Category: English

I didn’t speak a single word until I was eight years old. Everyone in the Sterling family called me a retard. Even my own mother would cry in secret, convinced she had given birth to a severely autistic daughter. My father looked at me with eyes full of utter disappointment. Yet, bound by the crushing weight of his pride and social standing, he never sent me to a special needs school. Then came the day the corporate raiders from Wall Street arrived to acquire our family’s empire, Sterling Enterprises. They were so arrogant they verbally decimated the entire boardroom. A room packed with top-tier executives sat in dead silence like frightened cicadas, not a single one daring to speak up. I stood in the corner, listening until I was practically falling asleep. I was annoyed. I took one step forward. And spoke my very first sentence in this lifetime. 1 My name is Seraphina Sterling. The eldest granddaughter of the main branch of the Sterling family, and the sole direct heir to the empire. This was a life that should have been defined by a silver spoon. But I was eight years old, and I still hadn’t spoken a single word. Everyone from the top to the bottom of the Sterling family knew the truth: the eldest young miss was an idiot. My mother came from a highly educated, aristocratic family in Boston. Gentle and refined, she poured absolutely all her love into me. She would hold me, teaching me over and over again. “Sera, say it with Mommy… Ma… ma…” I would just look at her, silent and motionless. The light in her eyes would slowly dim, inch by inch. Then she would turn around and covertly wipe the corners of her eyes with a tissue. She thought I couldn’t see. But I knew everything. It wasn’t that I couldn’t speak. I just didn’t want to. Because I came into this world carrying the memories of my past life. In my previous life, I was a fast-talking, relentlessly grinding financial analyst on Wall Street. I spent thirty years talking non-stop, and I was exhausted to my core. In this life, I just wanted to be a quiet, useless trust-fund baby and enjoy the ride. But I underestimated the immense weight of the title “Eldest Granddaughter of the Sterling Family.” It wasn’t just wealth; it was a shackle. My father, the Chairman and CEO of Sterling Enterprises, was a ruthless, decisive businessman. Every time he looked at me, there was a glimmer of desperate hope. “Sera, do you know what this is?” He would point to the numbers on a financial statement. I would nod. “Can you tell Daddy what our net profit is for this quarter?” I would reach out my little hand and accurately point to the exact figure. The hope in his eyes would flare brighter. And then, he would ask the question he wanted the answer to more than anything else in the world. “Sera, can you just call me Daddy? Just once?” I would look at him, maintaining my silence. The light in his eyes would instantly extinguish, like a raging fire doused in ice water. Leaving behind only disappointment. A disappointment so thick you could cut it with a knife. He would sit in silence for a long time, then stand up and storm out of the room. “Sigh.” That sigh was so heavy it felt like it could shatter the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the entire executive floor. I knew perfectly well that if I wasn’t the only direct granddaughter, and if my mother’s family wasn’t incredibly powerful in their own right, my position as the heir would have been revoked years ago. The looks my cousins gave me had also morphed from their initial wariness into undisguised mockery. “Big Sister, did you understand anything they taught in tutoring today?” The one speaking was my Uncle Robert’s daughter, Victoria Sterling. She was only a year younger than me, but she was articulate, sharp-tongued, and deeply favored by my father. I gave her a sideways glance, too lazy to acknowledge her. That only made her smile wider. “Oh, I forgot. Big Sister is a born genius! She knows everything right out of the womb. Unlike us mere mortals who actually have to study hard.” “Victoria, don’t say that.” My Uncle Thomas’s daughter, Chloe Sterling, chimed in with fake, sickening sweetness. “Big Sister just thinks it’s beneath her to speak to us. It’s called being a late bloomer, understand?” They sang their little duet perfectly in sync. The nannies and maids standing around kept their heads down, but their shoulders were shaking slightly. They were laughing. Laughing at me, the mute idiot. I walked past them, my face entirely devoid of emotion. It was like watching two grasshoppers jumping up and down in front of me. Boring. And childish. My mother saw all of this and it broke her heart. That night, she held me again, her tears soaking my shoulder. “My sweet Sera, why won’t you speak?” “Even if it’s just one word. Just one word, and Mommy could die happy.” I could feel her body trembling. It was the absolute despair of a mother. My heart wasn’t made of iron. In that moment, my resolve wavered slightly. Maybe… maybe I should finally speak. Just as I was preparing to open my mouth and attempt to force out a rusty, unfamiliar syllable… Frantic footsteps echoed outside the study. Our head butler, Mr. Henderson, practically tumbled into the room, gasping for air. “Ma’am, it’s a disaster!” “The people from New York are here!” “That Wall Street predator… Charles King… he’s already at the corporate headquarters!” All the color drained from my mother’s face. Charles King. That name was a dark, looming storm cloud over Sterling Enterprises. He was the most vicious vulture on Wall Street, specializing in shorting and dismantling legacy Asian-American family conglomerates. In recent years, he had already devoured three companies the same size as Sterling. “What is he doing here?” my mother asked. Mr. Henderson’s voice was shaking violently. “He… he says he’s here to negotiate a buyout. He was incredibly disrespectful! He said he’s here to help Sterling ‘exit the stage of history with some dignity’!” My mother stumbled, grabbing the edge of the desk for support. “Negotiating a buyout” was just a polite corporate euphemism for a hostile takeover. A massive, devastating hurricane was about to make landfall. I looked up at the gray, overcast sky outside the window. It seemed my days of quietly playing the useless idiot were officially over. Oh well. There are always some blind, annoying flies who insist on forcing a sleeping lion… no, a sleeping lioness, to open her eyes. 2 My father called an emergency meeting on the top floor of the corporate headquarters, summoning all family members and core executives. I was dragged along too, standing in the corner. It was family tradition: the eldest grandchild must be present for major family events. Usually, I would just find a corner, stand there all morning, and zone out completely. But today, the atmosphere was different. The entire boardroom was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Every single person’s face was a sickly, humiliating shade of iron-gray. My father sat at the head of the table, his face so dark it looked like a thunderstorm. Standing directly across from him was a tall, middle-aged man in a bespoke suit. Behind his gold-rimmed glasses were eyes as sharp and predatory as a falcon’s. This was Charles King. He had an Asian face, but he was a crocodile raised in the bloody waters of Wall Street. “Mr. Sterling, is this the famed Sterling hospitality?” Charles spoke up. He used fluent English, but his tone was dripping with condescension. “I flew fourteen hours from New York just to look at this?” He pointed a long, manicured finger at the trembling executives in the room. “A bunch of pathetic nerds who only know how to look at financial data!” “I talk to you about capital, and you talk to me about sentiment.” “I talk to you about market dynamics, and you talk to me about your ‘century-old legacy’.” “It’s laughable!” “Absolutely pathetic and laughable!” He burst into arrogant, booming laughter. The sound echoed through the solemn boardroom, incredibly grating to the ears. “Mr. King!” The CFO, trembling with rage, slammed his hands on the table and stood up. “This is the Board of Directors for Sterling Enterprises! We will not tolerate your disrespect!” Charles shot him a sideways glance, his face full of utter disdain. “Old Wu, I know who you are.” “You’re the one who was lecturing me yesterday about how ‘family businesses have a soul’.” “Let me tell you something. Our rule on Wall Street is simple: the only ‘soul’ a business without profit has is the soul of a graveyard!” “Only the weak need to use sentiment to cover up their sheer incompetence!” The CFO’s face flushed a violent, dark purple. He pointed a trembling finger at Charles, stuttering “You… you…” for several seconds before gasping for air and collapsing backward, stiff as a board. “Mr. Wu!” The people next to him frantically scrambled to catch him. Chaos erupted in the boardroom. My father slammed his hand on the table and roared, “Enough!” Charles finally dialed it back a fraction, but the contempt on his face didn’t fade in the slightest. He gave a mocking, half-hearted shrug toward my father. “Mr. Sterling, I won’t waste any more of your time.” “The investment committee at my hedge fund has already made the call. Sterling’s stock price won’t survive the next fiscal year.” “If you sell right now, you can still walk away with $300 million.” “If you wait for us to initiate our short-selling campaign… by the time we’re done, you’ll be lucky to walk away with $100 million.” “Furthermore, we have our eyes on that massive plot of land Sterling owns in the South District. We plan to develop it into ultra-luxury real estate.” “And I hear your R&D tech team is quite capable. We intend to poach the entire division…” Before he could even finish his sentence. The entire boardroom exploded. Slashing the buyout price, stealing their prime real estate, and poaching their core tech team! Was this a buyout negotiation? This was the blatant, brutal dismemberment of Sterling Enterprises! “This is extortion!” “Get the hell out of here, you Wall Street parasite!” “Robert, we’ll fight him to the death!” On my Uncle Robert’s side of the table, several hot-tempered shareholders couldn’t hold back anymore. Charles let out a cold, cynical sneer. “Fight me?” “Be my guest.” He locked eyes with Uncle Robert, the leader of the opposition. “I know you. You’re the second Sterling brother, right? Three years ago, you spearheaded that commercial real estate project. How much money did you lose? Twenty million? Or was it thirty million?” Uncle Robert’s face instantly flushed crimson, looking like he had just been slapped across the face. The veins on his clenched fists popped, but he couldn’t utter a single word. Charles turned his gaze to another executive. “And you, you’re the Chief Marketing Officer? Last Black Friday, how much did you burn on marketing? And what was your actual conversion rate? Did that pathetic bump in sales even cover the cost of the ad spots?” The CMO lowered his head, his face burning with shame. Charles swept his gaze across the room. Every single person who had been screaming for a fight instantly deflated. The boardroom fell into a deathly silence once again. A humiliating, powerless silence. I stood in the corner, watching it all unfold. These were the elites of Sterling Enterprises. The CFO was out-argued, the CMO had his deepest failures exposed. A room full of seasoned executives, completely subjugated and humiliated by a single Wall Street vulture, unable to even lift their heads. I felt a little sleepy. Honestly. This scene was even more pathetic than I had anticipated. It was like watching a group of grown men get cornered in an alley by a street thug, getting slapped in the face one by one, yet not a single one daring to fight back. My father’s chest was heaving violently. I knew he was on the absolute brink of exploding. But he couldn’t. Because everything Charles said was the brutal, undeniable truth. Sterling’s profits were indeed in a steep decline. This was the tragedy of the weak. Charles was immensely satisfied with the effect he had created. He cleared his throat, preparing to lay out even more outrageous demands. “Since no one has any objections, I’ll take that as a unanimous agreement.” “Our fund also requires…” His incessant, droning voice was like an annoying fly buzzing right next to my ear. I originally just wanted to be a quiet spectator. But this fly was just too damn loud. I was annoyed. I was genuinely annoyed. In this dead-silent boardroom, everyone was looking down. Nobody noticed me in the corner. I moved. I took a step forward. Just one step. From the shadows of the corner, directly into the light. Chapter 2 3 My single step was very light. But in the dead-silent boardroom, it echoed like a crack of thunder. Every single person’s gaze was instinctively drawn toward me. They saw me. An eight-year-old girl, dressed in a custom-tailored dress, looking like a porcelain doll. Their eyes were blank at first, then morphed into shock. Seraphina Sterling? The idiot? What is she doing? My mother, sitting next to my father, also saw me. Her eyes filled with panic and worry. She reached her hand out, as if wanting to call me back, but didn’t dare make a sound. My father furrowed his brow, his eyes filled with confusion and a trace of displeasure. My cousins, Victoria and Chloe, exchanged a look of pure schadenfreude. Their expressions practically screamed: Is this idiot really going to embarrass herself in front of everyone? Charles noticed me too. He looked down at me from his towering height, a cruel, mocking smile spreading across his face. “Oh? Whose kid is this?” “Is Sterling really out of options? You’re sending a child to the front lines?” He deliberately raised his voice. “Little girl, are you going to talk to me about ‘sentiment’ too?” “Or is your daddy planning to offer you to me as my goddaughter to sweeten the deal?” He laughed arrogantly. The shareholders let out suppressed gasps, their faces twisted in humiliation and rage. Insulting a child was insulting the entire family line. Yet, still, not a single one of them dared to speak up and defend me. I ignored everyone else. My eyes were locked solely on Charles, who was currently parading around like a clown. I looked at him, and then, I opened my mouth. And I spoke my very first sentence since arriving in this world. I spoke in English. Rapid-fire, impeccably pronounced, elite Wall Street-accented English. “Are you finished?” My voice was young and childish, but my articulation was razor-sharp, my tone freezing cold, completely devoid of any emotion. The entire boardroom instantly plunged into a silence far more bizarre and terrifying than before. Everyone froze. Because they understood me. Every single person in that room understood English. The idiot spoke. And she spoke fluent, flawless English. The smile on Charles’s face instantly solidified. His sharp, predatory eyes filled with an unimaginable, impossible shock. It was as if he had just seen a ghost in broad daylight. He stared at me, his mouth opening and closing, a strange gargling sound coming from his throat, as if an invisible hand was choking him. “You…” He forced a single English word out with extreme difficulty. I looked at him expressionlessly. And continued in his native tongue. “If you’re finished, get the fuck out.” Those words hit Charles’s chest like a sledgehammer. His body swayed violently. The blood instantly drained from his face, leaving him as white as a sheet. If my first sentence caused shock. My second sentence caused fear. A bone-deep, primal fear originating from the very depths of his soul. Because “If you’re finished, get the fuck out” wasn’t just a generic insult in Wall Street circles. Thirty years ago, when the legendary George Soros successfully shorted the British Pound and broke the Bank of England, those were the exact final words he said to his defeated opponent. It was a legend. A myth. It was a piece of Wall Street lore known only to the absolute top-tier financial titans! The way he looked at me—an eight-year-old girl—had completely changed. He was no longer looking at an idiot. He was looking at a… monster wearing human skin. “Who… who the hell are you?” He asked, his voice trembling violently, still speaking English. Everyone else in the boardroom was absolutely dumbfounded. They understood every single word that was spoken, but they couldn’t comprehend the scene unfolding before their eyes. The ruthless Wall Street wolf who, just seconds ago, was trampling a room full of elite executives under his feet… was now trembling like a terrified rabbit in front of an eight-year-old girl. What… what was happening? My father shot up from his chair, his eyes wide, staring at me with a mix of shock, ecstasy, and endless confusion. My mother covered her mouth tightly with her hands, tears streaming down her face, but she didn’t dare make a sound. I didn’t answer Charles’s question. I just continued speaking calmly in English. “This ‘hedge fund’ you’re parading around is nothing but a marginalized spin-off team from Goldman Sachs. The real heavy hitters pulled their capital ages ago. The money you’re managing now is just scraps from tier-two pension funds.” “Three years ago, when you shorted that Southeast Asian tech firm, you didn’t do it based on ‘precise market analysis.’ You preemptively bribed their CFO and acquired their internal financial reports illegally.” “Last year, when you acquired that biotech startup, your so-called ‘valuation model’ was just a copy-pasted McKinsey template from five years ago. You got scammed out of $30 million, and you were actually proud of yourselves. Right?” “Furthermore.” I smiled slightly. To Charles, that smile must have looked more terrifying than the devil himself. “Your mandate for acquiring Sterling Enterprises today has a hard floor of $200 million. If Sterling plays hardball, your committee authorized you to accept $250 million.” “Because your own fund’s cash flow is dangerously tight. If you don’t close a deal right now, you won’t even be able to pay out end-of-year bonuses.” “You don’t even have the actual capital required to swallow Sterling whole. You just desperately need to close one flashy deal before the annual review to appease your investors.” “Am I right, or am I right?” I finished speaking and looked at him quietly. Thud! Charles couldn’t hold himself up any longer. His legs gave out, and he dropped straight to his knees right in front of the entire boardroom. He leaned forward, his hands bracing against the floor, cold sweat pouring down his forehead, his voice choked with terror. “Oh my God… Oh my God…” The entire room was dead silent. Everyone was completely paralyzed by the surreal, magical scene unfolding before them. I stopped looking at him. Instead, I turned to look at my father, who was standing at the head of the table, equally dumbfounded. I switched from English back to standard, flawless English. My voice was still young, but crystal clear. “Dad.” “I have something to say.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “398269”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I am the child of a mistress. When I was seventeen years old, my biological father kicked the bucket. At the funeral, wearing my cheap high school uniform, I stood in front of a room packed with Wall Street titans, brilliant tech innovators, and an A-list Hollywood actress. Trembling like a leaf, I stuttered: “I… I’m here to fight for the inheritance…” Before the words fully left my mouth, the legitimate heirs all turned their heads and stared dead at me. I was so terrified I started crying. “N-never mind… you don’t have to give me anything…” The A-list actress’s eyes suddenly lit up. “A little sister? A soft, squishy little sister?!” The tech innovator pulled out a pen and paper. “You’re a high school senior? Come here, let’s do some calculus so I can gauge your baseline.” The Wall Street titan pulled out a sleek black Amex card. “Why do you care about the old man’s spare change? Call me ‘Big Brother,’ and I’ll give you ten times whatever he left you.” My mother was a high-end gold digger, a kept woman stashed away by a very wealthy man. The original agreement was simple: the sugar daddy provides the cash, she provides the beauty. A clean transaction, no strings attached. But when you live the good life for too long, greed starts to fester. She got pregnant. Relying on her growing belly, she pulled a classic “runaway pregnant mistress” routine. Before she left, she broadcasted her new address all over Facebook and Instagram. She was terrified he wouldn’t be able to find her. She fantasized that her sugar daddy would lock down the entire city and launch a dominant, aggressive crusade to win her back. She imagined the legitimate wife breaking down in an inferiority complex and willingly stepping aside. Unfortunately. She played her hand too far. The sugar daddy didn’t look for her at all. He didn’t want her, and he didn’t want the baby. How could she accept that? Heavily pregnant and about to pop, she camped out at the gates of the sugar daddy’s sprawling estate. Two massive security guards hauled her away and threw her literally into the dumpster out back. They also passed along a message from the legitimate wife: “If you have the skills to steal a man, go ahead. If you have the baby, I’ll raise it. But money? You aren’t getting a single red cent.” After all her harassing yielded nothing, she finally gave up hope. But it was too late to get an abortion. She gave birth to me full of bitter resentment, and raised me in the most negligent, haphazard way possible. She didn’t raise me because she loved me. She raised me because she wanted a payout. The phrase she said to me the most was: “You are his flesh and blood! He thinks he can just refuse to pay?!” “In his dreams! Even if he dies, a piece of that estate belongs to you!” As she wished, when I turned seventeen, my biological father kicked the bucket. The second she heard the news, she practically threw me out of a moving car in front of the funeral home. “Chloe Davis, you listen to me! Including you, your father only has four kids! You are entitled to one-fourth of his estate!” “Today is your last chance! If you don’t get that money, don’t you dare come back home!” Her twisted, furious face terrified me. “Mom, please don’t leave me here, I’m scared…” “Scared, scared, that’s all you ever say! Why do you think I raised you all these years?! To make money!” “You’ve eaten my food and lived under my roof for over a decade, and you ruined my chances of finding a new rich guy! Don’t you owe me compensation?!” “Get that inheritance, give it to me, and maybe I’ll still be your mother!” She stormed off a few paces, then suddenly stopped. She turned around, dug through all my pockets, and snatched the only ten-dollar bill I had on me. I froze. Without money, I couldn’t take the bus. This funeral home was halfway up a mountain in the Hollywood Hills. Relying on my own two legs, I wouldn’t make it home before dark. She shoved me hard toward the doors. “If I cut off your retreat, you’ll actually put in the work!” “If you get the money, you can take a taxi home. If you don’t…” She pointed casually at the surrounding hillsides. “This whole area is a graveyard. You can just stay here and keep the ghosts company!” 2 The cold mountain wind whipped past, making the hair on my arms stand straight up. It felt like every single headstone in the deep woods had a pair of eyes staring right at me. I braced myself and walked into the funeral home. The service was over, and the guests had completely cleared out. The only people left in the massive room were the sugar daddy’s three legitimate children, discussing the final legal wrap-up with a lawyer. “According to Mr. Sterling’s final will and testament, his remaining liquid assets, totaling two hundred million dollars, will be divided equally among the three of you.” Two hundred million! That’s so much money! No wonder my mom was so psychotic about it. No wonder she spent over a decade jumping through hoops trying to score a payout. And today, my job was to demand one-fourth of that two hundred million. Fifty million dollars! My palms were sweating profusely. Who would ever willingly let a bastard child from a mistress walk away with that kind of cash? It looked like a severe beating was absolutely guaranteed. I just hoped they wouldn’t hit me too hard. I had AP exams tomorrow, and I still needed my hands to write… As I was having a mental breakdown, the division of assets began. Sitting at the head of the table was the eldest sister, Victoria Sterling. She had just swept the Oscars and was currently the highest-paid actress in Hollywood. Even a simple, solemn black dress couldn’t hide her breathtaking, absolute beauty. Her slender, manicured fingers took the legal document, skimmed it for one second, and tossed it carelessly to the middle brother. “This is it? Is this really worth wasting my time?” The second child, Ethan Sterling, was wearing a crisp white shirt and black slacks. Silver-rimmed glasses added a touch of maturity to his surprisingly boyish face. He kept his eyes glued to his laptop, typing furiously, not even glancing at the piece of paper worth two hundred million. “I have no use for money like this.” I had heard of him. He was the country’s most brilliant young innovator, absolutely dominating the high-tech aerospace sector. He really didn’t need the money. Everything he did was funded by massive government defense contracts. The piece of paper fluttered over to the youngest brother, Liam Sterling. His long, articulate fingers pinched it, and then he casually ripped it in half. “Two hundred million is worth drafting a will over? Just donate it to charity.” Liam radiated a casual, ruthless, cutthroat aura. For a guy who permanently resided on the Forbes Billionaires list, two hundred million simply wasn’t worth the time it took to process the paperwork. The older sister and brother raised an eyebrow, neither objecting. Seeing that the lawyer was about to start drafting a charitable donation agreement, I weakly raised my hand in the air. “Um… excuse me… sorry to interrupt…” The moment the words left my mouth, the three legitimate heirs and the lawyer—four pairs of eyes—locked dead onto me. My scalp went completely numb. The lawyer spoke up. “May I help you, miss?” I swallowed hard, speaking as carefully as humanly possible. “I’m sorry, I… I’m here to fight for the inheritance…” 3 By the time I snapped out of my daze, I was completely surrounded. The three legitimate heirs were all exceptionally tall, striking, and radiated an intimidating aura of elite privilege. Compared to them, in my cheap, faded high school uniform, I looked like a pathetic, stunted weed hiding in the corner. I was so terrified I was on the verge of tears. Just because they didn’t care about the money didn’t mean they’d be happy tossing it to their father’s mistress! I started shivering. “N-never mind… you don’t have to give me anything…” Could you guys maybe just lend me two bucks… so I can catch the bus? I covertly glanced up, but the sheer, oppressive weight of their presence made me flinch. Forget it, forget it. It’s only a twenty-mile walk down the mountain. I can walk it… I slowly began inching my way toward the exit. I had barely taken two steps when Victoria grabbed me by the collar of my jacket and effortlessly hoisted me back. “Tsk. Too light. She’s practically nothing but bone.” Victoria flipped me around, inspecting me from head to toe, her gorgeous face filled with absolute disgust. “First, we need to put at least twenty pounds on her. You have to be well-fed to be healthy.” “Her hair is dry and full of split ends—needs intense deep-conditioning treatments. Her face is sunburned—needs medical-grade serums.” “Her uniform is frayed, her shoes are the wrong size, and the zipper on her backpack is broken.” “Replace it, replace it all! Everything has to be replaced!” She whipped out her phone and dialed her personal celebrity stylist. “Height: 5’3″, weight: 90 pounds. I need a complete wardrobe from head to toe, ready immediately.” “Who is it for?” Victoria’s tone suddenly became incredibly cheerful and bubbly. “For my little sister, obviously!” 4 I shifted uncomfortably, incredibly anxious. “Do… do you guys know who I am?” Victoria wrapped an arm firmly around my waist, her usually icy, high-fashion face beaming with excitement. “Of course! You’re the old man’s illegitimate daughter~” She pointed at her genius brother and her billionaire brother, complaining to me: “Ethan was a prodigy. Memorizing the dictionary at three, doing advanced calculus at five. If you took him to a playground, within five minutes he’d pull out a textbook to do practice problems. So incredibly boring!” “Liam is a ruthless, calculating shark. He was born scheming. The second he learned to talk, he was setting traps for me. The second he could walk outside, he was figuring out how to monopolize the local lemonade stands. He is entirely immune to being ‘cute’!” “Being the oldest sister to them gave me the title, but absolutely zero real power.” “Now, I’ve finally caught a completely normal, average human sister. I don’t care about the family drama or the outside gossip. I am finally going to experience what it’s like to be a proper, doting big sister!” As she spoke, Victoria unzipped her designer makeup bag, preparing to give me a full facial cleanse and skincare routine right there in the funeral home. Ethan unceremoniously bumped her out of the way with his hip. He pulled out a pen and a notepad, his eyes gleaming with excitement behind his silver glasses. “Sister is a high school senior? How are your grades?” “Come on, let’s do a quick derivative problem so I can see where you’re at!” Looking at the massive block of complex Greek symbols on the paper, my brain completely short-circuited. “I… I don’t know how to do that…” I’m a high school senior, not a college junior! What kind of high schooler knows advanced calculus?! Ethan scratched his head, looking genuinely baffled. “That doesn’t make sense. No matter how slow someone is, by seventeen they should have mastered this, right?” Liam let out a cold scoff, shoved Ethan out of the way, and leaned in close to me. “You said you came here to fight for the inheritance?” That single sentence yanked me back to reality. I looked at Liam, my heart pounding. This is it, right? This is where we talk about the money, and then I get beaten up? Liam pulled out a sleek, solid metal Amex Black Card. His sharp, lethal features suddenly softened. “The old man didn’t have that much cash anyway. Be a good girl, call me ‘Big Brother,’ and I’ll give you ten times what he left.” Their overwhelming enthusiasm was making me incredibly nervous and deeply confused. This was completely different from what my mom had told me. Before I came, she had drilled it into my head over and over: “The richer they are, the cheaper they are! If they refuse to give you the money, throw yourself on the floor and throw a massive tantrum!” “If they beat you, even better! The harder they hit you, the more money you can extort from them!” She told me the Sterling family were my mortal, blood-sworn enemies. But the way my “enemies” were looking at me right now… was kind of warm? 5 I couldn’t shake the feeling that they were treating me like a Tamagotchi. Take right now, for example. I had been brought back to the sprawling Sterling family estate in Beverly Hills. Victoria had canceled all her upcoming Hollywood appearances and red-carpet events just to hover around me all day. On my very first day at the estate, she ordered the private chef to prepare an absolute mountain of premium wagyu beef, lamb, and imported seafood. Plate after plate of exquisite, Michelin-star-level dishes was placed on the long dining table. I was completely overwhelmed. Determined not to waste anything, I kept my head down and ate ferociously until I felt like I was going to throw up. Victoria was stunned. She quickly stopped me. “You’re going to make yourself sick eating like that.” “I only had the chef make all these different dishes so I could see what you like. You don’t have to eat the things you don’t like.” I looked at her, dazed. What she was saying was… I was allowed to be a picky eater? But my mom always told me that being picky was wrong. When I was three years old, she brought home some leftover spicy stir-fried pork from a date. I took one bite, started crying from the intense heat, and pushed the plate away, tears streaming down my face. She flew into a rage, yanked me up by my arm, and beat me. “You’re just a little kid, what right do you have to be picky?! You think you’re entitled to eat gourmet food? Do you have the luxury of that kind of life?!” But it was so spicy. It physically hurt my mouth to eat it. I cried and only ate plain white rice, terrified to go near that dish again. But that wasn’t good enough for her. She called me an entitled brat and said this “bad habit” had to be broken immediately. That leftover spicy pork… if I didn’t eat it the first meal, she saved it for the second. If I didn’t eat it for two days, she saved it for three. I wouldn’t be allowed to eat any fresh food until I finished that specific dish. I was starved for three entire days. Finally, sobbing, I forced down the spoiled, rotting, spicy pork. That night, I spiked a dangerous fever. After my fever broke, she stood over my bed and lectured me: “Being a picky eater is wrong. Mommy is disciplining you for your own good. Have you learned your lesson?” I learned my lesson. So, faced with a table full of food, I forced myself to eat with everything I had. I was hoping to finish it all before it had a chance to spoil. Preferences? Favorites? I didn’t have any. I didn’t have the right to be picky. Victoria couldn’t watch anymore. She gently took my chopsticks away and softened her voice. “Chloe, don’t be afraid. You’re still just a kid. You are completely allowed to only eat the things you like.” A sudden, overwhelming wave of grief and grievance swelled in my chest. It felt like the three-year-old me, forced to eat burning chili peppers, was finally being hugged by someone whispering softly: Did the peppers hurt your mouth? Be a good girl, we don’t have to eat that. We’ll eat something else! Summoning all my courage, I whispered, “I… I don’t want to eat anything spicy…” Victoria waved her hand. Several maids immediately stepped forward and swiftly removed every single dish that contained even a trace of spice. And it wasn’t just that. From that day forward, I never saw a single spicy dish on the dining table ever again. So this is what it feels like to be favored. Just saying “I don’t like it” was enough to make that thing completely disappear from my world. Under her meticulous care, I plumped up rapidly, my skin turning bright and healthy. My hair visibly transformed from dry straw into a thick, glossy mane. Victoria was incredibly satisfied, constantly showing off her “results” to her two younger brothers.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “398285”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Arthur and I were what you’d call a blended family. When we got married, we didn’t have a big reception. He brought his daughter, and I brought mine. We introduced the girls, and then we all just moved in together. The unspoken agreement was that each of us would primarily take care of our own child. But after the wedding, Arthur was always busy. Busy arguing with his ex-wife. Busy staying out all night cleaning up the messes she left behind. One afternoon, as I was getting ready to take my daughter to her dance class, I caught a glimpse of Arthur’s little girl. She was huddled in a corner, shrinking back, watching us with a face full of naked envy. I couldn’t help but let out a long, heavy sigh. 01 Arthur and I met later in life. When the matchmaker set us up, he had been divorced for two years. Arthur was thirty-two. He worked as a doctor. Both of his parents had passed away. He owned a condo downtown, though he was still paying off the mortgage. He drove a thirty-thousand-dollar sedan. He was about five-foot-ten, slender, and reasonably good-looking. On paper, he was an excellent catch. When I first glanced at his profile, I was actually a bit suspicious. I wondered if he had some unmentionable, hidden flaw. Why else would someone like him need to scour the dating market for a partner? Then my eyes dropped to his marital status: Divorced, one child. It suddenly made sense. “He really picked me?” “Out of hundreds of profiles, you’re the one he zeroed in on!” The matchmaker grinned so wide I could see all her teeth. “He specifically asked to meet you.” “Look at how sincere he is!” Matchmakers—they have a silver tongue and a heart full of lies. I’d thank God if even thirty percent of what came out of her mouth was true. I didn’t feel any flutter of excitement. Instead, I frowned and read through Arthur’s profile from top to bottom one more time. My eyes lingered slightly longer on his twenty-thousand-dollar monthly salary. After a moment, I set the papers down and asked, “He does know that I also have a daughter, right?” The matchmaker nodded enthusiastically, like a chicken pecking at grain. “He has a little girl too.” “That’s exactly why he decided he wanted to meet you.” Since she put it that way, I suppose I didn’t have any real reason to refuse. I thought about it and said, “I’m going to bring my daughter to this meeting.” “Everything depends on how she feels.” “If my daughter likes him, then we can talk about moving forward.” The matchmaker made a note of it and set up my first date with Arthur. What I didn’t expect was that Arthur would bring his daughter, too. 02 My daughter, Chloe, was eight. Arthur’s daughter, Mia, was six. When the two little girls met for the first time, the atmosphere between them was even stiffer than it was between Arthur and me. Chloe was warm and outgoing. As soon as they met, she gave Arthur a big, polite greeting, and then tried to hold Mia’s hand to show she wanted to be friends. Unfortunately, the second Chloe’s fingers brushed the back of Mia’s hand… Mia’s face completely changed. Like a terrified rabbit, she leaped back and hid behind Arthur. No matter how hard Arthur pulled or tugged, she absolutely refused to step out even an inch. When he pulled too hard and hurt her… She actually bit his hand. Arthur’s face instantly darkened to a thunderous scowl, and he immediately raised his hand, ready to smack her. I couldn’t watch it happen. I quickly stepped in and grabbed his arm. “Arthur, hitting a child doesn’t solve anything. It’s only going to make your relationship with her worse.” Arthur gave me a look of utter helplessness. “I don’t want to hit her, but you saw her just now.” “She is completely unmanageable! She makes me so angry I could die!” “I’ve spanked her, I’ve yelled at her, and absolutely nothing works.” Arthur let out a deep, exhausted sigh. He looked over at Chloe, who was sitting quietly beside me, seriously studying the menu. He gave a bitter laugh. “Your daughter has such a wonderful personality.” “If my daughter was even half as smart and outgoing—no, even a third as outgoing—I’d thank God.” I frowned. I really didn’t like what Arthur had just said. Every person is an independent individual. Every person is their own miniature universe. There is absolutely no need to compare anyone to anyone else. Everyone is unique; everyone is the most perfect version of themselves. I suddenly didn’t really want to keep seeing Arthur. But Arthur, it seemed, really liked me. After that first meeting, he added me on social media and tried to bypass the matchmaker to set up a second date. When I declined, he wasn’t discouraged. He asked for a third. After going back and forth a few times, I decided to meet him, just to make my boundaries clear. But the moment we sat down, Arthur got a call from his ex-wife. The two of them got into a massive screaming match right there on the phone. After he hung up, Arthur looked completely drained, stripped of all his energy. Seeing he wasn’t in a good headspace, I kept quiet. It wasn’t until much later that he suddenly asked me: “Why did you and your ex-husband divorce?” “He cheated,” I answered flatly. “He started a whole second family behind my back. When the woman got pregnant and told him it was a boy, he couldn’t wait to divorce me fast enough.” Arthur paused, stunned, then ordered us two glasses of red wine. First date. Our topic was children. Second date. Our topic was exes. Third date. I said to him, “If we get married, will you let me manage the finances?” Arthur was momentarily taken aback, but then he nodded. “My money is your money.” I shook my head. “I want your entire paycheck deposited directly into my bank account.” Arthur hesitated for three days, then agreed to my condition. Fourth date. Arthur and I went to the courthouse and got our marriage license. 03 Since it was a second marriage for both of us, we didn’t make a big fuss. I just packed some essentials and moved into Arthur’s condo with my daughter. That first night, we had hot pot. Keeping the two little girls in mind, I also made a few kid-friendly, sweet dishes: Sweet and sour spare ribs, popcorn chicken, cola chicken wings, and fresh shrimp patties. The four dishes were set right in front of Mia and Chloe. Chloe ate a piece of rib, her eyes crinkling with absolute delight. She looked at me sweetly and said, “Mommy, your sweet and sour ribs are the best in the entire universe! I love you, Mommy!” “Thank you, baby. That makes Mommy so happy.” Smiling, I put another rib on her plate. And, of course, I didn’t forget about little Mia sitting next to her. The little girl was holding her bowl, eating incredibly carefully, never looking up, never reaching for any of the shared dishes. Arthur didn’t even notice. He just focused on inhaling his own food. Once he was full, he immediately retreated to his home office to work, leaving me and the two kids to finish eating. From the beginning to the end of the meal, Mia didn’t reach for a single dish. But I saw that the sweet and sour rib I had put in her bowl was gnawed completely clean. Only the bare bone was left, and she hadn’t even brought herself to take it out of her bowl. I wanted to give her some more food. But the second the shrimp patty landed in her bowl… Mia reacted like she had been burned. She dropped her bowl and sprinted away as fast as she could. This kid… she was going to be a headache. As a stepmother, trying to discipline Arthur’s child always felt like walking on eggshells. Fortunately, Arthur and I had set clear boundaries before we got married. I told him I would spend one year trying my absolute best to help Mia become a more adjusted, normal child. But when I was parenting her, Arthur had to be actively involved. If, after a year, she was still like this, I wouldn’t try to parent her anymore. I had my own daughter to raise, after all. Arthur had agreed readily. But in reality, he was completely hands-off at home. The condo was basically just a hotel for him. He only came back to do two things: eat and sleep. Every morning, he left at exactly 7:00 AM. Every evening, he’d randomly spawn back in the house anywhere between 6:00 PM and 9:00 PM. Occasionally, when he had a sliver of free time, I’d try to talk to him about Mia. But he was always dragged away by a million different things. One minute it was a work call. The next, his ex-wife would call him with some crisis, demanding he go handle it immediately. If it was just work, that would be one thing. But the second Arthur picked up the phone and heard his ex-wife’s voice, his entire demeanor shifted. They would almost always end up screaming at each other. Yet, after all the screaming, he would still leave to go help her. Before he left, he’d just shoot me an apologetic look. After it happened enough times, I took the hint and stopped bothering him. After all, Mia wasn’t my biological child. Both of her actual parents were still alive. Did they really expect a stepmother to exhaust herself trying to fix her? 04 Three months into my marriage with Arthur. Chloe’s school year started. Mia was old enough to start first grade, too. But given her current level of severe withdrawal… Forget going to school; just getting her to come out of her bedroom to speak to someone was a miracle. Every morning, I’d prepare two identical breakfasts. I’d set one on the dining table for Chloe. I’d place the other on the floor right outside Mia’s bedroom door. When I set it down, I’d ring a little bell hanging on her doorknob to let her know breakfast was ready. Mia usually didn’t respond, and she wouldn’t come out to get it right away. She would wait. She’d wait until I took Chloe out the door. She’d wait until she heard the heavy thud of the front door closing. Only then would she stealthily open her door just a crack to snatch the food. But this time, when she reached her hand out, she didn’t grab the breakfast. She grabbed my hand. The child didn’t understand what had happened. Panicking, she tried to yank her hand back, but I gripped it firmly. The next second, I dragged her forcefully out of the bedroom! Mia let out an uncontrollable, piercing scream. Like a cornered, terrified wild animal. She started thrashing wildly, using her arms and legs to fight me. Seeing that I wasn’t going to let go, Mia opened her mouth in a frenzy and bit down hard on my hand. I didn’t flinch. I let her bite until my hand bled. Blood dripped down the wound and seeped into Mia’s mouth. The slap she was waiting for never came. Instead, a thick, heavy blanket dropped over her, enveloping her back in darkness. Immediately after, she was pulled into a warm, tight embrace. “Don’t be scared. You’re a good girl. I’m not going to hurt you.” Mia stared at me blankly through a gap in the blanket, completely lost. Even though I had to go get a tetanus shot because of that bite… The good news was that Mia was finally willing to show her face around people. She went from completely isolating herself to slowly being willing to open her door and respond. She still didn’t want to come out fully, but it was a massive step forward. Whenever I was in the living room talking to Chloe, I could always feel a hidden gaze fixed on us. But whenever I looked over, all I saw was a tightly shut door. Until that day. I was getting ready to take Chloe to her dance class. The little girl was wearing a beautiful Elsa dress, twisting and posing in front of the mirror, admiring herself. No matter how much I tried to reason with her, she absolutely refused to change. Finally, I had to compromise. “Alright, fine. You can wear that dress to dance class.” “But when you can’t do the big movements later, don’t say Mommy didn’t warn you.” Chloe instantly lit up. She stood on her tiptoes to kiss me, not forgetting to butter me up sweetly: “Mommy, you’re the absolute best!” I laughed and gently pinched her nose. As I grabbed my purse and headed for the door, I caught a glimpse of Mia. She had cracked her door open and was timidly, enviously staring at Chloe’s dress. Chloe hugged her dress and said a bit awkwardly, “This is my dress.” “It’s too big for you. You can’t wear it.” “Right, Mommy?” Little Chloe was incredibly anxious. This was her absolute favorite dress. She was normally a kid who loved to share. But this dress… Mia truly couldn’t wear it. She was just too skinny. Compared to the healthy, chubby Chloe, they were completely different body types. Chloe frantically tugged at my shirt, trying to get me to back her up. I found the whole situation both funny and sad, and replied, “Right.” “This dress is definitely a bit too big.” Mia reacted like she had been burned. She quickly averted her eyes and dropped her head. I was going to pretend I hadn’t seen anything and just walk out the door. But as I pulled the front door open, I couldn’t hold back a heavy sigh. I turned back and asked, “Mia, do you want to come out with me and Auntie?” “I’ll buy you the exact same Elsa princess dress that Chloe is wearing.” “I’ll buy you one in a smaller size. How does that sound?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “398270”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My husband and I had a deal. DINK. Double income, no kids. We were religious about protection. We bought condoms in bulk. Yet, there I was, staring at two pink lines. He played the part of the comforting husband, telling me to embrace fate, that maybe this child was meant to be our little miracle. Against my better judgment, I believed him. I started from scratch, learning how to be a mother. Then came the third trimester. Anxiety stole my sleep. One night, while he was passed out, I found his secret social media account. He had posted a status at 3:00 AM: Can we just go back? Back to the shade of the trees on campus when we were eighteen. Before the sickness found us. Seconds later, a user with a Hello Kitty avatar commented with a single “hug” emoji. I was confused. I wasn’t sick. Who was he talking about? I clicked on the girl’s profile. Her featured video was titled “Three Toasts to Fate.” In the video, a frail girl in a hospital gown held up a shot glass filled with glucose solution, celebrating a new beginning. The first toast, to my love. Here’s to him suppressing his physical disgust to sleep with that other woman. All because she has O-negative blood—the Rh-negative rarity. She is the only bed warm enough to incubate my “cure.” The second toast, to the fetus. Because only that woman’s newborn stem cells are pure enough. So my love tracked her ovulation, sabotaged her birth control, and made sure she conceived. The third toast, to the due date. In three months, when that child lands, I will be reborn. As for the hollowed-out mother… who cares if she lives or dies. The comment section was full of people calling it “darkly romantic” and “edgy.” But me? I froze. Because five minutes ago, my husband, the renowned hematologist Dr. Harrison Miller… Had just brought me a glass of warm milk and a document titled Consent for Directed Neonatal Stem Cell Donation. The person in his heart was never me. It was his high school sweetheart, sitting in the ICU, waiting for my baby’s life to save hers. And I was just the catalyst. The incubator for her cure. Harrison was dressed in his lounge clothes, his gold-rimmed glasses resting on his high nose bridge. The picture of sophistication. He even thoughtfully tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Babe, drink the milk and get some rest. It’s good for the baby.” His voice was so tender it could melt. If I hadn’t just seen that video, I would have thought I was the luckiest pregnant woman in the world. I looked down at the consent form. Paragraphs of dense legal jargon, but the core was simple. The cord blood and stem cells after birth would be donated, free of charge, to a patient named Samantha Reed. Samantha Reed. The name sounded familiar. The girl’s ID on the video was “gentle_wind_whispering.” My hand trembled. Milk spilled onto the blankets. Harrison’s brow furrowed slightly, but he immediately grabbed a tissue to wipe my hand. His tone was a mix of reproach and pampering. “Why so careless? Are you burned?” I pulled my hand back, avoiding his touch. “Harrison, who is Samantha Reed? Why are we directing the donation to her?” Harrison paused. Only for a second. He quickly recovered, pushing the paper closer to me. “She’s a very unfortunate young girl. A leukemia relapse. Critical condition. You have O-negative blood, and our baby almost certainly will, too. It’s a perfect match.” He looked into my eyes, his gaze full of deep affection. “Babe, you have the biggest heart. Just think of it as building good karma for our child, okay?” Good karma. That line from the video—who cares if she lives or dies—stabbed into my brain like an ice pick. I fought down the urge to vomit and pointed at my phone screen. “And this video? Is this also building karma?” Harrison followed my gaze. On the screen, the woman in the hospital gown was facing the camera. On her wrist was a red string bracelet. Harrison had bought that bracelet two years ago on a medical trip to a monastery in Tibet. He said he lost it. Turns out, he “lost” it onto another woman’s wrist. Harrison’s pupils shrank violently. But he was too calm. Calm like a surgeon dissecting a cadaver. He took my phone, closed the video, and even tucked the blanket around me. “Don’t look at that garbage online. It’s all just clickbait for views. That bracelet is a generic design; you can buy them anywhere.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead. His lips felt thin and cold. “Be a good girl. Sign the paper and go to sleep. That patient can’t wait much longer.” That last sentence carried a barely perceptible urgency. I stared at him. I had loved this face for seven years. From college sweethearts to walking down the aisle, I thought he was my salvation. I never imagined he was a grim reaper coming for my soul. I grabbed the pen and slashed a hard, deep line through the consent form. “I’m not signing it.” Harrison’s expression instantly turned pitch black. Harrison didn’t come back to our bedroom that night. He stayed in his study. The next morning, the dining table was covered with my favorite breakfast. Peeled shrimp, warm gourmet oatmeal, and an unopened bottle of prenatal vitamins. Harrison acted like nothing had happened, smiling as he dished up some oatmeal for me. “I had a bad attitude last night, babe. Don’t be mad. We can talk about the donation later. Let’s just eat.” He pushed the bottle of vitamins toward me. “I had a colleague bring these back from Europe. Highest purity folic acid, great for fetal brain development. Make sure you take them on time.” If this were before, I would have been incredibly touched. After all, he was a medical authority and a known workaholic. Taking the time to care about these little details was proof of his love. But now, I just felt sick. I swallowed the pill right in front of him. Then, maintaining the loving atmosphere, I sent him off to work. The second the front door clicked shut, I sprinted to the bathroom, stuck my fingers down my throat, and threw up my entire breakfast and the pill. Stomach acid burned my esophagus. Tears and snot smeared my face. I carefully collected the undigested pill fragments and put them into a Ziploc bag. That afternoon, I went to a private clinic. I sought out my best friend, who was a licensed pharmacist. The lab results came back fast. My friend was holding the report, her hand shaking. “Babe, this isn’t folic acid. This is Filgrastim! And it’s an incredibly high dose!” “This drug is meant for bone marrow donors. It forces the bone marrow to overproduce stem cells and dump them into the bloodstream. The side effects are brutal, especially for pregnant women. Long-term use causes kidney and liver failure, and even…” She didn’t dare finish. I finished it for her: “Even maternal death, right?” My friend nodded, her eyes red. I smiled. A smile uglier than crying. So, the phrase who cares if she lives or dies wasn’t a hyperbole. It was a literal medical plan. He really wanted my life. Just to save his Samantha. On my way home, Harrison called. He sounded out of breath, and the background noise was chaotic, like an emergency room. “Babe, where are you? The GPS shows you’re out.” He had installed a tracker on my phone. He used to say it was for my safety. Now I knew it was to monitor the condition of the “incubator.” I watched the streetlights blur past the car window, my voice flat. “Just out buying some baby clothes. What’s wrong?” “Go home right now! There are too many germs out there, you’ll catch a cold.” He paused, his tone suddenly dropping into something sinister. “Don’t wander off. I’ll worry.” After hanging up, I clicked on “gentle_wind_whispering’s” profile. She had updated. This time, the photo was taken right outside the ICU. The caption read: [The other woman still hasn’t signed the form, but he told me to leave everything to him and rest easy. It’s okay. For our future, I can endure anything.] A comment asked: “What if she finds out?” She replied: [What if she does? The baby is in her belly, the baby’s life is in her hands. But her life… is in his.] My knuckles turned white as I gripped the phone. Harrison Miller. If you want to play games. Let’s play for keeps. I started acting completely normal. Taking my “medicine” on time, reporting my whereabouts. Harrison, as expected, lowered his guard. To ease his guilt, or maybe just to keep the incubator happy, he started coming home earlier, cooking for me, and massaging my swollen legs. His hands were dry and warm, hitting all the pressure points. Watching his focused profile, I suddenly asked, “Harrison, we should pick a name for the baby.” His hands didn’t stop. “Let’s name him Reed.” “What?” “Reed Miller. It sounds distinguished.” I sneered in my heart. Reed. For Samantha Reed. How poetic. How utterly devoted. “I want to go to Mount Sinai for my next checkup. I heard there’s a specialist there who’s hard to get into,” I probed cautiously. Harrison’s hands suddenly tightened, digging painfully into my calf. “No need.” He looked up, the gaze behind his lenses chilling. “I am the best doctor. My colleagues are the best team. I don’t trust outside physicians.” “But…” “Listen to me.” He cut me off, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Your condition is unique. Only I understand your body perfectly. Don’t go making a fuss out there. What if something goes wrong?” He made it sound so noble. In reality, he was terrified an outside doctor would look at my bloodwork, see my hormone levels spiking, and realize I was being slowly murdered. Over the next two weeks, Harrison escalated his control. He hired a “nanny.” He said it was to take care of me, but she was a prison warden. My keycard was confiscated. My cell reception became mysteriously spotty. I was a pig in a pen. Just waiting for slaughter day. Until late one night, Harrison got a frantic call and rushed out. He forgot to lock the study. I slipped in and found a folder on his computer desktop named “S & H”. Encrypted. I tried my birthday. Error. Our wedding anniversary. Error. Finally, I typed in the date Samantha mentioned in her video—the day they celebrated their “rebirth.” October 18th. The folder clicked open. It was packed with photos and medical records. Pictures of Samantha bald from chemo, pictures of her leaning into Harrison’s chest, laughing brilliantly. The timestamps spanned a decade. They were the college sweethearts. I was just the tragic accident who got in the way, the unlucky fool who happened to have the golden O-negative blood type. In a document titled Ovulation & Conception Protocol, I found something even more vile. Harrison had documented my menstrual cycles down to the hour. Which day he swapped the pills. Which day he poked holes in the condoms. Which days intercourse was strictly mandatory. Every single date corresponded to a night I had mistaken for passionate, spontaneous love. To him, those nights were just sickening, calculated breeding assignments. The last line of the document read: “Target Delivery: 32 weeks. Pre-term C-section to ensure maximum stem cell viability.” 32 weeks. That was next week. He never intended for me to carry to term. A baby born at seven months would be fighting for its life. But he didn’t care. He only needed the “cure.” The front door clicked open. Harrison was back. I instantly killed the monitor and held my breath in the dark. Footsteps stopped right outside the study. The doorknob turned. I pressed myself behind the heavy curtains, shaking uncontrollably. Harrison walked in. He seemed exhausted. He collapsed into his desk chair and lit a cigarette. In the dim glow of the cherry, his face was shadowy and hollow. “Samantha, just hold on a little longer. It’s almost over,” he whispered to the empty room. “Next Tuesday. I’ll schedule the surgery. You’re going to be okay.” My heart plummeted into an abyss. Next Tuesday. Three days from now. I waited until Harrison went to the master bedroom before I dared to creep back into my own room. I stared at the ceiling until dawn broke. The next morning, I intentionally threw myself down a flight of stairs. It made a horrific crash. The nanny screamed and frantically dialed Harrison’s number. I curled on the hardwood floor, clutching my stomach, cold sweat pouring down my face. “It hurts… take me to the hospital, the nearest one, now!” Harrison roared through the speakerphone: “Do not take her anywhere else! Wait for me! I’m bringing an ambulance now!” The nanny was paralyzed with fear. I grabbed her arm, my nails biting into her skin. “I’m bleeding! Are you going to watch me die? If we both die, can you afford the prison time?!” That broke her. She dialed 911. Just as the paramedics arrived, Harrison’s SUV tore into the driveway. His eyes were bloodshot as he physically shoved a paramedic out of the way. “I am a doctor! She is my patient! And my wife! I am taking her to my hospital!” The EMTs looked shocked, but recognizing his badge and authority, they backed off. I was shoved into the passenger seat of Harrison’s car. He slammed the gas pedal to the floor, his jaw tight enough to crack stone. “若惜 (若惜), did you do that on purpose?” He figured it out. I was pale from genuine pain, but I forced a weak, pathetic smile. “Harrison, I was just so scared for the baby… why are you so angry?” Harrison didn’t say a word. He drove me straight to his hospital and wheeled me right into a VIP suite. Not maternity. Hematology. In the bed next to mine lay Samantha Reed. It was the first time I saw her in person. She wasn’t as arrogant as she was online. She was skin and bones, looking like a shattered porcelain doll. But the way she looked at me was pure, unfiltered greed. Like a starving wolf looking at a slab of meat. Harrison injected something into my IV. A sedative. Before the darkness pulled me under, I heard Samantha’s frail voice. “Harrison… is that her? My medicine?” Harrison stroked her hair, his voice dripping with a tenderness I had never received. “Don’t talk like that. She’s our benefactor.” “What benefactor? She’s a walking blood bag. Once the baby is out, she’s useless anyway, right?” “Samantha, stop it. The OR is prepped. You get ready too.” “Harrison, do you really not feel bad? That is your child… and your wife.” Silence. A long, suffocating silence. Then, Harrison’s cold, dead voice. “Only the living have the right to claim a title. If she doesn’t cooperate, she’s nothing but medical waste.” A tear slipped from the corner of my eye and soaked into the sterile pillow. So this is what it feels feels like when your heart truly dies.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “398286”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I was the wife that Arthur Sterling stole. He played dirty and snatched me right out of his best friend’s hands. Because he was the “other man” who clawed his way to the top, he was obsessively paranoid about every single guy who came near me. Even when I fed a stray dog in the park, he had to verify that both the dog and its owner were female before he could relax. That was, until recently. A new male intern started at my office and brought me coffee for a few days. Arthur said he didn’t mind, but that night, he stayed up until 3:00 AM scrolling through my phone. He was so angry he broke out in a full-body rash. On the way to the hospital, his face flushed and burning with a fever, he shoved a picture of the intern right in my face. “Those pecs are obviously Photoshopped!” “Look at his height—he’s definitely wearing shoe lifts! There is no way he is six feet tall!” Ignoring the ER doctors who were desperately trying to hold back their laughter, I awkwardly pinched his mouth shut and shoved him into a triage bed. While I was waiting at the pharmacy to pick up his meds, the doctor casually mentioned: “If you guys are trying to prevent pregnancy, we still recommend the woman takes birth control, or just use condoms. Since this male contraceptive pill just hit the market, the side effects are severe. Breaking out in a rash is actually on the milder end.” “Plus, he took three doses in a single week. I know he doesn’t want you to suffer the side effects, but he can’t just play with his life like that.” I froze. But I’m already three months pregnant. … Watching Arthur sleep soundly in the hospital bed, I picked up his phone. His passcode was my birthday. His Instagram feed was filled exclusively with photos of me. His search history was entirely about me: “How to get my wife’s attention?” “My wife thinks I’m too clingy, is she cheating on me?” “What to do when my wife misses her late mother?” Even his Notes app was packed with details about me: “March 20th: My sweet girl had a nightmare and missed her mom.” “March 21st: My sweet girl’s morning sickness is brutal. She throws up everything she eats.” “April 1st: Tracked down my wife’s old nanny to learn how to make my mother-in-law’s signature beef and tomato stew. My sweet girl ate a lot today.” Reading all this, my eyes began to sting. I tried to comfort myself, thinking maybe my pregnancy hormones were just making me overly sensitive. Until his GPS app suddenly pushed a notification to the lock screen: “Based on your usual routine, a route home has been generated. Estimated travel time: 30 minutes.” The destination was The Pinnacle Condos, Building 7. But I live in Building 3. My hand moved on its own, tapping the notification. The navigation history showed that for the past three months, every single day at noon, he reliably routed to this address and stayed there for about two hours. I suddenly remembered something. Because my morning sickness was so severe, I had lost eight pounds in just three months. I could only keep down food that Arthur cooked himself. But his corporate office was far away. Not only did he have to take care of me every day, but he also had to deal with the ruthless board of directors at his company. Working overtime until midnight was his norm. I felt bad for him. I wanted him to rest at the office during his lunch break. But he thought I was rejecting him, that I didn’t need him anymore. We had a massive fight. No matter what I said, he stubbornly kept a cold face and insisted on driving home to cook lunch for me. It wasn’t until I pretended my morning sickness had improved and swore I would eat properly that he finally agreed to stay at the office to rest. But the reality was, every single day, he was in another building less than a thousand feet from my house, keeping someone else company. I gripped the phone, my entire body shaking. Suddenly, a text message popped up on the screen: “Artie, you left your underwear at my place yesterday. She didn’t find out, did she? I specifically saved that pair for you. It’s unwashed.” “That’s my favorite pair of underwear. You have to bring it back to me on my birthday.” I stared dead at the profile picture. With trembling fingers, I tapped into the chat. It was Chloe! The illegitimate daughter who gave my mother a heart attack and stole my father. Since we were kids, she tried to steal everything from me. My clothes, my jewelry, my father’s love. And even my husbands. The only reason I divorced my ex-husband was because I caught him and Chloe in bed together. The day my divorce was finalized, I was completely shattered, drained of all hope. Arthur had held me tightly, promising me word for word: “My sweet girl, I will only ever love you in this lifetime. No matter what stunts she tries to pull, I will never give her a second glance. Trust me.” And he really did back it up. When Chloe tried to seduce him and sent him nudes, he immediately called the cops and had her locked up for seven days for harassment. He even forwarded the police report to her university, getting her expelled and ruining her future. I thought escaping that toxic swamp and meeting Arthur was the greatest blessing of my life. But why did it have to be her? Why is it always her?! With a masochistic urge, I scrolled through their chat history. I watched Arthur call her “his sweet girl.” I read how, when Chloe threatened to expose everything to me, Arthur ruthlessly blocked her, then “punished” her—punished her right into bed. I read about how, on the day I was hospitalized crying in fear because of a bad prenatal screening, they were sleeping in the guest room I had personally decorated, and she was wearing my pajamas… My body shook violently. A wave of pure nausea rushed up my throat. Behind me, the hospital bed shifted slightly. “Wifey?” 2 Seeing my red, tear-filled eyes, Arthur immediately reached out to hug me. But the moment he got close, I smelled the faint, unmistakable scent of sex on him. I violently shoved him away and sprinted into the bathroom, dry heaving over the sink. “My sweet girl!” Arthur instantly followed me in. The second his hand touched my back, I recoiled like I had been burned. I grabbed a heavy glass jar from the counter and hurled it at him. “Get the hell away from me!” The heavy glass ashtray clipped his temple. Blood immediately began pouring down his brow bone. But Arthur didn’t seem to care at all. He just looked at me with deep concern, the panic in his eyes practically spilling over. “Is the baby kicking up a fuss again?” “Or does something else hurt?” I sat on the bathroom floor, watching him frantically rush out of the room. He poured a glass of warm water, grabbed my prenatal vitamins, and rushed back in. Blood dripped onto the crisp collar of his white dress shirt, blooming into a small red stain. He was completely oblivious to it. He just held the pills out to me, his eyes cautious and incredibly gentle. “Open up, sweet girl.” “Why?” I looked into Arthur’s eyes, so full of love. The tears fell uncontrollably. Just a few days ago, we were lying in bed picking out baby names. We were imagining our future as a family of three. We talked about how, when she grew up a little, we’d take her to the beach, to the mountains, to every place we had ever visited since we fell in love. Just hours ago, he was throwing a jealous fit because I was standing too close to another man. “Why did you betray me?!” I stared at him, my vision completely blurred by tears. Arthur froze. The hand holding the pills clenched into a tight fist. “You know.” I waited for his explanation. I told myself that no matter what he said, I would believe him. As long as he just gave me an excuse, I could forgive him. “I’m sorry.” He took a step forward, his voice trembling. “I know firing that intern behind your back would upset you, but I just couldn’t handle another man being around you every day, seeing your smile.” He crouched down, looking up at me with a pathetic, lowly gaze. “You don’t know how much effort it took for me to steal you away from Liam. To finally earn the right to stand proudly by your side. Why should some random kid get to have all of that without doing a damn thing?” “I know I’m sick. I know I’m not normal. But I absolutely do not regret it.” “My sweet girl, you can hit me, curse me, punish me however you want. Just don’t hurt yourself, and please don’t leave me. I will literally die.” He looked up at me, his eyes bloodshot, looking exactly like an abandoned puppy. I looked at him, knowing that right now, I should turn around and walk away without a second thought. But I just couldn’t bear to do it. I couldn’t bear to let go of his gentleness. I couldn’t bear to let go of the incredibly happy life we had built. So, as long as I didn’t see it with my own eyes, I could pretend nothing ever happened. As long as I didn’t see it. I looked at Arthur and managed a small smile. “I’m craving beef and tomato stew.” Arthur’s eyes instantly lit up. He turned and practically jogged toward the kitchen. But a moment later, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, and his face filled with apology. “I’m so sorry, sweet girl. There’s an emergency at the office. I’ll make it for you as soon as I get back.” Before I could even respond, he was out the door. I grabbed my car keys and followed him. The Pinnacle Condos, Building 7. I stood in the shadow of a large oak tree, watching Chloe loop her arm intimately through his as they walked through the lobby doors. The moment the door closed, I pulled out my phone and dialed his number. Through the massive floor-to-ceiling window of the ground-floor condo, I saw him immediately stand up, acting like he was going to walk outside to take the call. And then, Chloe stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his. Through the phone, I heard the sticky, wet sound of a kiss, followed by his heavy breathing. I gripped my phone, my knuckles turning white. “Arthur. My stomach hurts.” Hearing those words, Arthur violently shoved Chloe away, grabbed his jacket, and headed straight for the door. “Don’t be scared, sweet girl. I’ll be right there.” Suddenly, a muffled groan came through the phone. Chloe crouched down on the floor. Immediately after, the call was disconnected. Ten seconds later, a text popped up. “Sweet girl, there’s an emergency board meeting. I have to be there. I already called your doctor, he’s on his way to the house. Don’t be scared.” I looked up. Through that window, I watched him scoop Chloe up into his arms and carry her toward the bedroom. My heart finally died completely. I pulled up my phone and dialed the hospital. “Hello, I need to schedule an abortion.” 3 I was just about to pull out of the parking spot when I saw a man standing right in front of my car. It was my father. We stared at each other in silence for a long time. Then, I followed him back into the house I had lived in for eighteen years. The living room was the same living room, but everything else was completely different. The wall that used to hold photos of me and my mom was now entirely covered in pictures of Chloe and her mother. My mom’s favorite begonias had been replaced by sickeningly sweet roses. I stood in the center of the living room, feeling like a stranger in a strange land. My dad pointed to the sofa. The second I sat down, he cut straight to the chase. “Leave Arthur.” “I refuse. Arthur is the one who can’t leave me.” Once, when I found out he had added Chloe on WhatsApp, I felt so betrayed I packed my bags to leave. He blocked the front door. Without saying a single word, he grabbed a fruit knife from the coffee table and plunged it directly into his own stomach. Blood poured out, but he didn’t take a single step back. He just stared at me. “If you want to leave, you’ll have to step over my dead body.” My dad didn’t argue. He just gave me a look of profound pity. Then, he pointed to the wall next to the staircase. It was a massive photo gallery. It was entirely filled with pictures of Chloe and Arthur. Cuddling on a gondola in Venice. Holding hands under the cherry blossoms at Mount Fuji. Kissing passionately under the Eiffel Tower. “He didn’t go on a business trip last week. He took Chloe on a trip around the world.” My dad stood up, walked over to the gallery wall, and pointed at the massive framed photo dead center. “They got their marriage license overseas. They had a huge wedding and invited everyone.” “Including his parents.” “To get his parents to accept Chloe and attend the wedding, he kneeled outside their front door for seven days straight.” “I seem to recall that absolutely no one attended your wedding with Arthur.” I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Arthur’s parents despised me. They believed I seduced their son, slapped him with the label of a homewrecker, and ruined his reputation and his future. So they didn’t show up to our wedding, and they strictly forbade us from ever visiting their estate. But in these photos, they were smiling warmly, happily accepting the traditional tea Chloe was serving them. “I heard you got into a car accident a few days ago?” my dad asked. “I didn’t want Arthur to worry, so I handled it myself. I never told him.” My dad let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “Do you know where he was when that happened?” “He was literally a block away from you, helping Chloe pick out a diamond ring.” A loud, deafening ringing exploded in my ears. “He watched the whole thing. He watched that driver harass you. He watched the guy shove you to the ground. He watched you hide in your car and cry. He watched them bang on your windows and curse at you. He watched you force yourself to hold it together and call the cops.” “And he didn’t move a single muscle. Because Chloe was thirsty, and he was in a rush to go buy her a boba tea.” “I DON’T BELIEVE IT!” I shot up from the sofa, my entire body shaking violently. I refused to believe that the man who would hyperventilate with worry if I got a paper cut would just stand by and watch me get assaulted without doing anything. “These are all lies! You just made this up to force me to leave Arthur!” My dad stared at me in silence. That look terrified me to my core. After a long time, he finally spoke. “Chloe is pregnant.” “They named the baby Julian.” Julian. Youthful and peaceful. Something snapped in my brain. That was the name Arthur and I had spent an entire month brainstorming, flipping through baby name books until the pages were worn out. That was our baby’s name. That name belonged exclusively to my child! “Men understand men better than anyone.” My dad’s voice echoed in the room again. “The only thing keeping him with you right now is a sense of obligation. If you keep doing this, you’re going to end up exactly like your mother.” My mom. When she found out my dad had a mistress, she absolutely refused to sign the divorce papers. So my dad brought the mistress right into our house, making out with her right in front of my mom. Eventually, my mom couldn’t handle the humiliation anymore and killed herself. Will I end up like my mom? Trapped in an endless cycle of breakdowns, insanity, and mutual torture? I didn’t know. I just suddenly felt incredibly, unbearably exhausted. I stopped listening to the man standing in front of me. I pushed the front door open and walked outside. The bright afternoon sun beat down on me, but I couldn’t feel a single ounce of warmth. 4 My phone vibrated violently. It was a barrage of texts from Arthur. “Sweet girl, where are you? Why aren’t you picking up?” “I’m begging you, sweet girl, just reply to me. Let me know where you are!” Only then did I realize that in the past hour alone, Arthur had called me hundreds of times. But my eyes were glued to the text from the clinic, confirming my abortion appointment for tomorrow morning. My hand unconsciously moved to my stomach, trying to feel a heartbeat. I had absolutely nothing left. This was the only thing that still belonged to me. Before I could even process what to do next, a set of blindingly bright headlights swerved aggressively toward me. Blood instantly clouded my vision. Chloe stepped out of the car and crouched down in front of me. “Sarah! Why won’t you just die?!” “Only when you’re dead will Artie truly belong to me! Right now, even when he’s inside me, he’s only thinking about you!” Her face twisted into a demonic, psychotic sneer. She grabbed me by the back of the head and slammed my face brutally into the asphalt. She didn’t stop until my face was completely covered in a thick mask of blood, making me entirely unrecognizable. Then, she pulled out her phone, her voice instantly shifting to panicked terror. “Artie! I hit someone with my car! I’m so scared!” A few minutes later, Arthur’s black SUV skidded to a halt. Chloe threw herself into his arms, trembling like a leaf. “Artie, what do I do? Am I going to prison? I swear I didn’t mean to do it.” Arthur held her tight, whispering softly to comfort her. “It’s okay. I’m here.” He turned and barked an order at his bodyguards. “Pour liquor down her throat. Make it look like a DUI.” The bodyguard glanced down at me. “Boss, she’s pregnant.” Arthur froze, a flash of hesitation crossing his face as he looked down at my bloodied form. “Artie, I’m so scared! If people find out I was the one driving, my life is over! I’d be better off dead!” Chloe melted into his chest, her eyes wide and overflowing with tears. “POUR IT!” Arthur looked down and kissed the top of Chloe’s head. “I will handle the consequences!” Harsh, burning liquor was forced down my throat. The alcohol spilled from my lips, mixing with the blood on my face, and dripped onto the pavement. I felt a rush of warm fluid pooling beneath me, flowing out onto the street. I desperately cried out for help. “Arthur, no. Please.” But my voice was too weak. No one could hear me. However, Arthur suddenly stopped. He stood frozen, looking down hesitantly at my blood-soaked body. “I thought I heard Sarah calling me.” Chloe suddenly clutched her stomach. “Artie, my stomach hurts. The baby is kicking me.” Arthur instantly snapped his attention back to her, sweeping her up into his arms and rushing her to the SUV. Before getting into the driver’s seat, he shot one last look at the bodyguards. “Watch her. Wait until the alcohol fully absorbs into her bloodstream before calling an ambulance.” The car doors slammed shut. I lay there in a pool of my own blood, staring dead at the direction the taillights vanished into. When I woke up again… Arthur was sitting by my hospital bed, gripping my hand tightly. His eyes were bloodshot. “Sarah, how are you feeling?” “Does it hurt anywhere?” Tears poured uncontrollably from his eyes, landing on the back of my hand. “What happened?! The hospital called me out of nowhere and told me you were in a car accident and the baby was gone.” “Who was it?!” Arthur squeezed my hand tighter and tighter, his eyes burning with absolute, murderous rage. “Who hit you?! I’m going to kill them!” “It was you, Arthur.” I looked at the terrified expression on his face, and a wave of dark, twisted satisfaction washed over me. “You told your bodyguards to pour liquor down my throat. You ordered them to delay the ambulance. Congratulations, Arthur! You personally murdered your own child!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “398271”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Before my best friend, Maya, officially returned to her wealthy family after being identified as their long-lost daughter, she sent me a text message with details about my potential match. The guy in the photo had perfect features and was impressive in every aspect. While I was scrutinizing the photo. Maya’s older brother was silently eating breakfast across from me. His expression was indifferent. Every move he made held the icy distance typical of old-money heirs. Maya pressed me online. [Has my brother still not agreed to let you join the family formally? Why is he so harsh on you?] [Just take my place in the arranged marriage. We’ll act now and ask for forgiveness later.] I happened to be placing a bowl of chilled pear soup in front of Caleb Hudson. “Maya mentioned you’ve had a cough recently. This is to soothe your throat.” He didn’t even raise his eyes, pointedly avoiding me. The soup I had spent all morning simmering spilled onto the table. Caleb’s expression was cool. “Miss George, you only have a seat at this table because of Maya.” “Don’t overstep.” Caleb wasn’t wrong. My best friend, whom I grew up with in the orphanage, had been taken home by the Hudson family, transforming from an orphan into a genuine heiress. In the morning, Maya was riding an electric scooter; in the evening, she was driving a Maybach to pick me up. “Elara George, I told you, when I strike it rich, I’m bringing you up with me.” She wanted to adopt me. I playfully cried and called her “Mom.” But she said she wanted to raise me as her sister. My best friend shared her princess-themed room with me and linked a subsidiary card with a seven-figure allowance to my account. She even printed a booklet detailing Caleb’s likes and dislikes to help me join this grand family. Mr. and Mrs. Hudson were rarely home. Maya’s older brother, Caleb Hudson, was the strict gatekeeper of the Hudson family. Even though I played the role of a perfectly obedient sister, Caleb didn’t like me. He even snapped at Maya. “Do you have any idea what her actual intentions are? Ever heard of a femme fatale?” Maya couldn’t help but defend me. “Caleb, I just want her to enter our family, to be our…” Caleb’s face darkened with frustration, and he snapped at her to shut up. Immediately after, he arranged for Maya to go abroad for advanced studies. Only Caleb and I were left at home. Maya sent me daily tips, teaching me how to be a proper sister. I brought him tea in the morning and warm milk at night. Hearing that Caleb liked fish, I was in the kitchen early making it. When he came downstairs and saw me. He told the housekeeper to throw the fish away immediately. “I don’t eat fish with green onions. You want to join this family, but you don’t even pay attention to these details?” “Hypocrite.” Caleb grew increasingly annoyed with me. He couldn’t hold eye contact with me for three seconds. Sometimes, if I stared at him a little longer, Caleb’s ears would turn bright red with fury. Even when we ate together, his face was like thunder. Ding. On the dining table, Maya sent another photo of my potential arranged match. [I don’t want an arranged marriage. I want freedom! Do you want it? You get to be on my family registry.] I typed ‘111’ to agree. Thinking I would soon be Maya’s sister on paper. I would finally have a family. I chuckled to myself while nibbling on my toast. Caleb, across the table, let out a cold snort. “Don’t try flattery or playing the victim with me.” Me: Excuse me? The date with my potential match was set at a Hudson family hotel. Maya said it was a family business, so it was free. The dress for the date was ordered from the brand-name store the Hudson family frequented. Because it was also free. I only rushed over to try on the dress after finishing a full, free spa treatment. I chose the cheapest gown, feeling content already. I hadn’t officially entered Maya’s family yet, so I needed to be economical and proper to be liked. But the sales clerk had already bagged all the other gowns. “Miss Maya Hudson said that as long as you look at a dress, you must like it. She made the choice for you.” “She swiped the internal card directly again. Good luck with your date tonight!” Hugging the clothes, I wished I could fly to Maya’s side and be her loyal servant for life. Then someone stepped into the store. Caleb Hudson had changed into a dark suit, his hair perfectly styled. He tapped his knuckles on the marble counter. His prominent brows slightly furrowed. “Just saw the charge. Thought Maya was back. Why is it you?” “Return all the clothes.” No wonder Maya said it was all free. It turned out she was swiping Caleb’s card behind his back. The clerk quickly explained. “Mr. Hudson, this lady has an important date tonight. These are all perfect for her, chosen by your sister. Do you really want to return them?” I was already a bit scared of this brother, even before formally joining the family. He had constantly shut me out. If not for Maya, I would have left long ago. But my best friend’s brother was also my brother. I clutched the dress, my lips refusing to move. The air grew drier, and my face flushed in agitation. Hearing the word “date,” Caleb’s gaze landed on my face. His lips thinned in a cold snort. “Want to climb the social ladder, but you don’t even know how to hide your ambition.” He inspected the gowns in the bags and only pulled out a dark, tea-length dress. “…I don’t like light colors. You need to be proper and modest. Return all the rest.” I could only agree. “Right, you’re paying, so as long as you like it.” “Thank you, Mr. Hudson.” But Caleb didn’t leave. He gestured for me to change. He was odd today. Staring as I put on the long dress, Caleb was then dissatisfied with my hair. He was going to take me to get it styled. Caleb sat behind the mirror while the stylist assessed his expression, styling my hair. I quietly messaged Maya. [Your brother isn’t as repulsed by me anymore. He even brought me to get my hair done! I’ll change how I address him when you get back. I’ll call him ‘Big Brother.’] Maya was screaming on the other end. [Good! Chat well with your match tonight, and it’ll be a double celebration. I get a sister, and you get a boyfriend.] I didn’t look up until the stylist sprayed the setting spray. Huh? Caleb was wearing a dark suit, his hair slightly swept back. I was also in dark colors, with an iris floral hair accessory pinned to my updo—the exact same design as Caleb’s pocket square. A slight smirk crossed his lips. “Heh. Got your wish? Ecstatic?” It seemed like we were wearing sibling outfits. I quickly nodded, genuinely praising my future brother. “Thank you, I like it very much.” Receiving the gift, I spun around in front of the mirror. I caught Caleb making eye contact with me in the reflection. His smile flashed and vanished, quickly replaced by his cold indifference. A socialite greeted him from outside the door. “Caleb, the gala is starting. Let’s go.” Caleb picked up his suit jacket and walked out. By the time I caught up, they were back to talking and laughing. I wanted to circle around them, but my hearing was too good. I heard the socialite’s chuckle. “Is that Miss George girl about to succeed in social climbing? She used to cling to your sister, now she’s clinging to you, trying to fly up and become a phoenix.” I stopped in my tracks. I waited for Caleb’s reply. “A little favor just to dismiss her. The Hudson family isn’t that easy to enter.” “Gets a hairstyle and smiles like an absolute fool.” “Haha, Caleb, keeping up with the push-and-pull method? Clever! Oh, Miss George is out?” The socialite arched an eyebrow at me. The mockery and contempt in his eyes were glaringly obvious, not hidden at all. I pretended not to hear. It was happier to play the fool. Pinching the skin of my palm, I summoned an appealing smile and bowed to Caleb. “Thank you, Mr. Hudson! I’m leaving first. Won’t disturb your chat.” Observing people was a skill I had developed since childhood. Even if this brother didn’t like me, as long as Maya was here, I could endure it. Caleb seemed slightly dissatisfied, pointing at his wrist watch. “Mind the time. The gala is starting.” Right, I was almost late for my date too. I circled around to the elevator, not wanting to go up with them. Ignoring Caleb’s gaze, which followed me. I needed to find my potential match’s location. I chatted with my potential match for half an hour. The younger son of the Lee family was the same age as me, and we got along well. Liam Lee owned a ranch in Europe, and I had also worked on a farm in the countryside. He played video games but was terrible at them. I, however, had been a gaming champion in the orphanage. Liam praised me for being amazing, making me blush. He had also brought a gift, a piece of auctioned jewelry. “Maya mentioned you’d be joining the Hudson family formally soon. We’re a good match. Since it’s an arranged marriage, as long as we can coexist peacefully. Let’s start as friends.” I felt the same way. Being around this person was pressure-free; at least I could laugh freely. I didn’t have to follow strict rules for every smile and move in front of Caleb Hudson, playing the perfectly obedient sister. There was music coming from the main hall. Liam said it was a Hudson family reception. He was looking at his group of friends’ chat, sharing gossip. “I heard Caleb Hudson was stood up by his dance partner. They were even wearing matching couple outfits. This is Caleb’s first time bringing a girl, how did he get stood up?” “Someone took a photo of Caleb’s somber face. He couldn’t even hold his red wine steady and pushed past several CEOs’ conversations, seemingly walking this way?” I was curious too. I quickly shared the gossip with Maya. [Your brother has a dance partner tonight. It might be your future sister-in-law!] [Wow! Triple celebration!] Liam was gossipy too. He smiled and leaned close to me to look at the messages. Seeing my bare neck, he said, “Put on the gift first. Girls need some jewelry to show their nobility. Let’s go out later, okay?” I had just nodded. A somber voice interrupted our laughter. “Go out where?” Caleb was standing across from us, a forced smile on his face, scrutinizing the necklace on my neck. “Are you so smitten by a cheap, hundred-thousand-dollar trinket that you can’t walk away?” He ignored me and stared at my potential match, his tone mocking. “Her intention was originally to enter my home. You are just a backup.” Liam was stunned. “Caleb, you are Ellie’s first home. I am just the second. I’m willing, and it’s voluntary.” Caleb was stunned, then cursed under his breath, “Morally corrupt.” Then he glared at me. I could only try to diffuse the situation. “Mr. Hudson, in the future I will live at his house and come to yours on weekends. Is that okay?” Caleb made an aggressive move toward the red wine glass on the table. His tone was icy. “He gets five days, I get two. Who gave you the courage?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “398287”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When I realized that my childhood best friend was destined to fall for the poor transfer student and eventually kill me… To survive, I faked my own death. Before jumping into the ocean, I left him a single text message: [I saw her touch your hand today. It’s so dirty. I’m never seeing you again!] He was absolutely devastated. He threw himself into the sea multiple times just trying to find my remains. Meanwhile, I was already on a private jet flying out of the country. Five years later, I figured he and the transfer student had probably gotten their happily-ever-after, and it was time for me to return home and inherit my family’s billions. I never expected that on the very night I returned, he would lock me up in a cliffside mansion. The man who was always so proud, aloof, and untouchable slowly peeled off his gloves. He dropped to his knees in front of me, almost pathologically obsessed, intertwining his fingers with mine and kissing my hands relentlessly. “Chloe, I’m not dirty. From now on, no one but you will ever touch me.” 01. Asher Vance and I grew up together. Since I was a little girl, I firmly believed that we would get married when we grew up, and live happily ever after like a princess in a fairy tale. Unfortunately, fairy tales are just fairy tales, and I wasn’t the princess. During our junior year of high school, a transfer student joined our class. She had jet-black hair, snow-white skin, and a gentle, radiant smile. She even talked to stray animals. Without a doubt, she was the real princess. I leaned against the windowsill, looking down at Mia Harper chatting with a bird in the courtyard. Asher stopped behind me, his tone slightly icy. “It’s P.E. class. Why aren’t you downstairs yet?” He had loved bossing me around since we were kids. From what I ate and wore, to my grades and my friends. Because of this, my parents absolutely adored him. After all, what parent wouldn’t love a straight-A student who helped keep their own rebellious kid in line? I was used to his strictness, but sometimes I still pushed back. Like a rebellious teenager defying a parent. I pointed at Mia down below and asked, “Look at her. Don’t you think she’s interesting?” Asher followed my gaze and calmly delivered his verdict. “Lunatic.” “But I think she’s fascinating,” I turned around, testing the waters. “What if I became friends with her?” “Idiot.” He dropped those two words coldly and walked away. I knew that meant my proposal was rejected. 02. However, I never could have imagined that just one month later… He would be gripping my wrist, forcing me to apologize to Mia. His grip was so tight it left red marks. It hurt. No matter how hard I struggled, I couldn’t shake him off. Mia was half-kneeling on the ground, her clothes dirty and her knees scraped. “What happened to you?” I asked. “You pushed me down the stairs, and now you’re asking me what happened?” I glanced at the staircase behind me. “I did walk past here just now, but I didn’t push anyone.” “There are no security cameras here, so of course you can say whatever you want. You were the only one who walked by. If it wasn’t you, did I just throw myself down the stairs?” “Why would I even push you?” “Who knows? Maybe you hate seeing me getting close to Asher.” I frowned. I turned to look at Asher. Getting close to him? Didn’t he say we only needed each other as best friends? Why did he forbid me from befriending her, yet he was getting close to her himself? Why was he forcing me to apologize when I hadn’t done anything wrong? But those unasked questions were destined to remain unanswered. He just held me down, forcing me to say sorry. At that exact moment, a massive flood of information rushed into my brain. It was the “Plot.” It told me that Asher and Mia were the male and female leads of a romance novel. Mia had fallen for Asher because he unintentionally scared off some thugs who were bothering her. Asher would slowly fall for her kindness and purity. And I? I was just the vicious, jealous villainess standing in the way of their love. I would eventually be despised and hated by Asher for bullying Mia. And finally, once the two leads got their happy ending, Asher would kill me. My first reaction was, naturally, utter disbelief. But a second later, the hand forcing my head down served as a harsh reality check. It hurt. My wrist hurt, and my neck hurt. In the past, if I got a mosquito bite, he would be the first to fuss over it. Now, he was viciously forcing me to my knees to apologize to someone else. I hadn’t done it, yet he chose to believe a girl he had known for a month over me. And so, I recalled the ending of that “Plot” again. I… would be killed by Asher. Terrified by that thought, I ripped myself out of his grip and ran. I ran all the way home. 03. My mom was arranging flowers in the living room. Seeing me burst in, she quickly asked: “School isn’t out yet. Why are you home? Where’s Asher?” “Asher, Asher, Asher! That’s all you care about! He’s bullying me to death!” “Oh, sweetie, did you pick a fight with him again? You know he only does things for your own good.” I knew I couldn’t reason with her, so I ran upstairs to my room. I locked the door tight and hid under my blankets. I tossed and turned, thinking about the past and this supposed future. Night fell. Asher never came looking for me. Usually, whenever we fought, he was always the first to come coax me out of my mood. He didn’t come this time. And I finally made up my mind. I was going to run. Far, far away. On the day of the autumn break, I had previously made plans to go to the beach with Asher. But right before we left, he brought Mia along. The car ride was suffocatingly quiet. Asher cleared his throat, and Mia immediately handed him a water bottle. When their fingertips brushed, Asher only frowned slightly. Asher was a severe germaphobe. He never let anyone touch him. Even when I wanted to touch him, I had to ask for permission first. Yet now, he didn’t resist at all. This reminded me of the “special exceptions” mentioned in the Plot. It only cemented my resolve to leave. 04. The ocean breeze was gentle. On the picnic blanket that I had personally picked out, the two of them sat side by side. Asher still had his usual stoic expression, but occasionally, when Mia spoke to him, he would reply. I made one last phone call to confirm my arrangements. Then, I asked Asher to walk up the cliffside rocks with me. If he had looked closely, it wouldn’t have been hard to notice how bulky my jacket was. Underneath it was a high-grade life vest. I just wanted to escape; I didn’t want to actually die. Even with all the preparations, I was still terrified. If Asher had asked what was wrong, I would have told him. I didn’t want to leave the home I had known my whole life, but I wanted to live. If he asked, it would mean he still cared about me. And maybe, just maybe, I could avoid that tragic ending. But we walked all the way to the top of the cliff, and he didn’t say a single word. It was so obvious that something was wrong with me, yet he was completely blind to it. Forget it, then. If I couldn’t change the Plot, I would just have to change my own destiny. “My parents really love you. Will you… take good care of them in the future?” Perhaps noticing the strange tone in my voice, he frowned slightly. He just kept his hands in his pockets and gave a vague, dismissive hum. “That’s good.” I smiled at him, though I desperately wanted to cry. We had made a promise that when we turned eighteen, he would take me skiing. I had never seen real snow. Once we got into college and moved out, we were going to get a pet. I had even picked out the breed. I was going to get a massive Alaskan Malamute. When winter came, I would force him to walk the dog. I wanted him to be so cold and exhausted that he wouldn’t have the energy to boss me around anymore. But how could a person’s heart change so quickly? 05. “I thought you were going to throw a tantrum forever.” When he said that, his tone carried a sigh of relief, as if a burden had been lifted. I was moved by that tiny sliver of relief and turned to look at him. “I didn’t push her. Mia framed me. Do you believe me?” He frowned again. “Chloe, refusing to admit when you’re wrong—you’ll never have any real friends acting like this.” I gave a bitter laugh and didn’t ask again. A gust of wind blew past. I said, “You go down first. I want to look at the ocean a little longer.” “Come down with me. It’s not safe up here.” “Just for a minute. You go. I’ll be right behind you.” He stood stubbornly behind me. Until his phone rang. It was Mia. “Asher, can you come look? I think I got bitten by a bug.” Asher hesitated for a second, then dropped a quick: “Hurry up and come down.” Then he turned and left. I sat on the edge of the cliff, watching him walk briskly toward the beach. I let out a soft sigh. It felt like I had used up a lifetime’s worth of sighs over these past few weeks. I pulled out my phone and typed one last message. [I saw her touch your hand today. It’s so dirty. I’m never seeing you again!] Once I saw ‘Delivered,’ I smashed the phone against a rock until it was shattered. I turned and leaped into the ocean. The freezing saltwater swallowed me whole. The life vest quickly pulled me back up. Right before breaking the surface, I swam under the overhang of the cliff. That was exactly why I had chosen this specific spot. It didn’t take long for Asher’s voice to echo from the beach above. “Chloe Sterling!” He had finally seen the text. I heard him tearing off his jacket, ready to jump in, but Mia was frantically holding him back. From a distance, all I could hear were his desperate screams. … Thanks to Mia stalling him, I had enough time. An unremarkable fishing boat passed by and slowly sailed away. By the time the rescue teams arrived, I was already long gone. 06. Our little childhood trio actually had three members. The third was Stella Monroe. Last year, she moved to Italy with her older brother and settled there. They say the most dangerous place is the safest place. I contacted her and begged for her help. She agreed immediately. When I told her about the insane “Novel Plot,” she believed me without hesitation. The very next morning, she flew her family’s private jet back to the States. We met in the security booth of my gated community. There were no cameras inside the booth, so Asher wouldn’t be able to track me. Inside that tiny room, we hatched our master plan. Originally, I just wanted to sneak away while Asher wasn’t looking. But Stella was the one who suggested faking my death. I thought about it and realized she was right. If I just ran away, Asher would have me dragged back within a week. But Stella said: “This is how all those ‘groveling romance’ novels work! The male lead betrays the female lead, so she punishes him with her death.” I seriously suspect there’s something toxic in the water of our neighborhood. How else did it produce three absolute weirdos like us? Regardless, I no longer believed in fairy tale princesses. The princess’s story ends with the prince loving her. My prince didn’t love me. From today onward, I was going to be the wicked witch, cursing all the bad princes to turn into toads. 07. My first year in Italy. I saw snow at the foot of the Alps. The first snowfall happened to land exactly on my birthday. Stella enthusiastically invited all her friends and threw a massive party at her villa. Right before midnight, Stella dragged me onto the dance floor. We danced from age 17 into age 18. She got completely wasted and leaned against my shoulder. She slurred that the female lead would eventually find her true happiness. I looked out the window at the falling snow and said, “I’m already very happy.” I meant it from the bottom of my heart. Aside from the occasional moments when I thought of Asher, I was truly happy. My first birthday without him was loud, chaotic, and wonderful. Without him, I could live a great life too. 08. During the New Year, I finally called my parents. At first, they thought they were hallucinating. Once they realized it was really me, they screamed and scolded me mercilessly. I hadn’t told them my plan because I was terrified they would snitch to Asher. Looking back, I don’t know if that was the right choice. But listening to them yell at me, I didn’t argue back. I reminded them not to tell Asher, and they reluctantly agreed. Finally, I couldn’t help but ask how he was doing. They told me that for the first two days, he sat on the beach from dawn until dusk, staring at the police boats searching the water. It took over a month for him to somewhat calm down. On my birthday, he sat on that cliffside all day. He ignored everyone who tried to talk to him. Displayed on his phone screen was the last text I ever sent him. After that, Mia took my place, following him everywhere like a shadow. My parents felt sorry for me. They said if I hadn’t left, Mia would never have had the chance. I didn’t tell them that they were already practically glued together before I left. I updated them on my life. The Monroe family had a small chateau near the Alps. That was where Stella and I were staying. I had been taking language classes for a few months, and I planned to enroll at the University of Trento by the fall. Stella and her brother had arranged everything, and it had cost a fortune. I told my parents to make sure they paid the Monroes back. Without a second thought, my parents wired five million dollars to Stella’s account. After months of living off my best friend, I was a rich heiress again. 09. I showed them the snow outside my window on the video call, and they promised to visit when they had time. Before hanging up, they couldn’t help but drop subtle hints that Asher had become terrifyingly gloomy since I left, and that he truly cared about me. I explicitly warned them that if they breathed a word of this to Asher, I would disappear again, and this time, they would never find me. After ending the call, I thought for a long time. I had left while Asher still loved me. That was why he remembered me. A dead first love is the most unforgettable thing in the world. But if I had stayed, and waited until he completely fell for Mia… I would have gone from a cherished memory to an annoying stain on his life. If I left then, everyone would have just clapped and cheered. Since that was the case, it was better to stay a ghost in his heart. Once he fell in love with Mia, I would have made a graceful, dignified exit from his story. It was the best possible outcome. After completing a grueling series of courses and exams, I entered the Economics program at the University of Trento the following autumn. Four years later, having fast-tracked my credits, I earned my Master’s degree in Economics. Five years after I left my hometown, Stella was called back to the States. I remembered that I also had a corporate empire waiting for me to inherit. Figuring that Asher and Mia’s relationship was probably rock solid by now, I decided to hitch a ride on Stella’s jet and return home. I hadn’t even eaten dinner after landing before my mom shoved me into a gown and dragged me to a high-society business gala. At first, I hid in the corners, terrified of being recognized. Until I realized that absolutely no one in the room knew who I was. I had hated these glitzy events even back then, so I rarely attended. And after five years away, my face, my aura, and my style had completely changed. No one could recognize me. Relieved, I found a plush sofa and sat down comfortably. Half an hour into the gala, a massive commotion broke out near the entrance. Whispers spread that a “V.I.P.” had arrived. Curious about who could make all these billionaires stand at attention, I cautiously poked my head out from the crowd. And locked eyes with Asher Vance in a tailored suit. 10. Asher wore a bespoke black suit, his posture impeccably straight, his facial features even sharper and more striking than they were five years ago. The moment he appeared, the air in the ballroom seemed to freeze. The corporate titans who normally looked down their noses at everyone were now tripping over themselves to flash him obsequious smiles. I shrank deep into the corner of the sofa, holding up a massive slice of Black Forest cake to hide my face, chanting internally: You can’t see me, you can’t see me. After all, my current look was entirely different from the arrogant, flashy heiress I used to be. I was wearing a low-key champagne gown, my hair pinned up in an elegant twist, and I even had a pair of gold-rimmed blue-light glasses on. It was a very ‘intellectual scholar’ vibe. But Murphy’s Law is undefeated. Asher didn’t spare a single glance at the sycophants surrounding him. Instead, like he had a built-in radar, his gaze pierced straight through the crowd and locked onto my corner. He lengthened his stride, walking directly toward me. The crowd automatically parted like the Red Sea. I swallowed hard, my fork nearly slipping from my hand. Run! That was the only word in my brain. I shot up from the sofa, grabbed the skirt of my gown, and bolted toward the side exit. I made it exactly two steps before a hand clamped onto my wrist like a vice. The grip was brutal, the heat radiating from his skin searing—exactly like that day five years ago when he forced me to apologize to Mia. My entire body went rigid. A chill ran down my scalp. “Chloe Sterling. Where exactly do you think you’re running to?” His voice was low, raspy, vibrating with five years of suppressed madness and greed. It exploded right next to my ear. I took a deep breath, turned around, and forced the most polite, stranger-like smile I could muster. “Excuse me, sir, I think you have the wrong person. My name is Aria. I just flew in from Italy.” Asher lowered his eyes, staring at me dead center, a chilling smirk curling on his lips. “Aria? Italy? Master’s in Economics from Trento?” With every word he spoke, my heart sank an inch deeper. He knew everything! He didn’t just know I was alive; he had investigated every single detail of my life! “Let go! You’re hurting me!” I started to thrash, trying to pry his fingers off. The crowd around us collectively gasped. Clearly, no one ever dared to speak to Asher Vance like that. Instead of letting go, Asher tightened his grip and yanked me flush against his chest. The familiar, icy scent of cedarwood instantly enveloped me. “Does it hurt? When you threw yourself into the ocean, did you ever stop to think if I would hurt?” His eyes turned instantly red, his voice carrying a nearly imperceptible tremor. I froze. Before I could even process what was happening, he bent down, hoisted me over his shoulder, and stood up. “Asher! Are you insane?! Put me down! There are people everywhere!” I screamed in terror, pounding my fists against his back. “I went insane a long time ago. From the exact second you jumped into the sea, I lost my mind.” Ignoring the utterly shocked stares of the elite crowd, he carried me straight out of the banquet hall and shoved me into the back of a black Maybach waiting at the entrance.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “398272”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My sister-in-law loved making dirty jokes about my husband. When my husband wore a tight black dress shirt, her eyes lit up: “Wow, looking big and broad where it counts!” When my husband did leg day at the gym, she’d click her tongue in admiration: “A man who trains his legs is the best gift a girl could ask for…” It wasn’t until our family’s holiday dinner party, during a game of Cards Against Humanity-style rapid-fire questions, that she finally crossed the line into blatant provocation. Smiling, I drew a card and asked her: “What do you use to wipe your ass?” My sister-in-law, Chloe, didn’t even blink: “Your husband’s hands!” The entire table erupted into roaring laughter. My mother wasn’t angry at all; instead, she laughed and affectionately patted Chloe’s hand. I drew another card and asked: “What do you use to wash your feet?” She raised an eyebrow with a wicked smirk: “Your husband’s mouth.” My husband, Liam’s, face instantly turned beet red all the way to his ears. I smiled, took a sip of my wine, and asked my final question: “What are you hiding on your phone that you don’t want anyone to see?” Chloe slammed her hand on the table and shouted: “Your husband’s nudes!” My cousin, Tyler, slapped the table in approval, wrapping his arm tightly around Chloe’s waist, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. “That’s my wife! She’s ruthless! Mia, you lost! Drink up!” I left my wine glass untouched, staring dead into Chloe’s eyes. “I don’t believe you. Pull them out and show us.” ……. Chloe’s face instantly went paper-white. Her previous arrogance vanished into thin air. She instinctively clutched her phone tightly to her chest, her eyes darting around nervously. Tyler was still hyping up the crowd, reaching out to grab her phone. “Come on, Chloe, pull it out and show her! Make this girl admit defeat!” Another cousin chimed in: “If you don’t have them, you have to take a shot of whiskey!” I let out a soft laugh and immediately poured a massive, overflowing glass of straight whiskey. “I’ve shown my hand. Now let’s see if you actually have the guts to show yours, Chloe.” Chloe’s demeanor snapped. She abruptly stood up, her chair screeching against the floor. “Mia, what the hell is that supposed to mean?! Are you accusing me of something? It’s just a stupid game! I’m not playing anymore!” She turned to storm off, but Tyler grabbed her arm. “Why are you getting so mad? We just want to look at your phone. It doesn’t hurt to just prove it!” The moment those words left Tyler’s mouth, tears started rolling down Chloe’s face like a broken string of pearls. She pointed a trembling finger right at Tyler’s nose and screamed: “So you don’t trust me either, is that it?! Have you been wanting to dump me for some fertile woman who can actually give you kids?!” “Fine! Let’s get a divorce! We can divorce right now!” The moment she said that, the entire living room fell into a deathly, suffocating silence. The older relatives’ faces all changed. They dropped their playing cards and rushed over to intercede. My mom was the first to charge at me. “You stupid girl! It’s the holidays! Why did you have to play this stupid game and provoke your sister-in-law like this?! Are you happy now?!” She viciously pinched my arm. “Apologize to your sister-in-law right now!” My older aunt chimed in: “Mia, you are being incredibly immature! Just because you can’t get pregnant yourself doesn’t mean you should be jealous of your sister-in-law!” My second aunt piled on: “A woman who can’t bear children has committed the ultimate sin! How do you even have the nerve to cause a scene here? If it were me, I’d find a hole to crawl into and hide!” “Chloe, sweetie, don’t be mad. Couples fight, it’s normal! There’s no need to blow this out of proportion just because Mia is acting like a brat!” Chloe cried even harder. “This isn’t about the game! This is about trust! He doesn’t even trust me! How am I supposed to stay married to him?!” As she cried, she sprinted toward the balcony. “I’d be better off dead!” Tyler lost his temper too. “Mia! It was just a game! Are you really going to push your sister-in-law to suicide before you’re satisfied?!” But even as he yelled at me, his eyes couldn’t help but nervously dart toward Chloe. “Chloe… is there actually something on your phone you don’t want us to see?” Chloe’s tears fell even faster. She ran to the edge of the balcony and threw one leg over the railing! Tyler’s face drained of all color. “CHLOE!” My mom was practically jumping up and down in panic. She spun around and slapped me hard across the face. “You jinx! How did I give birth to something like you?!” “She is pregnant with a child! If anything happens to her or that baby, you will be the greatest sinner in this family’s history!” “Get over there and apologize to her right now! Talk her down!” Several of my cousins started shoving me forward. “Go! Do you want to murder the family’s first grandson?!” “You ungrateful bitch! How dare you bully your sister-in-law!” I shrugged indifferently. “She’s the one who can’t handle losing a game she started.” My mom grabbed me by the hair, trying to drag me toward the balcony. “Chloe, please! Mia knows she was wrong! She’s here to apologize!” “Please come down! You’re going to hurt the baby!” Tyler stood nearby, his face looking utterly dreadful, but he couldn’t hide his panicked concern. “Okay, okay, I believe you! We won’t look at the phone, okay? Just come down!” But Chloe felt empowered by the attention. “Why should my reputation be dragged through the mud for no reason?! She has to apologize to me! Otherwise, I’m not coming down!” Tyler panicked. “Mia, please! I’m begging you! I know you’re stubborn, but just apologize to your sister-in-law! She’s pregnant!” I looked at Tyler, shaking my head in profound disappointment. “I’ll apologize, but only after she pulls out her phone and lets me see it.” Chloe immediately threw her other leg over the railing! My mom looked like a deranged lunatic, lunging forward to beat me again, but Liam grabbed her arm to stop her. He shot me a highly complex, unreadable look. “If I take her phone and show it to you, will you apologize?” I raised an eyebrow and nodded. Liam reached out. His hand had barely brushed against Chloe’s phone. Suddenly, Chloe let out a piercing scream. Her foot slipped, and her entire body plummeted backward off the balcony! Without a second thought, Liam lunged forward to grab her, but her momentum threw him off balance, and he was dragged over the railing with her! “CHLOE!” Tyler screamed like his soul had left his body, sprinting frantically down the stairs. I stood coldly in the living room, watching my family devolve into absolute chaos—screaming, calling 911, rushing downstairs to save them. My mom charged back up to me and shoved me violently. “You cold-blooded, heartless animal! Liam fell off the balcony trying to save Chloe, and you don’t even care?!” “Did you really have to win this stupid game?! If there are no photos on that phone, you just murdered two people for nothing!” “How did I raise such a vicious, sociopathic monster?!” The other relatives swarmed around me, pointing fingers. “You absolute jinx! Ruining the holidays with this tragedy!” “You can’t get pregnant yourself, so you can’t stand seeing anyone else happy! Your heart is pure evil!” “Tyler has the worst luck in the world having you as a cousin!” I casually brushed the imaginary dust off my shirt. “We’re on the second floor. Even if they landed on their heads, they wouldn’t die.” “As for what’s on that phone… if she truly had nothing to hide, would she rather risk death than let me see it?” My mom froze, temporarily speechless. Right then, Tyler’s agonizing, gut-wrenching screams echoed from the courtyard below. “Chloe! Chloe is bleeding! The baby! My baby!” Liam, who had broken his leg trying to shield Chloe during the fall, was sweating profusely from the pain. Our massive extended family swarmed the hospital emergency room like a chaotic army. Outside the operating room, Tyler knelt on the floor, his face ghost-white, pulling violently at his own hair. “This is all my fault… this is all my fault…” “Chloe went through so much pain—taking all those pills and getting all those injections just to finally get pregnant—and I actually doubted her… I’m a monster!” I walked up to him and held out my hand. “Where is her phone?” Tyler snapped his head up. His hands balled into tight fists, and pushed past his breaking point, he roared at me: “Your sister-in-law and your husband are both in emergency surgery! And you’re still obsessing over a fucking phone?!” “Is human life worth less to you than a stupid game?!” Furious and devastated, he pulled Chloe’s phone out of his pocket and violently hurled it at my chest. “Here! Take it! Are you happy now?!” The relatives gathered outside the OR instantly erupted, pointing their fingers at my nose and cursing me. “Mia, you have crossed the line!” “You don’t even care if your own husband lives or dies! Are you even human?!” “If anything happens to Chloe, you will pay for it for the rest of your life!” I treated their voices like white noise. My only focus was opening that phone. But the screen was completely shattered from the fall. It was just a glowing white void; I couldn’t see a thing. Tyler let out a cold, bitter laugh as he stood up. “Satisfied now? The phone is destroyed! You can’t check anything!” “If anything happens to my wife or my child, I am going to destroy you!” Everyone crowded around the OR doors, waiting anxiously for news. I quietly texted a friend who worked in IT forensics: “I need a massive favor. I have a phone with a shattered screen that needs data recovery. As fast as humanly possible.” I ordered an emergency courier and sent the broken phone off immediately. Just then, the doors to the operating room opened. The doctor pulled down his mask and shook his head. “I’m sorry. We did everything we could. The baby didn’t make it.” Chloe was wheeled out. Her face was as pale as a sheet of paper, her lips cracked and dry, her eyes tightly closed. Tyler broke down completely. He threw himself over her gurney, sobbing hysterically. “Chloe! My baby! This is all my fault!” “I’m so sorry!” He began viciously slapping his own face, over and over, only stopping when blood began to trickle from the corner of his mouth. I walked up and patted his shoulder. “Tyler. My condolences.” “But honestly, you shouldn’t be so sure that baby was even yours.” Tyler whipped his head around, grabbed me by the collar, and slapped me hard across the face. “Mia! I’m going to kill you, you bitch!” “What the hell are you trying to do?! Chloe is lying here half-dead, and you’re still trying to slander her?!” “What did I ever do to you that makes you want to destroy my marriage so badly?!” I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth and stared at him with a cold, mocking smile. “Slander her?” “Tyler, do you honestly believe Chloe was a virgin who had never dated anyone before she met you?” I pulled a photograph out of my pocket and slapped it hard against his chest. It was a photo of Chloe and Liam. In the picture, they looked about seventeen or eighteen years old. They were clinging to each other like conjoined twins. Chloe’s arms were wrapped tightly around Liam’s neck, their lips practically touching. The intimacy was undeniable. Tyler picked up the photo. His eyes instantly glazed over. He stared at the picture, then looked at me, his lips trembling. It took him a long time to force out a sentence. “What… what is this?” The relatives swarming around us leaned in to look. The moment they saw the photo, the hallway exploded in shock. “Wait… isn’t that Liam?” “Chloe and Liam knew each other before this?” “No wonder Chloe refused to show her phone earlier… Is there something going on between them?” The commotion woke Chloe up. She slowly opened her eyes, and the moment she saw the photo, her face turned a ghastly shade of white. She struggled to sit up on the gurney. “Mia! You psycho! Liam and I were just classmates in high school!” “You actually photoshopped a picture to frame me and destroy my marriage with Tyler! You are pure evil!” She looked at Tyler, tears streaming down her face, her eyes filled with desperate grievance. “Honey, you have to believe me! I have never, ever betrayed you! This is all Mia’s sick, twisted conspiracy!” Tyler held the photo, his hands shaking violently. He looked at Chloe, then back at the photo. His eyes were a chaotic mess of conflict and doubt. I let out a cold laugh. “Classmates? Do classmates hold each other that tightly? Do classmates wrap their arms around each other’s necks?” “Chloe, I already did the background check. You and Liam dated in high school, and you lived together for two years!” “When you married Tyler, you played the innocent, pure virgin. Doesn’t that make you sick to your stomach?” Chloe’s face went completely bloodless. She opened her mouth, but for a long time, no words came out. Tyler stared at Chloe. “Chloe, is she telling the truth?” Chloe shook her head frantically, crying and screaming, “NO! Honey, please believe me! Mia made this all up! She’s jealous that I could get pregnant with your child, so she’s trying to frame me!” She struggled off the gurney and threw herself into Tyler’s arms, hugging him tightly around the waist. “Honey, you know how much I suffered to get pregnant! This baby was a miracle! And now that Mia killed our baby, she’s still trying to ruin my reputation…” I laughed. “What’s so hard about getting pregnant? I just lent you my husband for a night, right?” Chloe pointed a shaking finger at me. “What the hell are you talking about?! You really have gone insane from playing that game!” I smiled coldly. “I just paid someone to take the fetal tissue from your miscarriage to a private lab for a rapid DNA test.” “Whether I’m talking nonsense or not, we’ll know as soon as the results come back.” The panic in Chloe’s eyes was instantaneous and undeniable. The next second, she turned a freezing, lethal glare onto Tyler. “Tyler, did you know about this?! Did you authorize this test?!” Tyler shook his head frantically. “No! I had no idea she did that!” The hatred in Chloe’s eyes was palpable. She stared at Tyler, enunciating every word. “Tyler, since you clearly suspect me too, then we are done.” “The second the courthouse opens, we are getting a divorce!” Tyler completely panicked. He grabbed Chloe’s hands, his eyes filled with desperate pleading. “No! Chloe, I never doubted you! I don’t care if you dated someone before me, it doesn’t matter! I truly love you!” “Please don’t divorce me! This is all Mia’s fault!” The aunts and uncles immediately started trying to play peacemaker. “Yeah, Chloe, every couple fights. Tyler was just confused for a second, you have to forgive him.” “You can always have another baby, but if you get a divorce, you’ll lose everything!” “Mia, so what if your sister-in-law dated someone before? Didn’t you date around in college too? Who are you to judge?!” “You act like a total bitch, and you still have the nerve to attack your sister-in-law!” “Get on your knees and apologize right now!” Right at that exact moment. A nurse walked over holding a sealed manila envelope. “The rapid DNA test results are in.” “The biological father of the fetus… is not Mr. Tyler Evans.” That single sentence acted like a nuclear bomb detonating in the middle of the hallway. Tyler stared at Chloe in absolute, shattered disbelief. The desperate love in his eyes vanished, replaced by a terrifying void. “You lied to me! You actually lied to me!” He slapped Chloe across the face with all his strength. “I treated you like a queen, and this is how you repay me?!” Chloe held her stinging cheek, crying even harder. “Honey, I didn’t! The clinic must have mixed up the test tubes! I have never betrayed you!” I laughed coldly. “A mix-up? A mix-up that just happens to perfectly match Liam’s DNA?” “He has never donated sperm to a clinic in his life.” Chloe’s face turned ash-white. “You’re making this up! Everyone knows you have friends who work at this hospital! You did this on purpose to frame me!” Just then, Liam hobbled out of his hospital room on crutches. He walked over to Chloe’s side and let out a heavy sigh. “It’s my fault.” “A while ago, I was desperate for cash, so I went to a clinic and donated sperm. I never imagined it would lead to this kind of bizarre coincidence.” “Mia, are you satisfied now?” I stared at him with a cold, mocking smile, my eyes filled with profound disappointment. “Liam, do you even bother trying to make your lies sound believable anymore?” “Do you honestly think that pathetic excuse is going to clear you and Chloe?” Tyler suddenly snapped. Like a wild animal, he grabbed me by the collar and violently slammed my head against the hospital wall. “This is all your fault! You psychotic bitch!” “If it weren’t for you, Chloe wouldn’t have miscarried, and our baby wouldn’t be dead!” “Why are you doing this to us?!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “398288”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Pregnancy insomnia had me wide awake at 2 AM, mindlessly scrolling through my phone, when I stumbled upon a video titled “Three Toasts to Destiny.” In the video, a frail girl in a hospital bed was holding up a plastic medicine cup filled with ginger ale, toasting to her rebirth. The first toast is to my lover. Here’s to him suppressing his physical disgust to sleep with that woman. Just because she has O-negative blood, making her the perfect incubator to grow my “cure.” The second toast is to the fetus. Because only that woman’s newborn stem cells are pure enough. So my lover tracked her ovulation, swapped out her birth control, and made sure she got pregnant. The third toast is to the due date. In three months, when the baby drops, my new life begins. As for the hollowed-out mother who gets left behind… who cares if she lives or dies. The comment section was flooded with people calling it “edgy” and “romantic.” But reading it, my blood ran ice cold. Because five minutes ago, my husband, Ethan Carter—a top hematology specialist. Had just brought me a glass of warm milk and a Neonatal Stem Cell Directed Donation Consent Form. Ethan was dressed in his cozy cashmere loungewear, his gold-rimmed glasses resting on the bridge of his straight nose. He looked as gentle and refined as ever. He even thoughtfully tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Audrey, drink your milk and get some sleep. It’s good for the baby.” His voice was so tender it could melt snow. If I hadn’t just watched that video, I would have thought I was the luckiest pregnant woman in the world. I looked down at the consent form. Through the dense paragraphs of legal jargon, there was only one core takeaway: The umbilical cord blood and stem cells after the baby’s birth would be donated, free of charge, to a patient named Lily Rivers. Lily. The name sounded awfully familiar. The ID of the girl in the video was “One White Lily.” My hand trembled. Half the milk spilled onto the blankets. Ethan frowned slightly, but immediately grabbed some tissues to wipe my hands. His tone was a mix of reproach and pampering. “Why are you so clumsy? Did you burn yourself?” I pulled my hand back, avoiding his touch. “Ethan, who is this Lily? Why are we doing a directed donation specifically for her?” Ethan’s movements paused. Only for a second. He quickly recovered his natural composure and pushed the paper a little closer to me. “She’s a very pitiful young girl. Her leukemia relapsed, and her condition is critical. You have rare O-negative blood, and our baby likely will too. It’s a perfect match.” He looked into my eyes, his gaze deeply affectionate. “Audrey, you have the kindest heart. Just think of it as building good karma for our child, okay?” Good karma. That phrase from the video—who cares if she lives or dies—stabbed into my brain like an ice pick. I forced down the urge to vomit and pointed at my phone screen. “What about this video? Is this good karma too?” Ethan followed my gaze. On the screen, the woman in the hospital gown was smiling at the camera. On her wrist was a braided red thread bracelet. It was the exact one Ethan claimed he got from a mindfulness retreat in Sedona two years ago. He told me he lost it. Turns out, he lost it onto another woman’s wrist. Ethan’s pupils shrank drastically. But he was too calm. Calm like a surgeon dissecting a cadaver. He took my phone, closed the app, and even casually tucked the blankets around me. “Don’t read that garbage on the internet. People make up anything for views. And that bracelet? You can buy it at any tourist trap.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead. His lips felt freezing cold. “Be a good girl. Sign it and go to sleep. That patient is running out of time.” That last sentence carried a barely detectable urgency. I stared at him. I had loved this face for seven years. From high school sweethearts to walking down the aisle, I thought he was my salvation. I never imagined he was a grim reaper coming for my life. I grabbed the pen and slashed a hard, jagged line across the consent form. “I’m not signing it.” Ethan’s face instantly darkened. That night, Ethan didn’t come back to our bedroom. He stayed in his study until dawn. The next morning, the dining table was covered with my favorite breakfast. Avocado toast, artisanal bone broth, fresh berries, and an unopened bottle of prenatal vitamins. Ethan served me breakfast with a smile, acting like nothing happened. “I had a bad attitude last night. Don’t be mad, Audrey. We can talk about the donation later. Eat first.” He pushed the bottle of pills toward me. “I had a colleague bring these back from Europe. Highest purity folic acid, great for the baby’s brain development. Make sure you take them on time.” If this were yesterday, I would have been incredibly touched. After all, he was a renowned medical authority and a notorious workaholic. Taking the time to care about these little details was proof of his love. But now, I just felt sick. I swallowed the pill right in front of him. Then, maintaining the warm, loving atmosphere, I kissed his cheek and sent him off to work. The second the front door clicked shut, I sprinted to the bathroom, shoved my fingers down my throat, and threw up my entire breakfast and the pill. Stomach acid burned my esophagus. Tears and snot smeared my face. I carefully scooped the dissolved remains of the pill into a Ziploc bag. That afternoon, I went to a private clinic. I sought out my best friend, Sarah, who worked as a pharmacist. The lab results came back fast. Sarah was holding the printout, her hands shaking. “Audrey, this isn’t folic acid. This is Filgrastim! And it’s an incredibly high dose!” “This drug is meant for bone marrow donors. It forces the bone marrow to overproduce stem cells and dump them into the bloodstream. The side effects are brutal. For a pregnant woman, long-term use can lead to liver and kidney failure, or even…” She didn’t dare finish. I finished it for her: “Even maternal death, right?” Sarah nodded, her eyes red. I smiled. A smile uglier than crying. So, the phrase who cares if she lives or dies wasn’t a hyperbole. It was a literal medical plan. He really wanted my life. Just to save his Lily. On my way home, my phone rang. It was Ethan. He was panting slightly, and the background noise was chaotic, like an ER. “Audrey, where are you? Your GPS says you’re out.” He had installed a tracker on my phone. He used to say it was to keep me safe. Now I knew it was just to monitor his “vessel.” I watched the city streets blur past the car window, keeping my voice perfectly flat. “Just out buying some baby clothes. Why?” “Go home immediately! There are too many germs out there, you’ll catch a bug.” He paused, his tone suddenly dropping into something sinister. “Don’t wander off. I’ll worry.” After hanging up, I clicked on “One White Lily’s” profile. She had updated. This time, the photo was taken outside an ICU. The caption read: [That woman hasn’t signed the form yet, but he told me to leave everything to him and rest easy. It’s okay. For our future, I can endure anything.] A comment asked: “What if she finds out?” She replied: [What if she does? The baby is in her belly, the baby’s life is in her hands. But her life, is in his hands.] My knuckles turned white as I gripped the phone. Ethan. If you want to play games. Let’s play for keeps. I started acting completely normal. Taking my “medicine” on time, reporting my whereabouts. Sure enough, Ethan lowered his guard. To ease whatever twisted guilt he felt, he started coming home earlier, cooking for me, and massaging my swollen legs. His hands were dry and warm, hitting all the right pressure points. Looking at his focused profile, I suddenly asked, “Ethan, we should pick a name for the baby.” His hands didn’t stop. “Let’s name him River.” “What?” “River. Like a mighty, flowing river. It’s a strong name.” I sneered in my heart. River. For Lily Rivers. How poetic. How painfully devoted. “I want to go to Mount Sinai for my next checkup. I heard there’s a specialist there who’s amazing,” I probed cautiously. Ethan’s hands suddenly tightened, digging painfully into my calf. “No need.” He looked up, the gaze behind his lenses chilling. “I am the best doctor. My colleagues are the best team. I don’t trust outside physicians.” “But…” “Listen to me.” He cut me off, leaving no room for argument. “Your condition is unique. Only I understand your body perfectly. Don’t go making a fuss out there. What if something goes wrong?” He made it sound so noble. In reality, he was terrified a real obstetrician would look at my bloodwork, see my hormone levels spiking dangerously, and realize I was being slowly murdered. Over the next two weeks, Ethan escalated his control. He hired a “nanny.” He said it was to take care of me, but she was a warden. My keycard was confiscated. My cell reception became mysteriously spotty. I was a pig in a pen. Just waiting for slaughter day. Until late one night, Ethan got a frantic call and rushed out. He forgot to lock the study. I slipped in and found a folder on his desktop named “L & E”. Encrypted. I tried my birthday. Error. Our wedding anniversary. Error. Finally, I typed in the date from Lily’s video—the day they celebrated their “rebirth.” October 18th. The folder clicked open. It was packed with photos and medical records. Pictures of Lily bald from chemo, pictures of her leaning into Ethan’s chest, laughing brilliantly. The timestamps spanned a decade. They were the high school sweethearts. I was just the tragic accident who got in the way, the unlucky fool who happened to have the golden O-negative blood. In a document titled Ovulation & Conception Protocol, I found something even more vile. Ethan had documented my menstrual cycles down to the hour. Which day he swapped the pills. Which day he poked holes in the condoms. Which days intercourse was strictly mandatory. Every single date corresponded to a night I had mistaken for passionate, spontaneous love. To him, those nights were just sickening, calculated breeding assignments. The last line of the document read: “Target Delivery: 32 weeks. Pre-term C-section to ensure maximum stem cell viability.” 32 weeks. That was next week. He never intended for me to carry to term. A baby born at seven months would be fighting for its life. But he didn’t care. He only needed the “cure.” The front door clicked open. Ethan was back. I instantly killed the monitor and held my breath in the dark. Footsteps stopped right outside the study. The doorknob turned. I pressed myself behind the heavy velvet curtains, shaking uncontrollably. Ethan walked in. He seemed exhausted. He collapsed into his desk chair and lit a cigarette. In the dim glow of the cherry, his face was shadowy and hollow. “Lily, just hold on a little longer. It’s almost over,” he whispered to the empty room. “Next Tuesday. I’ll schedule the surgery. You’re going to be okay.” My heart plummeted into an abyss. Next Tuesday. Three days from now. I waited until Ethan went to the master bedroom before I dared to creep back into my own room. I stared at the ceiling until dawn broke. The next morning, I intentionally threw myself down a flight of stairs. It made a horrific crash. The nanny screamed and frantically dialed Ethan’s number. I curled on the hardwood floor, clutching my stomach, cold sweat pouring down my face. “It hurts… take me to the hospital, the nearest one, now!” Ethan roared through the speakerphone: “Do not take her anywhere else! Wait for me! I’m bringing an ambulance now!” The nanny was paralyzed with fear. I grabbed her arm, my nails biting into her skin. “I’m bleeding! Are you going to watch me die? If we both die, can you afford the prison time?!” That broke her. She dialed 911. Just as the paramedics arrived, Ethan’s SUV tore into the driveway. His eyes were bloodshot as he physically shoved a paramedic out of the way. “I am a doctor! She is my patient! And my wife! I am taking her to my hospital!” The EMTs looked shocked, but recognizing his badge and authority, they backed off. I was shoved into the passenger seat of Ethan’s car. He slammed the gas pedal to the floor, his jaw tight enough to crack stone. “Audrey, did you do that on purpose?” He figured it out. I was pale from genuine pain, but I forced a weak, pathetic smile. “Ethan, I was just so scared for the baby… why are you so angry?” Ethan didn’t say a word. He drove me straight to his hospital and wheeled me right into a VIP suite. Not maternity. Hematology. In the bed next to mine lay Lily Rivers. It was the first time I saw her in person. She wasn’t as arrogant as she was online. She was skin and bones, looking like a shattered porcelain doll. But the way she looked at me was pure, unfiltered greed. Like a starving wolf looking at a slab of meat. Ethan injected something into my IV. A sedative. Before the darkness pulled me under, I heard Lily’s frail voice. “Ethan… is that her? My medicine?” Ethan stroked her hair, his voice dripping with a tenderness I had never received. “Don’t talk like that. She’s our benefactor.” “What benefactor? She’s a walking blood bag. Once the baby is out, she’s useless anyway, right?” “Lily, stop it. The OR is prepped. You get ready too.” “Ethan, do you really not feel bad? That is your child… and your wife.” Silence. A long, suffocating silence. Then, Ethan’s cold, dead voice. “Only the living have the right to claim a title. If she doesn’t cooperate, she’s nothing but medical waste.” A tear slipped from the corner of my eye and soaked into the sterile pillow. So this is what it feels like when your heart truly dies. I was violently awakened by the shrieking of medical alarms. In the bed next to me, Lily was convulsing. The lines on her heart monitor were spiking erratically. Ethan burst through the doors like a madman, a crash team hot on his heels. “Push EPI! Charge the paddles!” The look in his eyes—sheer panic, utter despair—it was the shattering grief of a man watching his soulmate slip away. Nobody paid me any attention. I lay there like an invisible prop, a few feet away, coldly watching this life-and-death melodrama. Half an hour later, Lily was stabilized. Dead silence returned to the room. Ethan slumped into a chair between our beds, his white coat drenched in sweat. He pulled off his glasses, buried his face in his hands, and let out a suppressed, agonizing sob. “Audrey.” A long time passed before he said my name. His voice was raspy, heavy with exhaustion. “She can’t hold on. The original plan was Tuesday, but we have to do it sooner.” He looked up. Those striking eyes I used to adore were bloodshot and filled with a terrifying, psychopathic resolve. “Tomorrow. Tomorrow afternoon, we operate.” A chill racked my body. I instinctively covered my belly. “It’s not even 32 weeks! Ethan, you’re a doctor! You know the risks for a micro-preemie! His lungs aren’t developed, he could suffer brain damage, he could die!” Ethan stood up and walked to my bedside. He didn’t bother with the gentle husband facade anymore. He looked down at me from above, his eyes reflecting a clinically insane logic. “I know. That’s why I’ve prepared the best NICU team, the most advanced incubators on the coast. As long as that baby comes out with a heartbeat, I will keep him alive.” “But the priority is the stem cells. They must be fresh. They must be extracted at peak viability.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “398273”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The first week back after the New Year’s break, we flew to the Chicago headquarters for the annual meeting. The Chairman laughed loudly as he looked over last year’s financial statements. “Sarah has been out at the London branch for three years now. Profits doubled last year—she takes top honors for that.” He turned to look at the man sitting next to him. “Mark, you and Sarah have been together for seven years. It’s about time you bring her back to headquarters and get married.” The other executives started teasing and egging him on. “That’s right, Mr. Sterling. A seven-year marathon? You can’t make a girl wait forever.” I subconsciously gripped my pen tightly. I thought the thousand-plus days and nights in London had finally come to an end. But upon hearing this, Mark Sterling pressed his finger down on the already printed transfer order on the table. “Chloe Bennett is being transferred to headquarters. Sarah Jenkins will remain in her current position.” His voice was cold, strictly business. “Chloe has less experience. Coming back to headquarters to learn is best for everyone.” He looked at me, his gaze dismissive. “Sarah, you wouldn’t want me to get a reputation for nepotism just over a personal matter, would you?” The raucous teasing in the conference room stopped instantly. Chloe bit her lip, the joy in her eyes impossible to hide. “Mr. Sterling, this doesn’t seem right. Sarah has been waiting for three years…” Mark turned his head to look at me. His tone was gentle, but every word felt like a knife. “Sarah, you always see the bigger picture. You understand my decision, right?” “Be good. London isn’t that far. I’ll fly out to see you every weekend from now on and bring you those croissants you love from that bakery on 5th.” I looked at Mark, then at the transfer order in Chloe’s hand that was supposed to be mine, and nodded at him. “Mr. Sterling is right. The workplace should indeed follow rules.” Mark Sterling, the road between New York and London is long. I’m not waiting for that return journey you promised anymore. … When the meeting adjourned, the New York sky was threatening rain. Everyone discreetly left first, but Chloe held her folder and trotted over to stand in front of Mark. Her eyes were red, and she was biting her lip hard. “Mr. Sterling, thank you for this opportunity. It’s just… I’m afraid Sarah will misunderstand…” Mark didn’t even look up; he was already busy pulling his hand away from where it had been resting near mine on the table. “This is a company decision. It has nothing to do with my personal relationship with Sarah.” “Sarah is manager level; she has a better grasp of reality. She won’t lose her head over nothing like you do.” Mark’s tone was distant, holding her at arm’s length. Chloe shot me a quick look, then immediately bowed her head to thank him. “Yes, I will work hard. Sarah… then I’ll have to trouble you to keep handling things in London.” I didn’t speak. I just quietly picked up my things. Only after Chloe disappeared did Mark slowly stand up. He took off his suit jacket and placed it over my shoulders. “Are you angry?” “Chloe is fresh out of college, she hasn’t seen much of the world. She needs systematic learning at headquarters to grow.” “She’ll go back to the London branch sooner or later. I’m thinking about you, too—I’m training a top-tier assistant to send to you later.” I didn’t argue. I picked up my bag and stood up. He moved to my side, quickly grabbing my briefcase from me. “Come on, I’ll take you to your hotel.” In the parking garage, I had just settled into the passenger seat when Mark took out a bakery box. “I had someone wait in line specifically to buy these for you.” He broke off a piece of a pastry and held it to my lips. But I didn’t open my mouth like I usually would. “I don’t have an appetite.” His hand paused awkwardly, then he moved to help me adjust my seatbelt. When he leaned in close, the woody cologne he was wearing was still the one I bought him last year. But as he pulled the shoulder strap, a pink, fluffy keychain hanging near the retractor immediately caught my attention. He froze for a second, then casually ripped it off. “That girl Chloe. She took the car to pick up files yesterday and insisted this seatbelt dug into her neck, so she put this cover on it.” He carelessly threw the pink fluffy thing into the center console storage bin, looking completely exasperated. “Seriously, she’s such a handful. Little girls just love this useless, fancy stuff.” In that storage bin, I used to keep my allergy medication. But now, that small bottle had been squeezed into a corner. The bin was filled with open packs of breath mints, artisanal chocolates, and miniature designer toys… If I remembered correctly, those were all things Chloe liked. I thought about the thousand-plus days and nights in London. Just to see him for a moment, I would work through lunch on Thursday and handle a whole day’s worth of files on Friday. Only then could I make the 6:00 PM last flight to New York. Sometimes due to thunderstorms and delays, I would have to sit in the airport until dawn. He always said, “Sarah, the distance between us is so great; you really don’t need to run back and forth so often.” Back then, I thought he was worried about me being tired. Only now did I understand that Mark Sterling was probably afraid I would walk in on the cozy nest he was preparing for someone else. Mark didn’t notice my inner turmoil. He started the car, his expression normal. “Is your flight booked? I won’t be able to take you to the airport tomorrow.” “Chloe needs to get familiar with the processes; I have to take her around to the different departments.” He spoke as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Only then did I realize that he had long considered me going to the airport alone as the most normal thing. I turned my head and spoke softly. “Mark, I’ve bought 157 round-trip tickets between London and New York. The destination of every single one was you.” “But before she passed, my mom told me that if you knock on a door for seven years and it doesn’t open, it’s time to find a new path.” Mark slammed on the brakes, then reached out to pinch my cheek. “Your mother was just worried about you; she was talking out of frustration.” “I’ll reimburse you for the plane tickets. I promised at the meeting, didn’t I? From now on, I’ll fly to see you. I won’t make you tire yourself out, okay?” He took out a piece of chocolate and stuffed it into my mouth. A sweetness that didn’t belong to me spread through my mouth. “Be good. Don’t throw a temper tantrum right now. When the London project ends, I promise I’ll bring you home.” The car stopped in front of the hotel. Mark didn’t even kill the engine. He looked at his watch, then back at me. “Sarah, I’m really busy this afternoon. Go up and get some rest yourself.” He leaned in a bit, intending to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I leaned back almost like a reflex. “Mark Sterling, seven years is the limit. If you can’t make it happen, I’m not waiting for you anymore.” Mark let out a short laugh, his expression cool. “Stop talking nonsense, Sarah. It’s damp in London; remember to take your medication on time.” The next morning, I appeared punctually at the head office. When Human Resources saw the vacation request form I submitted, they were taken aback, then immediately understood and smiled. “Congratulations, Sarah. I’ve approved these ten days of wedding leave.” “I knew it. Mr. Sterling was just being emotional yesterday. After a night of you straightening him out, he must have rushed to propose to you.” Colleagues passing by heard her ambiguous teasing, and within half an hour, the news spread throughout the entire company. When I walked to the breakroom, several high-level executives I knew nodded at me in congratulation. “Sarah, you two have finally made it. Don’t forget to invite us to the wedding.” I just smiled politely, neither confirming nor denying. “I still have to hand over some work; let’s talk later.” I went to deliver the final report, not having yet entered the Chairman’s office. Through the crack in the door, I saw a sight that made my breath catch. In the Vice President’s office across the hall, Chloe was standing in front of the desk wearing a tight, professional skirt. Mark was leaning forward, his fingers reaching around her waist. It seemed the zipper was stuck, and he was patiently working on it. “This skirt isn’t appropriate. Don’t wear it next time.” Though his words were scolding, the tenderness in his eyes was something I had never seen before. Chloe giggled and snuggled closer into his arms, their posture intimate. “But I wanted to wear it for you, Mark.” Mark looked helpless and tapped her nose. “I failed to train a top-tier assistant, but I certainly raised a little troublemaker.” I curled my lips in a self-mocking smile and raised my hand to knock on the open door frame. The two inside quickly separated. When Mark saw it was me, the smile on his face vanished instantly. “Sarah, why are you still here? Weren’t you supposed to fly to London today?” He looked at the papers in my hand and let out a long sigh of relief. “Is there a report that wasn’t delivered? For a small thing like that, just have Chloe come pick it up.” Mark reached out to take them. Before his fingertips could touch mine, Chloe stepped ahead and grabbed them. “Sarah, I can handle this kind of grunt work. Mr. Sterling just praised me for being a fast learner and doing good work.” Mark nodded. “Chloe is right, Sarah. She is indeed a promising young professional.” At that moment, they truly looked like a great office mentor and mentee. Just then, the Chairman pushed open the door and walked in. As soon as he entered, he laughed heartily. “Mark, you rascal! Sarah’s wedding leave request has already made it to my desk.” “Do you two plan to have the wedding in London or here in New York?” “We have to make sure this wedding is done right for our company’s golden couple.” Mark’s hand froze violently. He looked up at me, first shocked, then anger flared in his eyes. “Chairman, our private matters aren’t settled yet. Don’t believe everything you hear, ha-ha.” The Chairman awkwardly rubbed his nose. Seeming to sense something was wrong, he made an excuse to leave. The door closed. Mark stood up and approached me. “Sarah Jenkins, you’ve really outdone yourself. You submitted a request for wedding leave!” “Acting like this—are you trying to force a marriage?” “What happened to the ‘modern, independent woman’ you always claim to be? Why are you suddenly rushing me and forcing my hand!” He lectured me without hiding his agitation. Chloe stood on the side, chiming in with a timely gasp. “Sarah, you actually submitted wedding leave…” “But Mark still has to take me to site inspections this afternoon. He… he won’t have time to help you prepare for a wedding.” Mark shot me a look of disgust and carelessly swiped a coffee mug off his desk. That mug was one I had custom-made and given to him. “Chloe, sorry you had to see this joke. The afternoon itinerary is unchanged. Go get busy first.” Chloe raised her eyebrows and gave me a meaningful, smug smile. “Okay, Mark. See you at our spot.” With that, she disappeared from my sight. Mark tugged at his tie, softening his voice. “Sarah, drop these little schemes.” “I am currently in a rising phase of my career. I will not let these private matters disrupt my plans.” “Either you use that approved time off to go on a vacation and get some rest—I’ll cover all expenses.” “Or, if you are hell-bent on getting married right now, then you can find the groom yourself.” I didn’t compromise as I usually did. I raised my head, meeting his gaze. “Fine. You said it.” After a busy week, I had almost forgotten Mark Sterling existed. He hadn’t contacted me for days. He was waiting for me to bow my head, waiting for me to send a fearful, apologetic message to coax him like I used to. But I enjoyed the peace. During my free time, I even went to feel the long-absent ocean breeze. I preferred New York. The breeze here was gentle and lingering. Not like London—the air there was damp and carried a sense of brokenness. During those three years in London, I was always a stranger in a strange land. Countless times I woke up in the middle of the night, the only thing on my mind being the promises Mark had made to me by the sea. Until Friday afternoon, he proactively sent a text: [7:00 PM, a restaurant on the Upper East Side. Happy 7th Anniversary.] Looking at those words, my heart wavered slightly. New York’s skyline, with its neon lights flickering bright and dim, reflected on Mark’s affectionate face. He pushed a jewelry box toward me. “Sarah, Happy 7th Anniversary.” My fingertips had just touched the box when his phone vibrated. On the screen, the name ‘Chloe’ was exceptionally jarring. Mark answered the phone. Chloe’s tearful voice immediately came through. “Mark, the power went out at my place. I’m so scared of the dark. I was cutting fruit just now and cut my hand. There’s so much blood…” Mark’s expression changed instantly. He gripped the phone, his voice filled with anxiety. “You’re bleeding? Is it serious? Do you have band-aids?” “Don’t move around!” What a thoughtful three-question response. I withdrew my hand. Whatever was inside that box didn’t matter anymore. He seemed to completely forget that I was sitting across from him, until Chloe cried out again on the other end. Mark looked up. Though his tone was gentle, he had clearly already made a decision. “Sarah, it’s not easy for Chloe being alone in New York. She must be terrified.” “She can handle it. I have to go over there right now.” “Can you wait for me for a bit?” He didn’t wait for my answer. He had already stood up, grabbed his coat, and rushed out of the restaurant. I lived in London alone. I learned to change lightbulbs alone. I suffered alone… from initially only knowing how to cry, to later even being able to fix leaky pipes and carry heavy groceries upstairs… During that entire time, he never appeared by my side. Actually, I had long learned not to need him. Half an hour later, Chloe, with a band-aid wrapped around her finger, appeared at the table. She looked like a child who had done something wrong, shyly hiding behind Mark. “Sarah, I’m so sorry. I’m really too clumsy. I ruined your anniversary celebration.” Mark gentlemanly pulled out a chair for her, sitting down right beside her. “Sarah, Chloe worked with you, after all. Don’t make her feel too uncomfortable.” The waiter began serving the food. Mark raised his hand to stop the plate of escargots. “Take it back. Replace it with fish soup.” That was a dish he used to order for me every single time we dated. “Sarah, your stomach isn’t great. Don’t eat anything too heavy tonight. Just have something light with Chloe.” I didn’t even know who it was exactly that had the weak stomach. He ordered a black truffle steak, cut off a piece himself, and placed it on my plate. “Sarah, you need to nourish yourself. You work too hard in London.” I stared at that piece of meat, my throat aching with bitterness. Mark had forgotten—I was allergic to it. Before going to London, I accidentally ate black truffle and was sent to the ICU. He swore at my hospital bedside that he would never let this food appear in front of me again. Meanwhile, he was lowering his head, patiently picking the side dishes out for Chloe. “Chloe, your digestion is weak. If you can’t handle it, don’t force yourself to eat it.” I picked up my fork and expressionlessly put the steak into my mouth. With my other hand under the table, I found my allergy medication and swallowed it down with the beef. Chloe’s hand slipped, spilling the soup in her bowl. “My skirt…” Her nostrils flared, and she was about to start crying again. Mark reacted quickly, directly grabbing the pocket square lying next to my hand, still in its bag. That was my 7th-anniversary gift to him. I had spent several nights in London embroidering it. He pulled out the square and wiped her skirt. “Why are you being so careless? Isn’t this skirt your favorite?” Chloe mumbled softly, “Thank you, Mark. I like this skirt precisely because the person who gave it to me is so wonderful.” After Mark finished wiping, he casually threw the stained handkerchief onto the table. He looked up at me, seeing me looking at that crumpled mass, and looked a bit impatient. “I’m sorry. It’s just a handkerchief. Chloe would have cried her eyes out if her skirt was ruined.” “You always see the bigger picture. Don’t throw a temper tantrum with me over such a small thing, okay?” I curled my lips into a self-mocking smile. “It’s fine. It served its purpose.” I stood up, walked straight to the front desk, and paid the bill. Mark chased out after me, wanting to take my hand. “Sarah, I’ll compensate you with a better one tomorrow.” I stepped aside, looking at the city lights. “Mark Sterling, there is no tomorrow for us.” He let out a short laugh, not taking these words seriously at all. “Stop it. Go back early and get some rest.” I turned around and didn’t look back at him. The next morning, when Mark called me, I was in the middle of a wedding dress fitting. “Sarah, I have a wedding reception to attend tonight, so I need to get ready. I won’t accompany you shopping today.” I looked at the white gown in the mirror, my tone calm. “Okay.” He paused, seemingly feeling guilty, and added, “Chloe hasn’t seen much of these big events. I want to take her to learn a bit.” “You’ve long grown tired of this kind of event. Going would just be networking for you, so you might as well get some rest.” “Be good. I’ll make it up to you tonight and bring you back some late-night takeout.” I gripped the phone, looking at myself in the mirror—bright and stunning. “I know.” Hanging up the phone, I turned to look at the bridesmaid next to me. “Move the veil back a bit. I don’t want to cover my face.” The Miller wedding reception was set at the most exclusive hotel in New York. When Mark arrived on the arm of Chloe, they indeed stunned quite a few people. Chloe smiled shyly, standing next to Mark—a handsome man and a beautiful woman. Someone went over to tease him. “Vice President Sterling, is this the lady who has been with you for seven years?” Mark didn’t explain, just smiled ambiguously. Chloe generously tightened her grip on his arm, nodding politely to everyone. Mark scanned the room. For some reason, he felt empty inside. He subconsciously touched his pocket; it was empty. Normally, during his networking events, Sarah would have ordered food delivery for him beforehand and prepared hangover medication. The ceremony began, the lights dimmed, and everyone’s attention focused on the entrance. “Now, let us welcome our bride.” The doors opened. Mark was casually drifting off in thought. But when he saw that figure clearly, the wine glass in his hand actually fell to the floor.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “398289”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel