Category: English

For five years, I was deep undercover within an enemy intelligence network. When my cover was blown, I did the unthinkable to survive: I betrayed the man I loved, Arthur Vance. He managed to escape the ensuing ambush by the skin of his teeth, dragging a mangled, ruined leg behind him. When he was awarded the Medal of Honor, Arthur hobbled up to the podium on crutches. The commander asked him if he had any final requests the agency could fulfill for him. His eyes were as cold as a frozen lake. His thin, hard lips parted to say: “Bring Chloe back.” “And execute her.” Consequently, the agency raided the entire enemy compound but found no trace of me. All they found was a single VHS tape, left specifically for Arthur. 1. When Arthur received the tape, he scoffed with pure disgust. “This is just evidence of her crimes.” “She will be nailed to the pillar of shame in history.” His eyes were dark and cold, the cynical twist of his lips oozing profound mockery. His aide, pushing Arthur’s wheelchair through the park, spoke up cautiously. “General, aren’t you going to see what’s on it?” After receiving his Medal of Honor, Arthur had been promoted to General. His crippled leg had become a lifelong badge of honor. He let out another cold laugh. “Watch what?” “Watch how she sold out her country? How she wagged her tail and begged the enemy for mercy?” “I’m afraid it would dirty my eyes.” The aide choked on his words for a moment, remaining silent for a few seconds before bracing himself to speak again. “But… the envelope the tape was in specifically had your name on it.” “For Arthur Vance’s Eyes Only.” “This tape was meant for you.” Arthur paused. His narrow eyes squinted, a sharp, calculating light flashing across them. The enemy network hadn’t been completely eradicated; remnants were still out there. Perhaps there were clues hidden within the tape? “Hmph. Fine. I’ll see what kind of tricks they’re trying to pull.” “The main thing is, we still haven’t found Chloe.” “A despicable traitor like her… public outrage won’t be quelled until she’s dead.” He had to find Chloe, and then watch with his own eyes as she faced the ultimate punishment. 2. December 15, 1986, 3:10 PM. Chloe was stripped completely bare, shivering violently, her body covered in a horrifying mosaic of purple and blue bruises from the cold. A masked man in black stood nearby holding a bucket of freezing water. With a loud splash, he threw the water over Chloe’s shivering body. She jerked violently, her hanging hair freezing into icicles almost instantly. “Kill… just kill me!” She gritted her teeth, her lips purple as she growled weakly. But the masked man acted as if he hadn’t heard her, throwing bucket after bucket of freezing water over her. Until Chloe completely lost consciousness. Only then did a chilling, sinister voice ring out. “Drag her back. Don’t let her freeze to death.” A group of men then untied Chloe from the wooden post and dragged her away. The screen went black for a brief moment. Sitting in front of the screen, Arthur’s eyes were colder than the frost outside the window. “A sympathy play?” “Heh. This is just another one of their schemes.” “A traitor deserves every ounce of torture she gets.” Standing beside him, the aide pressed his lips together, his voice low. “General, should I keep playing it?” Arthur leaned back against the soft sofa, saying casually: “Play it.” “I want to see how long she can keep this act up.” 3. December 16, 1986, 3:10 PM. This time, the recording was in a dark, windowless room. Chloe was still completely exposed, her body now covered in overlapping whip marks. Her delicate, pale face had been ruined. The skin was split open, and blood continuously oozed from the deep gashes. “Are you going to talk?” It was that same sinister voice coming from off-camera. Chloe smirked, her eyes resolute, almost fearless. “Arthur has already wiped out your entire network.” “You guys are just grasshoppers at the end of autumn—you can’t jump anymore.” After saying that, she bared her teeth, letting out a series of wild, trembling laughs. “Keep hitting her.” As soon as the vicious command dropped, the whip struck Chloe’s body mercilessly again. She shuddered violently, biting down on her teeth so hard they looked like they might shatter. “We have already won!” “You… you all just… wait to die…” She refused to submit, even in the face of death, her beautiful almond eyes flashing with a sharp, ruthless light. Outside the screen, the aide was holding his breath, a look of deep pity crossing his face. “General, could Chloe have been framed…” He frowned as he spoke, his eyes no longer daring to look at Chloe’s slowly splitting flesh. Arthur shifted his gaze, giving the aide a look of pure disdain. “Just from this?” “You lack experience. You’re too naive.” “They’re trying to use my past relationship with Chloe to threaten me.” “Why would I ever feel sorry for a traitor?” 4. December 17, 1986, 3:10 PM. Chloe’s teeth were gone. Her soft pink lips parted to reveal nothing but bloody, raw gums. “Are you going to talk?” Still the same cold voice, not a trace of change from yesterday. Like a repetitive machine. Chloe’s head hung low. Blood mixed with saliva slowly dripped from her mouth. “I will never betray my country.” Her eyes were stubborn. Even without teeth, her pronunciation was incredibly clear. “Do you regret letting Arthur go?” That voice finally showed a hint of emotion. Chloe froze. The cold, hard look in her eyes finally softened into something warmer. “No. I don’t… regret it.” “He definitely hates me now. That’s okay. As long as he’s alive.” With that, she closed her eyes, two streams of clear tears rolling down her cheeks, washing away some of the blood on her face. The screen went dark again. The aide’s face was looking pale. “General, there must be more to this story.” Arthur frowned, but his sharp, falcon-like eyes remained utterly unfeeling. “She was undercover for five years before being discovered, after all.” “They wouldn’t just let her go.” “A fence-sitter like her… neither side would let her off easily.” As he spoke, a flash of contempt crossed his eyes. He leaned back against the sofa again, watching the tape. 5. December 18, 1986, 3:10 PM. Chloe was missing a hand. Blood was everywhere. Her face was as pale as a sheet of paper. “General!” The aide finally couldn’t hold back a gasp of horror. “They chopped off her hand!” His eyes turned red, and even his voice was trembling. As Arthur’s aide, he naturally knew the story of Arthur and Chloe. They grew up together, childhood sweethearts who were supposed to get married. Then, she received an urgent mission to go undercover, and vanished for five whole years. To everyone in their unit, Arthur and Chloe were the quintessential heroic, patriotic couple. He didn’t believe Arthur had absolutely no feelings left for her! On the sofa, Arthur’s hand resting on his knee tightened slightly. His knuckles turned white. A faint redness crept into the eyes staring at the screen. After a long while, he stretched his rigid body and let out a heavy breath. “It’s too fake.” “Where did they find this actress?” “Someone as terrified of dying as Chloe would have definitely given up all the agency’s secrets. Why would they chop off her hand?” “Ridiculous.” Despite his words, his gaze involuntarily drifted back to Chloe’s severed hand. The empty forearm ended abruptly. The blindingly red blood soaked through the gauze, dripping onto the floor, pooling into a mirror-like puddle. He frowned unconsciously, a dull ache throbbing somewhere deep in his chest. But quickly, the memory of her betraying him flashed in his mind, and that sliver of softness completely vanished. He exhaled, his eyes clearly conveying his thoughts: “Chloe, if you knew this was how it would end, why did you do it in the first place?” 6. December 19, 1986, 3:10 PM. Arthur finally believed that this tape was the enemy’s revenge against him. In the video, a naked man wearing a black hood climbed off Chloe. Then, another one climbed on. And it was still that same question: “Are you going to talk?” Chloe screamed in agony, biting down hard on the man’s ear. But without teeth, it caused him no pain. “Animals!” “I’m going to kill you all!” With a mouth full of blood, her screams cracked and broke. The hatred exploding in her eyes was like a raging fire, ready to burn the entire world to ash. Sitting on the sofa, Arthur violently tried to stand up, but his body tipped over, and he crashed onto the floor. “General!” The aide rushed over to help him. Arthur was shaking all over, his face even paler than Chloe’s. “It has to be fake! It’s fake!” “Chloe already surrendered! How could they still treat her like this?!” He gripped the aide’s sleeve tightly, tears pouring down his face. It felt like someone had violently seized his heart, suffocating him. He could only gasp desperately for air. The tape hadn’t stopped. Chloe’s screams continued. “Arthur! Save me!” “Save me!” “Arthur… waaah…” Her helpless cries were like a knife, slicing his heart apart piece by piece. He crawled all the way to the screen, his hands tightly shielding Chloe’s body, sobbing uncontrollably. “Chloe, where are you?! Where are you?!” “I forgive you! I forgive you! I’m coming to save you!” “Wait for me…” He pounded fiercely on the screen, hating himself for not being able to reach through it. No matter how much he screamed, those animals wouldn’t stop. Not until they had tortured Chloe half to death did they finally relent. And by then, Arthur had completely passed out in front of the screen. 7. When he woke up again, Arthur couldn’t bring himself to hate Chloe anymore. He would rather be betrayed by her a hundred times over if it meant she was alive and well. “Where is the tape?” He lay in the hospital bed, his voice hoarse as he spoke. The aide looked at him with heartbreaking pity, trying to dissuade him. “General, don’t watch it anymore.” “I think… Chloe must have perished.” “Today is already December 30th.” It had been over ten days. Chloe’s chances of survival were practically zero. Arthur’s chest clenched in pain, his eyes turning red. He tried desperately to hold back his tears, but they broke through anyway. “Show it to me.” He commanded, masochistically. “General…” The aide tried to protest again, but Arthur cut him off fiercely. “Show it to me!” “Chloe is definitely still alive!” His eyes were wide, filled with a stubborn, desperate obsession. The aide sighed and finally continued playing the tape for Arthur. 8. December 20, 1986, 3:10 PM. Covered in wounds, the light in Chloe’s eyes was completely gone. She was like a lifeless slab of meat, tied to the wooden post, entirely at their mercy. “Are you going to talk?” That voice sounded again. Chloe didn’t speak. Her shriveled, bloodstained lips moved, but in the end, no sound came out. “Suffering all this just so you don’t implicate Arthur… is it worth it?” “He escaped. He’s going to get promoted, get rich, and live a life of luxury.” “And you?” This was the classic interrogation tactic—using the soft approach when the hard approach failed. Arthur’s grip on the bedsheets tightened, his breathing stalling. In the video, Chloe’s eyes stared blankly at the ground, but the corners of her mouth twitched up into a relaxed smile. “If my cover was blown, how could Arthur possibly survive?” “It’s better that I play the villain, sever his attachments, and win him a sliver of a chance to live…” After saying that, she closed her eyes, tears mixing with blood as they rolled down her face. Lying in the bed, Arthur wept a river of tears. He raised his hand and slapped himself viciously across the face. “Arthur Vance! You bastard!” “Why were you so stupid?!” “Why didn’t you take Chloe with you?!” “The one who should be tortured is you! IT’S YOU!” Arthur sobbed until he passed out again. 9. In his dreams, Arthur returned to the time before they went undercover. On the training grounds of the military base, he was sweating profusely under the blazing sun. Under the large tree bordering the field, Chloe, her hair in two thick, shiny black braids, was fanning herself while holding a piece of watermelon, waiting for him. Whenever this happened, his comrades would always tease him. “Arthur, hurry up and get over there! Don’t make your little wife wait too long.” “Yeah, the sun is so hot, what if she gets a sunburn?” “You’d be heartbroken.” They threw comments back and forth, and Arthur felt an incredible sweetness in his heart. He could always catch the hints of envy in his comrades’ words. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and grinned at them. “Stop joking around. When you guys settle down, you’ll have someone to care for you too!” His words brought a wave of laughter. “Look at him, he’s already treating her like his wife.” “Everyone on the base knows Arthur is going to marry Chloe eventually. It’s just a matter of time…” As they ran off, Arthur quickly sprinted toward Chloe. “Were you waiting long?” “You silly girl, it’s so hot. Why did you come out here?” Arthur wiped the sweat from Chloe’s forehead with an aching heart, then snatched the fan from her hand to fan her himself. Chloe’s eyes curved into a gentle smile, handing the watermelon to Arthur. “Arthur, you must be thirsty, right? Hurry and eat this, I just took it out of the fridge.” “It’s still cold.” She offered the watermelon to Arthur like it was the most precious treasure in the world. Arthur took it, snapped it cleanly in half, and handed one half back to Chloe. “Let’s eat it together.” Chloe took her half. They shared a smile, and before even taking a bite, the sweetness had already reached their hearts. That day, under the shade of the tree by the training field, they ate watermelon, laughed, and played, happy as if they had fallen into a jar of honey. But happy days are always fleeting. And dreams, eventually, must end. In his sleep, tears unconsciously fell from Arthur’s eyes. Oh, how he wished he could live in this dream forever, and never, ever wake up.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391725”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

While helping my boyfriend transfer some files… I accidentally stumbled upon a hidden photo album. I casually clicked it open. The screen was instantly flooded with photos of a couple, catching me completely off guard. It turned out, my boyfriend had a new girlfriend. Right at that exact moment, I received a text from my best friend. [Mia, I have a huge secret to tell you!] [Liam is planning to propose to you! On your birthday!] 1 When Liam asked me to help him transfer some files… I accidentally clicked on his D drive instead of his external hard drive. Just as I was about to exit, a very unique folder caught my eye in the bottom corner. It was titled [With You]. Curiosity got the better of me, and I clicked it open. A screen completely full of couple photos instantly filled my vision. In that moment, I felt like the punchline to a massive, humiliating joke. 2 In the photos, Liam had his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder as they took mirror selfies. There was also a shot of him playfully tugging on the bunny ear headband she was wearing, while she looked down shyly. It was an intimate, flirtatious dynamic that clearly belonged to them. It was actually hilarious. When he was with me, he was always gentle, polite, and restrained. But in these photos, he was clearly dominant and aggressively affectionate. My eyes were drawn, entirely against my will, to the bracelet on her wrist. What a coincidence. I have the exact same one. It was the gift Liam gave me for my birthday last year. He told me he had our names custom-engraved on it, and that it was the only one of its kind in the entire world. Looking at it now, it was an absolute joke. It turns out, they’ve been together for much longer than a year. A sharp, agonizing pain seized my heart. An indescribable agony spread from my chest through my entire body. I slowly closed my eyes, feeling like every ounce of strength had been instantly drained from me. When I opened them again, my vision was completely blurred with tears. Fighting back the violent wave of nausea rolling in my stomach… I pulled out my phone, took photos of the screen, and saved them. 3 Right at that exact moment, a message notification popped up. It was from my best friend, Chloe. [Mia, I have a huge secret to tell you!] [Liam is planning to propose to you! On your birthday!] [He’s already booked the venue and everything, and he made us swear to keep it a secret from you! It’s so romantic!] Seeing I hadn’t replied, she sent another: [Hello? You there?] [Babe, are you super surprised?! Isn’t this amazing?!] I replied: [No. It’s actually disgusting.] She asked, completely confused: [Wait, what?! What happened?!] [Liam is cheating on me.] … The very next second, Chloe was calling me. The moment I answered, she hissed through gritted teeth, “Liam is absolute trash!!!” 4 After forcing my emotions back into a locked box, I grabbed the USB drive and walked out the door. My car was in the shop for maintenance, so I took a cab to Liam’s office. When I handed him the drive, I had to put on a flawless performance and act like absolutely nothing was wrong. It was incredibly uncomfortable. Just as I turned to leave, Liam suddenly grabbed my hand, looked at me with absolute tenderness, and said, “Wifey, I’m so lucky to have you.” Right on cue, one of his coworkers walked by. He laughed and teased, “Whoa, getting a little too sweet in here for the office, aren’t we?” I subtly pulled my hand out of his grasp and forced a tight, artificial smile. “I’m meeting Chloe to go shopping. I have to run.” He nodded slightly, reached out to ruffle my hair, and smiled. “Have fun.” 5 At the coffee shop. After Chloe finished listening to my entire story… She looked like she wanted to literally tear him to shreds. “Liam is a sociopathic piece of trash.” She aggressively stabbed her cake with her fork, using it as an outlet for her rage. She looked at me and asked, “Mia, what are you going to do?” I stared blankly at the bustling street outside the window for a long time before finally speaking: “I want to prepare a ‘surprise’ for him on my birthday.” Hearing that, Chloe slammed her hand on the table excitedly. “Beautiful! I am 100% on board. Whatever you need me to do, just say the word.” I laid out my entire plan to her. She nodded vigorously the whole time. At the very end, she added one condition. “Mia, leave everything to me. Once we nuke this situation, we are going on a massive vacation.” She looked at me with eager, hopeful eyes. I knew she was just terrified I was going to fall apart. When our eyes met, a genuine smile finally reached mine. “Okay!” 6 When Liam came home that night… I was just placing the last bowl of soup on the dining table. He walked up behind me and wrapped his arms securely around my waist. He rested his chin on my shoulder and nuzzled me affectionately a few times. “Having a wife is the best. I get to come home to a hot, home-cooked meal every day.” When he leaned in close, a faint, unfamiliar perfume drifted into my nose. My body instantly went rigid. Feigning absolute calm, I reached down and pried his hands off my waist. I said softly, “Go wash your hands and let’s eat.” The second he turned his back… The sweet, loving smile I had plastered on my face vanished, replaced by an expression of pure, freezing ice. As soon as he sat down at the table, his phone was practically glued to his hand. He was constantly typing and replying, a smug smile playing on his lips, completely ignoring the food in front of him. I looked up, my tone heavy with implication: “Who are you chatting with? You look really happy.” His head snapped up. In that split second of eye contact, I caught the unmistakable flash of pure panic in his eyes before he forced it down. He quickly smiled and explained, “No one special. Just the guys from work goofing off in the group chat.” I played along, asking with feigned curiosity, “Let me see! I love a good joke.” The next second, he locked the screen, placed the phone face down on the table, and put on a mask of casual indifference. “It’s just guy talk, nothing you’d find interesting.” He avoided looking at me and quickly urged, “Eat up, the food is going to get cold.” The last remaining glimmer of light in my eyes quietly extinguished. The shy, genuine boy from years ago could now lie directly to my face without even blinking. In that moment, I felt absolutely nothing but overwhelming, suffocating disappointment. 7 After dinner, he proactively volunteered to do the dishes. I sat on the living room sofa, watching him in the kitchen out of the corner of my eye. He was doing the dishes with one hand while staring at his phone in the other, a massive smile plastered permanently across his face. It’s honestly hilarious. Six years of deep, genuine connection, absolutely obliterated by the thrill of something ‘new.’ After cleaning up, he presented a cake box to me like he was offering up a grand prize. “Wifey, I got you your favorite! Tiramisu.” He looked at me with eager anticipation, his tone exactly like a child desperate for praise. I’ve always loved desserts. I genuinely believed that sweet things could fix a bad mood. But right now, no amount of sugar could mask the bitter taste in my mouth. I stared blankly at the cake box, completely zoning out. Seeing my reaction, Liam gently nudged me. “Wifey, what are you thinking about?” I finally snapped back to reality and was just reaching out to take the cake. Right at that moment, Liam’s phone, which he had left sitting on the table, suddenly rang. Before I could even read the caller ID, he snatched it up with terrifying speed, as if terrified I would see it. Because he moved so frantically, he dropped the hand holding the cake. My outstretched hand grasped at empty air, and the cake plummeted directly onto the floor. But the phone just kept ringing incessantly. Liam was so desperate to decline the call that his finger slipped, and he accidentally answered it. “Liam.” A soft, gentle female voice drifted from the speaker. She sounded like she was crying. I looked up at him, perfectly capturing the raw panic flashing in his eyes. He frantically mashed the volume down button until the phone was completely silent. His expression instantly morphed into his usual, calm mask. He pointed at the phone screen and mouthed the words to me: “It’s a coworker.” Then he took the phone and practically sprinted to the balcony. 8 I watched his retreating back and actually let out a dry laugh. I didn’t follow him. I just stared blankly at the completely ruined cake splattered across the hardwood floor. It felt like a perfect metaphor for our future. About fifteen minutes later, Liam finished his call and walked back inside, just as I was scraping the ruined cake into the trash can. He looked at me apologetically. “Wifey, there was an emergency at work. I’m so sorry you didn’t get to eat your cake.” I smiled, my tone incredibly light and airy. “It’s fine. It got dirty, so I threw it away. It’s just a cake.” He stood there awkwardly, his eyes shifting nervously. I asked, playing the perfect, understanding girlfriend: “What’s wrong? Is it a serious emergency?” He said apologetically, “There’s a massive issue with one of our core projects. That coworker was literally crying on the phone about it. I have to go to the office and sort it out right now.” He quickly added, “I’ll buy you a new cake on my way back.” He used his standard, sweet, coaxing tone, his face completely composed. I smiled and teased, “Does everyone at work call you ‘Liam’ so casually?” His body went rigid, the smile freezing instantly on his face. I waved my hand dismissively. “I’m just joking! Hurry up and go, don’t let work wait.” He let out a very obvious, massive sigh of relief, threw on his jacket, and hurried out the door. After Liam left… I hailed a cab and had the driver tail his car. The driver was a chatty, friendly older guy. When I told him to follow the car in front of us, he happily agreed. He asked, curious: “Miss, is that your husband up there?” I paused for a second before answering: “My boyfriend!” He immediately sensed the dark mood and understood the situation entirely. He promised me: “Don’t worry, I won’t lose him.” 9 The car eventually pulled up in front of a bakery. The name on the sign was incredibly familiar. It was the bakery Liam had been buying cakes from for the past two years. He had barely reached the front door when a figure burst out from inside. She threw herself into his arms like a butterfly landing on a flower. The girl looked exactly like her photos—young, vibrant, and radiant. He reached out and gently ruffled her hair, his movements incredibly tender. The girl wrapped her slender arms around his neck, clearly whining and acting cute. Liam reached up and playfully pinched her nose, his face full of absolute adoration. I watched as the girl went up on her tiptoes and proactively kissed him. After six years together, saying I wasn’t heartbroken would be a lie. My nose stung, my eyes instantly turned bloodshot, and tears began to fall uncontrollably. The driver quickly offered me a box of tissues, trying awkwardly to comfort me. “Miss, please don’t be too sad. “My wife thought I was too poor and ran off with another man. “I lived off plain rice and hot water for a whole month. “But look at me now, I survived and I’m doing fine.” His words of comfort obviously didn’t fix the massive hole in my chest. But I was incredibly grateful for his kindness. I thanked him, paid the fare, and got out of the cab. 10 Liam and I started dating the summer after we graduated high school. I still vividly remember him confessing to me. He was so nervous he couldn’t even lift his head, the tips of his ears burning bright red, completely giving him away. “Mia… I like you. “Will you be my girlfriend?” When our eyes finally met, we both instinctively looked away. We were so incredibly young and inexperienced. Even though our hearts were bursting with love, we had absolutely no idea what we were doing. 11 That teenage boy’s love had been so passionate, so fierce, and so undeniably genuine. He would run across campus in a torrential downpour just to bring me an umbrella. When my stomach hurt, he would sit there and massage it for hours without a single complaint. When I woke up starving at 2 AM, he would get out of bed without a second thought and go buy me food. And back then, I would save my allowance for months just to buy him a high-end graphics card for his gaming PC. I would spend an entire month meticulously planning and preparing his birthday present. During winter and summer breaks, we would travel everywhere together. Meeting him felt like the luckiest thing that had ever happened to me. We were about to make the journey from high school uniforms to wedding attire. It had been six full years. But now, he had personally taken a sledgehammer to every single expectation I had for our future.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391741”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I woke up in the middle of a “Tragic Wife” novel—the kind where the heroine dies a slow, miserable death just so the hero can finally realize he loved her all along. Right now, I was at the part where the husband brings his pregnant “soulmate” into our home and demands I wait on her hand and foot. He’d just finished warning me not to try any “pathetic little tricks,” reminding me that his heart belonged only to her. Knowing how the plot was supposed to go, I nearly burst out laughing. Why? Because that baby isn’t even his. When I told him, he didn’t believe me. He thought I was just being a jealous, delusional bitch. He was so enraged by my “slander” that he locked me in the cellar, practically intending to starve the truth out of me. To survive, I had no choice but to seduce his best friend—the very doctor overseeing the mistress’s pregnancy. So, when the mistress tried to frame me for spiking her tea with abortifacients and my husband forced me to my knees to beg for forgiveness, his best friend stepped forward as my alibi. “Gavin, leave her alone,” he said, his voice cold and steady. “She couldn’t have done it. She was with me all night. She never even came home.” My husband’s face turned a shade of white I didn’t know was humanly possible. … Before I ended up here, I thought I had it made. I had a solid career, a fat savings account, and zero drama. After waking up in this body, all I could think was: I am screwed. I had been dropped into a “Dead Protagonist” story. The life of Riley Prescott, the woman I now inhabited, had been a relentless sequence of tragedies. Orphaned young, bullied in school, starving and cold—she was the poster child for misery. By some twist of fate, she had saved the male lead, Gavin West, when they were younger. But her bully, Melanie Hart, stole the credit. Riley, being the quintessential martyr, never said a word. She just watched as Gavin fell for her tormentor. When they eventually married—a business arrangement Gavin’s mother forced—Gavin treated it like a prison sentence. Now, he was forcing Riley to serve the woman who had made her childhood a living hell. In the original book, Riley works herself to the bone until she develops terminal cancer and dies. Only then does Gavin see Melanie’s true colors. Cue the “husband’s funeral regret” and the tear-jerking redemption arc. Readers were supposedly moved to tears, claiming Gavin “just didn’t know how to love” and was “blinded by the villainess.” To hell with that. Blinded? He was a sociopath. The second I realized where I was, I didn’t waste time trying to punch Gavin or run away. I went straight to the hospital for a full work-up. When the results came back clean, I let out the longest breath of my life. Thank God. No cancer. Not yet. But then, my phone buzzed. It was Gavin. “Riley, Melanie is at the house. Where the hell are you? Stop acting out.” I blinked, trying to ground myself. “Who? Who did you say is at the house?” “Melanie Hart,” he snapped. “Her pregnancy is high-risk, and I need you there to look after her. Don’t do anything stupid. Be the bigger person for once.” “When the baby is born, I’ll let it call you ‘mother.’ But that’s all I can give you. Melanie is the only woman I’ve ever loved.” So, here it was. The pivotal moment. The next step in the script was me becoming a literal servant until my body gave out. I wasn’t going to follow that script. “Gavin,” I said, my voice dripping with forced pity. “Don’t be a sucker. That kid isn’t yours.” In my head, I figured if he saw Melanie for who she was, we could reach a civil truce. I’d ask for a divorce, take a nice settlement, and be free. Gavin’s voice turned icy. “Is this your new game, Riley? Slander? Just wait until I get my hands on you.” … It didn’t take long. A group of his “security” team cornered me and dragged me back to the estate. He didn’t put me in a bedroom. He put me in the reinforced cellar, a literal gilded cage. Gavin looked down at me, his expression cold. “No food until I say so. Maybe a little hunger will clear your head.” I grabbed the bars, my heart hammering. “Gavin! I’m telling you the truth! Just run a DNA test. Check her phone!” Melanie’s baby belonged to some guy named Travis—a deadbeat she’d been seeing on the side. She only came to Gavin for the bank account and the social standing. Gavin just sneered. “You think I’d believe a word out of your mouth?” Damn it. I was too naive. By the end of the first day, the hunger was unbearable. I wasn’t the type who could skip a meal without getting a migraine, let alone a whole day. I decided to fake a collapse. It didn’t take long for someone to find me. The man who came to check on me was Sebastian Mercer—”Bash” to his friends. He was Gavin’s best friend, a top-tier OB-GYN, and coincidentally, Melanie’s doctor. I realized immediately that I couldn’t fool a doctor with a fake faint. As his hand reached for my wrist to check my pulse, I shifted it away. He tried again; I moved again. Finally, Bash sighed. “Riley. Stop it.” I opened one eye. Before I could speak, my stomach let out a thunderous growl. “I’m starving,” I whispered. Bash started to stand up, his face an unreadable mask of professional detachment. I reached out, grabbed his hand, and pulled it firmly against my chest. “I’m actually in a lot of pain,” I said, looking up at him through my lashes. He tried to pull his hand back, but I held on tight. Bash was one of the few characters in the book who wasn’t a total monster. He had a code. He had a conscience. Eventually, he caved. He brought me a tray of food from the kitchen, and I inhaled it like it was my last meal. When I finished, he stepped back. “You can go back to the room now.” I shook my head. I wasn’t going back into that cellar. But Gavin’s men were everywhere. I couldn’t run. I pressed a hand to my forehead. “I can’t. I’m dizzy. Blood sugar… I think I’m going down again.” Bash frowned, but before he could react, I “fainted” right into his arms. “Riley, get up,” he muttered, his breath hitching. I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my face against the solid muscle of his chest. “I’m not going back down there. Help me. Or I’ll tell Gavin you were feeling me up during the exam.” “To a doctor, there is no gender, only patients,” he said, though his voice lacked conviction. I leaned up and pressed a quick, soft kiss to his jaw. “How about now? Still just a patient?” … I was going to ruin Sebastian Mercer. I had to. In the original story, Bash was the one who eventually handled Riley’s funeral arrangements. He was the only one who showed her a shred of dignity in death. That meant he had a crack in his armor—a latent guilt regarding how Gavin treated me. In this world, I needed an ally. Bash’s ears turned a deep shade of crimson. “You’re my best friend’s wife. Have some self-respect.” But he didn’t pull his hand away from my waist. “Best friends shouldn’t keep secrets, right? Melanie’s pregnant. I’ll be out on the street the second that baby breathes. I won’t be ‘the wife’ for long.” Just then, the housekeeper’s voice drifted from the hallway. “Dr. Mercer? Ms. Hart says she wants the mistress to prepare her dinner.” I looked up at him, my eyes welling with practiced tears. “See? This is my life. The legal wife, serving the pregnant mistress. It’s pathetic.” Bash looked toward the door, then back at me. “You can order takeout. I’ll handle the staff.” He handed me his phone. When the food arrived, I didn’t just plate it. I went into the kitchen and added a few “special” ingredients—bitter herbs, extra salt, and some stuff I’d found in the back of the pantry that definitely wasn’t meant for human consumption. I stirred it until it was a homogenous, disgusting mess. I carried it up to Melanie’s room, playing the role of the defeated wife. Melanie was lounging in bed, her eyes gleaming with triumph. “Oh, Riley. You’re so pretty. It’s a shame, really. Even with that face, you couldn’t keep Colton interested. He loves me.” “Thank you,” I said sweetly. “I agree. I am very pretty.” Melanie’s smile faltered. She picked up a crystal vase from the nightstand and hurled it at me. I ducked with a grace I didn’t know I possessed. She threw something else. I dodged again. “You should eat,” I said, grinning. “Before it gets cold. You wouldn’t want the baby to go hungry.” Melanie touched her stomach protectively. “Give it here. And if my son doesn’t like it, I’ll have Gavin skin you alive.” I bit my lip to keep from laughing as I handed her the tray. I watched her take a big, greedy bite. It wasn’t poisonous—I wasn’t a murderer—it was just… filthy. The original Riley was too good for this world. She actually served this woman. Me? I was going to enjoy every second of the payback. When she finished, she held out the plate. As I reached for it, she let go. The porcelain shattered against the hardwood. Then, she scrambled out of bed and threw herself into Gavin’s arms as he walked through the door. “Gavin! I don’t know what I did to upset her! I just wanted to bond over dinner, and she… she smashed the dishes and threatened me!” Gavin wrapped an arm around her, his eyes burning with disgust as he looked at me. “Riley, is your life really so empty that all you can do is play these petty, jealous games?” I almost laughed. This guy was the hero? This was what readers “forgave”? “Gavin, you’re pathetic,” I said, my voice clear and sharp. “Bringing a mistress into our home? I’ve never seen a man with so little dignity.” He deserved the horns he was wearing. Gavin’s face twisted. He wasn’t used to me talking back. Before he could erupt and throw me back in the cellar, I did the only logical thing. I fainted. Again. Practice makes perfect. I even managed to fall in a way that looked elegant. Gavin froze, his instinct to reach for me warring with his loyalty to Melanie. Melanie saw it and immediately moaned, “Gavin, the baby… he kicked. Hard. I feel sick.” His attention snapped back to her. “I’ll get Bash to check on you.” I stayed still until they left. When I opened my eyes, I was staring directly into Sebastian’s gaze. He was standing there in his white lab coat, looking down at me. “I heard you collapsed. Again.” I sighed. Gavin was a lost cause, but Bash… Bash actually looked concerned. I reached out a hand to him. “Help me up. My blood sugar is crashing.” The moment he pulled me up, I tucked myself against him, letting my hands wander over the firm lines of his chest and abdomen. “You smell amazing, Doctor,” I whispered, inhaling the scent of expensive cologne and sterile soap. Bash stiffened, but he didn’t push me away. “Riley, stop. I’m not Gavin.” “I know,” I murmured, leaning in closer. “You’re much better. You’re the one taking care of me.” I squeezed his arm, letting my fingers linger. Suddenly, Gavin’s voice boomed from the doorway. “What the hell is going on in here?” Bash didn’t flinch. “I’m helping her up, Gavin. She’s hypoglycemic. She needs medical attention, not a jail cell.” Gavin bought it instantly. In his mind, Riley was too obsessed with him to ever cheat, and Bash was too “noble” to ever touch another man’s wife. I stayed slumped against Bash, sounding as pathetic as possible. “It’s my fault, Gavin. If only you’d let me eat, I wouldn’t be such a burden. Now I’m too weak to even look after Melanie.” Gavin’s expression soured. He hated being reminded of his own cruelty when it wasn’t framed as “discipline.” “Stand up, Riley,” he barked. He ignored my words, but his eyes kept darting to where Bash’s hand was resting on my waist. It was bothering him. Good. I tried to stand, but I let my knees buckle, “falling” backward. Bash caught me by reflex. One hand on my shoulder, the other sliding right under my thigh to steady me. “Oh… sorry,” I whispered. “I’m just so weak.” Gavin’s pulse was visible in his neck. He was losing his mind. He shoved Bash aside and grabbed my wrist, hauling me out of the room. “Riley! We’re leaving!” As he dragged me away, I looked back at Bash and mouthed three words: Tonight. My room. I knew Bash was hooked. Men like him—the “good” ones—can’t resist the thrill of something forbidden. He hadn’t pushed me away once. That primal reflex when he caught me? That wasn’t a doctor’s move. That was a man’s. Gavin threw me onto the sofa in the living room. “Riley, faking illness won’t get you my sympathy. You are going to take care of Melanie, and you’re going to do it with a smile.” I stared at him, genuinely puzzled. “We have a dozen maids, Gavin. Why me?” “Because you owe me,” he whispered, leaning down. “You’re the one who insisted on this marriage. You’re the reason Melanie and I were separated. You brought this on yourself.” What a load of horse-shit. The original Riley only married him because Gavin had been drugged at a party, wandered into the wrong room, and forced himself on her while she was working as a waitress. Gavin’s mother found out and forced the marriage to avoid a scandal. She threatened to cut off the funding for the orphanage Riley grew up in if she didn’t comply. Gavin knew this, but in his twisted head, he was the victim. Before I could tear into him, Melanie’s voice drifted down the stairs. “Gavin! The baby moved! Come see!” He dropped my arm and ran to her without a second thought. Bash stepped out of the bedroom, and I turned to him, my eyes red and shimmering. “Dr. Mercer… my heart hurts. Can you check it for me?” I was laying it on thick. Bash turned to leave, but I reached out and hooked my pinky around his. He could have broken the hold easily, but he stood there, frozen. “Sweetheart, it hurts,” I whispered. “I need you.” Bash’s face went pale. He looked around to make sure the coast was clear. “Riley, if you don’t love Gavin, divorce him. But don’t play with me.” I interlaced our fingers and kissed the back of his hand. “Take me for an exam. Somewhere private.” … Thanks to Bash, I actually got out of the house. I don’t know what medical jargon he used, but he convinced Gavin that I needed “specialized monitoring.” He took me to his private apartment. I spent the first hour poking around like a curious cat, eventually “discovering” that beneath his serious scrubs, he wore boxers with SpongeBob on them. He kept saying “no,” but his body was saying “yes.” By the time the sun started to go down, his interest in my “anatomy” had become very, very thorough. He explored, and I enjoyed. I’d picked a winner. The next morning, I was woken up by the shrill ringing of my phone. It was Gavin. “Riley! I thought you were finally behaving, but you’re still a monster!” Bash stirred next to me, his face groggy as he pulled my naked body against his chest. I snuggled into him, leaving a mark on his collarbone. Gavin’s voice was screaming through the speaker. “You dared to give Melanie abortifacients? I told you, I’d let you be the mother! Is your heart really that small?” Bash couldn’t help himself. He leaned over and spoke into the phone. “Gavin, she’s been with me all night. She hasn’t been anywhere near your house. She didn’t do it.” The silence on the other end was deafening. Bash hung up.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391757”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The notification hit my phone like a dopamine spike: a wire transfer of ten thousand dollars from my husband’s company finance department. My heart leaped. A bonus? Finally? After the year we’d had, this was salvation. Then the phone rang. It was the finance manager, a woman whose voice usually carried the friction of sandpaper. “That transfer was a mistake,” she barked, skipping the pleasantries. “It’s for the partner, not you. Send it back. Now.” I froze, phone pressed to my ear, confusion clouding my brain. “Excuse me?” She mistook my hesitation for resistance. Her tone sharpened. “Listen, if you don’t return it, and the actual wife finds out, you’re going to be in a world of pain.” The room seemed to tilt. My husband, Russell? The man known throughout our neighborhood as the patron saint of family values? The man who listed my bank account for his direct deposit because he ‘didn’t trust himself with money’? Every month, like clockwork, three thousand dollars hit my account. Every penny of his salary. I forced my voice to remain steady, though my hand was trembling. “Does he… does he send her ten thousand every month?” The finance manager scoffed, a sound dripping with disdain. “Yes. And honestly? As the mistress, you should be grateful for your three grand allowance. Don’t try to compete with the wife.” The air left my lungs. “How long?” I whispered. “How long has he been paying her?” “Seven years,” she snapped, her patience evaporating. “Now, wire the money back.” I felt the cut deep in my gut, severing reality from fiction. My devoted, frugal husband had been funding a second, luxurious life. And apparently, to the world, I was the other woman. “I’ll handle it,” I managed to choke out. “Thank you.” 1 The finance manager hung up, relieved, assuming I was a compliant side-piece who knew her place. I walked out into the biting November wind, heading toward the office building where Russell had worked for seven years. My body felt numb, like I’d been submerged in ice water. I replayed the last fifteen years of our marriage, hunting for the cracks, the missed clues. But there were none. No late nights. No unexplained absences. Even at 2:00 AM, he was always in our bed. This was a man who saved cardboard boxes from deliveries to resell for pennies. A man who wore his boxer briefs until the fabric disintegrated, stitching them up rather than spending five dollars on a new pack. How could that man spend ten thousand dollars a month on a mistress? It wasn’t just him. Our entire family lived in a state of carefully curated poverty. His three-thousand-dollar salary. One thousand for his mother’s medical bills. Five hundred for rent in this crumbling apartment complex. I gave him two hundred for pocket money and five hundred for gas. That left eight hundred dollars. Eight hundred dollars to feed a family of four, pay utilities, and keep our daughter in school supplies. We bought vegetables at the grocery store minutes before closing to get the discounted, bruised produce. We lived in the cheapest unit in the worst part of town. We split pennies. We survived. He quit smoking to save money. He drove Uber after work until his eyes were red-rimmed with fatigue. To our neighbors, we were the gold standard of hardworking, blue-collar struggle. It was all a lie. A performance art piece. I entered the lobby of his office building. The receptionist, a bright-eyed girl no older than twenty, smiled professionally. “Can I help you?” “I’m looking for Russell,” I said. “Russell Davis.” “Do you have an appointment with Mr. Davis?” My stomach turned. The finance woman had called him Mr. Davis. Not Russell from accounting. Mr. Davis. “Just tell him Meredith is here.” The girl’s smile didn’t falter. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but the owner is out of the office right now. Perhaps you could call his cell?” Owner. The word echoed like a gunshot. Russell didn’t work here. He owned this place. And for seven years, I had been completely blind. 2 I swallowed the scream building in my throat and glanced past the receptionist. It was a boutique operation, maybe thirty employees, sleek modern furniture. Not a Fortune 500, but definitely not the warehouse job he claimed to have. There was a small coffee shop downstairs. I bought a four-dollar lemonade and sat by the window. Normally, that four dollars would have haunted me for days. That was a dinner for my family. That was two pairs of socks for my daughter, Hallie. That was a treat she’d beg for but I’d have to deny. I took a sip. It was sour, stinging my tongue. With shaking fingers, I downloaded a business registry app and typed in Russell’s name. There it was. Russell Davis. CEO. Founder. Board Member. Registered seven years ago. Capital: $200,000. E-commerce. I remembered that year. He had come home, lifting me off the ground, spinning me around until we were both dizzy. “Babe, I got a job! Three thousand a month! We’re going to be okay!” I believed him. God, I believed him. Back then, we were both nobodies. I was stocking shelves; he was inventory management. We fell in love in the breakroom of a logistics center. When Hallie was born, his mother’s health collapsed. I quit my job to care for the baby and the invalid. I ran the house. I nursed his mother through strokes and bedsores. When my back ached so bad I couldn’t stand, Russell would massage my shoulders, whispering, “I’m sorry, Meredith. I know it’s hard. Thank you.” The irony tasted like bile. When my lemonade was half gone, a sleek black SUV pulled up to the curb. Russell stepped out. He wasn’t wearing the faded, stained sweatpants he’d left the house in this morning. He was in a tailored charcoal suit that fit him perfectly. He walked around the car and opened the passenger door. A woman stepped out. High heels. A dress that hugged curves I hadn’t possessed in a decade. Glossy black hair, porcelain skin. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-five. Russell took her hand, interlacing their fingers, and led her into the building. My heart didn’t break; it shattered. It felt like my chest was caving in. I had imagined this scene a thousand times in nightmares—storming in, screaming, tearing his reputation to shreds. But in reality? I just felt… empty. My phone buzzed. A text from Hallie. Mom, where are you? I’m starving. The tears finally came, hot and fast, splashing onto my cracked phone screen. My daughter. Hallie was in middle school. She didn’t buy lunch; I made it every morning. I picked her up every night at 9:30 PM after her extracurriculars because we couldn’t afford the bus fare. Her father wouldn’t spend five dollars on her lunch, but he was spending ten thousand a month on this woman. I took a deep breath, wiping my face with my rough sleeve. I opened Uber Eats and ordered ribs, fries, and a salad to be delivered to Hallie’s school. The internet was right: If you don’t spend your husband’s money, someone else will. I waited. I waited until Russell and the woman came out. I followed their SUV in a cab, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. They drove to a gated community in the suburbs—the kind of place with manicured lawns and HOA fees higher than my rent. Thirty minutes later, they emerged. But there was a third person. A boy. Maybe six years old. I watched through the tint of the taxi window as the boy ran to Russell, shouting, “Daddy!” He had a son. The boy looked exactly like him. The eyes, the chin. It was a dagger twisting in my open wound. 3 When I gave birth to Hallie, I almost died. An amniotic fluid embolism. It was chaos. Russell had been a wreck. The nurses told me later that he fell to his knees in the hallway, sobbing, begging the doctors. “Save my wife. I don’t care about the baby. Just save Meredith. I’ll sell everything. Just save her.” He wasn’t a religious man, but that night he prayed to every god he could name. When I survived, he held me for hours, weeping. “No more,” he had whispered into my hair. “One daughter is enough. I’m never putting you through that again.” Even when his father threatened to disown him for not producing a male heir, Russell flipped the table. He cut ties with his dad to protect me. “Nothing matters more than Meredith’s life,” he told his relatives. Everyone said I was lucky. Everyone said Russell was a saint. It was all a joke. He didn’t stop having kids because he loved me. He stopped because he was having his son with someone else. I followed them to a high-end steakhouse. From a distance, I watched him order—filet mignon, lobster, expensive wine. I watched him cut the meat for the boy, wiping the kid’s mouth with a tenderness that made me sick. Last month, Hallie had asked, “Dad, can I go to the hibachi place with my friends? It’s twenty dollars.” He had looked at her sternly. “If you get straight A’s this semester, maybe.” Hallie was a B-student. He knew she wouldn’t get the money. Rage, cold and sharp, replaced my sorrow. I pulled out my phone and texted Grant, my nephew. He was a lawyer, sharp as a whip. I sent him everything. The location. The photos. The company details. Grant: Aunt Meredith, stay calm. Do not confront him yet. Let me dig. We need undeniable proof. I left the restaurant and went to pick up Hallie. I didn’t have a car. I drove a rusty 2004 sedan with no heater that sounded like a lawnmower. The wind cut right through the door seals. Hallie hopped in, shivering but beaming. “Mom! Did you win the lottery? That food was amazing!” I forced a smile, looking at her innocent face in the rearview mirror. “Something like that. I won fifty bucks on a scratch-off. I saved the rest so we can go get dinner together later.” “Really?” Her eyes widened. “Can we go to that hibachi place? I want you to try it.” 4 When we got home, Russell wasn’t there yet. My mother-in-law, Barbara, was in her room, shouting. “Where have you been? I’m starving in here! Useless…” Hallie sighed. “I’m hungry too, Mom.” I went to the kitchen. I boiled water for pasta. Simple. Cheap. Russell walked in just as I was draining the noodles. He was back in his costume—the faded hoodie and stained jeans. “Dinner’s ready,” I said, my voice flat. He patted his stomach, grimacing. “I grabbed a slice of pizza while I was driving Uber. My stomach’s acting up. I’m just going to crash.” He always did this. ‘I ate a cheap hot dog, my stomach hurts.’ It was his excuse to avoid eating our meager food. I used to worry about his nutrition. Now I knew he was just full of lobster. “Take a bowl to your mom first,” I said. He smiled, that boyish, charming smile. “You’re such a good wife, Meredith.” The words felt like a slap. He went into Barbara’s room. I walked past the door a moment later and heard whispering. “You’re a big shot boss now, Russell,” Barbara hissed. “Get me a nurse. What good is she? She can’t even give you a son. Thank god I have my grandson. When are you going to put him on the family tree? I can’t face your father in the afterlife like this.” My blood froze. She knew. The old witch knew everything. I was the only one playing the fool. Later, in bed, Russell turned to me. “Babe, I found a gig for you. My friend needs a housekeeper for his parents. Cooking, cleaning. Two grand a month.” I stared at him in the dark. “A housekeeper?” “It’s easy money,” he said. The next day, he drove me to the address. It was a nice condo. As we walked in, I saw a framed photo on the mantel. It was the mistress. Kinsley. And her parents. He wanted me to clean his mistress’s parents’ house. I turned to him, my voice trembling with a mixture of rage and disbelief. “Is that what I am to you? A servant? I’m supposed to scrub their toilets?” He looked panic-stricken for a split second, then recovered. “Meredith, don’t be like that. It’s just a job…” I walked out. That night, while he slept, I unlocked his phone. My hands shook as I scrolled. The things I found… It wasn’t just infidelity. It was criminal. Grant sent me a file the next morning. This is it, Auntie. It’s over. I saw the calendar notification on Russell’s phone: Company Gala. The Grand Hotel. I made my decision. The next morning, Russell left in his rags. I followed him. I waited until the gala was in full swing. I waited until he was on stage, holding Kinsley’s hand, soaking in the applause as the “power couple” of the year. I dialed 911. Then I called the FBI tip line number Grant had given me. As the sirens wailed outside the hotel, police officers and agents marched into the ballroom. They approached the stage. “Russell Davis?” an officer asked, handcuffs glinting under the chandelier. Russell looked confused. “Yes?” “We have a warrant for your arrest regarding multiple counts of wire fraud and human trafficking schemes. You have the right to remain silent.” Russell’s face went white. He looked out into the crowd, searching for an ally, and his eyes landed on me. I was walking down the center aisle, slow and steady.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391775”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My son and I were kidnapped. The kidnappers live-streamed our ordeal online, threatening to chop my son into pieces and feed him to the dogs if the ransom wasn’t paid. Instantly, the entire internet was searching for my husband. But what they didn’t know was that at that exact moment, trending on social media, the billionaire CEO officially announcing his relationship with an award-winning actress—the picture of a happy family of three—was my husband. My son’s father. The two trending topics side-by-side were a hilariously cruel joke. Later, out of a twisted sense of pity, the kidnappers only took one of my son’s hands. Dragging his severed left arm, he crawled all the way back home, only to run straight into my husband celebrating the birthday of his ‘first love’s’ child. My husband frowned, looking down at my son’s curled-up, bleeding body with freezing, emotionless eyes. “You really are Mia’s kid. Just like your mother, all you know how to do is play the victim.” My son looked up, using his only remaining hand to tug weakly at my husband’s pant leg. “Mister… can you please lend me some money… so I can bury my mom?” 1 Twenty-three hours into our agonizing torture at the hands of the kidnappers. Arthur Sterling, the wealthiest man in the city, was currently celebrating the sixth birthday of his first love’s child. I had dialed his number eighty-eight times. Every single time, it went straight to voicemail. The kidnapper, furious and impatient, grabbed me by the hair and dragged me across the concrete floor to my son, his face contorted with rage. “Isn’t Arthur Sterling your husband?! Why the hell won’t he answer his phone?!” “Are you intentionally dialing the wrong number just to stall for time?!” He viciously yanked a handful of hair straight from my scalp. The agonizing pain twisted my face into a grimace. Tossing the bloody clump of hair onto the floor, the kidnapper sneered, spat directly in my face, and threatened: “I am giving you one last chance. If that phone doesn’t connect this time, don’t blame me for getting creative.” He pointed a finger at my son, who was pale and trembling with terror, making it horrifyingly clear what would happen next. The next victim would be my six-year-old baby. The excruciating pain made my entire body shake uncontrollably, but I didn’t dare fight back. I had to protect my child. With trembling hands, I dialed Arthur’s number for the eighty-ninth time. Ring… Ring… “Hello?” Arthur’s deep, magnetic voice finally came through the speaker. The moment I heard his voice, tears instantly flooded my eyes. A chaotic mix of overwhelming relief and paralyzing terror made me blurt out frantically: “Arthur, please, we’ve been kidnapped, you have to—” Before I could even finish the sentence, the man on the other end cut me off with obvious, dripping disgust: “Enough, Mia. I don’t care what pathetic act you’re pulling this time, but leave Leo out of it!” “If you have even a shred of conscience left, stop using your son as a prop to get my attention.” With that, he hung up without a second’s hesitation. The kidnapper’s expression darkened, his predatory gaze locking onto my son. Ignoring my own despair, I immediately redialed the number, terrified that even a second’s delay would cost my son his life. The call connected again. I sobbed, begging him: “Arthur, I’m not lying! We really were kidnapped! I’m begging you, please save our baby!” The line was dead silent for two agonizing seconds before Arthur’s freezing, bone-chilling voice echoed through the speaker: “Then I’ll just wait until you’re both dead, and I’ll come collect the bodies.” Click. Arthur turned his phone off entirely. Simultaneously, my phone received a video message from Chloe Sinclair. In the video, Arthur, wearing a bespoke suit, was holding Chloe’s son, speaking eloquently to a crowd of reporters. “Yes, that’s right. This is Chloe’s and my child.” “Due to some unfortunate misunderstandings in the past, Chloe and I were forced apart. Now, we’ve decided to get back together.” “From now on, I will be a dedicated father, taking perfect care of Chloe and Toby.” Chloe stood beside him, smiling radiantly, the picture of absolute bliss. Attached to the video was a digital wedding invitation. [Mia, you and Leo are cordially invited to attend our wedding on the 5th of next month.] [We’d also love it if Leo could be our ring bearer.] It felt like someone was physically shredding my heart into pieces. The pain was so intense I could barely breathe. Through my haze of agony, my son suddenly screamed. “Mommy!” The kidnapper, having lost all patience, hauled my son off the floor by his neck, lifting him entirely off the ground. “You little brat. Turns out you’re completely useless after all!” My son’s face rapidly turned a sickening shade of purple as his tiny hands beat uselessly against the kidnapper’s massive grip. “M-mommy…” A blinding, primal rage overpowered my terror. I screamed and lunged forward, desperate to tear my son from his grasp. Before I could even reach him, another kidnapper tackled me, pinning me to the ground and delivering several brutal punches to my face. “You stupid bitch! You still want to fight?!” As he spoke, he grabbed a thick, rusted steel rebar from the floor and forced it violently into my mouth, twisting and jamming it repeatedly. The coarse, jagged metal ripped through my gums and tongue, filling my mouth with a thick, choking foam of blood. The agony was so absolute I could only make muffled, guttural noises. It wasn’t until he had fully exhausted his rage that the kidnapper finally dropped my son back onto the concrete. He ordered his accomplice to open a live-streaming app on his phone. “Since he doesn’t believe the phone calls, we’ll just livestream a little child abuse.” “I refuse to believe Arthur Sterling is actually that cold-blooded. There’s no way he just abandons his own flesh and blood.” 2 The kidnapper’s livestream of my son being tortured hit the trending charts at the exact same moment Arthur’s public relationship announcement did. In front of the flashing cameras, Arthur affectionately placed Chloe’s son on his shoulders, smiling at the reporters: “Alright, that concludes today’s interview. Chloe and I need to go celebrate our son’s birthday now.” Chloe playfully swatted his arm, her voice dripping with affection. “Arthur is always like this. He’s always been such an incredible father.” Meanwhile, in the filthy warehouse, the kidnapper shoved my son into a burlap sack, kicking and beating him like a literal punching bag. I was tied securely to a chair, forced to watch this horrific scene unfold with my own eyes. My son’s initial, agonizing screams slowly faded into weak, pathetic whimpers, like a dying kitten. The live chat was scrolling at a frantic pace: [I can’t watch this! The kid sounds like he’s dying!] [Didn’t they say if the dad just gets on a call, they’ll let the kid go?! Where the hell is the dad?!] [Can anyone please contact the father?! Save that poor baby!] The kidnapper dragged my son out of the bloody sack, his eyes filled with malicious intent. “You little brat. Looks like your dad really can hold out. Even after all this, he still won’t show his face.” “Fine. Don’t blame me for what happens next.” He picked up the heavy steel rebar from the floor and took a step toward my son. “I’ll give you something to cry about!” My eyes widened in absolute, paralyzing horror. Dragging the heavy chair with me, I threw myself to the floor, kowtowing frantically until my forehead bled. “Please! I’m begging you, don’t hurt my baby! I’m not afraid of pain, do whatever you want to me! Just let him go, please!” My forehead slammed against the concrete over and over, quickly pooling blood on the floor. My son slowly opened his eyes, looking at me and weakly shaking his head. “No, Mommy… Leo doesn’t hurt… Leo doesn’t hurt at all.” His tiny voice pierced my chest like a jagged knife. But I couldn’t show fear. He was only six years old. His life had barely even begun. Tears and blood streamed down my face as I offered him the same gentle, reassuring smile I always did. “Leo, Mommy is a grown-up. Grown-ups don’t feel pain.” My son looked at me, his eyes full of innocent confusion, and kept shaking his head. The kidnapper lost whatever shred of patience he had left. He raised the rebar high and marched toward my son. “You little shit, I’ll shut you up!” In a split second of pure adrenaline, I lunged forward with everything I had, violently shoving my son out of the way. The heavy steel rebar came crashing down, driving straight through my body. The unimaginable trauma caused my body to convulse uncontrollably, but I fought with every ounce of my being not to scare my child. Even after the kidnapper violently wrenched the rebar free, I desperately maintained the smile on my face. I wanted to tell my child not to be afraid. I wanted to tell him how incredibly much I loved him. But as the blood filled my throat, all I could manage was: “Leo, don’t cry. Mommy doesn’t hurt.” In the final moments before death took me, a chaotic montage of memories flashed through my mind. I remembered our wedding day. Arthur’s hands were shaking so violently from nerves that it took him several tries just to slide the ring onto my finger. I remembered the day I found out I was pregnant. Arthur’s eyes were bright red as he asked me, “Am I really going to be a dad?” I remembered Leo’s fifth birthday, and the massive, extravagant party Arthur threw for him. But those memories were quickly replaced by Chloe’s endless, calculated sabotage against me and my son after her divorce. I remembered Arthur’s initial doubt, shifting to deep disappointment, and finally settling into freezing, absolute apathy. As my vision blurred, I heard my son’s voice. He was saying: “Mommy, don’t go to sleep! Leo will be good! Leo will be so good and listen to everything you say!” “Mommy, please don’t sleep!” I summoned the absolute last fragment of my fading strength, trying to lift my hand to stroke his hair. But all I felt was hot, sticky blood. I’m so sorry. Mommy failed to protect you. I’m so sorry, Leo. My consciousness plummeted into absolute, eternal darkness. My son reached out with his tiny hands, desperately trying to stem the massive flow of blood pouring from my body. But it was entirely useless. The live chat completely lost its mind, scrolling so fast it was a blur: [You goddamn monsters! Where the hell are the cops?! Someone save them!] [WHERE IS THE DAD?! How can he still not be here?!] [Does anyone know who this kid is?! Please help them, I’m literally begging!] … The kidnappers panicked. One of them turned to the other, his voice tight: “What do we do?! The bitch is dead!” The other kidnapper narrowed his eyes, his voice sending chills down the spine: “It doesn’t matter. We still have the little one. We can still get the ransom.” He violently ripped my son away from my body and shoved him directly in front of the camera lens. Revealing his tiny face, completely covered in dark, horrific bruises. “Look closely, everyone! This kid’s father is the CEO of Sterling Group, Arthur Sterling!” The frantic scrolling of the live chat froze for a fraction of a second. Then it absolutely exploded. [How is that possible?! Didn’t CEO Sterling literally just announce his relationship with that actress?!] [Yeah! They do have a kid, but isn’t his name Toby?!] [Are these kidnappers psychotic?! Who tries to extort Arthur Sterling?!] [Exactly! They must have kidnapped the wrong people!] Amidst the chaotic speculation, a user suddenly dropped a bombshell. [I’m at the press conference right now! I just saw CEO Sterling check his phone!] [Just hold on a second! CEO Sterling definitely saw the news, he’ll be here any minute!] As soon as that message appeared, a massive, bolded comment was pinned to the top of the chat, instantly grabbing the kidnappers’ attention. [CONNECT WITH ME! I AM ARTHUR STERLING!] My son didn’t know how to read many words, but he knew the name “Arthur Sterling” meant “Daddy.” His dim eyes suddenly lit up with a desperate, fragile hope. “Daddy…” 3 The connection went live, but the face on the screen wasn’t Arthur’s. The kidnapper’s expression instantly darkened. He brutally pinned my son to the concrete floor, raising a meat cleaver, fully intending to sever his left arm. The man on the screen frantically shouted: [WAIT! Don’t do anything crazy! I am CEO Sterling’s personal executive assistant!] [I’m just calling to tell you that you’ve kidnapped the wrong people! Everyone at the company knows our CEO has always maintained an impeccable personal life. He absolutely does not have a child!] [The only child he acknowledges is Ms. Sinclair’s son, Toby! Please, do not hurt an innocent child!] The kidnapper let out a harsh, cynical scoff. He pressed the cold steel of the cleaver against my son’s neck, his voice dripping with venom: “I am giving you exactly ten minutes to put Arthur Sterling on this call, or I am going to use this kid’s head for target practice!” With no other options, the assistant immediately dialed Arthur’s private number. “Hello? Who are you looking for?” A young, innocent voice answered the phone, radiating pure, untainted joy. The next second, an incredibly fond, indulgent male voice drifted through the speaker. “Toby, the paper airplanes are done! Come here, Papa Arthur will play with you.” The boy gave a happy cheer and laughed brightly. “Okay! Papa Arthur, someone is on the phone for you.” Arthur took the phone, his tone instantly shifting to deep annoyance: “What is it? Didn’t I explicitly tell you that today is Toby’s birthday and I am not to be disturbed under any circumstances?” The assistant hesitated for a second before blurting out: “Mr. Sterling, do you… do you have another son named Leo? He’s…” “ENOUGH!” Arthur furiously cut the assistant off: “I have no idea how much Mia paid you to do this, but I am warning you right now: stop using children as pawns in her pathetic, desperate games!” “As of right now, I only have one son, and his name is Toby.” “Do not ever mention those people to me again!” With that, the line went dead. His voice had echoed clearly throughout the entire warehouse broadcast, instantly extinguishing the last, fragile spark of hope in my son’s eyes. He might not fully understand what “pawns” meant, but he understood with absolute, agonizing clarity that his father had just abandoned him. My son muttered the words softly to himself, his heart turning entirely to ash as he closed his eyes. In that moment, he completely stopped fighting. The livestream was abruptly terminated by the platform for graphic violence. Humiliated and enraged, the kidnapper raised the meat cleaver, fully intending to bring it down on my son’s neck, but his accomplice stopped him. He looked down at my son’s battered, bruised face and suggested: “Look, since Arthur Sterling refuses to acknowledge him, this kid is completely useless to us anyway.” “Just chop off one of his arms and dump him at Sterling’s mansion.” “Since he clearly misses his mommy so much, let’s give him a chance to bury her.” The kidnapper sneered, shifting the heavy cleaver to hover directly over my son’s left arm. The blade came crashing down. My son’s agonizing, blood-curdling scream echoed through the massive, empty warehouse. Miles away, while helping Toby cut his birthday cake, Arthur’s heart suddenly seized with a violent, inexplicable palpitation. 4 When he woke up again, missing an arm, my son had already been dumped in front of Arthur’s sprawling, multi-million-dollar estate. In the massive courtyard, a gigantic, custom-built toy castle dominated the lawn. Arthur and Chloe were happily playing games with Toby. The continuous sound of bright, echoing laughter drifted over the walls, slowly dragging my son back to consciousness. He agonizingly forced himself to roll over. He stared blankly through the wrought-iron gates at the picture-perfect, happy family, tears welling in his eyes. Then, he remembered what the kidnapper had said. I have to bury Mommy… Yes. I have to bury Mommy. Even though he didn’t fully comprehend the horrific permanence of death, his primal instincts told him this was the most important thing in the world. Ignoring the excruciating, blinding agony radiating from his severed shoulder, he used his only remaining hand to drag his body across the rough pavement. Inch by agonizing inch, he dragged himself toward the massive front gates of the estate. The sharp gravel tore at his palm, and dirt ground itself deep into his open, bleeding wounds. Every single inch he moved was an absolute, torturous hell. This was a child who used to run to me and cry over a scraped knee. Now, he simply let out a few weak, silent sobs before gritting his teeth and continuing to drag himself forward. He stared at the imposing gates slowly drawing closer, muttering to himself like a mantra: “Leo doesn’t hurt… Leo doesn’t hurt at all… I have to bury Mommy…” When his small, bloodied hand finally grasped the cold metal of the gate, he let out a massive sigh of relief. He forced his head up and used the absolute last shred of his energy to call out: “Daddy!” Hearing the voice, Arthur instinctively whipped his head around. Seeing the tiny, curled-up body lying just outside the gates, his expression froze, a flash of genuine, instinctual heartache crossing his eyes. Just as he took a step toward the gate, Chloe immediately intercepted him. “Arthur, is that Leo? Why is he here? Didn’t Mia say they were kidnapped?” Chloe’s expression twisted into a vicious sneer, though her voice remained sickeningly gentle. “But I guess it makes sense. Mia has always been incredibly jealous of how well you treat me and Toby. It’s completely in character for her to try and ruin Toby’s birthday.” “I just feel so incredibly sorry for Leo, being used as a pawn at such a young age.” Hearing Chloe’s words, the sudden softening in Arthur’s heart instantly hardened into ice. He stared at his son from a distance, his voice dripping with freezing, absolute apathy: “What? Your mom realized I wasn’t answering the phone, so she sent you here to play the victim?!” “I am utterly humiliated to have a son like you. From now on, unless I explicitly give you permission, you are strictly forbidden from calling me ‘Daddy.’” “I am going to count to three. You better get off the ground right now, or I promise you, you will deeply regret it!” My son’s pale, bloodless lips moved. He desperately wanted to explain, but the unimaginable pain had entirely drained his strength. Seeing that the boy still refused to move, an explosive rage ignited in Arthur’s chest. He turned around, snatched a heavy, die-cast toy airplane off the grass, and hurled it violently at my son. “I told you to get up! Stop putting on this pathetic act!” The heavy metal toy crashed brutally into my son’s forehead with a sickening thud. Blood instantly began pouring from the wound, dripping into his eyes, dyeing his entire world crimson. He desperately wanted to tell his dad that he wasn’t acting. That he was in agonizing, unspeakable pain. But he literally didn’t have the strength to make a sound. Seeing his son still lying completely motionless, Arthur completely lost his mind. He aggressively shook off Chloe’s hand and marched furiously toward the gate: “Are you really going to stubbornly defy me?! Do you honestly believe I won’t—” Before he could finish the threat, his phone began ringing with a piercing, urgent tone. “Hello? Am I speaking to Mr. Arthur Sterling? We received multiple emergency reports. Your child was subjected to a live-streamed torture session by kidnappers earlier today. Your wife was killed on the scene.” “We urgently request that you come down to the station immediately to assist with our investigation.” Clatter. The phone slipped from Arthur’s hand, hitting the pavement. He finally noticed the massive, horrific amount of blood soaking his son’s clothes. His eyes instantly turned bloodshot. My son had finally gathered enough strength. He forced his head up, using his only remaining hand to weakly tug at Arthur’s pant leg: “Mister… can you please lend me some money… so I can bury my mommy?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391793”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 Chloe and I sat side-by-side on the plush sofa, scrolling through our phones. Her finger suddenly froze on the screen. I leaned in to look. Oh boy. A well-known paparazzo had snapped a photo of her husband, Arthur Sterling, eating with the newly returned “white lotus,” Lily White. They were arm-in-arm, looking incredibly intimate. Lily White was the childhood crush of both Sterling brothers, and their families were close friends. Since we married into the family, she had only existed in the mouth of our sweet, naive mother-in-law. “Lily hasn’t called me, I miss her so much. “Which one of you will ask Lily when she’s coming back?” Lily this, Lily that, all day long. It gave both of us a complex. Chloe’s expression was dazed for a moment. But she quickly calmed down and asked me with a pained look: “I’m preparing to divorce. “Are you divorcing?” My interest level was at 10%. After all, I had been Chloe’s loyal follower since we were kids. She studied science, so I studied science. She went to Z University, so I tagged along to Z University. She married into the Sterling family, and I happily followed suit and married in too. But my husband hadn’t eaten with his childhood crush, so wouldn’t divorce be a bit excessive? Seeing my hesitation, she upped the ante. “Arthur’s salary card is with me; I can support you. “After we divorce, we’ll each get two male models and travel the world.” My interest level rose to 40%. Male models sounded pretty good, but just two… They might not even be as good as my husband, William Sterling. “Ten! Ten male models!” My interest level hit 80%. My eyes widened, and the word “Okay” was on the tip of my tongue, ready to blurt out at any moment. But the last shred of reason was still pulling me back. The phone’s notification chime dinged, and a conspicuous headline caught me off guard. 『New “White Lotus” Lily White Successfully Becomes the Annual Spokesperson for the Sterling Group! Signing Fee Could Reach Fifty Million!』 The accompanying picture was a photo of her cutting the ribbon with William Sterling. She was smiling beautifully, looking triumphant. And behind her, my dead husband was looking at her with deep, intense eyes. He had never looked at me with those eyes. Every time I joked with him or did something silly, he would look at me like I was an idiot and say: “Are you sick?” Thinking of this, I steeled my heart and said: “Divorce!” Chloe was overjoyed and immediately called a lawyer. She was very articulate when discussing property division matters. Hearing her say she wanted to split half of the Sterling family’s assets, my eyes went wide. How much money would that be… She was even bargaining with the lawyer on the other end of the phone, saying that handling two people’s lawsuits should get a 20% discount. That’s why Chloe is the big sister and I’m the little follower. Her brain just works better. I stared at my phone wallpaper, which was a wedding photo of me and William. I was still a bit reluctant. After all, besides giving me money, William also gave me a lot of happiness on a physical level… I spoke up weakly from the side: “Um… make sure to find male models who are good in bed.” Chloe turned to look at me, her expression instantly becoming stiff. I was still immersed in my beautiful fantasy and continued: “They must be better than William Sterling!” Chloe covered her mouth, looking like she wanted to scream, and pointed tremblingly behind me. Before I could turn my head, a familiar hand reached over. It grabbed the back of my neck and lifted me to his side like a little chicken. His voice was icy cold: “If I’m good in bed, why are you divorcing me?” 2 I turned my head mechanically and met William’s frosty face. He narrowed his eyes at Chloe, as if she had instigated me to divorce. “Sister-in-law,” he emphasized the two words heavily, “Arthur is on his way. You should think about how to explain this to him first.” Chloe was stunned and sat back down on the sofa to brainstorm. She had no time to attend to me, and she completely missed all the distress signals I was throwing at her. Where was our tacit understanding at the critical moment? Huh? I could only stare sheepishly at William’s well-defined side profile. Until he turned his head to look at me, his expression changing. The corners of his mouth curved up slightly, but his voice was still cold: “It’s enough for one couple in our family to divorce. They can divorce, but we won’t.” I always felt that William’s voice was like a magic potion, bewitching me to nod. I nodded obediently, and all thoughts about divorce and male models flew out the window. The roar of a sports car came from outside. As soon as I heard it, I knew that Arthur, the show-off who loved playing with cars, was home. With a sharp screech of brakes, he pushed the door open in less than a minute. He must have just rushed back from the movie set, still wearing his period costume, looking exhausted. He glanced at us and called out, “Brother, sister-in-law.” William put his arm around me, gave a faint “hmm,” and said, “Your wife is instigating my wife to divorce. You figure it out yourself.” Arthur rushed straight over to Chloe. He rubbed the space between his eyebrows, his tone impatient: “Chloe, what are you making a fuss about again? “Last time you threatened divorce because I filmed a kissing scene, and I haven’t taken any kissing scenes since then. “The time before last was because my assistant gave me a handmade cake, and I fired her immediately. “What are you dissatisfied with this time?” Chloe sneered and threw her phone at him. “Look for yourself.” I was enjoying the gossip when William grabbed me and dragged me away. “Let’s not get involved in other people’s family matters.” So we’re not part of the Sterling family? I muttered in my heart, but physically, I obediently followed him. Sitting in the passenger seat, I asked him softly: “Why is Lily White the spokesperson?” She had just returned to the country, hadn’t debuted for long, and had very few notable works. Even if there was a movie star in the family, it would be better to avoid suspicion and not use her. But considering the countless popular female stars in the entertainment industry, it logically shouldn’t be her turn in eight lifetimes. “Mia, don’t mess around with Chloe. “Lily is just a younger sister I grew up with. I don’t have any other intentions.” No other intentions? What about the group photo of the two of you I found in the drawer when we first got married? At that time, I trembled and showed the photo to Chloe. She didn’t speak, returned to her room, and took out another photo. It turned out that this photo was originally taken by three people together. Lily White stood in the middle, smiling purely and sweetly. William cropped out the part with his brother on the right. Arthur cropped out the part with his brother on the left. This level of shared wavelength proved they were definitely biological brothers. I stopped talking, turned up the car music, and stared out the window in a daze. 3 William seemed terrified that I would contact Chloe. He took me to the company and watched me every step of the way. He even shoved paper and a pen at me during meetings, making me sit behind him and doodle. I had to admit, he was incredibly handsome when he worked. His eyes, framed by gold-rimmed glasses, stared intently at the screen. When he heard key points, he would speak up at the exact right moment, hitting the nail on the head. He didn’t have much of an expression, but occasionally he’d look back at me, as if saying: Is it boring? It’s almost over. But this meeting really dragged on forever, so long that I almost fell asleep. I was used to it. After all, he was the kind of guy who would rush back to the office on our wedding anniversary because of a subordinate’s mistake. Leaving me dazed on the top floor of the hotel with fresh flowers and cake. I had to call Chloe over, otherwise, that massive bed would have gone to waste. It wasn’t until the secretary knocked on the door and announced that Ms. White was here. “We’ll stop here for today. We’ll continue with the details tomorrow.” Only Lily White could snap him out of his workaholic state. I followed behind him and saw Lily White for the first time. I had looked her up online before. She was 25, her resume was spotless, and she had zero negative press. Even the fact that she was the heiress to the White family was kept secret from the media. She was clearly well-protected by her family. She was dressed in a white dress, looking exactly the same as in that 18-year-old photo. I suddenly understood why these two brothers couldn’t let her go. That clean, pure aura of hers was something no man could resist. She called out sweetly: “William, I didn’t disturb you, did I?” She completely ignored me, probably assuming I was just a secretary who didn’t matter. William said: “No, you came just in time.” He turned and instructed the secretary to take me back to the lounge. He also made sure to tell her to order some of my favorite desserts and fruit teas. He looked like the picture of a caring husband. But this caring husband never actually looked me in the eye from beginning to end. The AC in the lounge was turned up a bit too high, and the chill seeped straight into my heart. I looked at the dozen missed calls from Chloe on my phone and dialed her back. This time, I was the one who asked first: “Chloe, are you still divorcing?” The phone was silent for a few seconds before a firm voice replied: “Divorce.” 4 Chloe and I met at a bar and drank until we were dizzy. “Mia, do you know what that dog Arthur said? “He said Lily just returned to the country and asked him to introduce some resources, so he went to meet her. “What about me? I was making a name for myself in the entertainment industry too, and my talent was no worse than Lily’s. “But what did I get by marrying him? Constraints on showing my face in public, and a man whose heart isn’t even with me.” I whispered: “But you got money…” Chloe was an extravagant spender. Thankfully, the Sterling family’s wealth could withstand her shopping sprees. Hearing this, her hazy eyes lit up. She grabbed my hand, her tone as firm as if taking an oath: “Yes! I have money! There are only two sons in the Sterling family. The two of us will split half of their family fortune. What kind of men won’t we be able to find then?” Speaking of this, she suddenly remembered something and asked: “You and William didn’t sign a prenuptial agreement, did you?” We actually did. Before the wedding, in front of a lawyer, William pulled out an agreement for me to sign. At the time, I was so mesmerized by his face and body that I signed it without even reading it. Chloe gasped in horror when she heard this: “Then we can only split a quarter of the fortune!” I asked her: “How much is a quarter?” She counted on her fingers: “We can hire ten top-tier male models a day, different ones every day, until the day we die.” Me: “Hell yes!” We happily decided that once the lawyers drafted the divorce agreements, we would officially file. While waiting for the paperwork, it happened to be our mothers-in-law’s birthday. We still had to keep up appearances, so we dressed up and attended the banquet arm-in-arm, leaving the two brothers staring at each other. In previous years, we would always link arms with our respective husbands, accompanying them as they networked and socialized. Tonight, they were left flying solo. At first, Chloe and I both thought the mother-in-law was trying to put us two unsatisfactory daughters-in-law in our place. As it turned out, she genuinely just loved Lily White. Word was she had always wanted a daughter, but ended up with two boys. The neighbors were always busy, so she practically raised Lily, treating her like a princess. Chloe couldn’t stand it anymore and tried to pull me away. But Lily intentionally glanced over and asked: “I haven’t properly met my two sisters-in-law yet. Won’t Auntie introduce us?” Great. Now we couldn’t leave. She greeted us sweetly and complimented Chloe on her beauty. Duh, Chloe is drop-dead gorgeous. If she were still acting, Lily wouldn’t even have a career. When it was my turn, Lily looked me up and down and praised me for looking like I had a healthy appetite. …Wasn’t it just because I gained a few pounds recently and looked a bit rounder standing next to Chloe? Did she really need to be so passive-aggressive? I endured it, but Chloe wasn’t about to coddle her. “It’s my first time meeting you, too. Your aura is so pure and refined, like a lotus flower growing out of the mud untouched. “Paired with this white dress, it really makes you look like the ultimate white lotus, doesn’t it?” Our mother-in-law didn’t catch the sarcasm and nodded approvingly. Lily’s face turned red, then green, like a color palette. She didn’t talk back; instead, she swiftly walked over and inserted herself between the two brothers to chat. What a picture of harmony. Chloe and I exchanged a look, our resolve to divorce solidifying even further. There were many of Arthur’s investors at the banquet. Lily wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip by, shyly following behind him to network. Chloe scanned the room and whispered to me: “That Director Wu over there? He wanted me for his movie, but I was so blindly in love that I turned it down. “And President Wang? He offered to start a talent agency for me. Even after I quit acting, he still emails me asking me to come back. “Damn it, she’s snatching up all the opportunities I left behind. If I knew today was going to happen, I would’ve stayed in the entertainment industry.” She was so angry she looked like she might explode. The final straw was when Lily, completely disregarding the public setting, brushed a fallen eyelash off Arthur’s face. Unable to hold back a night’s worth of anger, Chloe found her moment and stomped her stiletto heel hard onto the train of Lily’s gown. Lily let out a cry of alarm, and as she looked down, a large chunk of her dress tore right off. Although nothing inappropriate was exposed, ruining a gown at an event like this was deeply humiliating. Arthur rushed over and grabbed Chloe, raising his voice: “Chloe! What are you doing? Why are you trying to embarrass her?” William also walked over and said to me: “Can you lend her a dress?” This was the very first thing either of them had said to us all night. I smiled and said: “Sure, you bought them all anyway. You decide.” He looked at me with an unreadable expression, finally waving a hand to have a maid take Lily upstairs to change. Chloe grabbed me, and we fled the Sterling estate. We got into the red sports car Arthur had bought her and floored it to 120 mph. When we finally stopped, she said: “Forget waiting for the agreement. We’re leaving tomorrow.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391812”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Seven years after breaking up with my first love, I took in a college boy who looked just like him. Everyone around me said he was just a substitute, but he would only smile softly and never argue. As time went on, I felt that living like this wasn’t bad at all. I warned my friends: “Don’t call him a stand-in. I’m going to marry him.” That single sentence caused my first love, who was halfway across the world, to book an overnight flight back to the States. Even though we had been apart for years, and he had never once come back for me. 1 When I pulled open the door, the smile froze on my face. A man I had only seen in my dreams for the past seven years stood on my porch. Ethan Vance. My first love. His features were as sharp and deep as ever, his eyes like stars. He looked more mature than before, and even more magnetic. Wrapped in a black windbreaker, he stood as tall and imposing as a tree. I had imagined what we would say to each other if we ever met again countless times, but I never expected him to speak first. He raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” When we broke up back then, it wasn’t an ugly, screaming fight. It ended through his long, agonizing campaign of the cold shoulder. But I had my pride. On the day of the first snow that new year, I stood alone in the freezing cold and cried until I broke down. Yet, when I opened my phone, I simply typed one calm sentence: “Let’s break up. You’re free.” He replied instantly—something he had almost never done during his months of ignoring me. “Okay.” From that day on, my unforgettable first love came to a full stop. For years, I thought I could never forget him. But it turns out time really does smooth over everything. Seeing him again, the turbulent waves that used to crash in my chest were completely gone. Now, he sat in my living room while I meticulously decorated the house. I hung balloons and string lights. When the cake in the oven was done, I pulled it out and carefully frosted it following a tutorial. A few stray strands of hair fell across my forehead, but I didn’t even bother to brush them away. I had no time to pay attention to his presence. In my peripheral vision, I only saw his fingers slowly curling into tight fists. Today was Liam’s birthday. After a busy afternoon, people slowly started to arrive. They were all my friends. I wanted a full house; I wanted Liam to have a happy day. When my friends saw Ethan sitting on the sofa, those who knew our history froze in their tracks. But after glancing at me, they kept their mouths shut. At five o’clock, the doorbell rang again. I opened the door, and Liam stood there holding a bouquet of flowers, gazing at me with a gentle, loving smile. I pulled him inside as confetti cannons popped from both sides, showering him in color. “Happy Birthday, Liam!” I happily threw my arm around his shoulders and introduced him to all my friends. I went down the line, and when I reached Ethan, my tone paused for a fraction of a second before I spoke as casually as possible: “This is… Ethan Vance. An old high school classmate of mine.” Ethan stared at me. When his brow furrowed, he was actually quite intimidating, his presence overwhelmingly heavy. If I went by my past knowledge of him, I half-expected him to flip the table and storm out. But thankfully, he didn’t. Even when Liam extended a hand to him, Ethan gave me enough face to shake it. I breathed a sigh of relief. Throughout the entire birthday party, I made sure Liam was the center of attention. My friends showered him with relentless praise. After all, ever since I dropped that warning a while back, no one dared to tactlessly call him a substitute again. “He’s so handsome, Chloe. I’m so jealous you have such a gorgeous boyfriend.” “Not just handsome, but he has a great temper too! Unlike that guy you dated years ago, wow, he was a total…” The person realized what they were saying, shot a terrified glance at Ethan, and instantly clamped their mouth shut. … The party’s atmosphere peaked after everyone was full and we started playing Truth or Dare. Liam lost a round and chose ‘Dare.’ The condition: kiss me. Everyone clapped and cheered: “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” “Come on, kiss her! You’re not a real man if you don’t! That’s your girlfriend!” Suddenly, with a loud bang, the front door was slammed shut. Ethan was no longer in his seat. … 2 After the party wrapped up and everyone left, I went upstairs. Liam was sitting at his easel, earnestly studying a canvas. The soft bedroom light spilled over him, highlighting his elegant profile. He didn’t know that he was far more breathtaking than the art he painted. Sneaking up behind him, I suddenly felt playful and reached out to cover his eyes. “Guess who?” Liam needed total concentration when he painted, but he never got mad at me for interrupting him. I could feel the corners of his lips curve upward as he played along: “I don’t know. Who is this?” “I’m your baby,” I said sweetly. I let go. He tilted his head back, smiling up at me, and then pulled me right into his lap. His embrace was broad, soft, yet strong. He enveloped me effortlessly. I buried my face in his chest and took a deep breath. That faint, signature scent that belonged only to Liam always intoxicated me. But then, he suddenly asked: “What’s wrong with you today?” “Huh? Nothing’s wrong.” “I just feel…” His gaze fell on me, thoughtful. “You seem a little off.” I didn’t expect him to be so perceptive. Seeing the man I had longed for for years, no matter how calm I tried to be, I was inevitably affected. But I had no intention of telling him. To my surprise, he asked: “That guy today, the one you said was a high school classmate. I’ve never seen him around you before.” Alarm bells rang in my head. “Oh… he went abroad right after graduation. He just moved back recently…” I thought I was acting perfectly normal, but I couldn’t help the guilty flutter in my chest, silently praying he wouldn’t press further. But he looked at me with a half-smile, effortlessly piercing my disguise. “That was your ex, wasn’t it?” “…How did you know?” “I guessed.” Looking into his eyes, I surrendered. Maybe this was a man’s sixth sense. I raised three fingers, swearing to the heavens, the earth, and my heart. “I admit it, yes, he is.” “But it’s been so long. I have absolutely zero feelings for him anymore.” “Don’t you know who fills my head completely right now?” By the time I finished that last sentence, I couldn’t help but grin cheekily. He gently pinched my cheek. “I know.” He didn’t ask anything else. This was Liam. Always graceful, always knowing exactly where the boundaries were, knowing when to advance and when to retreat. Sometimes I thought it made perfect sense why people secretly called him “Liam the Accommodating.” Otherwise, with so many people coming and going in my life over the years, why was he the only one who stayed? That weekend, I was invited to play golf. It was a standard social event for the upper crust, a place where everyone networked and exchanged market insights between swings. I brought Liam with me. Many people in our circle knew about our relationship. While those elites were gossips, they wouldn’t disrespect me to my face. The caddies picking up the golf balls, however, were a different story. I heard them whispering: “See that pretty boy? He’s sponsored by Ms. Sterling. I heard she drops hundreds of thousands on him every month.” “She treats him so well, even bringing him to play golf. A high-end place like this… he’s dirtying our club’s grass.” “Exactly. A broke kid like him has probably never touched a golf club in his life.” … A spot opened up on the green, so I asked Liam. “Want to give it a try?” He didn’t refuse. He nodded, looking incredibly elegant. He stepped up to the tee, took a ball, gripped the club, and swung. Hole in one. Perfect. People around us turned their heads in surprise. I clapped delightedly, cheering loudly, “Beautiful!” 3 I swiped my card for twenty grand on the spot. The club brought out stacks of cash, and I had them distribute it to everyone present. Whenever someone hit a hole-in-one here, it was tradition to tip out cash to the staff as a celebration. When they reached the caddies who had been whispering, I said coldly: “Skip those guys.” “Their mouths are too filthy. I don’t want them dirtying my money.” Their faces instantly flushed with deep shame. The CEO who invited me laughed and said: “I didn’t expect your… boyfriend to be so skilled.” I waved my hand dismissively. “If it wasn’t for his family’s bad luck back then… sigh, never mind. Let’s just say it wasn’t easy for me to win him over.” I was born into a Manhattan old-money dynasty. With a large extended family, I was groomed from childhood to be the primary heir, which gave me the capital to look down on almost everyone. It was safe to say that, aside from the massive failure I experienced with Ethan Vance, no one had ever rejected me. Just as the cash was being handed out near the edge of the green, a low gasp rippled through the crowd. A tall, remarkably handsome man stood there. I didn’t know when he had arrived. It seemed like he had been watching for a while. His assistant tried to hand him a couple of thousand dollars from my tip pool with an apologetic smile, but he didn’t even look at it. He stepped up to the tee and took a swing. Another hole-in-one. The crowd gasped again. He swiped his card for forty grand. When he turned his head, he saw me happily holding Liam’s hand. “How are you so amazing? As expected of my boyfriend, you make me look so good!” Ethan’s face darkened instantly. I was completely oblivious, continuing to praise Liam. Suddenly, a golf ball shot into my field of vision. It was moving at a terrifying speed, hurtling straight for Liam’s head. It missed by a fraction of an inch, grazing Liam’s temple before slamming heavily into the ground. A golf ball of that density, with that much momentum, could have easily given someone a severe concussion or worse! But Ethan just walked over and said nonchalantly: “My bad. My swing went wide.” “Wide, my ass!” I couldn’t hold back my curses anymore. “Vance, are you out of your f***ing mind?!” He didn’t expect me to react so explosively. He held up his hands in a mocking surrender. “He’s just a little pet you keep around. I heard he’s even my substitute. The real thing is standing right in front of you, and you’re still settling for the knockoff?” Beside me, Liam’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes visibly dimmed. Ethan’s words stomped directly on my biggest landmine. I raised my hand, pointing a trembling finger right at his nose, gritting my teeth. “Let me make this clear. Liam is my boyfriend. He’s not a substitute. You better learn your f***ing place next time, or I swear to God, every time I see you in New York, I will make your life a living hell.” “You know I have the power to do it!” Strictly speaking, the Vance family controlled commerce, while my family controlled politics and infrastructure. His family still had to bow their heads to mine. Ethan’s expression shifted. Slowly, his jaw clenched tight. He looked at me with pure disbelief: “You’re doing this… for him?” But I was already dragging Liam away. 4 Once we were sitting in the car, my heart ached. I held his face, examining it over and over. Even though the ball hadn’t actually hit him, I was still terrified. “Does it hurt?” I asked. He blinked, and a fine mist of tears pooled in his eyes. “Yeah… it hurts.” My heart broke even more. Seeing him looking so pitiful made my rage toward Ethan boil over. “He got kicked in the head by a mule! That idiot, swinging without looking where he’s aiming—why doesn’t he just go die?!” I kept cursing a blue streak until I finally snapped out of it and realized Liam was looking at me, smiling. His gaze was infinitely gentle. For some reason, I froze for a second. “What? Is there something on my face?” His hand gently brushed through my hair, sending a tingling flutter down my spine. “I love it when you get angry for my sake.” “Why?” “It shows you care about me.” I grabbed his hand and poked his palm playfully with my finger. In this intimate atmosphere, I suddenly felt incredibly warm. “Of course I care about you. Hmph.” He let out another soft laugh. I realized I was blushing. The news that I threatened to destroy Ethan Vance at the golf course spread like wildfire. Now, everyone in our social circle was gossiping about “the heiress who waged war for her boy toy.” Even my parents found out. On the phone, my dad shouted furiously: “Do you hear how ridiculous you sound?! You threatened Ethan Vance over a plaything?!” “The relationship we’ve built with the Vance family for years was ruined by your one sentence! Do you know how many people are laughing at us right now?!” “You are going to apologize to Ethan, and then you are cutting off that little boy of yours!” The situation wasn’t actually that dire. I hadn’t truly moved against Ethan; my dad was just angry and lashing out. However, he used this as an excuse to remove me from my position as General Manager, demoting me to an unimportant department. He stripped me of my power. When I found Liam, he had already set everything up. Seeing me, he wrapped a salon cape around my shoulders. The sprays, scissors, and clippers were all laid out perfectly. Today was the day he gave me my regular haircut. He teased me: “I haven’t done this professionally in so long. Aren’t you afraid I’ll ruin your hair?” But I didn’t say a word. Sensing something was wrong, he immediately closed his mouth.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391417”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The year I turned four, my biological parents finally found me and brought me home. That was the first time a bodyguard ever escorted me to that magnificent, palace-like mansion on the hill. The fake heiress, wearing an exquisite tutu dress and hair clips worth thousands of dollars, walked up to me and asked, “Are you the cleaning lady’s daughter?” So innocent. So pure. According to the personality my adoptive parents had beaten into me, I should have been terrified by this grand spectacle, completely at a loss for what to do. But… sorry, sweetheart. I’ve been reborn this time. 1 I opened my eyes to see the scenery blurring past the car window. Besides my tiny body curled up in the plush leather captain’s chair, the only other person in the luxury SUV was the bodyguard driving, dressed in a black suit and sunglasses. My eyes stared blankly out the window. There was no childlike innocence in them, just a hint of boredom. I really couldn’t understand why a chance at rebirth was given to me—someone who had absolutely no desire to live. Hmm… I racked my brain. How did my past life end? Was it… suicide? Yeah, I think so. The car sped along, following the exact trajectory of my past life, heading straight toward the place that would become my lifelong prison. The mansion dripped with opulence. Only the absolute elite of high society had the right to live in a neighborhood like this. Inside this house lived the picture-perfect family of four: a father who was a powerful, billionaire CEO; a mother who was a beautiful, elegant socialite; an older brother who was gentle, handsome, and fiercely protective of his sibling; and an innocent, obedient little sister who was the center of everyone’s universe. The family doted on their youngest daughter so much that they couldn’t bear to send her to preschool until she was four. But the irony was, during her mandatory pre-enrollment physical, a routine blood test shocked them to their core. The apple of their eye, the precious darling they had loved and spoiled for four years, wasn’t their biological child! Their real daughter had been switched at birth and had spent the last four years living in a rundown, impoverished trailer park on the outskirts of the city. Though it was hard to accept, the wealthy parents immediately brought their biological daughter back from the trailer park. But they could never have predicted that one day, they would look at this daughter they brought home and say, “You’re so vicious. I wish you had just died out there!” all to protect the fake heiress. That older brother, who was always so warm and gentle to everyone else, would step in front of the fake heiress, glaring at his own biological sister with guarded eyes, warning her, “You need to learn when to let things go.” Even my fiancé, whom I had barely met a few times since our arranged engagement as children, would look at me with nothing but disgust. From the moment I was brought back, everyone thought the fake heiress was better, sweeter, and more pitiful. The true heiress, supposedly returned to a life of wealth, was forever trapped in a life of being compared, despised, and framed. Desperate for love, only to be destroyed by it. I felt something warm and wet on my cheek. Tears. But I didn’t feel any sadness at all? I forced my slow, numb brain to think. After a moment, I could only curse this four-year-old body for being so dramatic. Then I remembered a voice echoing in my ear just before the darkness consumed me in my past life: “Plot armor… cannot be fought…” Cannot be fought? If it can’t be fought, then why let me be reborn? Did someone not get enough entertainment watching me act like a pathetic, trapped animal in my past life? Or did they think my past life wasn’t enough of a joke? The car was dead silent. No one was going to give me an answer. 2 I was escorted into the mansion. Arthur and Victoria were already waiting on the plush sofas, with nine-year-old Liam sitting beside them. Perhaps it simply hadn’t crossed their minds, but no one had thought to bring me a clean set of clothes for the ride. I was still wearing the filthy, oversized t-shirt I had inherited from my adoptive cousin, and a pair of dirty, unglued flip-flops on my feet. My dull, yellowish hair was matted into small clumps. I didn’t miss the flash of surprise and complex emotions in their eyes. I didn’t know if they were disgusted by my clothes or by me. “Mommy~” From the top of the grand spiral staircase, a little girl in a fluffy tutu, her slightly curly hair pinned back with sparkling clips, walked down step by step. A nanny trailed closely behind her. Her dress really was beautiful. Bright colors, delicate embroidery—little bunnies and flowers. Look! In an instant, she drew everyone’s attention. I have to admit, in my past life, I secretly envied Chloe. Even while ridiculously putting on airs as the “true heiress,” I envied her. Her parents loved her; they switched me out just so she could have a good life. My parents loved her too; until the day I died, barely anyone knew she was a fake. My brother loved her, constantly taking her side. Everyone who was supposed to be mine loved her… I was the only one who hated her. 3 My name is Harper. Before my biological parents found me, my name was Lily, named after the lilies that grew near the trailer park. It was a name chosen out of convenience, leaving me with no choice. Later, Arthur changed my name to Harper. I was so happy then, feeling like a pearl finally wiped clean of dust, picked up from a pile of mud. It was only later I realized that it wasn’t the meaning that mattered, but the fact that it sounded just like my old name. Wherever I went, I was just an afterthought. My lifelong nemesis was named Chloe. A name Arthur and Victoria had chosen together, filled with beautiful wishes and expectations. Everything she had, before and after, was originally meant to be mine. She was manipulative and calculating, with a disguise so clumsy you could see right through it, but I still couldn’t beat her. The ending was always my defeat. I didn’t want to fight anymore. I was tired. I could no longer find any joy in the tiny scraps of attention they threw my way. “Chloe!” Victoria instinctively stood up from the sofa and walked toward her. But then, remembering something, she stopped, shooting a complicated look at the nanny behind Chloe. The nanny awkwardly lowered her head. Chloe walked toward me. Like natural-born enemies, she noticed me immediately. Or maybe my outfit was just that eye-catching among these rich people. I looked like a little beggar; even the nanny behind her was dressed better than me. She rubbed her eyes, which were slightly red from crying, and her tone was innocent: “Who are you? Are you the cleaning lady’s daughter?” The exact same words. Arthur and the others hadn’t even reacted yet. Everyone in the room watched us like spectators at a play. What did I do in my past life? Oh, right. In my past life, I was so terrified I plopped right down on the floor. Amidst my panic, I couldn’t help but think about how soft the floor was, covered in a beautiful rug, softer than the sand after high tide. First impressions are crucial. Chloe had a massive advantage. From our very first meeting in my past life, I lost completely and utterly. She was pale, chubby, and adorable. I was sallow, emaciated, and pathetic—the kind of kid people instinctively shy away from. Tears started rolling down my cheeks. My voice was small and timid: “Did my mommy sell me here? She said if I wasn’t good, she would sell me.” “Lily was a good girl.” I choked back my sobs, trying my best to present a terrified but brave little victim to the audience. Chloe loved using this trick. It instantly garnered everyone’s sympathy, making it seem like she was the most pitiful person in the world. In my past life, I despised it, but now, I realized it was actually quite fun to play. She wasn’t actually that smart, and her tricks weren’t that clever. She just relied on that so-called… plot armor to get mindless favoritism along the way. I had suffered so much injustice because of it. Now, I wanted her to taste it for herself. Fight fire with fire, right? From the sofa, I heard Victoria’s heartbroken sobs. I thought with self-loathing, is she really that sad? Could she guess that one day she would become one of the final straws that broke me? Forcing me to watch as Chloe slowly claimed everything that was mine. I looked at Chloe standing in front of me. Her focus seemed entirely on me. A hint of a smile flashed across her lips. My pitiful state amused her. Like a princess, she looked down from her pedestal at me, thinner and smaller than her, and said as if bestowing a grand favor: “You’re so pitiful. I’ll ask my mommy later, you can be my little maid from now on.” I laughed internally at her clownish behavior, waiting for the real authority figure to arrive. 4 “Nonsense!” An elegant, regal woman in her sixties walked through the front door, her assistant trailing behind carrying a briefcase. The moment she spoke, the grand hall fell dead silent. Even Victoria stopped sobbing. “Grandma~” Chloe called out sweetly, lifting her tutu and jogging over. It was obvious she was heavily favored by the matriarch. But to her dismay, the grandmother she adored walked right past her and crouched down in front of the little beggar. Grandma stroked my dry, yellowish hair, her smile incredibly kind: “What’s your name, sweetheart?” I dropped the act, my gaze perfectly calm. “My name is Lily.” I pointed at Chloe, who was standing a few steps away: “Did you bring me here to be her little maid?” I instantly started crying as if I had been terribly wronged: “Can I say no? I don’t want to be someone’s little maid.” “The money my mommy sold me for… I’ll pay you back double when I grow up.” I couldn’t help but let out a little sob. In my past life, Grandma was the only one immune to Chloe’s plot armor. She was also the only one who paid attention to my growth, noticed my progress, and praised me. Of course! I wasn’t narcissistic enough to think I could defeat Chloe’s plot armor. But Grandma was someone who valued family bloodlines and interests above all else. She would spoil you because you were of the family’s blood, and she would abandon you if you weren’t. To hold onto that single source of attention, I worked desperately hard to grow into the person she wanted me to be. Even then, I still couldn’t outweigh Chloe in everyone’s hearts, and I still fell into Chloe’s poorly constructed traps. I think, in the end, Grandma was disappointed too… “Oh, sweetheart, Grandma would never make you a little maid. Do you know who you are? You’re Grandma’s real granddaughter, the little princess of our family!” she declared solemnly. This was said to me, but it was meant for everyone in the living room. “Grandma! Waah~ Chloe is your granddaughter!” Chloe ran over and threw her arms around Grandma. The assistant quickly pulled her away, and she struggled, crying even more hysterically. Victoria covered her mouth, tears streaming down her face, looking absolutely heartbroken. Grandma stood up, took my hand, and led me to the sofa. “Lily is a child of our family. The DNA test results show a 99% match.” The assistant let go of Chloe and pulled the DNA report from the briefcase. Chloe took the opportunity to run to Victoria, who hugged her tightly, crying in distress. I felt absolutely nothing. In my past life, scenes like this played out constantly, and the only result was resentment toward me. They would tell me to be more accommodating, saying Chloe was so pitiful, why couldn’t I be more generous? Basically, they resented me for being their biological daughter, for getting in the way of their deep mother-daughter bond with Chloe. “Our family’s flesh and blood has been wandering out there for four years. The mix-up at the hospital… I suspect there was foul play. If it was an accident, there’s nothing we can do. But if it was intentional, our family won’t be made a fool of.” She glanced at Chloe, who was shrinking back. “Especially since Lily suffered so much out there in Chloe’s place. I don’t care about scandals. Pick a good day and announce this to the public. Let Lily reclaim her identity as soon as possible. “Arthur, you’re the father. It’s your decision.” The man sitting on the sofa, who had been silent the whole time, nodded, his stern expression unchanged. He glanced at his wife: “Fine. I’ll have someone handle it in the next few days. During this time, let Li… Harper rest and recover at home. “As for Chloe…” Grandma cut him off before he could finish: “It’s not that our family can’t afford to raise another child, but it makes things awkward for both Harper and Chloe. Chloe has taken Harper’s place for all these years, enjoying everything that was meant for her. It’s time she went back to where she belongs.” “We don’t know yet if the adoptive parents did anything malicious back then. Regardless, the child is innocent. Our family isn’t heartless. We’ll set up a trust fund for Chloe, enough for her to live comfortably for the rest of her life.” She turned her head and gave me a decisive look. “While she’s still young, it’s better to get things back on track.” In Victoria’s arms, Chloe sort of understood what was happening—they were sending her away. She cried and screamed, begging Daddy and Mommy not to abandon her, promising she would be a good girl and eat all her vegetables. Liam stood nearby, gently patting her back to comfort her. I stared at the dirty flip-flops on my feet, feeling no anticipation. I already knew how this farce would end. Victoria couldn’t handle Chloe’s hysterical crying and pleading. Arthur, being the deeply devoted husband, naturally deferred to his wife’s wishes. In the end, Chloe stayed. It wasn’t even that difficult. We lived together under the guise of being fraternal twins. On paper, one was the eldest daughter of the family, and the other was the second daughter. Victoria looked at me with guilt, then looked down reluctantly at Chloe in her arms. “Mom, why don’t we… keep Chloe? I’ve raised her with my own two hands for four years. “That’s over a thousand days of mother-daughter love. I didn’t know Chloe… wasn’t my daughter. I always thought she was mine. I gave her the absolute best… “This whole thing was a terrible mistake, but it means Chloe was meant to be with us. Our family can certainly afford to raise another child. “Harper… needs time to adapt anyway. Wouldn’t it be better if she had Chloe as a companion?” I blinked, wanting to scoff. She’s the daughter you raised with your own two hands for four years. But what about me? Your biological daughter. I not only missed out on your meticulous care, I suffered for four years in someone else’s place. And now, I have to be considerate of your hard work? I have to generously accept you continuing to raise the thief who stole my life? In what world is that fair?! I tugged lightly at Grandma’s skirt. She looked down at me, pausing before she could respond to Victoria. “I’m hot,” I said. Everyone turned to look at me. It was August or September, the height of summer. The mansion’s central AC was set to a perfect temperature, but I was wearing a torn, fleece-lined winter shirt with sleeves that were too long. Suffice to say, after Chloe’s biological parents swapped us, they never bought me a single piece of clothing. I lived in hand-me-downs from relatives—didn’t matter if they fit, didn’t matter if they were for a boy or a girl. As long as I wasn’t naked. The assistant heard me say I was hot and asked if she should take me to change. Grandma nodded, but to their surprise, I resisted fiercely. Grandma looked confused, but figuring there were more pressing matters, she told the assistant to just roll my sleeves up a bit to help me cool down. Under the watchful eyes of everyone in the room, the assistant rolled the sleeves up to my elbows, revealing arms covered in bruises of all sizes. Someone gasped. Victoria pushed Chloe away and rushed over to me, but Grandma was already standing between us, gripping my arm and demanding answers. “How did this happen? Harper, tell Grandma, who did this to you?” Victoria stood nearby, covering her mouth and crying, wanting to get closer but not getting the chance. 5 My adoptive parents loved to abuse kids. Their miserable lives made it a habit to take out their frustrations on their daughter. Their son was a treasure; their daughter was trash. Especially since this daughter wasn’t even theirs. They thought the baby swap would never be discovered, so they acted with total impunity. “If you dare tell anyone, I’ll beat you to death.” That warning, delivered after every punishment, was etched deep into the mind of a four-year-old child. Even after being brought back by her biological parents, she was too terrified to complain. The only people who knew were the maids who took care of her, and those snobbish maids weren’t about to cause trouble for a neglected child. The marks on the body always fade eventually. When I grew up, I regretted keeping the abuse I suffered a secret. Maybe it was out of fear, or maybe a tiny sliver of pride. Back then, as a four-year-old, I only knew that getting beaten meant I was bad. It meant I must have done something wrong. I didn’t want my new mommy and daddy to see my flaws. But I’ve been reborn now. I refuse to suffer in silence anymore. It’s time for revenge. What does a four-year-old care about pride?! This time, I’m not playing the pathetic victim! I stared at the purple and blue bruises. “Lily was bad. Mommy and Daddy punished Lily.” A folder slammed violently onto the marble coffee table. Arthur stood up, his face livid with rage. Chloe was terrified by my bruises and started wailing. Grandma shot her a look, her brow furrowed in furious disgust. “This is a slap in the face to our family! We treat their child like a princess, and this is how they treat Harper?! She’s just a baby! “That’s it. I don’t want to hear another word. Send Chloe back!” They even stripped her of her last name. Chloe? The physical pain was something I was long used to, but this slight deviation from the plot of my past life felt surprisingly good. I just wondered if Chloe’s plot armor would somehow kick in and keep her here anyway. The staff moved quickly. Chloe’s room was cleared out in record time. It was the second-best bedroom in the mansion, right across from Liam’s room. I pouted slightly. Playing the pathetic victim really does work. I never got to live in that room in my past life~ Two months passed. I gained some weight, my skin cleared up and became fair, and my features began to define themselves, inheriting the best traits of Arthur and Victoria. This was the one area where I could always beat Chloe. But my past life had taught me that beauty doesn’t guarantee you’ll be favored. A few days after I was brought back, Grandma ruthlessly sent Chloe back to her adoptive parents. Although Victoria hesitated, the revelation of the child abuse crossed a hard line for both Arthur and Grandma, rendering Chloe’s plot armor useless. They immediately launched an investigation into the hospital mix-up and filed criminal charges against my adoptive parents for child abuse. But I knew Chloe’s departure was only temporary. She would be back eventually… 6 For those two months, Victoria treated me impeccably. After all, I was the child she carried for nine months. Bound by blood, she desperately wanted to overcompensate and build a relationship with me. I just let her, comfortably accepting everything she offered. Even though she occasionally slipped up and called me Chloe, or stared off into space, missing the child she had raised for four years. Whatever. Since my rebirth, I felt like a spectator watching a play. The dramatic ups and downs, the joys and sorrows—I felt very little of it. My older brother, who was five years my senior, kept his distance. Though he was smarter than other kids his age, polite and well-mannered, he still lacked the emotional control of an adult. Whenever Victoria tried to bring us together to foster a sibling bond, he would find a perfectly reasonable excuse to decline, leaving Victoria speechless. He didn’t bother putting on a fake smile for me. He probably thought I was too young to understand. The cold resentment in his eyes made it clear he viewed me as a home-wrecker who destroyed his perfect family of four, the little beggar who drove away his sister. Fine! In a way, I suppose I was. But I actually found it quite amusing. In mid-November of that year, the family threw me the first birthday party of my life. It was meant to make up for the birthdays I had missed, so the event was incredibly lavish. It was also the official announcement of my identity. Held in Arthur’s arms, I calmly accepted the blessings of various VIPs. They wished me a lifetime of joy, a smooth path ahead, and safety from all harm. They praised my adorable looks, saying I had inherited all my parents’ best features. For those few short hours, I really did feel like a pampered princess. But… being a princess has an expiration date. I was a Cinderella who would lose her magic when the clock struck. Arthur had to stay and schmooze at the venue, while Victoria suggested she take Liam and me home first. Her anxious demeanor gave me a pretty good idea of what was going on. By the time the car pulled up to the mansion, it was already 10:30 PM. In the foyer, Victoria let go of the hand she had been holding all night and hurried toward the living room. Liam, trailing behind us, also lost his usual composure. “Chloe!” Chloe was sitting on the sofa, wearing a white dress. She looked much more subdued. She buried her face in Victoria’s chest and cried timidly, saying how much she missed Daddy, Mommy, and her big brother. “Chloe, welcome home!” I heard my brother—the one who couldn’t stand me—speak with genuine joy. I quietly slipped away from the foyer and went straight to my room. Good girls go to bed early and wake up early. The next morning, Chloe was already sitting obediently at the dining table. It seemed two months of going hungry in that rundown trailer had cured her of being a picky eater. Seeing me come downstairs, Victoria gently picked me up and placed me in my booster seat, softly asking how I slept. Liam’s attitude had also improved significantly. He pushed my milk glass closer to me when I couldn’t reach it. Chloe, sitting next to him, looked at me timidly, entirely stripped of her former arrogant heiress persona. “Harper, Mommy wants to talk to you about something. Your sister’s biological mommy and daddy made a big mistake and the police officers took them to jail. Your sister doesn’t have anyone to take care of her or anywhere to live. Is it okay if she comes to live with us?” I took a sip of the milk. I’ve always hated this stuff; the smell always made me gag. I sat quietly as Victoria explained how pitiful Chloe was. Arthur had left for the office early, Grandma was at the main estate, and the three people at the table were eagerly awaiting my verdict. I glanced at Chloe’s pale, exposed arm, lowering my eyelashes. “Isn’t this something Daddy and Mommy decide?” I want to say no. I want to throw her out. I want her to be despised, to be looked down upon. I want her to be beaten like I was, to suffer what I suffered. But do you think I actually have a choice? Victoria patted my head, smiling with relief. “Harper is so understanding. We’re going to be a family of five from now on.” My adoptive parents were sent to prison. Chloe was legally removed from the family registry, meaning she would have no inheritance rights. Grandma turned a blind eye. In the end, Chloe—well, not Chloe anymore, her legal name was now Chloe Smith—stayed as the family’s adopted daughter. I had to marvel at the sheer power of plot armor. I felt like I had changed so much, yet somehow, nothing had changed at all.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391436”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On our son’s birthday, we were kidnapped. Victoria gathered ten million dollars for ransom. I learned after waking that our son was dead—the sixth of our children to die tragically. Broken, I wanted only to die and atone. A hollow man, I made my way to the rooftop, but stopped overhearing Victoria speak to a doctor: “Are you sure you want to implant your and Liam’s frozen embryo? You’ve already used six of your own children for Liam’s skin grafts. He’s healed. Must Nathan’s line end?” “A vasectomy isn’t ending his line. My child with Liam will be his, and losing a son will make him cherish this one more. Those six… they were born to be grafts. I gave them expensive graves. They’ll thank their loving mother in the afterlife.” I shrank into the corner, muffling my horror. The one I thought would weather life’s storms was the monster who created them. Even our children were just sacrifices for her true love. So be it. I’ll help them get exactly what they deserve. 1 The doctor looked at the nonchalant woman before him and hesitated. “Your physical state isn’t ideal for an embryo transfer right now. Perhaps we should wait…” “No need. The best cure for a broken heart is a new hope. This is the perfect time. When he finds out I’m pregnant again, he won’t have time to wallow in grief.” “Besides, Liam wants to be a father. I don’t want to make him wait. Not even for a day.” The doctor, his conscience pricking him, tried one last time. “Ms. Monroe, why not cultivate twins? One from you and Liam, and one from you and Nathan. If Nathan ever discovers the truth, he’ll still have a biological child. It could be a buffer, prevent things from getting too ugly.” Victoria’s patience had worn thin. “A heart can’t be divided equally. There’s no guarantee he’d treat both children the same. What if Liam’s child is neglected or wronged? I went through hell to restore his beautiful face after the fire; I’m not about to let him or his child suffer now.” “For years, Liam was so ashamed of his scars he wouldn’t even step outside. Now that he’s healed, he deserves to enjoy life, to be loved, not to be bothered by problems that can be nipped in the bud.” “Nathan will never find out. As long as he raises this child well, I’ll ensure he’s comfortable for the rest of his life. That’s a blessing most people could only dream of.” The doctor knew further argument was pointless. He sighed and turned to leave. As Victoria passed my hiding spot, her assistant rushed up, his face etched with anxiety. “Ms. Monroe, that bastard is trying to blackmail us. He wants another five hundred thousand to leave town. He’s here, at the hospital. He said if he doesn’t get the money, he’ll expose everything…” The assistant played a voice recording. “The great Victoria Monroe isn’t going to stiff me on five hundred grand, is she? All these years, helping you stage those ‘accidents’… I live in constant fear. I’m worried one of these days the stress will get to me and I’ll just spill the truth…” Hearing the kidnapper’s familiar voice, my blood ran cold. Victoria, however, just scoffed. “Then give him the five hundred thousand. And tell him that the only reason I haven’t dealt with him is to build up good karma for my son. But if there’s a next time, I won’t hesitate to arrange a little ‘accident’ for him, too.” After transferring the money, Victoria left. I remained frozen, unable to move. What kind of love could make a ruthless woman like Victoria spare the life of a blackmailer? Yet, she had no mercy for me, or for our six children. I found myself wandering toward the morgue, wanting to see my son one last time. But I was told Victoria had already had him cremated. The doctor’s words echoed in my mind—our children died to provide skin grafts for Liam. The thought was a knife twisting in my heart. After the “accidents” that killed our first five children, Victoria had always rushed to have them cremated, claiming she didn’t want me to prolong my grief. Lost in my own sorrow, I never questioned it. I thought she was protecting me. It never occurred to me that she was just hiding the horrific truth of their deaths, a truth their bodies would have revealed. “Nathan! I finally found you! You scared me to death!” Victoria’s face lit up when she saw me, but when she noticed the tears in my eyes, her expression softened with pity, and she pulled me into a tight embrace. “Nathan, it’s all my fault. I didn’t protect you. But don’t worry, I’ll find that kidnapper. I’ll make him pay for what he did to our son.” “This is the morgue. The air here is heavy. You just had surgery; you need to go back to your room and rest.” The familiar embrace no longer brought me warmth. Instead, it carried the scent of a cologne that wasn’t mine. A wave of nausea washed over me, and I gagged. Victoria’s face filled with concern. “Nathan, what’s wrong? Are you not feeling well?” “Get away from me!” My coldness made her flinch. She lowered her head, her eyes filled with hurt. “Nathan, I know our son’s death is painful. My heart is breaking even more than yours. But the living must go on. We’ll have another baby…” Ignoring my struggles, she dragged me to the doctor’s office. The doctor played his part, asking a series of questions before writing a prescription for an ultrasound. I knew what was coming. I tore the paper to shreds. “I’m not sick. I don’t need a test.” Victoria ignored my outburst, her voice gentle and persuasive. When I refused to cooperate, she gave the doctor a subtle nod. A sharp pain shot through my arm as the anesthetic took hold. There was a flurry of activity from the doctor and nurses. Just before I lost consciousness, Victoria’s voice, cold and resolute, echoed in my ears. “Make absolutely sure he can never have children again. There can be no mistakes.” 2 When I woke up, Victoria was sitting by my bedside. Seeing me stir, she rushed to share her “good news.” “Nathan, I’m pregnant! You’re going to be a father again!” “For the sake of our new baby, you can’t keep drowning in sorrow. It’s like our son has come back to us. This time, we’ll protect him. He’ll grow up safe and sound.” She gently caressed her flat stomach, her face a picture of pure happiness. I knew the embryo transfer had been a success. A dull ache throbbed in my lower abdomen. I smiled, a bitter, hollow thing. Noticing my strange expression, Victoria was about to ask what was wrong when her phone rang. She answered, a warm, gentle smile gracing her lips. “Nathan, there’s an emergency at the family estate. I’ll be right back.” She hung up and hurried out. A few moments later, a text message arrived: 【Get to the Monroe estate immediately. It’s urgent.】 My hand tightened around the phone. My instincts screamed at me not to go, but I hailed a cab and went anyway. The Monroe estate, a place I had never been allowed to set foot in, was ablaze with lights, as festive as Christmas. I could hear laughter and cheerful chatter from a distance, with no trace of the sorrow that should have followed the death of a grandson. Following Victoria’s instructions, I slipped in through the back gate and hid behind a tree. I saw Victoria standing before a man, presenting him with an elegant gift box. “Liam, happy birthday!” So, this was Victoria’s “emergency.” A birthday party for the love of her life. And yet, she had never given any of our children a proper funeral. Under the soft glow of the party lights, Liam’s skin, as smooth and flawless as a baby’s, burned my eyes. He opened the gift box with an expectant smile, and the guests gasped. “Victoria, isn’t that the main event from last month’s royal auction? I was wondering who the whale was who just bought out the whole room. It was you!” “Come on, spill it. Are you about to propose?” Victoria gazed at Liam, her heart pounding. If he just nodded, she would kick me to the curb in a heartbeat. Liam glanced in my direction and made a show of taking off the necklace. “Don’t be ridiculous, everyone. I’m just trying this on for my brother-in-law. We wouldn’t want him to get the wrong idea.” Victoria panicked, grabbing his hand. “Liam, this is for you! It’s your birthday present.” “Only someone as handsome as you could pull off a black diamond of this quality.” Liam leaned in and, ignoring the onlookers, planted a quick kiss on Victoria’s cheek. “Thank you, Victoria.” Stunned for a moment, Victoria then threw her arms around him, holding him tight. She was trembling with excitement, as if she were holding her entire world. “Liam, does this mean you’re willing to…” I knew I had been set up. I had no desire to watch this romantic scene play out. I turned to leave. Suddenly, Liam shouted in my direction, “Nathan! You’re here!” Her moment interrupted, Victoria spun around and stormed over to me, her eyes as cold as ice. “Who told you to come here?” “Didn’t you text me to come right away?” She pulled out her phone, glanced at the message, then turned back to Liam, poking him in the chest with a playful frown. “Don’t be so mischievous next time.” Liam just smiled and slung an arm around her shoulders. “Alright, alright, I know I was wrong. I just wanted to invite my brother-in-law to have some birthday cake with us.” Victoria melted under his touch. She turned back to me, her expression shifting to one of concern. “Why didn’t you call before you came over? If my mother had seen you, you would have been in for it…” Her mother had always despised me. She insisted that Victoria had to give birth to two sons before I could be officially accepted into the family and allowed into the estate. But with one child after another dying in “accidents,” her mother had declared me a jinx and forbidden me from ever setting foot on the property again. I glanced at the magnificent black diamond around Liam’s neck and gave a slight, humorless smile. “My mistake. I shouldn’t have come. Please, continue.” But Liam’s shout had been too loud. It had woken Victoria’s mother, who was napping on the second floor. 3 Victoria’s mother strode into the courtyard, spitting on the ground in my direction. “Nathan, you’re getting bolder and bolder! Do you think this is a place you can just waltz into? Get out!” I turned my gaze to Victoria, saying nothing. I didn’t expose Liam’s little trick. He, on the other hand, looked on the verge of tears as he explained to Victoria’s mother, “Godmother, I was the one who used Victoria’s phone to text him. I just wanted to make a new friend…” At that, Victoria’s mother shot me a venomous glare before turning to Liam, her voice dripping with affection. “Liam, a jinx like him is not worthy of being your friend. It’s your birthday; you don’t want to be tainted by his bad luck. If you want to make friends, just tell me or Victoria. We’ll invite all the handsome men and beautiful women in our circle for you.” She ordered me to leave again. This time, however, Victoria didn’t just stand by and watch. Liam also pleaded with her to let me stay for a piece of cake. Victoria’s mother snorted. “Fine. Since it’s the birthday boy’s request, you can have a piece of cake before you go.” I had no desire to be in their house, nor did I care about a piece of their cake. I turned to leave, my expression calm. Victoria grabbed my arm, her brow furrowed in annoyance. “Since you’re here, at least stay until after the party. Liam was kind enough to invite you. Don’t be rude.” Liam pushed me towards the tiered cake. After making a wish, he suggested that I cut the cake with him. Staring at his flawless, delicate skin, I nodded numbly. As our hands touched, it was as if I could feel my six children again. While I was lost in my thoughts, Liam whispered in my ear, “Feels smooth, doesn’t it? It’s all thanks to your children’s skin. I invited you here for cake as a thank you.” A fire of rage ignited within me. I yanked my hand away. In the sudden movement, the plastic knife in Liam’s hand somehow scratched his delicate skin, and a red welt immediately appeared. “Victoria! I think he doesn’t like me! He said my skin was as soft as a baby’s and he just had to cut it to see…” Victoria cradled Liam’s hand, her eyes red with distress. “Nathan! Apologize to Liam!” I met her icy gaze and refused. “He did that to himself. Why should I apologize?” Her eyes blazed with fury. “Liam just had his final skin graft surgery! Why would he deliberately hurt himself? Besides, he can’t stand pain!” “He can’t stand pain, but our sons could? Do you dare to tell me where the skin on his body came from?” “Don’t drag Liam into this just because you’re grieving! His skin came from the hospital, of course! If you’re going to cause any more trouble, then get out of this house!” I searched her face for a trace of guilt, but there was none. Her mother, who had been looking for an excuse to get rid of me, had found it. She called the butler, who unceremoniously threw me out the front gate. Still not satisfied, she cut a slice of cake and threw it at me. “Get lost!” The guests snickered, and I could see the triumphant, provocative glint in Liam’s eyes. Victoria stared at my calm, emotionless face, and an unbidden sense of unease crept into her heart. She said a few comforting words to Liam and her mother, then followed me outside, trying to wipe the cake off my shirt. “Nathan, you shouldn’t have come. My mother adores Liam. I was protecting you by telling you to leave. If she decided to punish you, you wouldn’t have been able to handle it. You understand that, don’t you?” In the past, no matter how her mother insulted me, a few sweet words from Victoria were all it took for me to forget. I even pitied her for having such a cold-hearted mother. Now I knew. I was a complete and utter fool. And she didn’t need my pity. “It’s fine. Thank you.” Thank you for showing me the truth. Seeing that I wasn’t making a scene, Victoria was about to call her driver to take me home, but then she heard Liam say he wanted to go shopping later. So she called a taxi for me instead, her voice once again gentle and soothing. “Go home, take a shower, and get some rest. I’ll be back to keep you company after I’m done here.” “Okay.” Once in the cab, I told the driver to take me to the hospital where I’d had my surgery. I paid a small bribe and found my severed vas deferens in a medical waste bin. I sealed it in a glass vial and took a cab home.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391454”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

In my last life, a runaway car left me broken on the pavement. My husband, standing right beside me, didn’t call for an ambulance. Instead, he cursed me for not watching where I was going, snarling that I deserved to die. After his tirade, he turned to comfort the driver who had hit me. “Don’t be scared,” he coached her. “When the cops get here, you stick to the story that she was trying to scam you for money, that you panicked and hit the gas instead of the brake.” “Don’t worry,” he assured her. “I’m here. Nothing will happen to you.” Even as I lay there, my life fading away, Vincent never once thought to call for help. As I took my final breath, he leaned in close, his voice a venomous whisper in my ear. “I’ll remember you. After all, you’re giving me quite a gift. I’ve already got plans for that million-dollar insurance payout.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back. A few days before the crash. 1 Rick smiled, tucking the signed insurance policy into his briefcase. Just as he was about to leave, I stopped him. “Is there something else, Faye?” he asked. I looked down at myself, whole and unharmed, a wave of dark relief washing over me. “Let me see Vincent’s policy again.” In my previous life, Vincent had told me he was just helping out a friend, Rick, by buying an accident policy. I didn’t think twice and signed on the dotted line for my own. A few days after the policies went into effect, I was the victim of a brutal hit-and-run. Vincent hadn’t called for an ambulance. He had rushed to the driver’s side, comforting her. “Don’t be scared,” he’d told her. “Just insist she was trying to scam you. That you got flustered and mixed up the pedals.” It was a stranger, a passerby, who finally found me bleeding out on the asphalt and called for help. But the nightmare wasn’t over. As the ambulance sped across the Blackwater Bridge, another car, seemingly out of nowhere, slammed into its side. The impact threw the rear doors open, and I was flung from the back of the vehicle, plunging into the dark river below. My body was never recovered. “Faye, Vincent’s coverage is higher than yours, and you’re the beneficiary. Is there something you’re concerned about?” Rick’s voice pulled me back to the present. “I want to change the coverage amount,” I stated. Rick looked hesitant. Vincent quickly stepped in. “Rick didn’t bring any extra forms. If you alter these, they’ll be void.” “Yeah, Faye. Is there a problem with the amount?” Rick asked, feigning concern. Last time, I had no idea this policy was my death warrant. Since I’ve been given a second chance, I figured I might as well raise the stakes. Naturally, I’d raise Vincent’s coverage, too. Hearing me suggest a higher amount, the tension in Vincent’s shoulders visibly eased. “Well, Rick, you heard her. Do what she says.” Rick turned to me. “How much of an increase are we talking about? The higher the coverage, the higher the premium.” I casually flipped through the pages before closing the document. “What good is five million these days?” I said with a dismissive air. “If you die outright, fine. But what if you’re left half-dead? That kind of money won’t even cover the medical bills.” A slow, pleased smile spread across Vincent’s face. “Honey, what are you talking about? We’re buying this for peace of mind. Nobody actually hopes to cash in on it.” I looked at my two-faced husband. “Are you worried about the money, or are you just trying to keep Rick from getting a bigger commission?” The commission was secondary. Rick and Vincent were old friends, and Rick had just started at the insurance company. This sale was all he needed to secure his position. It was supposed to be a win-win. I just never imagined it was a conspiracy to murder me. My words seemed to stun both of them into silence. “Fine, fine,” Vincent finally said to Rick. “Listen to her. Go and draw up a new policy with a higher payout.” “Is ten million enough?” Rick asked. I nodded, then gathered both of the already-signed policies and held onto them. As soon as the premiums were paid, they would be active. Rick looked at me, a flicker of confusion in his eyes when he saw I wasn’t handing the documents back. Before he could say anything, Vincent ushered him along. “The printer is in the study. What are you waiting for?” While Rick was in the study amending the policy, I printed out two organ donor registration forms. Vincent stared at me, his face a mask of pure shock and confusion. I knew he would never sign it, but I held one out to him anyway. “Why on earth would we donate our organs?” he asked, his voice tight. “We’re already buying life insurance. What’s the big deal about donating our organs?” He hesitated, clearly trying to figure out my angle. He didn’t want to sign, but he was afraid of making me suspicious. I didn’t wait for him, signing my name with a flourish. Seeing him still wavering, I feigned anger. “If you’re not willing, then there’s no point in the insurance either. It’s a waste of money.” With that, I turned and stormed back to our bedroom. Vincent was utterly baffled. Of course, he couldn’t possibly understand my plan. I didn’t have the energy to wait for him to get into a car crash and then arrange for his ambulance to be rammed off the Blackwater Bridge. If he signed that form, all I’d have to do is make one phone call after his “accident,” and he’d get a taste of what it felt like to not even have a body to bury. But I couldn’t say any of that out loud. I’d barely stepped into the bedroom before Vincent followed me in. “Honey, let’s just forget about the organ donation, okay? We’re only buying this insurance to help Rick out.” He paused, then added, “If you really want to donate, I won’t stop you. But I’m not doing it.” He wasn’t even bothering to pretend anymore. The only thing he hadn’t said outright was that he was plotting against me. In my last life, his act was flawless. He never let the mask slip. To the outside world, he was the perfect husband, the perfect son-in-law. No one knew he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. “Of course I’m donating,” I said firmly. “And you’re signing, too.” “Why should I?” Vincent’s voice was loud, a clear sign of his guilt. The commotion drew Rick out of the study. “What’s going on, you two?” he asked, trying to look neutral. I answered him calmly. “We won’t be buying the insurance for now.” A flash of fury crossed Vincent’s face. “Faye, are you doing this on purpose?” “You won’t even sign an organ donor form,” I said coolly. “How do I know what you’re really up to?” Before Rick could try to mediate, I grabbed my bag, turned, and walked out of the house. … “Vince, you don’t think she knows something, do you?” “What could she know? Just get the damn policies ready. While she’s out, I’ll sign for her and pay the premium.” “Look, man, just sign the donation form. It’s not worth spooking her over something so small.” Seeing Vincent was still being stubborn, Rick tried to reason with him. “She’s the one who’s going to die anyway. It doesn’t really matter if you sign or not.” “Exactly! So why should I sign? It’s bad luck!” “Don’t let a stupid little thing like this screw up the whole plan. It’s not worth it.” After a moment of deliberation, Vincent finally picked up the pen and scrawled his name on the organ donor registration form. “Is the car ready?” “Just waiting for your payment.” Every move they made was exactly as I’d predicted. The only reason I’d fallen for it in my past life was because I trusted Vincent too much. He had played me for a fool, leaving me to die without a body or a grave. A faint smile touched my lips as I saved the evidence. I had no intention of exposing their plot. The last thing I wanted was to tip them off. In fact, after leaving the building, I deliberately took a route that avoided that all-too-familiar massage parlor. I found a quiet spot and transferred the full premium amount to the account listed on the insurance policy. Then, I discreetly went to Rick’s insurance company and had the official stamp applied to the contracts. Only after everything was in place did I slowly make my way home. When I walked in, I saw the organ donor forms and the insurance policies laid out on the table. Without a second thought, I picked up a pen and signed my name on my policy with a confident flourish. Seeing me sign, Vincent’s mood seemed to lift considerably. He said he was going to deliver the contracts to Rick and headed out. I stood by the window for a long time, but I never saw him leave. No matter how well a fox hides, its tail will eventually show. But this time, watching his deception, I felt nothing. In my last life, I was a fool. It wasn’t until the moment of impact that I realized Vincent had been cheating on me. Now, even knowing he was running off to celebrate with his lover, my heart was perfectly still. Why would I care, now that I’ve been reborn? Time flew, and soon it was the day of the crash. I had just laid down when my phone buzzed with a notification. It was the exact same message I’d received in my last life. This time, my heart was calm as I opened the photo. I waited patiently for it to load, then glanced at the image of Vincent with his arms wrapped around masseuse number 38, their bodies pressed intimately together. Last time, I had been consumed by a blind rage, throwing on clothes and rushing out to confront him. The street was dark and empty. But as I crossed, a black sedan with its headlights off came hurtling toward me. Before I could even react, the impact sent me flying dozens of feet through the air. I landed hard in the middle of the road, the car screeching to a halt just inches from crushing my skull. My legs were mangled, twisted at unnatural angles by the bumper. After the crash, Vincent emerged from the shadows. He didn’t check on me. His first move was to comfort the driver. “Wendy, are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?” He glanced at my gasping form and spat, “You should have hit the gas harder.” Then back to her, all soothing concern. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here, I won’t let anything happen to you. When the cops come, just say she was trying to scam you, that you panicked and hit the gas instead of the brake.” “You haven’t been drinking, so the worst they’ll do is question you a few times.” The horror of my last moments was still vivid in my mind. This time, Vincent waited downstairs for a long time, but I didn’t move. Perhaps his patience wore out. He called me. “Faye, we were just having a few drinks, and Rick’s kid was playing with my phone. He was messing with some AI app and sent you a weird, fake picture.” I stayed silent. “You’re not mad, are you?” he pressed. “What are you talking about?” I asked, my voice thick with sleep. “Oh, did I wake you? I just meant that picture was a misunderstanding. Don’t worry about it.” “Oh.” “Hey, you want to come down for a bite? We’re at the diner just downstairs.” “No, I’m going back to sleep,” I said, deliberately. Vincent’s voice immediately turned urgent. “Come on, and bring me a jacket while you’re at it. It got cold all of a sudden, I’m freezing out here.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391475”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel