that.” I frantically reached for my phone, desperate to abort the mission. But before my fingers could brush the screen, Cole’s hand threaded into my hair, and he kissed me. The wet, desperate sound of his mouth crashing against mine drowned out the frantic hammering of my own heart. It felt like my eardrums were going to shatter. He was losing his mind. His lips trailed down my neck, his teeth sinking gently into my exposed shoulder. “Don’t be scared, Harper,” he murmured against my skin. “I’ll be gentle.” But I was terrified. Tears spilled over my lashes, hot and fast. Getting eaten by sharks in the middle of the Atlantic sounded excruciatingly painful. Feeling the wetness on my cheeks, Cole froze. He pulled back, his dark eyes instantly clearing of the haze. “What’s wrong?” I fumbled with the buttons of my blouse, my hands shaking uncontrollably. “I don’t want to…” Cole went deathly still. For a long, agonizing moment, the silence stretched between us. Then, he collapsed back against the sofa cushions, throwing one arm over his eyes, his long legs sprawling out. His voice was a gravelly, tight command. “Call Dr. Wilder.” I dialed the private chauffeur on one line and Cole’s concierge doctor on the other. During the suffocatingly tense car ride to Dr. Wilder’s private Upper East Side clinic, I pressed myself flush against the opposite door, completely terrified to even glance in Cole’s direction. Under the cover of my purse, my thumbs flew across my phone screen, blasting messages to Miles. “Abhort! Don’t come here. Go to the hospital.” “We’ve been set up! We’re going to die!” Nothing. Total radio silence. Oh god. Had Miles already been dragged off to a pier somewhere? Once I successfully handed Cole over to the discreet staff at the private clinic, I immediately dialed a number I had frantically Googled. Tears were streaming down my face. “Yes, I understand. But I want the mahogany urns with the gold inlay. Yes, for two.” “It needs to look expensive. They care about that sort of thing.” “If I buy the premium funeral package, is there a discount?” “Can we do a dual plot? There’s a very high chance it’s going to be a package deal.” Just as I was about to aggressively negotiate the price of my own burial, I looked up. Standing at the end of the hospital corridor was Miles. He looked like a ghost. Our eyes locked. In that single, loaded glance, we both knew. He had seen the floating text too. We sprinted toward each other, huddling in the corner like two terrified fugitives. I hissed at him, “Did you not see my texts?!” Miles let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. “Blair dropped my phone in a pitcher of margaritas.” “Why?!” “She said someone slipped something in her drink! She asked me to choose between my phone or her.” “And what did you say?!” “She… she kissed me.” As he said it, a pathetic, unmistakable flush of red crept up Miles’s stupidly handsome face. “Why are you blushing?!” I whisper-yelled, slapping his arm. “Do you not realize the gravity of the situation?!” I wanted to rip my hair out. “I was literally just negotiating a two-for-one deal on our cemetery plots, Miles!” Miles looked at me, a complicated expression crossing his features. “I’ve been standing here for five minutes listening to you. It was very obvious you were only booking the premium plot for yourself, and I was going to be the discounted add-on.” I choked on my own spit. The floating text above us was having a field day. [God laughs when these two try to form a thought.] [A mahogany urn? Girl, the sharks aren’t going to leave enough of you to fill a shot glass. You need a cenotaph.] [Dumb and Dumber really think they can outsmart the leads.] [Wait though, why are the main leads acting so weird? Why was Blair drugged too?] [The male second lead’s doing, obviously.] Miles scrambled to defend himself. “The second Blair lunged at me, I shoved her away! I’m not dying for a kiss. That kind of risk requires a massive hazard pay!” “I rejected Cole, too.” The moment the words left my mouth, a heavy, suffocating silence fell between us. Because the undeniable truth was this: I was hopelessly in love with Cole, and Miles was completely obsessed with Blair. But Cole and Blair were the golden couple. New York royalty. So, naturally, Miles and I became each other’s toxic enablers. When they were happily together, we watched from the shadows, wallowing in our unrequited misery. When they broke up, we sharpened our claws and waited for our moment to strike. A fresh wave of terror washed over me. I grabbed Miles by the lapels of his jacket, forcing an emergency post-mortem. “Okay, think. We haven’t done anything too unforgivable to them, right?” Miles stared at me. “…” Cole and Blair. The heir to a global hedge fund and the daughter of a real estate empire. But back in high school, the two titans had apparently done something to piss off their respective dynasties. They were exiled from their elite Swiss boarding schools and dropped right into our mundane, upper-middle-class prep school in upstate New York. The moment they arrived, they effortlessly claimed the number one and number two spots in the class rankings, knocking Miles and me down to third and fourth. And it wasn’t even close. The academic gap between us was a gaping canyon. This was a massive problem. It directly threatened our full-ride scholarships. So, when we discovered that the two untouchable prodigies were actually a toxic, on-again-off-again couple, Miles and I had retreated to the bleachers and let out cartoonishly evil villain laughs. We had laughed so hard we ended up slapping each other across the face. Miles had clutched his cheek, suddenly snapping out of it. I had hugged my arms around myself, shivering. “What the hell just possessed us?” Miles rubbed his jaw, looking disturbed. “I don’t know, but your face looked genuinely terrifying just then.” But we quickly brushed off the weird momentary possession. We executed a flawless infiltration plan. We befriended Cole and Blair. The goal? To secretly study their academic methods while simultaneously dragging them down into a life of degenerate behavior so their grades would tank. Our strategy was brilliant. Miles took Cole out to the sketchiest dive bars, picking fights with local frat boys. And while Cole was busy throwing punches in the alley, Miles would crouch behind a dumpster, frantically whipping out an AP Calculus textbook and studying under the streetlamp. Meanwhile, I took Blair to an exclusive underground club. She adapted instantly, ordering bottle service and an entourage of VIP hosts. While she was busy playing dice games with them, I pulled out my SAT vocabulary flashcards. I looked at the gorgeous, shirtless host next to me. “Quizz me.” The guy looked wildly uncomfortable. “Look, babe, I don’t really do the whole ‘strict teacher’ domination thing. I’ll start laughing.” I clapped my hands over my ears, mortified, as if he had just cursed at me in church. “I meant quiz me on my AP Vocab words, you degenerate!” “Oh. Right…” And so, it went. Every night, Miles and I would meet up to analyze our sabotage, terrified of leaving any loopholes. Then the mid-term rankings came out. Cole was still number one. Blair was still number two. The sky fell. Miles and I turned on each other like rabid dogs. “I thought you said you were getting Cole addicted to nicotine and street brawls!” I shrieked. Miles looked like he was going to cry out of sheer frustration. “Does Cole look like someone I can influence?! He taught me how to properly smoke a cigar! Do you know how much stress I was under? Every time I tried to sneak a math worksheet in the bathroom stall, my heart was beating out of my chest! He almost caught me three times!” “Well, what about you?!” Miles fired back. “What happened to dragging Blair into a life of hedonism?!” I choked. “I tried! I really did! But she dragged me to an underground MMA fight! There were abs everywhere! It was completely distracting, and I had to memorize French conjugations in the dark! And you know that bottle boy who quizzed me on my flashcards? He got a perfect score on his SATs because of me! He just got accepted into Columbia!” It was useless. The harder we tried, the more miserable we became. Miles and I had slumped down onto his hand-me-down couch, thoroughly defeated. Miles let out a soul-crushing sigh. “Forget it. I’m just going to pick up a third shift at the diner.” Since the scholarship money was clearly a lost cause. “Same. I’m going to see if the gas station needs a graveyard shift.” Miles and I had both grown up in the foster system. We only had each other. We were smart, but without our stipends and scholarships, we couldn’t afford our lives. Before our beloved foster mother passed away, she had left us the tiny, rundown house we shared. After that, we completely abandoned our sabotage plot. We just wanted to quietly leech off their study habits. But somehow, Cole and Blair turned us into a crucial element of their twisted foreplay. Whenever they had a screaming match, if Cole was the one to cave first, he would come to me. He’d wire me ten grand and order me to text Blair to beg for his forgiveness on his behalf. The chat logs looked exactly like this: Me: [Incoming Wire Transfer: $10,000.00] Me: I’m giving you ten grand. Please get back together with Cole. Blair: ? Blair: Do I look like a charity case? Who the hell is he trying to insult? Blair: [Incoming Wire Transfer: $20,000.00] Blair: Tell him to take his pennies and go to hell. Stop texting me. Men only slow down my reading comprehension. But when I tried to return the money to Cole, he’d get disgusted by my incompetence and block my number. So, I’d try to send it back to Blair. She’d refuse the transfer, and the money would automatically bounce back into my account. Miles experienced the exact same phenomenon on his end. And it wasn’t just a one-time thing. It happened constantly. It was as if Cole and Blair possessed a genetic mutation that made them completely blind to the value of currency. So, Miles and I thrived. We rode the wave of their toxic wealth-blindness, skimming the middleman fees to pay our way through high school, hire private tutors, and eventually close the academic gap between us and the two untouchable heirs. Now, standing in the hospital corridor, frantically scrolling through our old chat logs to make sure we hadn’t crossed any lines, the floating text above us was having an absolute meltdown. [I HATE THE RICH!] [Give that money to me! I’ll show them what a loyal dog looks like!] [What about my feelings? I am a kind, innocent bystander on the internet, and I am personally victimized by this wealth gap.] Miles and I ignored them, still frantically swiping through our histories. Thankfully, the vast majority of our interactions had just been us silently pining from afar. Miles: Harper, I think I’m still in love with her. I feel sick… Miles: But she still leaves me on read. Me: I am begging you to stop texting me. Me: I heard my phone buzz and thought it was Cole. Me: But no, it’s just your pathetic ass again. Reading those old texts, Miles and I let out a synchronized breath of relief. This current drugging fiasco was our one and only time crossing the line from passive observers to active villains. And we had aborted the mission before any real damage was done. Miles and I locked eyes. We came to a silent, unanimous agreement. Stay the hell away from the main characters, and embrace a long, boring, safe life. The next morning, I walked into the Winslow empire’s skyscraper with my resignation letter printed on heavy cardstock, and a sleek black debit card sitting in my pocket. The card held my entire life savings. Cole was a terrifying boss, but his compensation packages were bordering on absurd. If people didn’t know I was his executive assistant, they would absolutely assume I was his sugar baby. My resignation letter was a masterpiece of corporate flattery, praising Cole’s leadership in thirty different, non-repetitive ways. I was just standing up from my desk when the VP of Sales practically tackled me. “Harper, you have to save us. Mr. Winslow is on a warpath.” The VP looked like he was about to burst into tears. “The atmospheric pressure in that boardroom is lethal. He’s slaughtering everyone.” I sighed, clutching my letter. “Me going in there isn’t going to fix it.” “Are you kidding? Every time you walk in, it’s like someone slipped a Xanax in his coffee. The whole room breathes easier.” That was a blatant lie. But I still grabbed a fresh cup of black coffee and lightly tapped on the glass door of his corner office. Cole’s icy voice cut through the glass. “Enter.” The second I stepped inside, the twelve senior executives looked at me like I was a descending angel. I put on my best, sweetest voice. “Your coffee, Mr. Winslow.” Cole glanced up from his tablet, his dark eyes locking onto mine. “Did you put sugar in it?” I blinked, thrown off. “You… you always drink it black.” I guess when a billionaire is in a bad mood, he just wants to watch the world burn. But then, the corners of Cole’s lips twitched upward into a faint smile. “Right. Whatever you say.” He gave a sharp flick of his wrist. Like a herd of terrified gazelles, the executives scrambled out the door, the click of the lock echoing loudly in the silence. I bit the inside of my cheek, mentally preparing my exit speech. Cole cleared his throat softly. “Harper.” “Yes?” “We’re in the office. Let’s keep things professional.” Huh? What was I doing? Cole smirked, his long, elegant finger rising to tap against his own lower lip. What the hell was this? Workplace sexual harassment? When I just stood there, paralyzed, Cole tapped his lip again. He held the power to ruin my life with a single phone call, and I was terrified of him. But I was a changed woman. I was embracing a new, moral life. I squared my shoulders, adopting a tone of rigid righteousness. “Mr. Winslow! I don’t know how things operate in your tax bracket, but where I come from, administrative assistants do not make out with their bosses!” Silence hung in the air for five agonizing seconds. Then, a low, dark laugh rumbled in Cole’s chest. “So last night was just a slip-up?” It was the definition of a catastrophic mistake! But since he seemed to be in a strangely good mood, now was the perfect time to drop the bomb. I slid the heavy envelope across his mahogany desk. Cole’s smile vanished instantly. He pinched the corner of the envelope between two fingers, staring at the words Resignation for a long, calculating moment. He let out a sharp, dismissive scoff. “What is this?” I kept my customer-service smile plastered on. “I am so incredibly grateful for the mentorship you’ve provided over the last three years, Mr. Winslow. But my career trajectory has shifted, and I’m looking to spread my wings in a new—” Cole cut me off with a bored hum. “You want a raise.” My heart stung. After all this time, did he really just view me as a shallow gold digger? I offered a sad, self-deprecating smile. “Mr. Winslow, it isn’t about the money.” Cole didn’t even look up. He just uncapped his Montblanc pen and started signing a stack of contracts. “One million base salary.” I stood my ground. “You can’t just throw money at me and expect me to compromise my boundaries.” “Ten million.” “I will literally do whatever you want.” The floating text above Cole’s head descended into sheer chaos. [The side-chick has no spine. Honestly, I would have folded at the one million.] [Give me 500k and I’ll bark like a dog!] [Don’t ruin the market rate! I’ll do it for thirty bucks and a MetroCard…] [What is the male lead doing?! Keeping her around is basically planting a time bomb in his relationship!] When I showed up at Miles’s apartment that evening, my stomach was in knots. I had stopped by Whole Foods on the way and bought the outrageously overpriced organic fruit, trying to soften the blow. We had promised each other. We were going to quit our jobs, cut ties with the billionaires, and start fresh. And not only had I failed to quit, I had secured an astronomical raise. But the second I pushed open his front door, I stopped dead. Miles was wearing a floral apron, turning around with a blinding, domestic smile. “You’re here!” It was sickeningly picturesque. And then I looked at his dining table. It was a literal Michelin-star feast. Beef Wellington. Lobster risotto. Ha. “You didn’t quit, did you?” I asked flatly. Miles’s spine went rigid. He pressed his lips together, looking like he was about to drop to his knees and beg for mercy. But then his eyes darted to the $40 bag of organic pomegranates in my hand. He straightened up instantly, his confidence returning. “You didn’t either.” He stated it like a fact. I sighed. “You got me.” I threw my hands up in defeat. “I couldn’t help it! Cole just kept throwing zeroes at me.” But my curiosity won out. “What did you even tell Blair to get her to counter-offer?” Miles shifted uncomfortably. “I told her I was getting old, and my family wanted me to move back upstate to settle down and go on blind dates.” “And she immediately bumped your salary.” I groaned, massaging my temples. “Of course she did. They are literally the exact same person. Even their retention strategies are identical.” Miles bit his lip. He looked at me, his voice pitching up in pathetic hope. “Harper… do you think… I mean, is it completely impossible that Blair actually has feelings for me?” Before I could even open my mouth to crush his dreams, the floating text went feral. [Bro has a nice face, but he is delusional.] [Miles, listen to me. You deserve the best, but Blair Kensington is NOT the best. She is a menace.] [You are literally just a prop in their relationship.] [If the main couple wasn’t currently beefing over a corporate merger, neither of them would even look at you two.] [Honestly, kind of respect the blind confidence.] [Am I the only one who thinks Cole and Blair are actually super toxic together? If Harper and Miles had played their cards right growing up, they could have totally stolen them. It proves the main couple’s bond isn’t bulletproof.] Honestly, the commenters were right. Miles and I totally had windows of opportunity over the years. But we were branded as the villains of the story. Which meant we suffered from a terminal case of wanting the best for each other, but also being violently jealous if the other succeeded. Once, Cole and Blair got into a massive cold war. They couldn’t even be in the same room without rolling their eyes. On the surface, Miles and I played the concerned peacekeepers. But behind closed doors, we were popping champagne. We promised to be each other’s wingmen. So, Miles took Cole out to a high-end whiskey bar to talk trash about Blair. Cole slung an arm over Miles’s shoulder, his words slurring slightly. “I’m telling you, man. That woman has ice in her veins. She’s ruthless.” Miles nodded emphatically. “Exactly. Honestly, whoever ends up marrying her is going to be cursed for eight lifetimes.” (Meanwhile, internally, Miles was screaming that he would gladly take the curse for eight hundred lifetimes if it meant he got to marry her). They drank until 3 AM. Miles, who had the alcohol tolerance of a Victorian child, was completely hammered. But he remembered his mission: hype me up to Cole. So, he flawlessly executed an “accidental” pivot. “Yeah, Blair is terrifying. But man, you don’t even know. Harper? When she was three, she threw a lit M-80 firecracker into a porta-potty and covered our foster mom in absolute sewage. Hahaha!” And with that, the floodgates opened. Miles proceeded to list every single humiliating, unhinged thing I had done since I was a toddler. How at four, I thought I was a fairy and jumped off a second-story balcony with a bedsheet, giving our foster mom a mild heart attack. How at five, I saw our bald kindergarten teacher and tried to water his head with a watering can to make his hair grow. By the end of the night, Cole and Miles were practically crying from laughing so hard. My cool, mysterious image was obliterated. After that night, Cole developed a strange affliction where he couldn’t even look at me without cracking a smile. Meanwhile, Miles and Blair started getting dangerously close. One day, Miles pulled me aside, his eyes shining. “Harper, what kind of guys is Blair actually into?” I gave him a sweet, supportive smile. “Lean, shredded guys. Total gym rats.” At the time, Miles was built like a string bean. The next day, he practically moved into Equinox. After a few months, he actually started to bulk up. Playing the role of the supportive best friend, I casually suggested, “You should really start taking protein powder. It’ll speed things up.” Miles agreed enthusiastically. So, while cackling like an evil witch in my kitchen, I meticulously replaced his expensive whey protein with cheap, sugary hot chocolate powder. Miles spent months wondering why his gains had completely plateaued, his self-esteem slowly crumbling. He was too insecure to confess his feelings to Blair. He didn’t find out the truth until the night we watched Cole and Blair walk the red carpet at the Met Gala, arm-in-arm. We had missed our window again, and in my misery, I confessed my crimes. Thinking about it now still made my blood boil. Miles violently shook me by the shoulders. “If you hadn’t sabotaged my macros, I would be dating Blair right now!” I grabbed him by the throat, shaking him right back. “If you hadn’t told him about the firecracker, Cole wouldn’t burst into laughter every time I tried to flirt with him!” The floating text was practically sobbing at our stupidity. [Thank God Blair got away from Cole to realize the world is full of idiots.] [Fools! Absolute museum-grade imbeciles!] [They were so terrified of their bestie finding love they nuked their own chances.] Eventually, we called a truce, collapsing into the dining chairs, gasping for air. “Whatever. Murder is illegal,” I wheezed. “And I really don’t want to lose my five million dollar salary,” Miles groaned. I threw my hands up. “But we have to do something! We need an alibi.” I was not going to end up in a weighted sleeping bag at the bottom of the Hudson. Miles tapped his chin, his eyes narrowing in thought. “A billionaire CEO and his executive assistant… there’s bound to be rumors of an affair.” “Exactly! And I have zero intention of sleeping with Cole Winslow.” Because love is beautiful, but I prefer breathing. “Harper,” Miles said suddenly, his voice dead serious. “Let’s get together.” It only took one look. I knew exactly what he was playing at. If Miles and I publicly dated, it was the ultimate show of loyalty to Cole and Blair. Look at us. We belong to each other. We are absolutely no threat to your relationship. It was genius. So, suppressing my intense physical revulsion, I batted my eyelashes and cooed, “Oh, Miles~” Miles’s face contorted in disgust for a fraction of a second before he smoothly pulled me into his arms, his voice dripping with fake affection. “My sweet Harper~” The floating text became an endless sea of ellipses… [Are they legally allowed to do this?] [They are starving. Truly starving. They will consume any plotline.] [Wait, why is the tension kind of crazy right now?] [I’m… I’m kind of shipping them.] [The Villainous Power Couple? I’m seated.]

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “404100”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I married Gideon Foster three years ago, and he gave me the cold shoulder for nine hundred and ninety-nine days. To please his new lover, he personally beat me half to death with a salt-soaked whip. Everyone thought I died in that brutal attack. He knelt at my grave in repentance for three years. Then came the day I removed my mask at my book signing in London. He rushed up, eyes red, arms open. But the man beside me smiled and pulled me close. “Let me introduce you. This is my wife. And you are?” Lydia POV Three years into my marriage, on the 999th day of the cold war between Gideon and me, I received a call from the hospital. “Mrs. Foster, your prenatal checkup scheduled for this week has been arranged for Friday afternoon. Please remember to arrange your time in advance. You’re already two months pregnant. Your last checkup was very healthy. Have you experienced any discomfort recently?” My heart lurched. Even my breathing felt painful. I opened my mouth, about to say something, when another voice came from the other end of the line. “Hang up quickly, you called the wrong number!” “I didn’t call the wrong number. This is Mrs. Foster’s phone!” “Oh my, this Mrs. Foster is not that Mrs. Foster!” “What do you mean?” The girl who called me was clearly confused. The next second, the call was disconnected. My chest felt tight, a dull ache slowly spreading through my chest. Counting the days, the child Gideon and I lost was also conceived around this time three years ago. On Friday, I went to the hospital emergency room for severe abdominal pain. The rolling screen in the hospital lobby continuously displayed intimate photos of Gideon with another woman, Sophia Mitchell. In the photos, Gideon looked at her with such tenderness it made my eyes burn. “To celebrate Mrs. Foster, the wife of our hospital’s largest shareholder, being pregnant, all patient expenses at our hospital this month will be covered by Mr. Foster.” “Mr. Foster is so good to his wife.” “That’s nothing. Did you hear? Mr. Foster is also investing ten billion to establish a school here, saying it will be named after his future child!” I held the test results, slightly dazed. Suddenly, several security guards walked over. “Sorry everyone, Mr. Foster is bringing his wife to the hospital for a prenatal checkup. This passage is temporarily closed to the public. Please take an alternate route.” The crowd stirred, and I was accidentally pushed and fell to the ground. I struggled to get up, but was stepped on several times by people behind me and pushed down again. “Out of the way! What are you doing, coming here to play the victim?” The security guard’s baton pressed against my shoulder. “Stop pretending, get up quickly! Get lost! If you delay Mr. Foster and his wife’s business in a moment, can you afford to compensate?” “She’s probably using her looks, waiting here to catch Mr. Foster’s attention. Does she even know her place?” People around were pointing and gossiping at me. “Girls these days have no shame. She’s just trying to ruin someone else’s marriage!” Someone took advantage of the chaos to push me hard again. My arm hit the ground, and the skin on my elbow was torn open in a long strip. I gasped in pain. Looking up, the exclusive VIP elevator door on one side opened. Gideon walked out with a gentle expression, holding her in his arms. Sophia’s cheeks were flushed with shy redness as she cooed. “There are so many people. Put me down quickly. I can walk by myself.” Gideon refused without hesitation. “How can that be okay? Didn’t the doctor just say you need to be careful now?” “That’s all because of you. I’m already pregnant, and last night you still couldn’t help yourself, insisting on…” “That’s because you’re too tempting.” The two were saying explicit sweet nothings. Looking up, Gideon saw me on the ground, and his expression changed drastically. Although I had already tried very hard to minimize my presence. But in the next second, Gideon’s icy voice still poured down on me like a basin of cold water. “What are you doing here?” I clutched the test results in my hand tightly. Just as I was about to speak, Sophia beside him spoke up first. “She must also be here for a checkup, right? She should take good care of her body and try to get pregnant soon!” My fingers stiffened slightly. The convulsing pain in my heart covered the pain in my arm. Gideon also, because of her words, instantly looked at me with a hundred times more disgust and loathing. He walked past holding Sophia, his foot crushing hard over my delicate fingers. He didn’t even look at me once, leaving only an extremely cold remark. “She’s not worthy!”

Lydia POV The two walked away. The crowd dispersed. It took me quite a while to struggle up from the ground in embarrassment. The sympathetic and pitying looks from people around me shattered my heart, which had been as hard as stone. I stared blankly in the direction where Gideon and Sophia left, and memories that had been torn apart came flying back at me like a boomerang. No one remembered anymore how deeply Gideon loved me three years ago. Although our marriage was arranged, it was also love at first sight. On the night of our engagement, Gideon set off the grandest fireworks show for me across the entire city. In the fireworks show, there were patterns he personally designed, depicting the happiness of our remaining eighty years of life, from a family of two to being surrounded by children and grandchildren in old age. Just because I casually mentioned that yellow roses were my favorite flowers, Gideon had people plant large fields of yellow roses throughout the city. No matter where I went, at home or out, everywhere I looked there were flowers he specially planted for me. He even bought me 365 stars, naming each one after the letters he wrote for me. Gideon said. “Lydia, from now on, you are my one and only. I will spoil you into the happiest woman in the world.” And he truly did it. In the first six months after marriage, thanks to the romance and love he gave me, those were the happiest times of my life. Only a car accident six months after our marriage completely changed the trajectory of our lives. I was already more than three months pregnant at that time, with my belly slightly swollen. In that car, there were three people but four lives. In the end, only I survived Gideon, who rushed to the scene after receiving the call, seemed crazy at that moment. His bloodshot eyes were savage. It broke my heart to see him like that. He shouted at me. “Lydia, you killed my mother! You also killed our child!” He said. “What exactly did you do? Why was Preston in your car? Where were you two going?” He questioned me over and over again. “Lydia, have all your feelings for me been fake all this time? You’ve been unable to forget him, still harboring feelings for him, right? For your lover, you killed my mother and my child!” My mind was in a fog. I felt helpless. I touched my flat belly and replayed the accident in my mind. The violent impact. The blood. The way it poured down my legs. I couldn’t control it. I didn’t know how to explain Preston’s presence in the car that day to Gideon either. It was only then that I learned Preston was Linda Foster’s illegitimate son, Gideon’s mother. Linda had begged me not to reveal his identity. So I couldn’t speak up. But my prolonged silence was interpreted by Gideon as confirmation. When the doctor said I had injured my uterus and could never bear children again in this lifetime, Gideon became extremely calm. He said. “Lydia, this is what you owe me. You’ll spend your entire life atoning for this.” It was from that moment that we began a cold war that lasted three years. He openly flaunted other women outside. Around that time, explicit photos of him with other women would appear on my phone. I’d occasionally find sexy lingerie left in the corners of the house, clearly worn by someone else. Even my car wasn’t spared. Opening the door, I’d often be hit by a pungent smell. I would always find several torn condom wrappers in Gideon’s coat pockets. I knew this was Gideon’s silent declaration of war against me. Just as Gideon said, this was what I owed him. Only now, he already had a child with another woman. I felt that what I owed him should be paid off soon. On the way home, I made an important decision.

Lydia POV I went to have my identity wiped from the system. In one month, this identity of mine would disappear from the entire world. Everything about me would cease to exist. I would wait until Sophia was three months pregnant, until the baby in her belly was stable, then I would change my identity and leave here to start my new life. I returned home. Every servant looked at me strangely. I vaguely guessed what had happened in my heart. Walking in, I saw all my clothes thrown at the bedroom door like garbage. Gideon had his arm around Sophia’s still-slender waist, saying matter-of-factly. “Sophia is pregnant. I’m not comfortable with her living outside alone.” “The master bedroom is spacious with plenty of sunlight, which is good for pregnant women. So you move out!” I choked up, barely managing to get a word out. “Okay.” After all, in a month, this would be Sophia’s home anyway. But Sophia asked with a smile. “Lydia, you’re not angry, are you?” I lowered my head and said. “No.” Gideon’s expression suddenly changed. He pushed me hard, then kicked my clothes on the ground. His voice was frighteningly cold. “Take your trash and get out!” Immediately the door slammed shut. Then I heard them kissing inside, Sophia’s soft moans drifting out. I just tried hard to control my numb nerves, looking at the scattered clothes on the ground. They still had messy footprints on them. I silently organized my things like picking up garbage. On the other side, the butler kept bringing several people to deliver countless shopping bags for Sophia. “These are all the latest seasonal items from the mall. Mr. Foster had us send them according to your measurements.” Gideon couldn’t wait to move the entire mall home for Sophia. There were people wearing gloves specially organizing these expensive clothes and jewelry for her. “Gideon, you don’t need to spend so much money. In a few months, my belly will get bigger and I won’t be able to wear these anyway.” Sophia pouted, clinging sweetly to Gideon’s arm. “These are nothing. Sophia, you’re carrying my child. Even if you want the stars and moon, I’ll find a way to give them to you.” “Gideon, you’re so good to me.” Separated by a wall, the more I didn’t want to hear, the more their voices drilled into my ears uncontrollably. I sat on the edge of the bed in a daze. Suddenly a roar from Gideon came from the villa. “Lydia!” “Lydia, where are you!” I immediately opened the door and walked out. Shirtless, Gideon opened the master bedroom door, his eyes coldly fixed on me. “We’re out of condoms at home. You go out and buy some!” “Get the most expensive ones, the ultra-thin kind!” My brain went blank for a moment. I didn’t react. What? “Can’t you understand? What are you standing there for?” “I…” I hesitated, then tentatively said, “But she’s pregnant, isn’t she? You can’t do it now, right?” Gideon’s eyes instantly carried a hint of deeper meaning, as if he was sizing me up. He raised an eyebrow and asked. “Lydia, do you care very much?” “Are you worried about her, or are you actually feeling sad too?” Gideon stared directly into my eyes. I understood what he meant and immediately explained. “It’s better to be careful during the first three months of pregnancy.” The air was briefly quiet for a few seconds before Gideon shouted at me again. “I said go buy them, so go buy them! Get out!” The sound of the door slamming made me shiver involuntarily. Half an hour later, I handed the box of condoms I bought back to Gideon. But Gideon wasn’t planning to let me off so easily. He found a random excuse to make me stand outside the door. Inside the door were continuous moans. Outside the door was me, standing there like being pressed on a chopping board and slowly sliced apart. I stood until the sky darkened. My two legs were already stiff and numb before Gideon opened the door. “Clean up inside. The sheets and the clothes all need to be hand-washed.” Gideon instructed me. Sophia’s neck was covered with purple-blue marks, her face still flushed with redness as she looked at me shyly. “Lydia, the servants have rough hands. I’m afraid they’ll ruin the clothes. I can only trouble you. You won’t be angry, will you?” I didn’t speak. Gideon snorted. “She has no right to be angry.” After saying that, he picked up Sophia, and the two sweetly entered the bathroom. Looking at the mess the bed, the carpet, the bay window all marked with traces of intimacy I dug my nails into my palm. I tried to drown the ache in my chest with physical pain, but my heart still throbbed, and I didn’t know how to make it stop. I could only move like a ghost, mechanically stripping the sheets and gathering the clothes to wash. I tried hard to force myself not to recall, but the scene from three years ago of Gideon holding my hand like a treasure kept replaying in my mind. He said then. “Lydia, I will never let these hands do any housework again. I’ll spoil you until the whole world envies you.” But now, he was making me wash another woman’s underwear. Perhaps the promises made when deeply in love were real, but the coldness after falling out of love was also real.

Lydia POV The next few days, I was busy with various procedures for canceling my identity. I left early and returned late every day, trying my best to avoid the two of them. But this evening, when I returned, the dining room was brightly lit. Gideon and Sophia sat properly at the dining table, as if deliberately waiting for me. “You’re finally back. I specially made a table full of dishes today, waiting to eat with you.” Sophia had her signature smile on her face, soft and delicate. I spoke. “I already ate outside. You two go ahead and eat.” But Gideon suddenly slammed the table hard, his voice full of anger. “Sit down! Sophia is pregnant and has been busy all afternoon. Are you going to waste her thoughtfulness like this?” “But I’m really not hungry.” The atmosphere immediately became tense. Gideon walked over and tightly gripped my neck. A strong sense of suffocation came over me. I looked at this magnified face before my eyes, my vision gradually blurring. The man’s bone-chillingly cold voice rang in my ear, carrying undisguised disgust. “Not hungry, huh? Fine, then don’t eat for three days. Let’s see if you get hungry or not.” “Lock her in her room. Without my permission, no one is allowed to let her out!” Gideon pushed me to the ground. Immediately after, the butler brought people to lock me in the room. I sat in a daze for quite a while. I didn’t know when tears started falling, soaking my clothes. The damp fabric clung tightly to my chest, feeling somewhat uncomfortably restrictive. It’s okay. Just three days. After three days, it would only be a few more days until I left. I fell into a drowsy sleep, but suddenly a noisy commotion woke me up. “Oh no, there’s a fire.” “Sophia, don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. I’ll take you out!” I turned on the light. A pungent smell of smoke drilled in through the door crack. My heart stopped for an instant. I immediately realized this wasn’t a dream-there really was a fire. “Gideon, I think I twisted my ankle. It hurts so much. I can’t walk.” Outside the door, Sophia’s soft, delicate voice with a hint of crying drilled into my ears. “It’s okay, Sophia. I’ll carry you.” “But the fire is getting bigger and bigger.” “It doesn’t matter. I will definitely save you. You’re still carrying our child in your belly. Nothing will happen, Sophia.” Gideon so decisively, so determinedly carried her to escape. The thick smoke choked my tears, making them fall continuously. Gideon, who once regarded me as his life, now when facing danger, had only another woman in his eyes and heart. He didn’t even remember my existence at all. The entire villa was in chaos. Everyone was fleeing for their lives. Locked up, I was completely forgotten here. I tried to forcefully turn the doorknob, but the lock was locked from outside. There was no movement at all. The security window was also welded shut. I couldn’t push it open at all. Watching the fire outside getting bigger and bigger, I felt the temperature of the surrounding air rising with it. The fear in my heart gradually spread. Despair crept into my heart. Perhaps I would die here today. I sighed softly. Maybe this was for the best. If I died, perhaps Gideon wouldn’t hate me anymore. What I owed him could be completely repaid. The room was already filled with thick fog. My head swelled terribly. The strength in my body grew weaker and weaker until I finally collapsed on the ground. My consciousness faded. Gideon, I hope we never meet again in the next life. No love, no entanglement.

Lydia POV Hospital room. In a blur of consciousness, I seemed to hear Gideon’s anxious voice, hoarse. “What’s going on? Didn’t you say the examination showed no problems? Why hasn’t she woken up yet?” The doctor carefully tried to calm the irritated Gideon. “Mr. Foster, please don’t worry. She should wake up soon.” “Soon. I don’t know how you define ‘soon’? She’s been unconscious for a day and a night! I don’t care what methods you use, get her to wake up as soon as possible!” “Yes, Mr. Foster.” My head ached terribly. I slowly opened my eyes, looking at Gideon getting angry outside, and moved my fingers. It seemed I wasn’t dead yet. It seemed Sophia must also have been injured. Otherwise, Gideon wouldn’t be this nervous and angry. “Ma’am, you’re awake!” A nurse immediately ran over. A string of medical staff followed, running in to examine me. Gideon outside the door met my gaze. He first frowned, then immediately showed an expression of disgust. “Lydia, you owe me two lives. Did you think you could just die and escape? Even Satan won’t take you!” Gideon then turned and strode away, unwilling to even look at me one more time. I stared blankly, lowering my eyelids. I felt like my heart had been violently hollowed out, hurting so much I had no feeling left. The doctor told me it was firefighters who arrived in time and rescued me. I had only inhaled a large amount of smoke into my lungs. Fortunately, they rescued me in time, and there were no problems with my body. In the afternoon, after completing the discharge procedures alone, I bought a bouquet of bellflowers at a flower shop and took a taxi to the cemetery. I wanted to see Linda Foster one last time before leaving here, and Preston too. I placed the bellflowers in front of Linda Foster’s grave, looking at the familiar photo on the tombstone. A sense of loss welled up in my heart. “Gideon now has a woman he loves deeply again. They even have a child. I’m leaving.” “I’ll come back to see you when I have the chance in the future. I’m sorry.” After saying this, I walked to Preston’s grave. I had just reached out to brush the dust off Preston’s portrait when I felt a sharp gaze bore into my back. I turned my head and met Gideon’s sharp eyes. Sophia clung to Gideon’s arm. Gideon’s eyes at this moment looked murderous. He stared at me and roared. “Lydia! Just how much do you like him!” “He’s been dead for three years, and you still can’t forget him?” My breath caught in my throat, unable to go up or down. A nerve in my brain was stretched very tight. “I…” I didn’t know how to explain. “Lydia, you’re really devoted!” Gideon’s tone was full of mockery. After a moment, he spoke again in an extremely cold voice. “I’ll have someone move this bastard’s grave far away right now. How dare he be buried so close to my mother! My mother must have no peace! Someone, dig up the grave!” My eyes widened. Horror instantly crawled over every inch of my skin. I grabbed Gideon’s arm, pleading. “You can’t. Gideon, you can’t.” Gideon stared into my eyes. The resentment in his expression grew thicker. He disgustedly shook me off forcefully. “Can’t? If he’s so important to you, then why didn’t you die with him?” Every word in his sentence was like a sharp knife, stabbing viciously into my heart. I finally couldn’t control myself. Tears fell like broken beads. I kept shaking my head. No, Linda Foster would definitely want to be buried with Preston too. Sophia on the side raised her slender eyes, saying lazily. “You look really sad. If you’re willing to kneel down and lick the dust off my shoes clean, I can consider begging Gideon to spare your childhood friend.” My tears froze in my eyes. My knees trembled slightly. Gideon on the side had only coldness in his eyes. I hesitated, slowly kneeling on the ground. My knees knocked against the cold, hard ground, painfully sore. Sophia sneered, triumphantly moving her foot closer to me. A strong sense of humiliation surged into my heart. Just as I was about to touch her shoe, I suddenly felt a sweet liquid surge up in my chest. Immediately after, I uncontrollably vomited a mouthful of fresh blood and fainted on the ground. Blood splattered on Sophia’s shoes and pants. She angrily jumped up. “Gideon, these shoes were a birthday gift from you. This bitch got them dirty. What should I do?” “Don’t be angry. I’ll buy you ten more pairs when we get back.” Gideon didn’t even glance at me lying unconscious on the ground. He gently picked up Sophia and walked out. Only his cold mockery remained in my ears. “Stop pretending! It’s disgusting!”

Lydia POV A kind-hearted passerby sent me to the hospital. After diagnosis, the doctor said it was excessive worry and not eating properly that caused gastric bleeding. I needed to rest well. The hospital tried to contact Gideon several times for me, but when they called, the phone was either hung up directly or they were scolded. “How much did she pay you to act out this drama with her?” “Don’t bother me anymore! It would be best if she died!” I could hear Gideon’s irritated tone very clearly. I took back the phone the nurse handed her and helplessly curved my lips. Over these three years, I knew better than anyone that Gideon hated me to death. He had long wished I would just die. Perhaps if I died, both Gideon and I could be free. I opened my social media app and immediately saw that Sophia had posted several updates showing off their relationship. Accompanied by various happy photos of her and Gideon from different angles. “My favorite man is so good to me, booking an entire floor of the mall just for me.” “My husband knows I like sweets, so he personally made me a cake.” “How can my husband be so handsome? I can never get tired of looking at him. I’m already starting to look forward to what our son will look like. He’ll definitely be as handsome as his father.” My chest felt tight, unbearably so. I knew I shouldn’t hope for anything. I had clearly prepared myself mentally, but when I saw these things, I still couldn’t help feeling heartbroken. I put down my phone, forcing myself not to think about anything related to Gideon. Anyway, it wouldn’t be long before I left. Before going to sleep. I suddenly received a call from Gideon. I instinctively held my breath and answered. “Lydia, what the hell are you up to? I advise you not to be impulsive!” “Where did you take Sophia? If you have a problem, come at me. Don’t touch her, okay?” Gideon’s accusations hit my eardrums. I frowned, hesitating. “What do you mean? I’m at the hospital. Sophia’s situation has nothing to do with me.” “You’re still pretending? Lydia, when exactly did you become like this? You killed my mother, and I still let you sit properly in the position of Mrs. Foster. What more are you dissatisfied with? Don’t you like Preston? What did Sophia do to you that you have to go after her?” I gently rubbed my temple. I understood now. Gideon didn’t believe me. No matter what I said, Gideon firmly believed I was behind it. I took a deep breath. “Sorry, Gideon. I have nothing to say. But I advise you, if something really happened to Sophia, you should go find her as soon as possible instead of wasting time on me!” After saying that, I hung up directly. Gideon kept calling stubbornly. I simply turned off my phone. Half an hour later, Gideon came to the hospital aggressively. “Lydia! How long are you going to keep up this act? I’m giving you one last chance. Where did you hide Sophia? If you dare touch her, I’ll make your life a living hell.” Gideon’s fierce tone didn’t seem fake. I turned over and lay down with my back to Gideon. I didn’t want to say anything more. No matter what I said, Gideon wouldn’t believe it. “Lydia!” But Gideon grabbed my wrist even more angrily. I still had an IV drip in my hand. Gideon used too much force, and the blood at the needle immediately flowed back. Soon, the entire IV bottle turned a shocking pink color. Only then did Gideon awkwardly let go of me. “I said it has nothing to do with me. I didn’t do it. You’re wasting your time here.” “Lydia, I’ll say it again. If you dare harm her in the slightest, I’ll kick you out of the Foster family immediately!” Gideon’s phone rang at the right time. “Mr. Foster, we’ve found Miss Mitchell’s whereabouts.” “Good, I’ll come right away!” Gideon hung up the phone and looked at me with even more coldness in his eyes. “I’ll go save Sophia first. Today’s matter won’t end so easily. Lydia, you will pay for everything you’ve done!” He turned and left. My tears fell the moment he closed the door. My hand was badly swollen, but the pain couldn’t match the stabbing pain in my heart. The Gideon who ignored me for three years never hurt me like this. This Gideon this one who was so sure I was guilty cut deeper than any cold shoulder ever could. I endured the discomfort and browsed airline websites. I wanted to leave here as soon as I was discharged from the hospital. I couldn’t wait anymore. I didn’t want to see Gideon’s icy, emotionless eyes ever again.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “377513”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I stood by Tristan Fuller for five years when he was disabled. But the moment he recovered, he married the woman he had always loved. The one who abandoned him when he needed her most. All for company shares. He deceived me with a fake marriage license, promising we would have our wedding next month. I smiled and accepted it, then flew ten thousand miles away to New Zealand. Five years later, I returned as a ruthless investment banker to acquire his company. In the rain, he begged me to come back. But I held my husband’s hand and walked past, leaving his wheelchair behind. “Mr. Fuller, this is my wife. Please get out of the way.” Jane’s POV In the most upscale custom jewelry center downtown, soft music flowed through the VIP room. Tristan Fuller and I sat side by side on the velvet sofa. We were sharing a pair of Bluetooth earbuds, listening to a gentle love song together. Tristan lowered his head, his long fingers holding a brilliant diamond ring as he gently slipped it onto my ring finger. “Perfect fit.” He looked at my hand, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Do you like it?” He was usually aloof, but now his eyes were brimming with adoration. I looked up at him, about to nod, when an abrupt phone ring shattered the warm atmosphere. Tristan frowned slightly and pulled out his phone, glancing at the screen. One name appeared on the screen: Gabriel. Tristan’s closest friend. Tristan removed the left earbud and pressed the answer button. To keep the store employees from hearing the conversation, he habitually switched the audio to Bluetooth mode. But he forgot that the other earbud was still firmly in my right ear. “Tristan, have you lost your mind?!” Gabriel’s voice, barely containing his fury, came through the earbud loud and clear. Tristan’s expression didn’t change. He spoke calmly into the phone. “I’m helping Jane pick out her wedding ring. What’s wrong?” A sharp intake of breath came from the other end. After a few seconds, Gabriel finally exploded. “You’re still helping her pick out a wedding ring? Didn’t you just marry Sarah this morning?!” “What the hell are you thinking! When you had that car accident and became disabled, Sarah despised you for being a cripple and immediately went abroad with someone else. Now, to get that 15% of shares from the Morrison family, you actually went through with a marriage alliance with her?!” Every word from Gabriel hit me like a punch to the gut. The blood drained from my face. I felt like I’d been plunged into ice water. In my right ear, Gabriel’s interrogation continued, but Tristan sitting beside me remained perfectly composed. He even reached over to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, then spoke lightly into the phone. “Tomorrow is Fuller Group’s shareholder meeting. I must secure the Morrison family shares to solidify my position as CEO. The title of Mrs. Fuller is just a bargaining chip I’m using to trade for those shares.” “What about Jane!” Gabriel roared through the phone. “During those five years you were disabled, who massaged your legs day and night? Who stayed with you through that hellish rehabilitation? She loved you enough to give her life for you, and for some shares, you give the legal wife position to someone else?!” Tristan’s expression remained unchanged despite Gabriel’s fury. “Jane wants my love, not a piece of paper. I’ll keep it from her. She’ll never know about this.” “How long can you hide it? You can’t keep something like this a secret forever! Jane is supposed to have a wedding with you next month!” A flash of irritation crossed Tristan’s eyes, and his tone grew heavier. “Keep this quiet. No one is allowed to say anything about my marriage to Sarah. I’ll still give Jane that grand wedding next month. I’ll have someone make a fake marriage certificate for her. As long as she stays by my side, I can give her everything except the title.” After saying this, he hung up directly. A busy signal came through the earbud. My whole body trembled, nausea churning in my stomach. I bit my lower lip hard, forcibly suppressing the urge to retch. Tristan put away his phone and was about to turn to speak to me when the screen lit up again. It was the special notification tone for priority messages. Tristan paused, clicked it open, and glanced at it. Just one glance, and the irritation in his eyes instantly vanished, replaced by barely concealed anxiety. He stood up and methodically adjusted the cuffs of his suit. “Jane, there’s an emergency meeting at the company. I need to go right away. Pick out the ring you like, charge it directly to my card, then take a cab home, okay?” His tone was soft and gentle, like the perfect fiancé. I looked at this well-dressed man before me and said nothing, only nodding woodenly. Tristan didn’t even wait for me to remove the ring. He turned and pulled open the VIP room door, striding away. The moment the door closed, I collapsed against the sofa back. Tears fell without warning. Tristan didn’t know that his supposedly perfect act had been completely betrayed by that Bluetooth earbud forgotten in my ear. Every word, every sentence-like poison-tipped knives, shredding my heart into bloody pieces. All those memories I’d deliberately buried deep in my heart were now dredged up. Tristan was a lofty heir to a wealthy family, while I was merely the daughter of the Fuller family driver. That year, I followed my father into the Fuller mansion and immediately saw Tristan sitting in a wheelchair, gloomy and irritable. He’d been in a car accident and lost all feeling in his legs. Doctors had determined he would spend his life in a wheelchair. And his childhood fiancée Sarah, the day after learning this news, unilaterally announced the engagement was off and flew abroad. The Fuller family had no shortage of healthy heirs. The disabled Tristan was quickly marginalized, thrown into a villa on the city outskirts to fend for himself. I took the initiative to ask my father and became the caregiver who looked after him at the villa. For those five years, his temper was explosive. He smashed things, went on hunger strikes, even self-harmed. I just silently followed behind him, cleaning up the wreckage. When he knocked over hot soup onto the back of my hand, causing large blisters, I only endured the pain and continued massaging his atrophying muscles. Later, I heard about a retired neurological authority abroad. I ran to the person’s door and begged in the snow for a full day and night, securing the chance for Tristan to have surgery. The surgery was successful. Tristan stood up again. He seized control of Fuller Group with ruthless tactics, becoming the most influential power player in their circle. I was the one who accompanied him through those five darkest years. I was the one who stayed with him through rehabilitation sessions where he broke out in cold sweats from pain. I was the one who kissed him, embraced him, and shared his bed. But I never imagined that the first thing he would do after reaching the top was to give the title of wife to Sarah the woman who had abandoned him. All to secure his power. He even planned to trap me with a grand wedding and a fake marriage certificate, keeping me as his dirty little secret.

Jane’s POV I don’t know how I walked out of the jewelry store. Outside, it had started raining. The autumn rain was freezing, cold enough to chill me to the bone. I didn’t bring an umbrella or call a car. I just walked aimlessly through the streets. Rain washed over my face. I couldn’t tell if what was on my face was tears or rainwater. By the time I returned to our shared penthouse, the sky had gone completely dark. The house was empty, with no lights on. I didn’t even change my clothes. I just curled up in the corner of the sofa. I don’t know how much time passed before I heard the sound of the password lock at the entrance. The door opened, and the living room lights suddenly blazed on, making me close my eyes. Tristan walked in carrying a chill. Seeing me soaked through and huddled on the sofa, he froze for a moment, then quickly walked over, his brows knitted together. “How did you end up like this? Why didn’t you call me after getting caught in the rain?” His tone carried reproach, but his movements were gentle as he grabbed a nearby towel and carefully dried my wet hair. As he drew closer, a faint cold cedar scent hit me. But I still keenly caught a trace of sweet bluebell fragrance mixed in. That was Sarah’s favorite perfume. My stomach churned. Suppressing the nausea, I imperceptibly shrank back. “My phone died.” My voice was hoarse. Tristan sighed and touched my forehead to make sure I didn’t have a fever, then relaxed slightly. “The situation at the company was too complicated. I couldn’t get away. Next time something like this happens, even if your phone is dead, find someone to borrow a phone and call me, okay?” He looked at me with eyes full of tenderness, as if I were the most precious thing in his world. I looked at this face so close to mine and suddenly felt it was very unfamiliar. How could this man manage to put on such a devoted act toward me right after registering his marriage with another woman? “Okay.” I lowered my eyes. Tristan carried me into the bathroom, personally drew a hot bath for me, and brought clean pajamas. “Take a hot bath so you don’t catch a cold. Our wedding is next month. If you get sick, it’ll break my heart.” Hearing the word “wedding,” my heart felt like it was being stabbed with a needle. I nodded and closed the bathroom door. The warm water flowed over my body but couldn’t warm my cold heart. When I came out after bathing, Tristan had changed into loungewear and was sitting on the sofa reviewing documents. Seeing me emerge, he beckoned. “Come here. Take your cold medicine.” I walked over and took the medicine. Tristan set down his documents and pulled me into his arms, resting his chin on the top of my head. “Jane, I’ve already had the wedding invitations printed. Check if there are any friends you want to invite and give me the list.” My fingers gripping the cup couldn’t help but tighten. “No need. I don’t have many friends.” Tristan kissed my temple. “Then I’ll just invite people from my side. I want everyone to know that you, Jane, are Tristan Fuller’s one and only wife.” One and only wife. I silently repeated those words in my mind, finding them utterly ironic. I set down the cup and, using tiredness as an excuse, returned to the bedroom. Lying in bed, I had just picked up my fully charged phone when the apartment doorbell suddenly rang. This late at night, who could it be? I put on a jacket and walked to the entrance, looking through the video doorbell to see a same-city courier standing outside. “Ms. Jane? There’s an express delivery for you.” I opened the door and signed for it. It was an exquisitely packaged black velvet gift box with no sender information. I took the box back to the bedroom and opened it. Inside was no gift, only several freshly developed Polaroid photos and a handwritten card that smelled of bluebell perfume. I picked up the top photo. It was a wedding photo of Tristan and Sarah. The second showed their interlocked fingers in close-up. On the man’s wrist was the watch I’d saved half a year’s salary to buy, and on Sarah’s ring finger was the brilliant diamond ring that Tristan had personally tried on my finger this morning at the jewelry store. My gaze fell on the final handwritten card. The handwriting was elegant, exuding haughty superiority. “Miss Jane, thank you for taking care of Tristan for me these past five years. But it’s time for Cinderella to wake from her dream. The only one who can help him in his career and deserves the title of Mrs. Fuller is me.” I stared at that card for a long time. I knew that if Tristan wanted to hide this from me, he absolutely wouldn’t allow Sarah to go public. So Sarah used this method to thrust the knife directly in front of me. I found it somewhat amusing. Sarah was asserting her dominance, flaunting her victory to me. But Sarah didn’t know-I no longer wanted this man. I threw the photos and card into the trash. If Tristan wanted to put on a show, then I’d play along. But I didn’t plan to act with him until the finale. I pulled up a number I hadn’t contacted in five years and sent a text. “Mrs. Fuller, does your previous offer still stand? I’m willing to take that thirty million and leave Tristan forever.”

Jane’s POV Less than a minute after I sent the text, the call came through. I glanced at the tightly closed bedroom door, pressed answer, and brought the phone to my ear. On the other end, Tristan’s mother Margaret’s voice carried barely concealed elation and condescending arrogance. “You’ve finally come to your senses?” “Of course the offer still stands! You’re a driver’s daughter. Even if Tristan protects you now, you’ll never be accepted into the Fuller family.” “Tristan has already formed a marriage alliance with Sarah. The Morrison family shares are crucial to the Fullers. I absolutely will not allow you to stay by his side and get in the way.” “Tomorrow morning at ten, come to the café in the south district. We’ll sign the agreement.” “Alright.” I nodded. After hanging up, I deleted the call record completely. The next morning, Tristan went to the company. I put on light makeup to cover the dark circles under my eyes and arrived at the appointment on time. In the tea room, Margaret’s well-maintained face was full of disdain. She pulled out an already prepared agreement from her bag and pushed it in front of me. “Sign this, and there’s no going back. You’ll get fifteen million upfront. The rest will be wired once you’re gone for good.” Margaret picked up her teacup and took a sip, her sharp gaze fixed on me. “Jane, once you take the money, you can never appear before Tristan again for the rest of your life. If I find out you’re playing any tricks, I have plenty of ways to make your life a living hell.” I lowered my eyes and looked at the string of zeros on the agreement. Thirty million. My five years of youth, five years of wholehearted devotion-turns out they’d been priced all along in the Fuller family’s eyes. Of course I wouldn’t appear again. This lifetime, next lifetime-I never wanted any connection with Tristan Fuller again. Without the slightest hesitation, I picked up the pen on the table and decisively signed my name on the last page. Seeing me put pen to paper, Margaret finally relaxed and put the agreement in her bag. “I’ll give you one month. Whether you go to another city or abroad, after one month, I don’t want to see you here anymore.” “Don’t worry.” I stood up. “I’ll disappear completely.” After leaving the tea room, I didn’t return to the company. Instead, I found an internet café and booked a private booth. Making it so Tristan could never find me was actually quite simple. The Fuller family had deep military and political roots going back generations, but they also had a fatal weakness. For three generations, direct members of the Fuller family had been strictly forbidden from leaving the country, let alone immigrating. As long as I left this country, even if Tristan had eyes everywhere, he couldn’t cross that red line. I sat at the computer for a full four hours, reviewing massive amounts of immigration information. Finally, I locked my sights on New Zealand. The climate there was mild, the land vast with few people, and most importantly, it was over ten thousand kilometers away. After deciding on the destination, I contacted a top-tier immigration agency. “Jane, your qualifications meet New Zealand’s skilled migration requirements. But going through normal procedures will take most of a year.” The agent said, flipping through my materials. “I’m in a hurry.” “If we go through the expedited channel, money is no object. How soon can it be done?” The agent’s eyes lit up. “If funding is in place, we can go through special channels. At most twenty days, and the visa will be approved.” “Good. Process that one.” After paying the deposit, I walked out of the agency office. The sunlight was so bright I could barely open my eyes. Twenty days. That was my final countdown by Tristan’s side. In the afternoon, I returned to Fuller Group. I was Tristan’s executive assistant, the only one in the entire office who could make decisions on his behalf. When I handed my resignation letter to the HR director, the other party was so shocked their jaw nearly dropped. “Jane, you… aren’t you getting married to Mr. Fuller next month? Why are you resigning now?” I smiled. “Wedding preparations are exhausting. Tristan feels bad for me, so he’s letting me go home and be a full-time wife.” The HR director had an epiphany, offered repeated congratulations, and readily approved my resignation. Walking out of the Fuller building carrying a cardboard box, I looked back at the towering structure. Five years. I accompanied Tristan from a wheelchair to standing, accompanied him as he built this empire. Now, I was going to throw all of this, along with that man, straight into the garbage. That evening, when Tristan came home and saw the cardboard box in the entrance, he paused. Learning that I’d resigned, not only did he not get angry, he actually hugged me from behind, his face full of affection. “You should have resigned long ago. From now on, just stay home obediently and be my Mrs. Fuller. I’ll take care of you for life.” I leaned against him, listening to his strong heartbeat, finding it utterly ironic. Mrs. Fuller? Was that the joke holding a fake marriage certificate, deceived by everyone?

Jane’s POV Over the next several days, Tristan seemed to be trying to compensate for that bit of guilt in his heart, becoming increasingly attentive to me. He pushed aside several unimportant social engagements and came home on time every day to have dinner with me. On the weekend, he even proactively suggested taking me to try on wedding dresses. In the most upscale custom wedding dress boutique downtown, the attendant carefully zipped up the back. This wedding dress was the swan song of a top European designer. There was only one in the entire world. I looked at myself in the mirror wearing the pure white wedding dress and only wanted to laugh. I lifted the hem and walked out of the fitting room. Tristan, waiting on the sofa, looked up, a flash of amazement in his eyes. He stood up, strode over to me, and lowered his head to kiss my lips. “Jane, you’re beautiful.” Just then, the phone in Tristan’s pocket vibrated. He paused, took out his phone, glanced at it, and his expression changed slightly. He walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, holding his phone, and answered the call. Though he deliberately lowered his voice, I still vaguely heard a few words. “Sarah… your father’s side… okay, I’ll come sign right away…” After hanging up, Tristan turned around. The tenderness had faded from his face, replaced by barely concealed urgency. “Jane, there’s an emergency situation at the European branch. I need to hold a cross-border video conference. I have to get back to the company immediately.” He walked over and apologetically kissed my forehead. “Take your time trying things on. Have them alter whatever doesn’t fit. I’ll have the driver take you home later.” I watched his retreating figure without exposing his lie. Cross-border video conference? What could make Tristan Fuller abandon his fiancée during her wedding dress fitting, other than Sarah? I turned and walked back to the fitting room, taking off that expensive wedding dress. “No need for alterations.” I handed the dress to the attendant. “I don’t want this one.” Under the attendant’s astonished gaze, I changed back into my own clothes and walked out of the bridal shop. Returning to the penthouse, I began clearing out my belongings. This large flat was filled with traces of our three years living together. I grabbed several extra-large black trash bags and started tidying from the living room. Matching couple mugs-thrown away. Souvenirs bought together on our ski trip to the snow mountains-thrown away. All the expensive bags and jewelry he’d brought back from business trips-packed up and collected by a luxury goods resale shop I’d contacted. When I reached the walk-in closet, my movements paused. In the bottom drawer lay a thick photo album. These were photos I’d secretly taken during the five years Tristan was in a wheelchair. There was his back as he furiously smashed things, a close-up of him biting his lip bloody during rehabilitation, and also a photo of us embracing and crying when he first stood independently. I reached out and touched the young but gloomy face of the man in the photos. Back then, Tristan only had eyes for me. But people always change. Once the illness is cured, the crutch is no longer needed. I didn’t cry. I calmly closed the album and, along with those old clothes, mercilessly threw everything into the trash bag. By evening, the once-full penthouse was already half empty. Only some superficial necessities remained, maintaining the illusion that I was still living there. At ten p.m., Tristan came back. He carried a faint smell of disinfectant, clearly just returning from the hospital. Seeing that some decorations were missing from the living room, he frowned slightly. “Why is the house so empty?” “The season changed. I cleared out some old things we don’t use and threw them away.” I sat on the sofa without even lifting my head. Tristan walked over and sat beside me, reaching out to hold me. “I’m sorry about today, leaving you alone at the bridal shop. I’ll go with you tomorrow to try on dresses again, okay?” I avoided his touch and stood up. “No need. I’ve already chosen the wedding dress.” Tristan looked at my attitude and fell silent for a moment. “Jane, are you angry?” “No.” My tone was calm. “I’m a bit tired. I’m going to bed.” Just as I was about to leave, he suddenly told me. “Tomorrow night is Gabriel’s birthday party. Come with me.” As he said this, he looked at me expectantly, seemingly wanting to see me happy. But I just nodded. “Got it.” I just nodded, then turned and left.

Jane’s POV Gabriel’s birthday party was set at the city’s most elite private club. Inside the private room, the lighting was dim and the music deafening. When Tristan pushed open the door holding my hand, the originally noisy room instantly fell silent for a second. Everyone’s eyes turned to me in unison. In those gazes were sympathy, pity, and also schadenfreude at watching the drama unfold. I knew very well that in this circle, the news of Tristan and Sarah’s marriage probably hadn’t been a secret for a long time. Only I, like a fool, was being deceived. “You’re here! Quick, sit, sit!” Gabriel was the first to react, breaking the awkward silence with a dry laugh. Tristan pulled me to sit in the center of the sofa and casually poured me a glass of warm water. “She has a sensitive stomach and can’t drink alcohol.” He said to everyone, playing the part of an attentive good husband. A chorus of hollow agreement immediately rose around us. “You’re so good to her.” “Yeah, the wedding is next month. Congratulations in advance on your marriage.” Listening to these insincere blessings, I only felt my stomach churning. I picked up the water glass, hiding the cold smile at the corners of my mouth. Tristan was pulled aside by a few friends to drink, while I sat alone in the corner, clearly out of place. Gabriel came over with a drink. “Tristan… he’s been pretty busy lately, hasn’t he?” I turned to look at him. “Quite busy. Busy with company matters, and busy taking care of other people.” Gabriel’s face stiffened. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but ultimately swallowed it back. “Actually, you’re the one Tristan loves most in his heart. We’ve all witnessed your relationship over these five years. Being in his position, sometimes he’s forced by family interests to do things beyond his control… Some things, don’t take too much to heart.” I laughed. “Gabriel, what exactly shouldn’t I take to heart?” Gabriel gave an awkward laugh and quickly found an excuse to escape. I withdrew my gaze, looking at Tristan in the distance, laughing and chatting with others. He was wearing the shirt I’d personally ironed, the tie clip I’d bought him, but his heart had long since flown to someone else. Just then, the door to the private room was suddenly pushed open from outside. A woman in a white dress stood at the entrance, her face pale, swaying unsteadily. It was Sarah. The air in the private room instantly froze. Everyone instinctively looked at Tristan, then at me. The smile on Tristan’s face abruptly stiffened. He stood up almost instinctively and strode toward the door. “How did you get here? Didn’t I tell you to rest properly at the hospital?” His tone was full of reproach. Sarah looked at him with reddened eyes, aggrieved. “I was scared alone at the hospital, and you wouldn’t answer when I called…” As she spoke, her body went limp, falling straight toward Tristan. Tristan caught her in one swift motion and lifted her horizontally into his arms. He turned his head and looked at me sitting in the corner, his eyes somewhat evasive. “Jane, Sarah isn’t feeling well. I’m taking her back to the hospital first. Have the driver take you home later.” No explanation. No hesitation. The moment Sarah appeared, he abandoned me without mercy. The private room was silent as death. Everyone was watching me. I slowly stood up and smoothed the wrinkles in my skirt. I didn’t look at Tristan or Sarah. I just picked up my bag. “No need. I’ll take a cab home myself.” My voice wasn’t loud, but it reached everyone’s ears clearly. Tristan looked at my face, seeming to want to say something, but Sarah in his arms let out a pained moan. “Tristan, it hurts so much…” Tristan’s attention was instantly pulled back. He tightened his arms and quickly left the private room carrying Sarah. I watched their backs disappear outside the door, the corners of my mouth curling into a mocking arc. I turned around and nodded slightly to everyone in the room with their various expressions. “Enjoy yourselves. I’m leaving first.” Walking out of the private club, the night wind outside carried a hint of coolness. I took out my phone and glanced at the calendar. Fifteen days until the visa came through. Tristan, between us, there were only fifteen days left.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “377514”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I was docked down to $3,500 from my usual $20,000 salary because I spent a few minutes in the bathroom during work hours. When I went to my boss to argue for fairness, she acted impartial on the surface but spoke with veiled sarcasm: “Last month’s surveillance shows you spent a total of 40 minutes in the bathroom. You weren’t working in there, were you?” “One minute in the bathroom, $500 fine.” “It’s a new company policy. As a senior employee, you should set an example. I actually went easy on you.” I’ve been a key player at this company for ten years. The deals I’ve closed brought in at least a hundred million in revenue. But now, even my most basic rights are being stripped away. Seeing I had no response, she smiled coldly: “If you don’t like it, leave. Think you’re irreplaceable? Don’t forget, your five-year contract hasn’t expired yet. Who would dare hire you?” I didn’t argue further. But when my contract expired just five days later, she panicked. She kept going on and on: “Sarah, you’ve been at this company for several years. You should know the rules, right?” “Do you know how hard it is to find work these days? I’m only docking your pay because we go way back. If it were anyone else, I’d have kicked them out ages ago!” Hearing this, I couldn’t help but laugh. In my five years at the company, I’d worked diligently, focused entirely on closing deals. Thanks to my exceptional work ability, plenty of companies were willing to pay breach penalties to poach me, but out of loyalty to past relationships, I never considered such things. Even with just five days left on my contract, I’d been thinking about renewal. But now it seemed renewal wasn’t necessary. That glaring pay stub was thrown in my face without a shred of consideration. “Think it over. Stay or go!” I picked up the paper and said calmly, “I understand. I won’t use the bathroom during work hours anymore.” She froze for a moment, seemingly surprised by my submission. But seeing my defeated appearance, she smiled smugly. “That’s right. Don’t waste even a minute.” As I was about to leave, she mocked me: “Who do you think you are, acting tough? After all that fuss, you’re still going back to work like a good little dog. I hate people like you the most!” I opened my mouth but said nothing and left. Outside the office, everyone was celebrating payday. Seeing my low spirits, some colleagues offered me snacks. But Ruthie, a new intern at the company, was different. She silently walked past me and took my pay stub without asking. After looking at it, she feigned surprise. “Sarah only got $3,500? That’s less than one of my pairs of shoes!” “Isn’t Sarah supposed to be our company’s star performer? Look how far she’s fallen.” She passed the pay stub around, constantly repeating, “Sarah, did you make some huge mistake? This is so little.” My colleague Lisa asked with concern, “Sarah, why did they only pay you this much? Did they make a mistake?” I forced a smile at her. “One minute in the bathroom, $500 fine.” She looked confused. “What nonsense is that? The company never had such a rule.” My expression froze instantly. “Alright everyone, I have an announcement.” Manager Ruth slowly walked out of her office. She spoke self-righteously, pretending it was nothing: “Our company has a new policy—one minute in the bathroom, $500 fine.” “This month we tested it on our team leader Sarah, and it worked well. We’ll implement it starting next month.” “Also, certain people shouldn’t think being senior employees gives them the right to boss others around. Everyone should do their own work and follow company rules.” After speaking, she patted my shoulder. “Sarah, bear with it!” I stood there stunned, unable to react for a long time. So that’s what this was about—she was deliberately targeting me. Only docking my pay, then insinuating I was bossing people around. But in her forgetfulness, she overlooked one thing: my five-year contract had only five days left. And the one who’d actually been ordered around all this time was me. In that case, don’t blame me for being ruthless. With that thought, I opened last night’s message from a rival company and replied: “I’ll resign in five days. I’ll report on time.”

They were thrilled, not expecting I’d agree. Out of caution, I asked about compensation and benefits. She immediately replied: “Don’t worry. As long as you perform well, name your salary.” Reading this message, I let out a long breath of relief. All afternoon, I continued working conscientiously, but without bathroom breaks, my work efficiency dropped significantly. It couldn’t be helped—the company had new rules after all! At five o’clock, someone came to ask me to help negotiate a deal. They said this client was difficult, and it had to be me. Before, I would have agreed without hesitation. I used to think the company was a collective—if it did well, I’d do well. So whenever anyone asked for help, as long as it benefited the company, I’d assist, even if it exhausted me. But after being singled out by the new rule, I gradually realized I was just an employee. Who would care if I worked myself to death? Now I wouldn’t be that foolish. I pretended to be worried: “Sorry, I can’t help.” “Why not?” “Didn’t you hear this morning? Bathroom breaks get fined. What if I go out with you and she thinks I’m slacking off at the company?” “My monthly salary is already so little. Any more deductions and it’ll be negative.” “I may not have a family to support, but I need to feed myself first.” Hearing my explanation, she fell silent and left without saying anything more. At 7 PM, I shut down my computer right on time. Without cleaning up others’ messes, my workload dropped dramatically. It was so easy. Turns out not having to worry feels this good! With long strides, I walked out of the company. The breeze on my face felt comfortable. I didn’t need to take a cab anymore, leisurely walking toward the market. I couldn’t help but reflect—in five years of work, this was one of the rare times I could go home at a leisurely pace. I really didn’t know what kind of suffering I’d been enduring before. After getting home, I cooked dinner and took a nice hot bath. After finding a show to watch, I started eating. Food I made myself suited my own taste. In previous years, trying to close deals, I often drank at business dinners. My eating schedule was extremely irregular, and I’d developed stomach problems. But now, I was going to take care of myself. After dinner, I was about to order ingredients for tomorrow when I noticed my phone had exploded with messages. Video calls, work groups, colleague messages, even text messages—all showing 99+. I randomly opened a group where everyone was urging me to call back. “Urgent! Urgent! Urgent!” “Manager Ruth is furious, call back quick!” Just then, Manager Ruth’s call came through. After thinking it over, I decided to answer. The moment I connected, a barrage of cursing came through: “Sarah!!!” “Where did you go?! You dared to leave work without finishing your tasks—$1,000 deducted!” I spoke slowly: “Manager Ruth, let’s be clear. I completed my work. All the lists were sent to everyone—they can all attest to it.” “Besides, out of respect for you as my supervisor, I even stayed a few extra minutes.” “But that little contribution doesn’t need to be paid. No need for extra compensation.” “I’ve always been very reasonable, you know.” After saying this, I instantly felt much better.

The other end of the line was silent for a long time, like waiting for a storm. Taking advantage of the time, I started checking the work group messages. Turns out, without my help, they failed to close that deal. The company lost a huge sum, and the big boss personally called to chew out Manager Ruth. Moreover, since I didn’t handle all that miscellaneous work, their workload increased dramatically. Unable to adapt quickly, their work efficiency plummeted. In the end, the entire office descended into chaos. With no other option, they started calling me. But I’d already turned on Do Not Disturb after work hours, so I didn’t receive a single call. As for Manager Ruth, she hadn’t made a move. After a long while, she finally squeezed out through gritted teeth: “Fine, I understand, Sarah. Remember to clock in on time tomorrow.” I knew she was up to something, but I didn’t care anymore. After all, I was leaving soon. She couldn’t stir up much trouble. The next morning, I arrived at my desk exactly on time, not a minute off. But Manager Ruth still came looking for me. She smiled and said, “Sarah, do you really need to avoid our company like the plague?” “Tell me the truth—do you have a problem with me? I can help resolve it.” I sneered inwardly. As expected, she had no good intentions. I could understand why she was acting this way. She could have fired me directly but only docked my pay, which meant I was important. If she threatened me with the contract, she was reluctant to let me go. I understood this little scheme. It only failed because her memory wasn’t great—she forgot the exact timing of my contract. I stayed as calm as possible: “Manager, what are you saying? Of course I have no problem with you.” “We’ve worked together for so many years. How could I have a problem with you?” Seeing my reaction, she stopped mentioning yesterday’s incident and instead scribbled something and deducted another $200 from my salary. “Sorry, Sarah. I said you needed to arrive on time today, but you were late.” I looked confused and was about to argue when she spoke again. Feigning surprise: “Oh, I forgot—yesterday when the company worked overtime, I announced we’d start half an hour early today. But you didn’t work overtime, so you didn’t hear.” “Next time, check messages carefully before leaving. Don’t miss anything important.” “Understand?” She emphasized those last words heavily—a show of dominance. After speaking, she tossed me a file. “I’m going on a business trip soon. Take over as quickly as possible.” “This is a new contract. The client is one of those difficult ones you’ve successfully negotiated with before. This time, take Ruthie with you and close the deal.” “Next week we’ll be competing against SKY Corporation for a bid. I’ll be there. After we win the bid, don’t always try to show off in front of the boss. Give the younger generation a chance, understand?” Without waiting for my response, she was called away for her business trip. I had to admit, she played her hand well. Everyone knew Ruthie was her niece. This time she just wanted me to pave the way for her niece, then kick me out. I knew she’d always resented that I was more capable and that the boss valued me. So she’d always tried to undermine me subtly, wanting to sideline me, but I wouldn’t fall for it. Today was Tuesday. I had three days left until my resignation. For these three days, I wouldn’t touch this project. After all, in three days I’d be reporting to SKY Corporation. I wouldn’t do anything illegal like leaking confidential information. But I would definitely get my revenge. “Manager Ruth, I’ll be there, but not as your employee.”

Intern Ruthie walked in and took the file. I followed her out, but she thought I was trying to steal credit and immediately said: “Sarah, the manager said I’m taking the lead on this project. You’re just assisting me.” “So don’t overstep.” Hearing her words, the weight in my heart instantly lifted. I’d just been wondering how to distance myself from this project. Now, problem solved, without me having to do anything. After a while, I deliberately stirred things up in the office: “Lisa, I heard this project is really important—even the boss is paying special attention!” “If we do well, interns could get permanent positions, senior employees could get promotions—it’s all possible!” Lisa enthusiastically agreed with me. Ruthie, sitting across from me, said nothing, but her eyes darted around several times. Near the end of the workday, she came directly to me and said, “Sarah, I’m the main person in charge of this project. You know that, right?” I nodded. She continued, “Then you don’t need to participate. I’ll tell the manager.” I laughed inwardly, knowing she’d taken the bait, but outwardly I acted angry: “Ruthie, what do you mean? Are you playing me?” “What if there are losses in the end and they blame me?” Seeing me make a fuss, she said in exasperation, “Then what do you want?” I smiled. “Provide a statement proving that during my employment at the company, I had absolutely no involvement in or access to any aspect of this project’s bidding, quotations, proposals, or other work.” “Only then can I avoid being scapegoated.” After a long standoff, she finally agreed. Before leaving work, I had the statement in hand. With this, I wouldn’t have to worry about anyone causing trouble later. For several days, intern Ruthie worked on the project with team members she’d assembled. And I continued preparing for my resignation. At the same time, I took screenshots in the work group every day, proving I hadn’t been involved in this project. Finally, my contract period ended, and I successfully resigned. When leaving, many colleagues were reluctant to see me go and offered to take me out to dinner. But Ruthie looked smug, thinking I’d been fired. Before leaving, she came to my desk. I didn’t even need to look to know what expression she had. “Sarah, is this a resignation? Or were you fired?” “If you need anything in the future, you can come to me! I might be able to help you out!” I ignored her and walked out of the building. Though it didn’t end prettily, this place truly carried my growth. Next, I was moving on to a new life. With only three days until the bid, I didn’t rest. I seized every moment to prepare. This wasn’t just about getting revenge on anyone—it was about proving my abilities and securing good terms for myself. Soon, the time came. I walked into the building with SKY Corporation. Ruthie and her team followed closely behind. Before the bidding started, I suddenly needed the bathroom urgently and rushed to use it. So I didn’t run into them face-to-face, and Manager Ruth didn’t see me at all. When I returned, it was just starting. Though I wasn’t looking openly, I could sense Ruthie beside me was panicking. There were three companies competing in total. The first finished quickly, and Ruthie’s turn was second. At this moment, Manager Ruth and the boss also arrived late. As soon as she entered, Manager Ruth said, “Sarah, get up on stage right now! What does it look like standing with the rival company?!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “377515”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

On the night of our graduation trip, group leader Kelly suggested drawing room numbers for pairing. “It’s fate! No matter if you’re a guy or girl, if you draw the same number, you share a room. How exciting!” I’d been dating Catherine for three years of our four years in college. No one knew. I drew a ball from the box and waited to be paired. When Catherine’s turn came, she called out “Number 7.” Kelly’s voice instantly rose: “The other person who drew Room 7 is… Victor!” Victor was Catherine’s ex-boyfriend. The whole room erupted, except for me. Before the game started, I’d overheard Kelly whisper to Catherine: “Find the one with the circular bump—I specially saved it for you and Victor.” Since you two want to rekindle your romance, I’ll make it happen for you. The room assignments weren’t even finished, but the atmosphere had already peaked. Kelly distributed red wristbands to them, emphasizing loudly: “Let me remind everyone of the rules! Same number pairs up—for these three days and two nights, you’re bound together the whole trip. Go by wristband color, no solo activities allowed!” Wolf whistles rang out from the crowd. Some girls deliberately winked at Catherine. Victor smiled as he put on his wristband and took her small bag. Catherine’s face flushed deeper red as her petite frame shrank behind him. Victor smoothly removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. “Cut it out, Catherine’s shy.” “Already being protective! Everyone better watch out—if you upset Catherine, Victor will come after you!” The teasing erupted into a chorus. I stood outside the crowd, left hand gripping the ball, right hand pulling a heavy suitcase. Before the trip, Catherine had stuffed her things into my suitcase: “You’ll be carrying my bag anyway. If you bring another suitcase, you won’t be able to drag it.” She’d also pointed at the new jacket I bought: “That one—I heard it gets cold there at night. Perfect for me to wear.” In our three years together, she never showed any intimacy with me in front of classmates, let alone wore my jacket. So I was overjoyed, thinking she’d use the trip to make our relationship public. But on day one of the trip, she wore Victor’s jacket. The bag she’d said I’d carry now hung from his shoulder. I bent down to set my things down and cleared my throat, suppressing the hoarseness. Then I raised my hand: “Um…” Everyone looked over. Kelly still radiated excitement: “What’s up, Owen? Victor’s your roommate—do you want to say something?” Victor froze, his lips twitching unnaturally. Catherine suddenly looked up, shooting me a nervous, warning glance. But her nervousness was misplaced. I simply held up my ball and asked: “Who’s Number 3?” Kelly scanned the room and saw someone raise their hand on the other side: “Me.” It was Maya, a girl with little presence in class. Kelly laughed: “Oh, Maya! I know you’re single. What about you, Owen?” “If you’re single, you can room together. If you have a girlfriend, I’ll switch you with a guy…” I gently interrupted: “I’m single.” From the corner of my eye, I saw Catherine’s eyebrows relax then furrow again. She turned her head as if to look at Maya, but Kelly had already pulled out orange wristbands: “Perfect! You’re both single—maybe you’ll become another couple!” I accepted the wristband and nodded politely: “Thanks.” As I picked up my suitcase again, I could feel a pair of eyes on me. I didn’t know what expression she wore at that moment. But probably… relief. With room numbers assigned, we lined up to check in. Victor went to call his family. Catherine dawdled, only handing over their IDs when I was the last one left. “Go find Kelly. Tell him you don’t want to room with a girl. Switch to a guy or get a single room. You’ll cover the extra cost.” She kept her voice low, eyes straight ahead, not even a sideways glance at me. I texted my parents to let them know I’d arrived safely, not looking up: “Why?” “What do you mean why? You’re not single. How can you room with the opposite sex?” “What about you? Are you single?” Catherine’s fingers paused, her tone carrying a hint of petulance: “This was the game rule from the start. I’m just respecting the results of the draw.” My voice was soft: “I’m also respecting the results of the draw.” Her almond eyes widened. Before she could speak, I took my room card and turned away. I’d only taken a few steps when Kelly announced loudly: “Everyone come to the screening room in half an hour. I’ve booked it out.” “Let’s get nostalgic and watch the documentary from our freshman year sports festival!” My steps didn’t falter. I just adjusted my grip on the suitcase handle. The freshman year sports festival documentary was a record of Catherine’s passionate pursuit of Victor.

In the screening room, the table was loaded with snacks and fruit. As soon as Catherine sat down, she pushed the grapes in front of Victor. A male classmate next to them teased: “Catherine’s so biased! She knows Victor loves grapes, so she saves the whole plate for him.” Others joined in the teasing. Victor pushed the plate away somewhat helplessly. But his tone revealed satisfaction: “Everyone share them. Catherine bought me plenty.” “If there’s not enough, I can go back to the room and get more.” But Catherine pulled the plate back, a smile playing on her lips: “I’ll go get more. You eat these first.” As she got up to leave, the teasing in the screening room exploded: “Victor says one thing and Catherine immediately does it! She treats you so well!” Victor ate grapes while laughing, then suddenly called my name: “Owen, when Catherine brings more, you should eat some too.” “I remember you also love grapes.” The door opened. Catherine walked in carrying two plates of grapes, placing them all in front of Victor. She knew too. Over these three years I’d bought grapes countless times, and heard her complain to me countless times: “Don’t eat so many. These grapes are so sweet—you’ll break out again.” I casually picked up an orange as Kelly called out: “Owen, where’s Maya?” Everyone looked over. I peeled the orange without looking up: “She had something urgent to handle.” Kelly sounded disappointed: “Then you two are a no-go. But that’s fine—the other pair will definitely work out!” Catherine’s gaze lingered on me for a moment, then moved away: “The documentary’s starting.” Her voice carried a breathy quality as she skillfully handed Victor a grape. The documentary was a full two hours. Everyone was thoroughly engaged, laughing and teasing whenever Catherine and Victor appeared on screen. “Catherine’s wiping Victor’s sweat again! He runs fifty meters and you follow closer than the cameraman.” “Look at that—water bottles, mini fans, sunscreen, everything prepared!” “Victor, Catherine’s pursuit of you was known across campus. How could you hold out and not accept? You made her stay single for four years, and even at graduation she still can’t forget you!” Victor looked at Catherine, his eyes tender: “I thought campus romance was unstable. I wanted to wait until after graduation to consider it.” “I never imagined she’d wait this long for me.” A girl egged them on: “Catherine, these four years of waiting must have been hard, right?” Catherine gazed at him, chin dipping slightly: “It was okay.” Two short words containing four years of patience and longing. Sighs of sympathy rose around the room. Only I laughed inwardly. Hard? What was hard about it? She pursued Victor passionately for half a year with no results, then got into tennis. I was the main player on the school tennis team. She asked me to coach her for six months, and right at the start of sophomore year, she confessed to me. Of course she was okay. Though our relationship wasn’t public, we were happy together. Very happy. Or perhaps only I thought we were happy. I lowered my head to eat some orange. The guy next to me suddenly pointed at the screen and shouted: “Owen, why is the class secretary holding a parasol for you? Did she have a crush on you?” The topic shifted to me. “No, she was just passing by.” I shook my head. The guy continued: “Too bad the class secretary didn’t come today. But she clearly liked you. You should consider it—I think you two would be good together.” Catherine was pouring water for Victor, movements smooth, as if she hadn’t heard our conversation. I smiled faintly: “No thanks.” “Actually, I have a girlfriend.” That figure suddenly froze, fingers clenching into her palm. I understood her—she was afraid I’d say something reckless. But the guy grabbed my arm, asking loudly: “Who? Is she a girl from our class?” Dozens of eyes turned toward me. I maintained my smile and nodded: “Yes.”

The room instantly erupted with questions about who it was. Catherine’s expression gradually darkened as she stared at her phone. I felt my phone vibrate twice but didn’t check, only saying: “She had something come up. She didn’t make it.” Seven or eight girls didn’t come today. Kelly looked disappointed, about to ask more, when Victor suddenly exclaimed “Ah.” His cup had tipped over, water soaking his pants. Catherine quickly grabbed tissues to help him wipe it off. He bent over, stopping her, apologetic: “Sorry about that. Didn’t hold it steady.” “It’s fine. I’ll go back with you to change. Don’t want you catching cold.” She left with Victor. With them gone, the documentary lost its appeal, and everyone dispersed. When I returned to my room, the suitcase was open. Catherine’s change of clothes and makeup bag were gone. I stared at my phone all night. The unread messages on screen were still those two she’d sent: “Don’t say anything. Don’t ruin the mood.” Right. I, as the boyfriend, couldn’t ruin the ambiguous atmosphere between her and another guy. Just like during the charity sale sophomore year—though I had the highest earnings, I had to give the certificate to Victor. Couldn’t steal his spotlight. Or like the tennis tournament junior year—because of Victor’s one comment “I want to try competing,” I had to withdraw. Couldn’t damage his enthusiasm. These three years, Catherine treated me well. She brought me water during matches, knitted me a scarf when it got cold. Apart from refusing to make our relationship public, she did everything a girlfriend should do. Except when it came to Victor—I always came second. Dawn broke. My phone still hadn’t rung. I gazed at the sun gradually rising outside the window, my heart growing calmer. Today’s itinerary was sightseeing. Catherine and Victor wore red wristbands, walking together the entire time. The camera I’d bought her ended up in Victor’s hands. He photographed her at every Instagram-worthy spot, then took selfies with her at the landmarks. While resting by the bridge, people asked about my future plans. “Owen, are you staying in LA or going back to New York?” I replied flatly: “Going back to New York.” Catherine wiped Victor’s sweat, casting a seemingly casual glance my way. Kelly nudged her: “Victor’s from LA. You’ll definitely stay in LA, right?” Catherine answered without hesitation: “Naturally.” Victor looked down with a smile, subtly moving closer until they were pressed tightly together. But a classmate seemed puzzled: “Owen, didn’t you already find work in LA? Why are you going back?” I smiled: “I turned down the job. Want to be closer to my parents.” “Really? Is it for your parents, or for your girlfriend?” Everyone gathered around gossiping. My smile deepened: “Both. My parents are getting older—I want to stay nearby to take care of them. She… also decided to settle in New York.” People teased and pressed me about who she was, but I just shook my head, refusing to say. At the next attraction, Catherine blocked me at the restroom entrance. “You really turned down the job?” She was anxious. After all, we’d found the work together. The company valued my grades, and my condition for joining was that they also hire my girlfriend. Now that I’d withdrawn, she couldn’t stay either. I nodded, my tone calm: “My parents arranged work for us in New York. Once we’re settled, we’ll get engaged.” “Owen!” Catherine suddenly flared up, but afraid others would hear, she suppressed it until her face turned ashen: “Who gave you permission to arrange my future without asking!”

She left in anger. The group straggled along. She pulled Victor to walk at the very front. I stayed at the back, chatting with classmates. It wasn’t until dinner at the buffet that Victor spoke clearly at the table: “The Perseid meteor shower? You guys don’t know about it? Catherine said there’s an observation point near here. Up to a hundred meteors per hour at peak.” Everyone at the table got interested, making plans to go watch. But Kelly clicked his tongue: “Could you guys show some awareness? You can see meteors from the hotel too. Don’t go be third wheels.” Everyone immediately understood: “True. The observation point has a clearer view, so it should definitely be saved for those who need it most.” Catherine served Victor food. Though she didn’t speak, the bashfulness on her cheeks said everything. The buffet here didn’t suit me—the flavors were too strong. I chewed a couple bites of seafood, but the seasoning stuck in my throat. I couldn’t swallow it. I lowered my head to spit it out and got up to find something milder. Kelly followed, saying quietly: “Owen, I saw you posted on Twitter a few days ago about going to the observation point for the meteor shower. Maybe don’t go—don’t disturb Catherine and Victor.” I nodded: “I know.” “Top of the class is smart. Let me tell you something you don’t know—them drawing the same number? I arranged it.” I nodded again: “I heard you when you told Catherine.” Kelly looked somewhat surprised. A classmate called him from behind, so he turned back. I opened a soup lid. Catherine happened to come over to get soup for Victor. Her tone was natural: “I was wrong today. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” “I understand—you’re upset because I’m rooming with Victor.” “But don’t worry. Last night I slept on the bed, he slept on the floor. We just chatted.” “Us rooming together is just following game rules. Nothing will actually happen.” I ladled soup, humming in acknowledgment. She didn’t look up: “Talk to your parents. It’s fine for us to develop our careers in LA. No need to go to New York.” “Once our jobs are stable, we’ll settle here.” This time I didn’t respond. After getting my soup, I turned around. She suddenly hesitated and called out: “Owen… Victor’s really looking forward to tonight’s meteor shower. I promised to watch it with him.” “Anyway, the Perseids happen every year. Next year, we’ll come again.” I faced away from her, palm pressed against the bottom of the bowl, yet I felt no warmth at all. Opening my mouth, my voice was soft: “Okay.” She sighed with relief. As she passed by me, she didn’t forget to bring Victor a plate of grapes. After dinner, I went back to my room to pack. I took out the outfit I’d coordinated for proposing to her under the meteor shower. The engagement ring and meteor shower brochure went into the trash together. Zipping up the suitcase, it was much lighter now. The flight ticket was bought last minute. Boarding was tonight. Ten minutes before takeoff, the Perseid meteor shower streaked across the sky. Everyone exclaimed, recording videos and taking photos. I pulled out my phone and saw an unread message. “Everything’s arranged. Your aunt and uncle went back to rest. I’m waiting for you at the airport.” The plane slowly climbed. The meteor trails carried fine silver light, illuminating half the cabin. I leaned back against my seat and slowly closed my eyes. Catherine, the two of us—there is no next year.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “377507”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

My husband, Ethan Foster, was photographed at a maternity center. Every media outlet was speculating about who the mother of the Foster Group CEO’s illegitimate child could be. I just stared at my phone with a blank expression and turned it off. Ethan spoke in a flat tone: “Right now is a critical time for Stella’s career. She can’t afford any scandals.” “So?” I looked up at him, my gaze steady. “So tomorrow, you need to show up at the maternity center and claim that child as yours. After a while, Stella will take the baby back.” Listening to Ethan’s commanding tone, I smiled bitterly. So even now, all he cared about was Stella Quinn’s career. Seeing my silence, Ethan did what he always did—he handed me a check. “Fill in whatever amount you want. But you must claim this child as yours.” I froze for two seconds. Instead of taking the check, I went to the bedroom and pulled out a document I’d prepared long ago and handed it to him. Before I could say a word, Ethan flipped to the last page without hesitation and signed it. He had no idea that what I’d given him was a divorce agreement.

After signing, Ethan stood up, his expression somewhat uncomfortable. “I’m worried about Stella. I won’t be staying home tonight.” I smiled bitterly to myself. Of course. In his heart, Stella Quinn always came first. Even the rare times he came home were only to deal with Stella’s problems. Noticing my dazed expression, Ethan continued his instructions: “I’ll send a driver to pick you up tomorrow morning. Remember not to let any reporters notice.” He finished speaking and, like countless other nights over the years, left me with nothing but his retreating figure. Clutching the signed agreement, I suddenly felt a pang of reluctance. Just as Ethan was about to leave, I called out to him. “Don’t you… want to see what’s actually in the agreement?” Ethan turned around, his expression slightly mocking: “Isn’t it just about money?” The moment those words left his mouth, tears I’d been holding back spilled from my eyes. So this was who I was in his eyes. Ethan sighed and reached out to pat my head. “Emma, I’ve told you before—we’re husband and wife. What’s mine is yours.” “If you’re not satisfied with the check amount, I don’t mind if you want other things.” “But tomorrow, you must appear in front of those reporters. Understand?” I watched the concern for another woman in his eyes and nodded bitterly. Ethan looked satisfied. I wanted to say something more, but he spoke first. “Send another copy of that agreement to my assistant. He’ll transfer the money to your account.” “As for tonight, just get a good night’s sleep and wait for the driver tomorrow.” Before leaving, he instructed the housekeeper to pack some things I’d need at the maternity center. After all, if you’re going to put on a show, you have to do it properly. I’d have to stay there for several days to convince reporters to stop suspecting Stella. When the roar of his car engine started outside, I was still standing dazed in the living room. Ethan and I hadn’t spoken this closely in a very long time. I should have hugged him just now. But then I remembered the last time—because Ethan’s clothes had picked up my perfume scent, Stella had thrown a fit. To appease her, Ethan secretly took Stella abroad for vacation and had his assistant send her countless jewelry pieces. To keep reporters from suspecting Stella, I didn’t leave the house for an entire month until the two of them returned from their trip. I turned around, my gaze falling on the divorce agreement on the table. I felt nothing but relief. This marriage should have ended long ago. After I discovered Ethan’s first affair with his new secretary, Linda Rogers, I went crazy. I not only sent photos of the two of them to reporters—making “Foster Group CEO’s Affair” trend on social media for an entire week and causing the stock price to plummet—I even notified Linda’s parents in their remote village. At the time, Linda had just graduated from college. Unable to handle her parents’ abuse and the public’s accusations, she attempted suicide by cutting her wrists. Although she was saved in the end, Ethan still exploded at me in fury. “Emma, she’s so young—how could you hurt her in such a vicious way? I was the one who forced her into this relationship. If you’re angry, take it out on me.” I looked at the protective look in his eyes for that girl and thought about the provocative photos Linda had sent me. My anger only intensified. “Fine. Since you forced her, I’ll just call the police. I’ll tell everyone that the great CEO of Foster Group used his power to rape his own—” Before I could finish, Ethan slapped me across the face. That was the first time he’d ever laid a hand on me. But I could already see the tragedy this marriage would become. From then on, I stopped questioning his affairs. But Ethan still worried I’d treat his other women the way I’d treated Linda, so after each affair, he’d proactively have his assistant send me bags, jewelry, or checks. Looking at the room full of jewelry and handbags, and the enormous balance in my account, I found this marriage so pathetically laughable. Now, it was time to end it. I sent the final page of the agreement’s terms to Ethan’s assistant. “The husband agrees to transfer 30% of current assets to the wife.” Although the assistant was surprised that Ethan would be so generous this time, thinking about the comments regarding the illegitimate child trending online, he understood. Stella Quinn was the woman who’d been with Ethan the longest, so he would definitely do everything possible to protect her reputation—even if it meant using me. “Mrs. Foster, rest assured. I’ll transfer the funds to your account as soon as possible.”

When I went upstairs, I saw the housekeeper Sophia packing loose dresses into a suitcase. “Sophia, let me do it.” I took out the clothes she’d packed, one by one. Since I’d decided to leave, I wouldn’t take anything from this place. Seeing what I was doing, Sophia couldn’t help but sigh. “Ma’am, why do this to yourself? As long as you don’t agree, the master can’t exactly drag you there by force.” “That woman is shameless to begin with. Having an illegitimate child and still wanting a good reputation.” “If you keep indulging her like this, I’m afraid in the future she’ll…” She didn’t finish, but I could guess what she meant. Nothing more than showing up with the child to force her way into the family and demand official recognition. The position of Mrs. Foster? She could have it. Seeing my silence, Sophia sighed even more heavily. “Ma’am, you’re just too softhearted.” “The tactics those legitimate wives in this circle use—every single one of them is fiercer than yours.” “No matter how capable those mistresses are, none have dared to openly give birth to an illegitimate child like this one.” I knew she genuinely cared about me, but none of this mattered anymore. From the beginning, what I valued was Ethan’s sincerity. Now that he’d given it to someone else, what was the point of trying to get it back? Before Sophia could speak again, I pressed several pieces of jewelry I’d deliberately saved into her hands. She tried to refuse several times, but I firmly insisted she take them. Over the years, she’d practiced cooking in her spare time to help restore my health and made medicinal meals for me. I truly wanted to thank her. After urging Sophia to rest, I put several important documents in my bag. Once dawn broke, I could leave. However, the next second, my phone suddenly received several messages. “Emma, even if you help me this time, I won’t be grateful.” “Ethan said this child is only staying with you for a few days. In the end, he’ll come back to me.” “Let me tell you—don’t even think about stealing my son.” Stella wasn’t like Linda from before—she didn’t understand the meaning of knowing when to stop. I sneered as I typed a reply. “An illegitimate child? I’d feel dirty even holding him.” Right after I sent it, several more messages came through. “So what if he’s illegitimate? He’ll be Ethan’s only son in the future.” “Emma, even if you’re Mrs. Foster, all you can do this lifetime is watch my son inherit the Foster Group.” Stella seemed triggered by the words “illegitimate child” and stopped hiding her ambitions. When I saw the last few lines of text, my entire body froze in place. “Emma, you don’t know this, do you?” “The car that hit you back then wasn’t from Foster Group’s competitors at all—it was from rivals who were following me.” “Ethan knew those people would crash the car, but he still made you switch vehicles with me.” “He never wanted your child. He didn’t even want you.”

“Didn’t even want you…” I stared at the densely packed words on the screen, feeling a chill spread through my entire body. Even my hands began trembling uncontrollably. Thunder rumbled outside the window, as if dragging me back into that desperate, rainy night. The smell of blood and gasoline mixed with rainwater flooding into the car. The driver was barely alive, his consciousness fading. And I was trapped in the back seat, enduring the excruciating pain radiating from my abdomen. “My baby… someone please save my baby…” I pulled out my phone to call Ethan, but felt the crashed car begin to slide slowly. Before I could react, the next second the entire car plummeted rapidly. “Ethan, save me!” My scream was drowned out the instant the car hit the water. When I woke again, Ethan was sitting beside me, his eyes bloodshot. “Emma, I’m sorry. I failed to protect you.” My throat was too damaged from swallowing water to make a sound, but he understood my eyes. Ethan’s eyes were filled with heartache as he shook his head. I felt the stillness of my abdomen and closed my eyes in despair. A tear slipped into my hair, followed by broken sobs. Ethan was so panicked by my tears that he didn’t know what to do. He gripped my hand and apologized continuously. “Emma, we’ll have another child.” “I swear, from now on, you’ll be my only woman.” But I never got pregnant again, and he still never cut ties with Stella. After that accident, Ethan’s ruthless retaliation against his competitors made it easy for me to believe it had been their revenge. But now I understood—I was just Stella’s substitute sacrifice. Ethan and I had known each other since we were young, and later left our hometown together to build our careers. Back then, we had no education, no connections—just raw courage. But success never correlates with personal bravery alone. When our business ventures failed one after another and rainwater flooded into our basement apartment, Ethan’s face showed a despair I’d never seen before. “Emma, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought you out here.” “You’ve suffered so much with me, and I still couldn’t give you a good life.” While moving computers, phones, and other important items to the highest shelf and trying to bail water out of the room, I teased him: “When Heaven is about to place great responsibility on someone, it first tests their resolve with hardship.” “We haven’t suffered that much yet. Have you already lost your fighting spirit?” “And here I believed you when you said you’d get me a luxury apartment.” Hearing my words and realizing I wasn’t blaming him, Ethan laughed and picked me up, spinning me around in the dirty water that reached our ankles. “I knew it—Emma loves me most.” “I swear I’ll never let you down.” But later, when we had everything, we’d lost that most genuine feeling. Ethan never coming home. Ethan constantly surrounded by scandals. Ethan looking at me with cold eyes. Every change reminded me that my husband was no longer the person who’d promised me his unchanging devotion. Three years ago, Ethan met Stella at a business dinner. She’d just entered the entertainment industry, played a few minor roles, and her career was going nowhere. But after their night together at a hotel, Stella’s resources suddenly improved dramatically, with scripts piling up for her to choose from. Online rumors started that she had a powerful backer, but no one ever photographed the man. Some in the industry suspected Stella was creating the rumors herself, that she’d landed those roles purely by luck. So they bribed people to eliminate this competitor. But they didn’t expect that I would be the one in that car that day—and I was already over seven months pregnant.

After a sleepless night, at dawn I prepared to leave this home I’d lived in for seven years. After taking a taxi to the airport, Ethan called, his voice filled with undisguised anxiety. “Emma, where did you go? Didn’t we agree last night that the driver would pick you up?” “We already agreed—” “Ethan.” My voice was hoarse. “Three years ago, when you had the driver switch cars, what were you thinking?” A woman who’d endured hardship with him for ten years. A woman carrying his child in her belly. How cold-hearted did he have to be to make me get into that car destined to be crashed off the overpass? “Emma, what are you talking about?” Ethan’s tone was confused. When he heard the airport announcement in the background, his voice unconsciously turned cold. “Emma, where are you? Are you backing out of claiming Stella’s child?” Listening to the boarding call, I smiled bitterly. “Where I am doesn’t matter. I never agreed to your demand last night.” “But three years ago, shouldn’t I have stayed in that freezing river, in that car filled with the smell of blood and water?” “Instead of being rescued by the search team and ending up in a hospital bed, right, Mr. Foster?” I heard the sound of a door slamming on his end, followed by Ethan’s rapid breathing. “Emma, did Stella say something to you?” “Just wait there. I’ll come explain everything.” I heard Ethan going downstairs and sighed softly. “Goodbye, Ethan.” “Emma, wait for me—” Before he could finish, I hung up and blocked his number. What happened had happened. No matter what explanation or compensation he offered, it no longer mattered. His ruthlessness back then was real. My grief at losing our child was real. So I would never forgive him. … The moment Ethan stepped outside, he was surrounded by reporters who’d been waiting. “Mr. Foster, why were you at the maternity center?” “Are the online rumors about an illegitimate child true?” “Does Mrs. Foster agree to let this child return to the Foster family?” The questions came one after another, but Ethan had no patience to deal with them. He pushed through the people blocking his way without hesitation, letting them photograph his rough behavior. After getting in his car, Ethan ordered the driver to head straight to the airport. But after searching several times, he couldn’t find Emma. Left with no choice, he returned home to ask Sophia—the only person who might know where Emma went. But before he could speak, he noticed the document on the table. He picked it up with confusion. On the cover were five clear words: “Divorce Agreement.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “377508”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

My sister Nina came home from a blind date and slammed the door, absolutely furious. “What trash! His salary isn’t even half of mine, and he had the nerve to tell me to stay local, get married this year, and have a baby next year. Going on a blind date with that kind of loser was absolutely disgusting!” Mom and Dad rushed over to comfort her. “We won’t set up any more meetings. That matchmaker has no standards, only introducing you to complete losers.” I stared at the gift box by the door and added quietly, “He was actually pretty nice. He just gave you a ride home and even brought gifts for the whole family.” Nina’s eyes flickered, and she suddenly laughed. “What? You interested in him?” She looked me up and down, her tone dripping with contempt. “Makes sense. You’re inferior to me in every way. A man like that is more than good enough for you.” She waved her hand impatiently. “You want him? Take him. I have zero interest in the kind of dead-end life you get stuck in after marrying someone in a small Southern town anyway.” I quietly added the contact information she pushed my way. I didn’t dare mention that when the man drove her home earlier, he was driving our company president’s car. And as far as I knew, his family owned over thirty properties in this small town alone.

Nina’s anger hadn’t subsided when her phone rang. After replying to the message, her expression grew even darker. “So annoying! He asked me to see a movie tomorrow. I said no, but he still won’t give up!” Mom quickly tried to persuade her. “Nina, don’t reject him outright.” “In a small place like ours, everyone knows everyone. If you shut him down today, tomorrow people will start gossiping, saying you think you’re too good for locals just because you work in New York.” Dad nodded along. “Exactly. Relationships are complicated around here. Who knows what relatives or friends his family knows? If you offend someone, it’ll be inconvenient whenever you come back to handle things.” Nina glanced at me, her tone patronizing. “Sarah, you go tomorrow instead.” “Just help me deal with him. Don’t mess it up.” I didn’t argue. I just nodded silently. No one asked if I was willing. In this family, I’d never had the right to say “no.” To avoid messing up, I stayed up all night researching the movie Rowan had suggested. The plot, the hidden meanings, the director’s filming techniques—I filled an entire page with notes. The next day when we met, Rowan was clearly surprised to see me. I explained, “Nina had something come up at the last minute. She asked me to apologize on her behalf.” Then I casually mentioned a couple things about the movie. His eyes lit up. “Since you understand film too, Miss Snow, the tickets are already bought. Let’s not waste them.” After the movie, he discussed it with me enthusiastically for quite a while. Dinner was his treat. It was relaxed throughout. None of the sleazy preaching Nina had described. Instead, he was very considerate, proactively serving me food and asking if everything was to my taste. After dinner, he suddenly led me into a nearby jewelry store and picked out two necklaces. Seeing the nearly thirty-thousand-dollar price tag, I froze and quickly tried to decline. He smiled and shook his head, paying for them. “Last time I brought gifts in such a rush, I didn’t have time to prepare something individual for you and your sister. You keep this one, and please give her the other as an apology from me.” I accepted the pendant, understanding in my heart that he still cared about Nina. After all, Nina was beautiful and an HR manager at a publicly traded company—a top student. As for me, I was decent-looking at best. Thoroughly ordinary. But I had no intention of giving the pendant to Nina just yet. When I got home, Nina glanced at my hands and snorted. “Oh, he didn’t buy you anything? I told you he was poor and cheap. Takes you out and doesn’t even know how to be generous.” I ignored her and went back to my room to put away the pendant hidden in my bag. I’d just sat down when SnapChat popped up a notification—Rowan had accepted my friend request from last night. I touched up my makeup, put on the pendant, took a photo, and posted it to my feed. Less than two minutes later, Rowan liked it. Outside my room, Nina’s complaints continued. “Thank god I sent Sarah instead. Otherwise he would’ve annoyed me to death. That broke loser actually thought he could chase me. He should take a good look at whether he’s even worthy.” Mom and Dad chimed in their agreement. “Exactly. Nina’s so outstanding, she’ll definitely find someone better in the future.” “I think we should just let Sarah handle these things from now on.” I leaned against the door, feeling nothing in my heart. I’d gotten used to it long ago.

Mom and Dad didn’t use birth control back then and had me by accident. They always felt guilty toward Nina, who should have been an only child. From childhood they told me, “Sarah, don’t compete with Nina. She’s your older sister. You need to defer to her.” Nina took all kinds of enrichment classes growing up—music, chess, calligraphy, painting—she excelled at everything. When I wanted to buy a practice workbook, Mom scolded me for “wasting money.” Nina had a high-paying job in New York, and Mom and Dad secretly supplemented her income with five thousand dollars every month. When I wanted to venture out and see the world, I secretly bought a ticket, but Mom and Dad tore it to pieces. That night, I overheard them discussing in their room: “Nina will get married eventually. We can’t burden her. Sarah’s obedient. Having her take care of us when we’re old will be enough.” In their eyes, Nina was always precious. And me? I was just there to shield Nina from trouble and grievances. A week later, Rowan asked Nina to go hiking. Without a second thought, she refused and pushed me out instead. “Sarah, you go again. Tell him I’m busy with work.” As always, I didn’t argue. I changed into athletic wear and went to the date. While hiking, I walked at a steady pace and would wait for Rowan when he fell behind. I handed him water and helped wipe his sweat. When we reached difficult sections, I’d remind him to be careful. The whole thing was relaxed. I didn’t deliberately try to please him—just did what felt natural. When we reached the summit, Rowan suddenly spoke. “Your sister said she’s busy, but she really just looks down on me, right?” My heart tightened. I was about to explain when he smiled. “I could tell something was off at our first meeting. Today’s hike confirmed it.” “Nina has never given me a kind look, much less been as patient and genuine as you. I won’t force her anymore.” He paused, his gaze becoming especially serious. “Sarah, you’re special. Want to try being together?” “Rowan and I are together now.” When I told Nina, I also took out the gold necklace from last time and gave it to her. “This is for you. Consider it thanks for letting me go on those dates.” Nina clutched the pendant, her brow furrowed, her eyes full of suspicion. “You take home five thousand a month and have to give Mom and Dad three thousand. How can you suddenly afford something this expensive?” I smiled in a seemingly naive way. “I used my savings to buy it for you. It’s not easy finding someone to date in our small town. Rowan makes eight thousand a month, he’s honest, and if I marry him and we’re careful with money, we can live better than most people.” She laughed, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, so I did you a favor?” “That’s all the ambition you have—picking up the man I didn’t want and thinking you hit the jackpot?” I lowered my eyes and didn’t respond. I’d listened to her mockery for over twenty years. I was immune to it by now. Since getting together with Rowan, we had dinner dates every Friday, but I was always late. It wasn’t intentional. Ever since Manager Lee’s divorce, he’d been making things difficult for me. Every time just before quitting time, he’d dump a pile of work on me and use “discussing work” as an excuse to grope me. That day, Rowan came to pick me up from the office to make sure I wouldn’t be late. I had just walked out of the office building. Manager Lee chased after me, pretending to hand me something, deliberately rubbing his fingertips across the back of my hand several times. I didn’t pull away. I even frowned slightly, showing a wronged and helpless expression. I knew Rowan could see everything clearly from the car. He suddenly honked the horn and shouted coldly toward the building: “Who are you? Why are you touching her?” Manager Lee jumped in fright and hurried away. The next day at work, the office exploded with gossip. Manager Lee had been urgently transferred to a remote rural township. Colleagues whispered that he must have offended someone important. Otherwise, how could he suddenly be transferred without even a chance to argue back? That evening when Rowan picked me up from work, I casually brought up what had happened. He looked at me, his eyes filled with tenderness. “I did it. I won’t let you be mistreated.”

He came clean about his family background. His father was the top executive at my parent company. His mother was the principal of a private school. He said, “I didn’t mention it during the blind date because I didn’t want to show off.” “I studied in Switzerland for several years and had a girlfriend there. We were together for three years with a great relationship, but when graduation approached, she found out I planned to return to develop my career in this small Southern town. She thought I lacked ambition and broke up with me.” “My parents are getting older and have been pressuring me to marry and have children, which is why I agreed to the blind date.” Suddenly it all made sense. No wonder such a high-quality man needed blind dates to find a partner. Rowan suddenly took my hand, his tone serious. “Sarah, I’m telling you all this because I’m not just playing around with you. I’m serious about getting married.” I looked into his sincere eyes and nodded firmly. In our second month together, I went home with Rowan to meet his family. His parents were wonderful people, completely satisfied with me, and even gave me a valuable gift. Half a year flew by, and we decided to get our marriage license. When I told my parents, they said dismissively that the family’s finances were limited and they could only give me ten thousand dollars as wedding gift. I didn’t argue. I gritted my teeth and took out a bank loan, bringing my wedding gift up to one hundred and eighty thousand. I didn’t want to be looked down on at my wedding, and I definitely didn’t want to be laughed at by Nina and parents. On the wedding day, my in-laws specifically spent a million dollars to hold a lavish ceremony at the best hotel in the area. Well-wishers came in droves—all prominent figures in the local community. Even leaders from my company came to offer their congratulations. But until the ceremony started, I never saw my parents arrive. Just as I stood on stage in my wedding dress, barely able to hold myself together, I received a message from my parents. Just a few short sentences: [Sarah, Mom and Dad aren’t coming. Nina suddenly got a fever, so we have to rush to New York overnight to take care of her.] [Your in-laws are just showing off, insisting on holding it at the most expensive restaurant. We looked at the smallest banquet hall there before—it’s barely bigger than a conference room. Going would just be embarrassing. Nina’s illness is more important.] My knuckles turned white as I gripped my phone. Only then did I realize my parents hadn’t even carefully read the invitation. Subconsciously, they didn’t care about me, and by extension, didn’t care about the husband and family I was marrying into. Fortunately, Rowan’s family didn’t take it to heart at all. In fact, my mother-in-law felt especially sorry for me. They said since I was marrying into the family without money to my name, they’d let me manage all the gift money received. Eight hundred thousand dollars in gift money. Four times the two hundred thousand dollar wedding gift my parents had prepared for Nina. That night, I posted our wedding photos to my feed. But the family group chat remained silent. No one sent a single word of blessing. Nina, however, soon posted a photo of a bowl of soup, captioned: [Family is always the most reliable harbor.] I wasn’t angry or sad. After all, I had eight hundred thousand dollars. Money is the best medicine for healing in this world. Shortly after the wedding, Rowan felt bad about my difficult commute and bought me a Ferrari. That morning, I drove to work and passed a flower bed by the road. I took a photo of the blooming flowers and posted it to my feed. Unexpectedly, Nina directly private messaged me, screenshotting the Ferrari logo visible in the corner of the photo, sending three question marks. [Where did you get a car? And a Ferrari?]

My heart skipped a beat. I immediately remembered that since childhood, Nina couldn’t stand me having anything better than her. Once she found out, she’d find ways to ruin it. I suppressed my thoughts and replied: [Just hitching a ride with a coworker.] Her response dripped with mockery: [Hahaha, hilarious. Someone who rides a bicycle goes to work every day with someone who drives a Ferrari and doesn’t feel inferior? Stop pretending. People get the kind of life they deserve.] I didn’t reply. Instead, I clicked on her feed. She’d been working in New York for four years, and this year her salary had risen to eighteen thousand. It looked glamorous on the surface, but to save commute time, she lived in a studio apartment that cost twelve thousand a month in rent, without even a balcony. Her most recent post was about flowers she bought at a subway station. I’d ridden that subway line before. Even at eleven at night, it was packed so tight you couldn’t breathe. Another post complained about ordering a pretty meal for delivery that cost over a hundred dollars but the portions were so small she couldn’t even fill up. Meanwhile, I only had to drive five minutes after work to eat a hot, home-cooked meal. Life is meant to be lived for yourself, not performed for others. Six months after the wedding, I got pregnant. The whole family was overjoyed. They wouldn’t let me do any chores and made me all kinds of nutritious supplements every day. Coincidentally, not long after, Nina also announced good news in the family group chat, saying she’d found a boyfriend who made seven hundred thousand a year and would bring him home next month during the holidays for Mom and Dad to meet. Mom and Dad were thrilled, praising Nina endlessly for being accomplished and having good taste in men. The holiday season arrived quickly. With my big belly, Rowan supported me as we returned to my parents’ home together. As soon as we walked in, Nina looked me up and down. “Sarah, why are you wearing so little? Poor thing, pregnant and just wearing a thin jacket. Can’t even afford a thicker down coat anymore?” I didn’t explain. The route from our home garage to my parents’ place had heating the whole way. And it was running at full blast, making my face flush red. Seeing my silence, Nina grew even more smug, deliberately raising her voice. “My boyfriend drove a Mercedes GLE here this time. I bet our little town doesn’t even have many luxury cars like that.” Mom and Dad crowded around her in praise. “Nina’s so accomplished! The man she found is rich and treats her well—ten thousand times better than what Sarah found! Sarah, you really need to learn from Nina.” Just as they were talking, Nina’s boyfriend pushed through the door, his face showing some impatience. “Uncle, Auntie, your complex is really hard to find parking in. I drove around in circles for ages before finding a spot.” “But I just saw a Mercedes G-Wagon downstairs. Didn’t expect your small town to have such wealthy neighbors.” The moment he finished speaking, Rowan helped me sit down and casually pulled out the G-Wagon keys from his pocket, placing them in my hand and saying gently: “Honey, are your hands cold?” “Hold onto the keys. When we leave later, you can get in the car first and turn on the heat.” The entire room instantly fell silent.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “377509”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster