Category: English

In my past life, I shamelessly threw myself at the school’s golden boy. The day I died from incurable cancer was the very day he threw the “wedding of the century” for his childhood sweetheart. Reborn, I found myself back on the exact day I had originally confessed my love to him. With everyone watching, I marched straight past him and slammed my love letter onto the desk of the school’s notorious bad boy. The silver-haired delinquent opened his eyes from his nap, staring blankly at the envelope covered in hand-drawn hearts: “?” Me: “Here. Scrap paper.” 1 The classroom fell dead silent. The silver-haired guy slowly lifted his head, revealing a strikingly aggressive, predatory face. Sharp brows, a high-bridged nose. He even had a silver stud in his right earlobe. Dangerously attractive. I heard a few sharp intakes of breath around me. I couldn’t tell if it was from awe or sheer terror. I remembered him. Carter Sterling. Rumor had it that if you picked any three buildings on campus, his family had donated at least one of them. Because of this, he wasn’t just respected as “Carter.” He had another nickname: “The Landlord.” A guy next to him joked, “Damn, Carter, you’re a magnet! Got girls bringing the romance right to your desk?” Carter let out a low chuckle and told him to screw off. His tone was lazy, almost affectionate. After swearing at his buddy, he turned back to me. “What do you want?” I answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I want to sit next to you. Is that a problem?” Another round of gasps echoed through the room. This time, I knew for sure: it was pure shock. Carter propped his head on his hand, flashing a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I never let anyone sit next to me. What makes you think you’re special?” We locked eyes. Neither of us backed down. I gritted my teeth. No. I don’t have a choice. There were only two empty seats left in the AP Honors class. If I didn’t sit next to him, I’d be stuck sitting next to Ethan Vance. And that was basically a death sentence. So, I just dropped my backpack and unceremoniously sat down, deciding to play dirty. Seeing this, Carter frowned in deep annoyance, looking like he was half a second away from tossing me out the window. “I just told you…” Before he could finish, I reached under the desk and grabbed his leg, pressing down hard. Carter’s expression instantly froze. I leaned in, dropping my voice so only he could hear. “Please. Just let me sit here. If I don’t, I have to sit next to Ethan Vance. You don’t know this, but he’s a total creep. When the classroom is empty, he crawls around on the floor like a gremlin. He steals girls’ skirts and wears them! I’ve had so many stolen that I had no choice but to…” It didn’t matter if Ethan couldn’t hear me. Honestly, it didn’t matter if he did. He deserved every bit of it. 2 The more I talked, the more animated I got. With every word, my grip tightened. And with every squeeze, Carter’s face grew darker. That lazy smirk from earlier completely vanished. By the end of my rant, his expression was practically thunderous. He squeezed out a single word through gritted teeth: “Fine.” I felt a twinge of confusion. Wasn’t he just acting all arrogant a second ago? Why did he cave so easily? And why did he look like a defeated king forced to surrender his throne under extreme duress? Wait… wasn’t his thigh a little… skinny? And… squishy? “Are you gonna keep fucking squeezing?!” Carter finally snapped, his patience snapping. I yanked my hand back like I’d been burned. Ahhhhhhh! That wasn’t his thigh! Ahhhhhh! I literally just “grabbed the king by his scepter” to force a surrender! Ahhhhh! 3 After the seating arrangements were finalized, Ethan Vance cornered me in the stairwell. “What is going on between you and Carter Sterling?” I had zero desire to entangle myself with him, so I shot back, “None of your damn business.” Ethan clearly didn’t expect me to snap at him. His brows knitted together. He threw his arm out, blocking my path. “Blair Kensington, Carter Sterling isn’t someone you can mess around with. Why did you give him a love letter?” Hearing this, combined with the agonizing memories of my past life, my temper instantly flared. “Who I mess around with is my business. What does it have to do with you?” I snarled. “And even if he’s terrible, he’s a hell of a lot better than someone who strings people along, never accepting them but never letting them go either!” It was the truth. If Ethan hadn’t constantly fed me breadcrumbs of hope every time I was about to give up in my past life—making me foolishly believe that if I just tried a little harder, I’d win him over—I never would have wasted years of my life loving him. Ethan’s face turned incredibly ugly. “Blair, what is that supposed to mean?” I crossed my arms and sneered. “It means I’m insulting you. Are you too stupid to realize that?” His expression darkened further. He was about to retort, but I was done wasting my breath on him. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Carter lounging down the hall. I frantically waved my arm and yelled, “Carter!” With everyone watching, Ethan had no choice but to drop his arm and let me pass. Before I walked away, he leaned in and hissed, “Blair, I’m incredibly disappointed in you.” I smiled sweetly, waving at Carter, and offered Ethan one simple word: “Choke.” 4 When I jogged up to Carter, I caught a faint whiff of tobacco. “Were you just smoking?” Carter gave a dismissive “Yeah,” then slapped his palm against my forehead, shoving me a good distance away. His voice was rough and raspy. “Secondhand smoke is bad for you. Stop sniffing.” I remembered that in my past life, he only stayed at our high school for three months. The rumor was that he transferred because of serious health issues. Almost as if possessed, I blurted out, “Firsthand smoke is bad for you too. Can you stop smoking?” I stared at him with wide, pleading eyes. His buddy, Leo, who was standing behind him, couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Damn, she hasn’t even locked you down yet and she’s already acting like a strict wife?” Hearing Leo say that, I realized how massively over the line my request was. Carter had no idea about our past life. To him, I was just some random girl he met less than 24 hours ago, demanding he quit smoking. It was insanely weird! — “I mean, you could just smoke less…” I started to backtrack. — “Yeah.” We spoke at the exact same time. I blinked. “Huh?” Carter brought his right fist to his mouth and let out a low cough. “I’ll quit.” Now I was the one standing there looking stupid. The legendary, terrifying school bad boy… was this obedient? 5 Ethan’s childhood sweetheart was Chloe Jenkins. In my past life, she transferred into the AP Honors class with me. I didn’t know Ethan was secretly in love with her, so I happily took the seat next to him. I had no idea he had specifically saved that seat for Chloe. No wonder Ethan hated me so much later on. No wonder he took my confession letter with such cruel malice and sneered, “Oh, scrap paper.” Back then, Chloe was too intimidated to sit next to Carter, so she volunteered to sit right by the teacher’s podium. That meant the two star-crossed lovers were separated by half the classroom. Looking back at Ethan’s psychological torment of me in my past life, he probably blamed me entirely for keeping him and Chloe apart. The funny thing was, in this life, Chloe got the seat right next to Ethan, just like she wanted. But now, he didn’t seem to care about her at all. Instead, he was stalking me every single day. Is this that “absence makes the heart grow fonder” bullshit? To avoid Ethan, I had to stick to Carter like glue. I practically followed him into the men’s restroom. Actually, I basically did. Every time Carter stood up, I’d immediately ask, “Going to the bathroom? I’ll come with you!” It got to the point where the second I appeared outside the men’s room, his crew would start catcalling. “Oh look, the boss’s wife is here to escort him to the urinal again!” “Can’t bear to be apart for a single second, huh~” “With a woman like this, what more could a man… Ouch!” Carter walked out, smacking Leo on the back of the head. A lollipop stick jutted out from the corner of his mouth. He narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about? Did you fail English lit or something?” Ever since he promised me he’d quit smoking, he hadn’t touched a single cigarette. He just bought out the school store’s entire stock of lollipops. Whenever the nicotine craving hit, he’d shove one in his mouth. I’d accidentally caught a glimpse of his stash. They were 100% strawberry flavored. He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked up to me. “Let’s go, little shadow.” My face flushed. “What kind of nickname is that? Stop calling me that!” Carter leaned down, a wicked grin on his face. “Do you even know what the rest of the school is calling us? They say you’re my arranged child-bride, which is why you follow me around all day.” What the hell! I was literally just using him as a human shield against Ethan! While I was silently defending my honor in my head, Carter magically pulled a lollipop from his pocket, unwrapped it, and mouthed, “Say ah.” “Ah—” I looked at him suspiciously, but I still opened my mouth. A sweet, sugary taste instantly exploded across my tongue. Strawberry. “Why are you suddenly…” feeding me candy? Before I could finish the question, Carter had already turned around, strolling lazily back toward the classroom. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Ethan’s shadow darting past. I immediately scrambled after Carter. “Hey! Wait for me!” 6 A few days later, Ethan cornered me in the stairwell again. I pretended he was invisible and tried to sidestep him to go up the stairs. Ethan blocked my path with a thick stack of notebooks. “Move,” I snapped impatiently. Ethan frowned, his voice condescendingly soft. “These are my highlighted study notes. Midterms are in a few days. You won’t survive without these.” I didn’t reach for them. I just looked up, my eyes filled with pure mockery. Every time the school reorganized the classes, they held a placement midterm. It was designed to see if the new transfers could handle the AP workload, and to ruthlessly weed out anyone who just got lucky on the entrance exam. In my past life, I begged Ethan on my hands and knees to help me highlight the key concepts. He refused. He told me, “You only got into the AP class by sheer luck. You’re going to be kicked back down to standard eventually. Why drag it out?” He genuinely believed I was just a fluke. He refused to believe that back then, I loved him so much I was literally studying myself into an early grave just to stay near him. Eventually, I managed to secure the fifth-to-last spot, narrowly surviving the purge and staying in the AP class. Everyone was shocked. They all assumed Ethan had secretly tutored me. He never once bothered to correct them. And now? I was avoiding him like the plague, and he was willingly organizing his notes and serving them to me on a silver platter. I crossed my arms and laughed. “Whether I survive or not isn’t up to you. You act like you’re doing me a favor, but every word out of your mouth is an insult. Ethan, who gave you the audacity to look down on me?” Ethan’s face stiffened. He sighed heavily. “Stop acting tough. The most important thing right now is pulling your grades up…” I rolled my eyes. “Do you not speak English? I said I don’t need them.” Ethan reached out, fully intending to physically shove the notebooks into my chest. My natural instinct was to lean backward to avoid him. But I forgot I was standing on the edge of a concrete staircase. The terrifying sensation of weightlessness hit me, and I screamed, “Ahhhhhh—” But the agonizing crash never came. I fell backward into a solid chest that smelled strongly of strawberry candy. “Hiss… how long are you planning on laying on me?” I was so dazed staring at Carter’s flawless face that it took his voice to snap me back to reality. I had completely flattened him. That loud thud I heard a second ago was his back slamming against the concrete landing. “I-I-I’m so sorry…” Carter stood up, rolling his neck, and shot Ethan a deadly glare. “Are you gonna fuck off or what?” Ethan’s face turned pitch black. Without a word, he turned and stormed off. He never dared to go toe-to-toe with Carter Sterling. Once Ethan was gone, Carter just stood there in absolute silence. I felt incredibly guilty and quickly offered, “Should we head back to class?” Carter kept his head down. He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. Panicking that he was furious, I frantically started explaining. “He really did corner me! Ever since you told me to stay away from him, I’ve been avoiding him! I swear I…” “I know.” Carter cut me off. He lifted his head. There wasn’t a trace of anger on his face. He pointed down at his leg. “Can you help me get to the nurse’s office? I think I sprained my ankle.” Me: “…” I struggled to support Carter’s weight as he dramatically hopped down the stairs on one foot. “But seriously, you really avoided him just because I told you to? Am I really that important to you?” “…One more word and I’m shoving you down the rest of these stairs.” 7 Because Carter sprained his ankle saving me, the responsibility of taking care of him naturally fell to me. I fetched his water. I bought his lunch. I forged his gym class excuse notes. And under his absolute tyranny, I was forced to forge my own excuse notes. Just so I could stay in the empty classroom and keep him entertained. Between classes, Leo stared at the mountain of snacks and fruit piled on Carter’s desk and let out a wistful sigh. “Must be nice. If I knew the perks, I would’ve broken my own ankle.” Carter loudly crunched on an apple, shooting Leo a smug, arrogant look. “Does your desk buddy treat you this well?” Leo’s male desk buddy, who had been completely minding his own business, slowly looked up: “?” “But seriously, boss,” Leo continued, “what are you gonna do when you go home? You don’t have anyone there to take care of you…” The second half of his sentence died in his throat as Carter shot him a lethally dangerous glare. That instantly triggered a memory from my past life. The rumor was that even though Carter’s family had obscene wealth, his parents completely neglected him. They constantly forced him to transfer schools for their own business convenience, threw massive amounts of cash at him, and ignored his existence. Even though kids at school secretly joked, “If I had that much money, I wouldn’t care if my parents ignored me,” I figured that for Carter himself, it had to hurt. Thinking of that, I blurted out without thinking: “I’ll go to your house and take care of you.” The moment the words left my mouth, both Carter and Leo froze. Leo scratched his head, speaking first. “That’s real sweet of you, sister-in-law, but the boss literally never lets anyone into his penthouse…” “She can come.” Carter cut him off. I turned to look at him. A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. He drawled, “A promise is a promise. No backing out now.” 8 Carter lived in the penthouse suite of a luxury high-rise in the financial district. I had always thought that building was strictly for multi-million dollar tech startups. I had no idea there were private residences up there. I walked in carrying the groceries I’d just bought. Carter pointed lazily toward the massive kitchen. “Put ’em over there.” I looked around frantically, trying to locate an apron. When I turned back, Carter was already wearing one. A terrifyingly handsome, aggressive bad boy wearing a frilly, pastel pink apron… It was actually kind of adorable. I asked in shock, “Wait, aren’t I supposed to be cooking?” Carter had already turned on the faucet and was aggressively washing a head of cabbage. He was leaning against the marble counter, his cast propped up, his brow furrowed in deep concentration like he was battling a mortal enemy. Specifically, the cabbage. While waiting for the pan to heat up, he unwrapped a strawberry lollipop, shoved it in his mouth, and mumbled around the stick, “I was just messing with you. You really think I’d make you cook? Today, you get to experience the master’s culinary genius.” I watched him flawlessly ignite the stove, perfectly julienne the pork, and expertly chop the vegetables. My shock grew exponentially by the second. Maybe my face gave it away, because Carter let out a low chuckle. “What, you thought I was just some spoiled rich kid who’s never touched a spatula?” I gave him a very honest, vigorous nod. He threw the pork into the sizzling oil, creating a massive hiss of steam. “You know my family is loaded, right?” Carter said over the noise. “Everyone at school calls me ‘The Landlord.’” “My parents are generous with cash, sure. But whenever we get into a massive fight, they instantly freeze all my accounts. They even warn all our relatives and family friends not to lend me a dime.” “One time, the fight got so bad they cut me off for six straight months. I literally couldn’t even afford UberEats. My neighbor took pity on me and gave me some raw vegetables. I ended up burning them to a crisp and couldn’t even eat them. But since that day, I forced myself to learn how to cook.” He turned back and gave me a wry smile. “So during that time, every time I walked past those buildings they donated to the school, I wanted to burn them down. Or sell them so I could buy a damn sandwich.” His expression was casual. There was no visible pain or fury. But I just knew, deep down, he wasn’t happy. Even his final joke was just a defense mechanism to keep the atmosphere from getting too depressing. I opened my mouth, completely unsure of how to comfort him. At the end of the day, every family had their own poison, right? “Actually…” Just as I started to speak, my phone rang. Seeing the caller ID, my brow instantly furrowed in disgust. After hesitating for three rings, I answered it. “Do you know what time it is?! Why aren’t you home yet?! Your brother wants dessert from Pan’s Bakery, make sure you buy some on your way back… Hello?! Are you deaf?!” I took a deep breath and hung up without a word. Carter saw my expression and asked, “Who was that?” “My dad.” “Oh.” The kitchen fell into a heavy silence. Neither of us pressed the issue. 9 “Oh, so you finally decided to show up?!” I opened the front door. The living room was pitch black. The moment I flicked the light switch, I saw three figures sitting dead center on the worn-out sofa. The man’s unfiltered rage suffocated the cramped apartment, mixing with the stench of cheap cigarettes. I looked at them with dead, empty eyes, having zero intention of entertaining their drama. “Yeah. I’m back.” I turned and headed straight for my bedroom. “Stop right there!” My apathy only acted like gasoline on the fire. A heavy glass cup flew past my ear, inches from my head. It slammed into the wall with a deafening CRASH, shattering into a thousand pieces. The glittering shards scattered across the cheap linoleum, perfectly reflecting my current emotional state: Numb. Exhausted. My mother’s voice whined from behind me. “Blair, what is wrong with you lately? Coming home so late every night, no one to cook dinner… Have you been hanging out with some shady crowd?” “Your father is just worried about you. Come here and apologize to him.” I slowly turned around, scanning the “happy family” of three. If this were my past life, I probably would have let my mother’s fake, gentle tone guilt-trip me. I would have walked over and apologized without a second thought. But having lived through this nightmare once already, my radar for their bullshit was flawless. Oh, so the real crime here is that I didn’t cook their dinner, huh? It was hilariously tragic. Just like in my past life, when I received my terminal cancer diagnosis. Terrified and desperate, I called them from the hospital. And their very first reaction was: “Well, we don’t know how much time you have left. Why don’t you give us the PIN to your bank accounts now, so we can give it to your brother?” Later, when I legally donated every cent of my life savings to charity, they rushed the hospital like rabid dogs. They literally tried to drag my dying body out of the hospital bed to force me to change my will. “You ungrateful bitch! You’d rather give our money to strangers than your own family?!” “Your brother is getting married! We need that money! How could you do this to us?!” It seemed like absolutely no one cared that the clock was rapidly ticking down on my life. Maybe that was the exact moment I realized they had never loved me. Starved for affection in my own home, I desperately tried to extract love from Ethan Vance. But because I had never experienced real love, I loved him in the most pathetic, humiliating way possible. In my past life, I was trapped in that toxic cycle, which ultimately led to my tragic end. In this life… I clenched my fists. “Are you deaf?! Where is the dessert from Pan’s I told you to buy?! Let me guess, you were out whoring around with some random guy and forgot! Ah!” I grabbed a ceramic mug off the entryway table and hurled it straight at his head. An eye for an eye. Perfectly fair. “Keep your filthy mouth shut.” Seeing that I actually dared to attack their precious golden boy, my parents absolutely lost their minds. “Blair Kensington, you have lost your damn mind! Let’s see if I don’t beat the life out of you today!” My dad rolled up his sleeves, lunging forward to grab me. Even though the mug had missed his face, my brother, Kyle, was still spooked. He jumped up and down, screaming, “I heard about you! You don’t even study! You’re just chasing some guy named Ethan at school! Was I wrong?! You’re out here whoring around, and now you have the nerve to hit me over some guy?!” “Good god, I can’t believe I raised such a shameless, disgusting daughter! Watch what I…” The living room descended into absolute chaos. Right before my dad’s hand clamped down on me, I twisted sideways, slipped into my bedroom, and slammed the door shut. THUD. The sound of his skull bouncing off the solid wood door. “Owww! Fuck! Blair, open this door! If you have the guts, don’t ever come out! You ungrateful bitch!” I locked the deadbolt, completely ignoring the violent pounding on the door. Ten minutes passed. The pounding escalated into the terrifying sound of a metal hammer smashing against the doorknob. If they kept this up, they’d breach the door in under five minutes. “You have a choice! You come out right now, or we smash this door to splinters! I’m counting to three! Three… Two…” I walked over and yanked the door open. “Looks like you still have some brains, you…” My dad probably thought I opened the door out of sheer terror. In this house, the sound I feared more than anything was his countdown. Because the second he hit “one,” a brutal beating was guaranteed. So when the door opened and he saw my dead, unblinking eyes, he was so shocked he actually choked on his words. I dragged my rolling suitcase behind me, walking past them like they were invisible. My mom panicked. “Blair, where do you think you’re going?!” Kyle scoffed from the side. “Oh, playing the runaway teenager card? Do you really think anyone in this house gives a shit about you?” In the past, a malicious, targeted insult like that would have gutted me. Now? I couldn’t care less. I turned around and looked at them. “This suitcase, and every piece of clothing inside it, was bought with money I earned from my part-time jobs. Over the years, I’ve paid for my own tuition and my own food, and I handed every spare cent I made over to you.” “I don’t owe you a single thing. If a judge ever rules that I’m legally obligated to pay for your elder care in the future, I will pay the court-mandated minimum. But until that day comes, I hope we never cross paths again. You disgust me.” With that, I dragged my tiny suitcase out the front door. It was sickeningly ironic. After living in this house for nearly two decades, I realized as I was leaving that I had bought literally every piece of clothing I owned. And my entire wardrobe fit into one small carry-on. My speech seemed to lobotomize all three of them. It wasn’t until I was halfway down the hall that I heard their delayed reactions echoing behind me. “Blair, what are you saying?! Are you really leaving?! Are you really that heartless, abandoning your own mother and father?!” “Why are you trying to stop her?! I told you, daughters are just ungrateful leeches! So much for being our ‘little angel’, I spit on her!” “Just let her leave, Mom! Let’s see how long she lasts on the streets. She’ll come crawling back here covered in dirt soon enough.” My grip tightened around the handle of my suitcase, and I smiled. How long will I last? Just sit back and watch. 10 The pathways in the apartment complex were dark. The sickly yellow streetlights stretched my shadow out long and thin. Staring at my own silhouette, a sudden, heavy wave of exhaustion washed over me. Admitting your parents don’t love you is an agonizingly difficult thing to do. Even when you logically know it isn’t your fault, you still can’t help but ask: “Is it because I wasn’t good enough? Is that why they love Kyle more?” “No.” !! My head snapped up. A boy in a gray hoodie was leaning casually against a rusted lamppost. The swirl of cigarette smoke blurred his features, but his eyes were piercingly bright. I stuttered, “W-what are you doing here?” When I left your penthouse after dinner, weren’t you getting ready for bed? Carter walked over and suddenly pulled me into a fierce, crushing embrace. His shoulders were broad, his chest radiating heat. I buried my face in his hoodie, listening to him speak with absolute, unyielding sincerity. “It is not your fault, Blair. You are incredible. They are the ones who are wrong.” So… he had heard the pathetic question I had unconsciously mumbled out loud. My voice was muffled against his chest. “Really?” Carter rested his chin on the top of my head and gave a firm nod. “Really. I never lie.” My nose started to sting. I desperately wanted to tell him: Carter, do you have any idea that this is the first time in my existence someone has so firmly chosen me? My lover in my past life, my own family… they all firmly chose to abandon me. I also wanted to say: Carter, your cheesy lines are so cliché. But thank you. It’s exactly what I needed. But the million thoughts swirling in my head finally bottlenecked, and what actually came out of my mouth was: “Carter Sterling… didn’t you promise me you’d quit smoking?” The warm embrace suddenly went rigid. The boy who had just looked capable of carrying the weight of the entire world instantly reverted back to a guilty, panicked high schooler. He mumbled defensively, “When I saw your face when you answered that phone call today, I knew something bad was gonna happen. I secretly followed you. When I heard the screaming coming from your apartment, I got so anxious I just…” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I won’t do it again.” I looked up into his nervous, shifting eyes, and suddenly, I smiled. Honestly, he didn’t owe me any promises. My casual request had no real authority over him. But Carter still treated that single promise like it was sacred law. So this is what it feels like to be valued. To have someone willingly hand you their vulnerabilities on a silver platter, even when you have absolutely nothing to offer in return. Being stared at so intensely, a faint blush crept onto Carter’s cheeks. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, aggressively changing the subject. “So, what’s your plan now? You wanna crash at my place for a bit?” “Sure,” I answered without a second of hesitation. Honestly, the moment I walked out that door, I was already calculating my next move. Right now, my identity was “high school student.” I had zero income and no time to work a part-time job. Food and daily expenses were manageable. Eating at the school cafeteria cost next to nothing. Housing was the real nightmare. In this city, rent for a decent apartment was thousands of dollars a month. With my current status, it was a mathematical impossibility. Having Carter offer me a temporary sanctuary was a literal lifesaver. “But—” I added quickly, “I’m not freeloading. Once I get some cash together in a few weeks, I’ll pay you rent. Deal?” Carter had looked thrilled when I agreed so quickly. But the moment I mentioned paying rent, his brows snapped together in annoyance. However, the frown only lasted a second. He gave a sharp nod, validating my decision. I smiled gratefully, thanking him silently for protecting my pride. “So… where exactly are you planning on getting this cash?” Carter asked, raising an eyebrow. I gave him a highly mysterious smirk. “I have my ways.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391479”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When I was seventeen, I had a secret crush. My family was dirt poor. To buy him a birthday present, I saved up for an entire year. On the day my mom had her medical emergency, I left school early. That was when I overheard him laughing with his friends. “This piece of junk? You get better prizes in a cereal box.” His friend laughed loudly. “If you don’t want it, Cole, toss it to me. I could pawn it for a few bucks to pay for my gaming subscriptions.” “If you want it, take it.” Cole tossed it to him in disgust, and right then, his eyes met mine. Years later, at our high school reunion, I heard that Cole Davis had been looking for me for eight years. 1 When my eyes met Cole’s, his expression froze. The guy holding the watch scratched his head awkwardly. “Uh… do you want this back?” I looked at the watch in his hand. It was battered and scuffed, clearly tossed around without a second thought. It wasn’t a luxury watch. It cost almost two hundred dollars, but it took me nearly a year to save up for it. I saved it dollar by dollar, skipping my school lunches. My gaze dropped to Cole’s wrist. He was wearing a watch today. I didn’t recognize the brand, but I could tell it was worth infinitely more than the one I had given him. I silently took the watch from his friend’s hand, looked at Cole, and said slowly, “I’m sorry. I’ll take care of it myself.” Cole lowered his eyes. His lips pressed into a tight line, but he didn’t say a word. I rubbed the watch in my hands, feeling utterly humiliated, and turned to walk away. When I passed the first trash can outside the venue, I hardened my heart and threw the watch straight into the garbage. I turned my head and gave him one last look. He had lazily lifted his eyelids. A smirk played on his lips, and his eyes were full of mockery. I froze, then lowered my gaze. It was so humiliating. My secret crush. I didn’t know it then, but that single look from Cole would become my nightmare for years. 2 When I got home, my dad was sitting on the porch, a cheap cigarette hanging from his lips, his face etched with sorrow. My mom wasn’t there. He handed me a medical report. It said my mom had breast cancer. My dad took a deep drag of his cigarette. “The treatments will cost over a hundred thousand dollars. Your mom and I talked it over… we’re not going to do it.” “Your mom said she wanted some of my homemade barbecue ribs. Go to the store and buy some. I’m going to pick her up from the clinic.” I didn’t believe it. I flipped the report back and forth, my voice trembling. “Is it an official diagnosis? They make mistakes all the time! I’ll take her to a better hospital tomorrow. It has to be a misdiagnosis…” I stared at my dad stubbornly. My dad’s eyes were bloodshot. He just looked at me, silent. In that instant, my tears fell. I couldn’t stop them. Finally, I cried, “I’ll drop out of school. Let’s use my college fund for her treatment.” My dad kept his head down. I knew his heartbreak was no less than mine. My dad had a disabled right leg. Back in the day, my mom was the only one willing to be with him. She never looked down on him; she always encouraged him. Even though we were poor, my parents were deeply in love. In middle school, all my classmates started talking about their role models and beliefs. I asked my dad, “Dad, what do you believe in?” My dad didn’t really get the concept, so I tried to explain it to him. He scratched his head sheepishly and said, “I just believe in your mom.” Later on… I found my own belief, too. I wanted to grow up, make money, and take my parents to see the world. But now, my dad’s belief was collapsing. And so was mine. I grabbed my dad’s hand and rambled, “I’m not going back to school. I’ll work full-time. We’ll go to Boston to get Mom the best doctors.” My dad kept smoking. He didn’t say a word. But my mind was made up. I told my dad to go bring my mom home. Then I would pack our bags for Boston. I turned around and headed back toward the school. 3 Halfway there, it started to pour. Pedestrians rushed by, hurrying to escape the storm. Only then did I dare to cry. The rain and my tears mixed together. By the time I reached the school, the grounds were deserted. I reached my hands into the filthy trash can. The pungent, rotting smell kept hitting my nose. I dug through it over and over, but the watch I had thrown away wasn’t there. I bit my lip, wanting to slap myself for throwing it away in the first place. I could have pawned it for at least fifty bucks! I searched for hours. I dug through every single piece of trash in that bin, but the watch was gone. I walked home, completely empty inside. The streets were entirely abandoned by now. The rain was so heavy it physically hurt as it lashed against my skin. When I got back to our small house, my dad still wasn’t back. The home that used to be so warm now only felt freezing cold. I waited and waited… Finally, a neighbor rushed in, breathless and panicking. “Lily! Your mom and dad… they jumped off the bridge!” That year, I was a high school senior. I lost both my parents and became an orphan. 4 Eight years have passed, but I still can’t forget what happened that day. I sat up in bed and checked my phone. It was only 4:00 AM. I looked into the empty room and whispered, “Dad… Mom…” Just like always, there was no response. I lowered my head. For eight years… They haven’t visited me in my dreams once. In my dreams, there is only Cole Davis. With that smirk on his lips and mockery in his eyes, laughing and asking: “Have you no shame, Lily?” Every time I shouted back that I did, I would wake up. I couldn’t fall back asleep, so I just got up and started packing. After numbly arranging my parents’ funeral back then, I left that town. I moved to a new city, working part-time jobs while taking night classes. Juggling work and school was incredibly bitter. But I didn’t dare stop. The moment I stopped moving, I would start crying. I went to a doctor. They diagnosed me with clinical depression. They said I needed someone to pull me out of the shadows of that day. But there was no one like that in my life… After being away for eight years, I recently started feeling a strong urge to go back. I wanted to see the river my parents jumped into. I wanted to jump in myself, just to ask them why they were so cruel to leave me behind. I was so tired… Since I was going back anyway, I figured I shouldn’t avoid my old classmates anymore. So, when Liam, our old class president, asked in the group chat who was going to the reunion, I was the first to say yes. I hadn’t sent a single message in that group for eight years. I had deleted all their contacts, too. Including Cole’s. 5 I bought a ticket for the earliest Amtrak train. I felt incredibly relaxed. For the first time in eight years, I felt light. I watched the beautiful scenery outside the window and smiled as I chatted with the young couple sitting across the aisle. The girl said, “You have no idea how hard it was to get him to date me! All the girls liked him, but I held on for two years. Now I’m finally taking him to meet my parents!” “You look so happy, are you heading home too? I swear, the air just smells sweeter when you’re on your way to see your family.” I fell silent for a moment, then forced a smile. “Yeah. I’m going home, too.” “Going home… to see my parents.” I muttered the last part so softly that only I could hear it. But the thought brought me comfort. Soon… I would see them again. I hummed a song for the rest of the ride. When I got off the train, I headed straight to the restaurant Liam had booked. 6 Most people had already arrived by the time I walked in. The moment I stepped through the door, the room fell dead silent. I walked over and took the seat closest to the exit. I dropped the smile from my face. Liam pushed his glasses up his nose, breaking the silence. “Lily? You actually made it.” I nodded. Chloe Taylor, a girl who always hated my guts, let out a sarcastic click of her tongue. “Well, if it isn’t our elusive little Valedictorian. Seeing your face just makes me lose my appetite. Somebody ought to text Cole and tell him to skip tonight…” No one knew the real reason I dropped out of school back then. But everyone knew I had a crush on Cole, and they all knew about the gift I gave him. The girl sitting next to Chloe tugged her sleeve, trying to quiet her. Liam frowned. “Just drop it, Chloe. Cole has been looking for Lily for eight years. If we tell him she’s here, he’ll be thrilled.” Chloe snorted a laugh. “Cole is just a nice guy. Since when is it a crime to not like someone back?” “He’s probably been looking for her for eight years just to apologize.” “Is it a crime to reject someone? Everyone knows Lily transferred because she embarrassed herself over him. You’re making it sound like Cole was in love with her.” “Doesn’t Cole already have a girl anyway? I heard she’s a gorgeous heiress. Aside from a pretty face, what did Lily ever have to offer? A crippled dad? A house made of rotting wood?” “Give me a break…” As Chloe’s words grew more vicious, the rest of the table frowned in discomfort. I stood up. My expression was perfectly calm. “I’m not eating. You don’t have to worry about losing your appetite. I just came to see everyone’s faces one last time. Now that I have, I’ll be going.” With that, I pulled the door open and walked out. Liam chased after me. He grabbed my wrist, looking deadly serious. “Lily, Cole really has been looking for you for eight years. Won’t you wait for him?” Cole’s face flashed in my mind. He was so handsome. His eyes were stunning. But when he looked at me, those eyes held absolutely no affection. Only a mocking smirk. I shook my head and smiled. “I’m on a tight schedule. If you see him, tell him I’m sorry. Tell him… I’m really sorry.” Liam froze in his tracks.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391498”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

At my own wedding reception, the interloper—the man who had stolen my life—leaned in close under the guise of a celebratory toast. Felix offered me a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, a sharp, predatory glint in the candlelight. “Happy wedding day, Miles,” he whispered, his voice oily. “Just so you know, I’ve already had a taste of the bride. She’s… quite enthusiastic.” The red haze took me instantly. I didn’t think; I just swung. My fist connected with his jaw, sending him sprawling into the tiered wedding cake. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the sharp crack of Madeline’s hand against my face. Then another. And another. She slapped me six times in front of the cream of society, her eyes burning with a cold, righteous fury. “Felix never asked for anything!” she hissed, her voice trembling. “He gave up everything for you, and you still can’t stand to see him happy!” “I’d rather have married a stray dog than a man as classless as you,” she spat. With a flick of her wrist, she signaled the security team. They dragged me down to the sub-basement of the Holloway estate, throwing me into a concrete pit filled with venomous snakes—a “meditation chamber” designed to break my spirit. For seven days, I was left in that dark, slithering hell. Then, my three biological sisters arrived, not to rescue me, but to settle the score. Katherine, the CEO who ran our family empire with an iron fist, kicked me hard enough to shatter my shin. “Felix cried all night because of your stunt,” she said, her voice like ice. “I’ve already signed over every cent of your trust fund to him. You don’t deserve it.” Margot, the Academy Award-winning darling of the silver screen, grabbed my arm and twisted until the bone snapped. “I’m scrubbing you from the family archives, Miles. Felix is the only brother this family acknowledges. You’re nothing but a mistake we should have left in the gutter.” But Beatrice, the world-renowned surgeon, was the most clinical in her cruelty. She knelt beside me, a scalpel glinting in her hand. “Felix has suffered from kidney issues since he was a child. To make up for what you’ve done, you’re going to give him one of yours. A healthy one.” Before I could even scream, she opened me up. No anesthesia. No sterile field. Just the raw, visceral agony of my organs being harvested while I was still conscious. As the pain reached a crescendo that threatened to shatter my mind, a cold, mechanical voice echoed in my head. Ding. [Congratulations, Host. You have completed the ‘Discarded Side Character’ storyline!] [Upon the death of this physical vessel, you will be transported back to your original world to claim your $10 billion prize!] … 1 The moment I heard those words, my screaming stopped. The despair that had been suffocating me for years suddenly evaporated, replaced by a crystalline sense of relief. I was almost out. Katherine and Margot had already left, carrying my kidney in a chilled container like a trophy. Only Beatrice remained in the filth of the basement, her brow furrowed as she worked. Blood continued to seep from the incision. She grumbled as she began to stitch me up, her movements hurried and careless. “If you had just cooperated and donated the kidney like a man, we wouldn’t have had to do the surgery in these conditions,” she said, her voice dripping with annoyance. “This is such a hassle.” I remembered last week. Felix had gotten a papercut while looking through some files—a tiny, microscopic nick. Beatrice had reacted as if the world were ending. She’d summoned a team of specialists, performed an emergency bandaging, and checked on him every three hours. But for me, as she literally sewed up a hole where my organ used to be, I was just a “hassle.” Perhaps sensing my silence, she leaned down and patted my cheek, then jabbed an antibiotic into my arm. “Stop acting,” she said. “I know you’re fine. A little scratch like this won’t kill you. You’re just trying to play the victim so I’ll feel guilty and stop favoring Felix. It’s pathetic, Miles. Now that you’re a Holloway, lose the gutter mentality.” In the past, I would have begged for her to see me. I would have cried, pleading for a shred of sisterly love. Now, I felt nothing but a numb, hollow peace. I closed my eyes and whispered, “Just go. Leave me here to die.” To me, death was the finish line. But to Beatrice, it was another provocation. “What is that supposed to mean, Miles? You’re trying to guilt-trip me now?” She intentionally yanked the suture thread hard. The raw edges of the wound bunched together, and a fresh surge of blood soaked through the makeshift bandages. The pain was astronomical, the kind that makes your vision go white. She watched me gasp for air, sweat pouring down my face. For a fleeting second, a shadow of something—pity? regret?—crossed her face, and her tone softened slightly. “You’re my brother, Miles. Do you have any idea how much money and effort we spent looking for you? We would never let you die.” “Honestly, if you weren’t so small-minded—if you hadn’t attacked Felix—you wouldn’t be in this position.” She sighed and injected a local anesthetic into the site. “Promise me that when we go back, you won’t harass Felix anymore. Apologize to him. If you do that, I’ll move you to a real hospital wing and give you the best care. You won’t have to suffer anymore.” Listening to her “mercy” felt like a joke. I was a transmigrator. I’d entered the body of Miles Holloway when he was six years old. Three years ago, after a lifetime of hardship, the three Holloway sisters found me, weeping as they claimed I was their long-lost brother. But when I got to the estate, I found Felix. He was the boy they had adopted to fill the void I left behind. I recognized him the moment I saw him. Back at the orphanage, he was the one who locked me in a cellar so he could steal my identity when the Holloways came to visit. He’d spent twenty years living my life, enjoying the love that belonged to me, while I suffered in his place. Yet, every time he squeezed out a fake tear, my sisters turned on me. Even Madeline, my arranged fiancée, looked at me with nothing but contempt while she beamed at him. I was done. I didn’t want to fight. I didn’t want to explain. I just wanted to go home. I reached down, my fingers trembling, and gripped the edge of the fresh stitches. With one violent motion, I ripped the wound wide open. Blood and viscera spilled out onto the cold floor. Beatrice screamed, a high-pitched, jagged sound. “Miles! Stop! You’re going to kill yourself!” I looked at the tears streaming down her face and felt a ghost of a smile touch my lips. “Good,” I rasped. “That’s the point.” “Living another second in this world… with you people… it makes me sick.” My eyelids grew heavy. The darkness surged up to meet me, and I finally let go. 2 I don’t know how much time passed before I woke up. I expected to be back in my own world, but when I opened my eyes, I saw the familiar, stern face of my eldest sister, Katherine. “You’re finally awake.” There were dark circles under her eyes, and she looked haggard, but her voice was still laced with that habitual impatience. “You’re a grown man, Miles. Why are you being so impulsive?” “Trying to kill yourself over a little disagreement… it’s not very ‘Holloway’ of you.” The exhaustion hit me like a physical weight. I didn’t even have the energy to argue. I just stared at the ceiling, my voice hollow. “You’re right. I’m an embarrassment. I’m not fit for this family.” “So just let me die.” Katherine’s face went pale. Her hand twitched as if she wanted to slap me again, but when she saw how ghost-white I was, her hand fell limp at her side. “Miles! I am warning you, stop talking like that!” Her voice was shaking. The irritation was still there, but beneath it was a flicker of something she didn’t want to admit: terror. “I spent a fortune and moved heaven and earth to get you out of that basement. I didn’t do it so you could talk nonsense!” I let out a dry, mirthless laugh. A fortune? She probably just didn’t want her “backup organ donor” to expire. She didn’t want her favorite pet, Felix, to lose his favorite punching bag. The door pushed open and Beatrice walked in with a tray of medication. When she saw I was awake, a flash of joy crossed her eyes, but she quickly masked it with a scowl. “Drink this. Don’t make me force it down your throat.” She held out a cup of dark, bitter liquid. I turned my head away. “Don’t waste it.” “Miles!” Beatrice’s hands shook with rage, but she didn’t force the cup. Instead, she set it on the nightstand and reached out to check my bandages. Her touch was surprisingly gentle—the kind of tenderness she usually reserved only for Felix. “The recovery is going well. We used the best regenerative treatments…” She glanced at me, her expression fierce. “Stay still. If you rip these stitches again, I won’t fix them.” She sounded tough, but I could see the burst capillaries in her eyes and the slight tremor in her fingers. She hadn’t slept. In the past, this tiny crumb of affection would have made me weep with gratitude. I would have clung to her and begged for forgiveness. Now, it was just offensive. I shoved her hand away and threw back the covers, my fingers clawing at the bandages. If I could just finish what I started, I’d be free. “Stop it!” Katherine grabbed my wrists, her grip tight enough to bruise, but she flinched when I groaned in pain. She let go slightly, her voice breaking into a sob. “Miles, what are you doing? What do you want from us?” “I want to die,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “Letting me go is better for everyone. You won’t have to deal with me, and Felix can be the perfect son you always wanted.” “So please. Just let me go.” 3 My words hit Katherine like a physical blow. She raised her hand and struck me—but it wasn’t the bone-shattering slap from the wedding. It was light, desperate, the act of someone who didn’t know how else to communicate. “I won’t let you! You are a Holloway! I won’t let you die!” Beatrice rushed forward, pinning my shoulders to the bed. Her voice was thick with a rare, pleading tone. “Miles, stop it. I know it hurts. Just… just get better. I’ll take care of you. I’ll be better to you, okay?” I looked into her eyes and felt a wave of nausea. Where was this sisterly concern when she was carving me open? Where was this tenderness when she was obsessing over Felix’s papercut? I closed my eyes and tuned them out. I wouldn’t eat. I wouldn’t speak. I wouldn’t breathe if I didn’t have to. The door opened again, and my second sister, Margot, stepped in. Following close behind her was Madeline, her face pale and drawn. Margot’s eyes turned red the moment she saw me. She rushed to the bedside. “Miles, thank God you’re awake. You scared me to death.” When I first returned to the family, Margot had been the “kind” one. She took me on trips, told me stories of how they never stopped looking for me. But as soon as Felix whispered a few lies into her ear, she turned into my harshest critic, calling me a “snake in the grass” who didn’t appreciate the family’s love. I pulled my face away from her hand. Margot’s fingers froze in mid-air, her expression wounded. Madeline stepped forward, taking the medicine from Beatrice. “Let me try,” she said softly. “He might listen to me.” She was confident, and why wouldn’t she be? For years, I had worshipped the ground she walked on. I had endured her coldness with a smile, loving her with a desperation that was frankly embarrassing. Just as she sat down, the door opened one more time. “Miles? I came to see you.” Felix entered, wearing silk pajamas and looking fragile. Katherine immediately went to his side to support him. “Felix, you just had surgery. You should be resting. Why are you up?” Felix shook his head, looking at me with a perfectly curated expression of guilt. “It’s my fault. If I had stopped Miles at the wedding, none of this would have happened. I couldn’t sleep. I had to apologize.” He took the medicine from Madeline and sat on the edge of my bed. “Miles, please. Don’t be angry with yourself. Just take the medicine. Everyone is so worried.” “I know you still blame me, but I never wanted to take anything from you. Everything the Holloways have… it belongs to you.” It was the same old routine. He was painting me as the bitter, jealous brother who was throwing a tantrum, while he played the saint. Before the spoon could touch my lips, I slapped the bowl out of his hand. The ceramic shattered against the floor. The hot liquid splashed across Felix’s chest and arms. He let out a sharp cry, his skin reddening instantly. His eyes welled with tears. “Miles… why? I only wanted to help…” “Miles! You’ve lost your mind!” 4 Katherine was livid. She shoved me back and pulled Felix behind her. “He came here out of the goodness of his heart, and this is how you treat him?” Beatrice was already hovering over Felix, checking his “burns” with frantic energy. “Is it bad? Someone call a nurse!” Margot shook her head, her face a mask of disappointment. “Miles, this is too much. Felix apologized. When are you going to stop this childish behavior?” Madeline was already dabbing Felix’s shirt with a tissue, her voice sharp with rebuke. “Can’t you be sensible for once? He was trying to be kind. Even if you don’t appreciate it, you don’t have to be violent.” They swarmed around him, a protective cocoon of love and concern. Not one of them looked at the man who had just had a major organ removed, the man whose stitches were still weeping blood. Felix leaned into Katherine’s shoulder, catching my eye for a split second. He gave me a tiny, triumphant smirk before dissolving back into “sobs.” “It’s okay… don’t be mad at him. He’s just in a bad mood…” In the past, this would have sent me into a blind rage. Now, it was just pathetic. They were all so smart—the CEO, the Surgeon, the Actress—and yet they were all puppets for a second-rate manipulator. “If you want to coddle that parasite, do it outside,” I said, my voice flat. “Get out of my room. You’re polluting the air.” They froze. “Miles, it’s clear you haven’t learned your lesson,” Beatrice said, her voice shaking with cold fury. “Fine. As of this moment, I am cutting off your morphine. No pain management.” “When you’re ready to apologize to Felix, you can have it back.” Katherine nodded. “Exactly. Let him feel what it’s like to actually hurt. Maybe then he’ll stop being so entitled.” Margot sighed, and Madeline just looked away. They filed out, following Felix like ducklings. The door slammed shut. I didn’t care about the pain. Compared to the last twenty years, a hole in my side was nothing. In fact, the pain was good. it kept me sharp. It reminded me that I was almost at the exit. I reached under my pillow and pulled out a sharp shard of the broken ceramic bowl I’d hidden earlier. Without a second thought, I pressed it to my throat and dragged it across. As the world began to dim, I felt the strength leaving my limbs. The agonizing throb in my side faded. My heart slowed to a rhythmic, peaceful crawl. As the darkness finally took me, I actually smiled. Finally. It’s over. … In the hallway, Katherine stopped walking. “You guys take Felix to the clinic,” she said, her voice tight. “I feel… uneasy. I’m going back to check on Miles.” “I’ll go too,” Margot said quickly. “He was really upset. Maybe he’ll listen to me.” “He needs a doctor, not an actress,” Beatrice snapped. “I’m going.” Madeline looked at Felix, then at the sisters. “I’m his wife. I should be there.” She offered Felix a quick, apologetic smile. “You’ll be okay, right? It’s just a little burn. I’ll check on you later.” Before Felix could protest, the four women turned back. But when they pushed open the door to my room, they weren’t met with silence or a brooding brother. They were met with the metallic, cloying scent of fresh blood.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391515”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My wife, Kennedy, brought her executive assistant to the family gala. His name was Luca. We had agreed to keep our marriage quiet—a “professional necessity,” she called it—but watching them tonight, you’d think they were the ones celebrating an anniversary. I stood by the buffet, a ghost in my own life, watching Luca pick a pickled olive from his martini. He made a face, feigning disgust at the tartness, and then, with a laugh that grated on my nerves, he held it up to Kennedy’s lips. She didn’t flinch. She opened her mouth and ate it, right off his fingertips. I felt a physical snap in my chest. This was the woman who wouldn’t drink from my water glass because it was “unsanitary.” I walked over, pulled the envelope from my inner jacket pocket, and slid the divorce papers across the high-top table. She looked at the documents, then at me, her eyes cold and bored. “Really, Bennett? Now? He’s just my assistant.” “You won’t even touch a cup I’ve used,” I said, my voice low but shaking. “But you’ll eat his spit?” Kennedy laughed, a sharp, incredulous sound. She picked up the papers and tossed them back; they fluttered against my chest before hitting the floor. “God, you’re pathetic. A grown man jealous of a twenty-two-year-old? Don’t you have any dignity?” To her, I was just throwing another tantrum. She was used to me rolling over, used to me apologizing for her mistakes. I looked down at the papers on the marble floor and let out a dry, hollow laugh. “Kennedy, I’m divorcing you.” … We parted ways that night in silence. I left the papers with her assistant, a final indignity she didn’t even notice. She didn’t sign them. She didn’t call. It was typical Kennedy; she assumed I was just acting out, that like a loyal dog left out in the rain, I’d eventually scratch at the door, begging to be let back in. She was certain I loved her too much to leave. And she was right, once. But she didn’t realize that the man who loved her had died the moment she took that olive. One month later. The IPO launch party. This company was our shared blood and sweat. Technically, I was just a “senior manager,” but I had built the infrastructure, the code, the soul of the business. I had to be there. The ballroom was glittering. Kennedy moved through the crowd in a backless silver gown, Luca glued to her side in a tuxedo that cost more than his annual salary. They clinked glasses with investors, laughing, touching. He brushed a stray hair from her forehead; she leaned into his touch, hooking her arm through his. I turned away, staring at the skyline, trying to make myself invisible. But invisibility wasn’t on the menu. “Bennett! There you are!” I turned. Luca was grinning at me, that boyish, dimpled smile that Kennedy found so charming and I found predatory. He was dragging Kennedy toward me. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Luca chirped. Kennedy scanned me from head to toe, her expression haughty. “Have you realized how ridiculous you’re being yet?” “I didn’t realize self-respect was ridiculous,” I said, my voice flat. Her eyes narrowed. “Bennett, don’t push your luck. You’re being ungrateful.” She was still holding Luca’s arm. I looked at their interlocked elbows and laughed. It was a dark, jagged sound. “I sent you the papers, Kennedy. Sign them.” For the first time, a flicker of uncertainty crossed her face. She looked at me like I was a stranger. She wasn’t used to this Bennett—the one who didn’t plead. “Bennett, come on,” Luca interjected, his voice dripping with faux-concern. “Don’t be mad at Kennedy. She just can’t handle her liquor well, I was just helping her navigate the room. If it bothers you that much, I can leave.” “You’re just doing your job, Luca,” Kennedy snapped at me, defensive immediately. “Who is he to decide where you go?” I felt a heavy stone settle in my gut. “She can’t handle her liquor, so your saliva is the antidote? Is that it?” I stepped closer to Luca. “You really enjoy playing house with another man’s wife, don’t you?” Luca’s eyes went wide and wet, looking at Kennedy like a kicked puppy. Without a word, Kennedy grabbed a glass of red wine from a passing waiter’s tray and threw it in my face. The liquid blinded me for a second, stinging my eyes, dripping down my nose, soaking my white shirt. The room went silent. The chatter stopped. All eyes turned to us—some amused, some pitiful. To them, I was just the underling getting disciplined by the boss. The cold wine shocked me into a strange, crystalline clarity. Kennedy walked to the small stage set up for speeches, the microphone feedback whining as she grabbed it. “Attention, everyone,” she said, her voice steady. “Due to recent harassment and unprofessional conduct, I am removing Bennett Calloway from the executive team. He will be transferred to administrative archives effective immediately. Luca will be stepping in as Interim Director of Operations.” A gasp rippled through the room. Then, the whispers started. Luca smirked at me. It wasn’t a smile of innocence anymore; it was the baring of fangs. Kennedy took his hand and led him away. The crowd parted for them, their voices rising like a tide. “Can you believe him? Trying to punch above his weight class.” “Kennedy is ruthless. I love it.” “That kid, Luca? He’s definitely sleeping his way to the middle, but hey, it worked.” I stood there, sticky and stained, feeling the weight of ten years of devotion evaporate. She hadn’t just fired me; she had erased me. She took the company I built and gave my title to the boy she was sleeping with. And she expected me to apologize for it. I walked out of the ballroom. It had started to rain, a torrential New York downpour. I didn’t hail a cab. I just walked. The rain mingled with the wine and the hot, angry tears I refused to acknowledge, washing me clean of the man I used to be. We had met when we were nobodies. She came from a broken home; I hid my background to be with her. I wanted to be loved for me, not the Calloway name. I got back to the penthouse—the one I paid for, the one she barely visited anymore. I started packing. From an old jacket pocket, a silver locket fell out. It belonged to her grandmother. When Kennedy’s grandmother got sick, right after college, I was the one who hired the specialists. I was the one who sat in that hospital chair for two months, sleeping in uncomfortable positions, holding Kennedy while she cried. When the old woman passed, she pressed this locket into my hand. Take care of her, she had whispered. “I will always love you, Bennett,” Kennedy had sobbed into my chest back then, clinging to me like driftwood in a storm. I thought we were invincible. I picked up the locket. It felt cold. I placed it gently on her vanity table. I had carried it for years, a talisman of our bond. Now, I was putting it down. Luca had been a hire she insisted on. “He has potential,” she’d said. He had zero skills, no experience. When he insulted our biggest client, she made me apologize to save his ego. “He’s young, Bennett. Teach him.” Slowly, “teaching him” became “doing his work.” And then it became watching them. The lingering glances. The shared lunches. The way she’d let him massage her shoulders after a meeting, claiming it was just “stress relief.” When I finally confronted her, she looked at me with pure disdain. “Stop being so insecure. It’s embarrassing.” I finished packing. I took nothing that we bought together. Just my clothes, my laptop, and my dignity. I glanced at the wedding photo on the nightstand. We looked so hopeful. I pulled out my phone and texted my father’s Chief of Staff. “Lee, tell my father I’m ready. Start the acquisition of Walsh Tech.” I dropped the key on the table and walked out. The next morning, I went to the office to clear out my desk before the formal resignation. The atmosphere was weird. People looked away when I passed. I pushed open my office door and froze. It was trashed. My files were on the floor. My personal books were in the trash bin. And sitting in my ergonomic chair, spinning a snow globe I had received from Kennedy on my last birthday, was Luca. “Luca!” I roared, the anger finally breaking through the numbness. I lunged forward and snatched the globe from his hand. “Who told you to touch my things?” Luca stood up slowly, unbothered. “Bennett… or should I say, Mr. Calloway? Though, not for long. You’re occupying company property.” “The transfer order hasn’t come through,” I snarled. “Get the hell out of my office.” “Kennedy signed the order last night,” Luca said, waving a piece of paper. He looked like a child playing king. “Everyone knows you’re out. Why are you still hanging around? You look like a desperate ex.” I grabbed him by the collar. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to smash that smug look right off his face. “Bennett!” A hand grabbed my arm. Kennedy. She shoved herself between us, glaring at me with disgusted eyes. “If you don’t want security to drag you out, let him go. Now.” Luca immediately slumped, his eyes filling with fake tears. “Kennedy… I was just trying to help pack his things. I didn’t know he’d get violent.” “Help?” I laughed, gesturing to the trash can. “By throwing my life into the garbage?” “I don’t want a scene, Bennett,” Kennedy said, smoothing her blazer. “Pack your box and go to the basement archives. If you behave, maybe in a few months, I’ll reconsider your position.” “Kennedy, maybe I should just give the office back,” Luca whimpered. “I don’t want to cause trouble.” Kennedy’s face softened—a look she used to give me. “No, Luca. You earned this. This is my company, and I decide who sits where.” My company. The final severing. I looked at her, really looked at her. The woman I had protected, funded, and loved was gone. In her place was a stranger blinded by her own ego. I tossed the snow globe into the trash can. It landed with a heavy thud. I pulled my resignation letter from my jacket and slapped it onto the desk. “I quit.” I didn’t wait for her reaction. I turned and walked out. Behind me, the office buzzed. “Did you see that? Replaced by a college kid. I’d kill myself.” “Bennett was always just a pretty face anyway.” I was halfway to the elevator when the screaming started. “Ms. Walsh! Ms. Walsh!” It was the CFO, running down the hall, pale as a sheet. “We have a problem. A big problem.” “What is it?” Kennedy sounded annoyed. “Calloway Holdings. They just initiated a hostile takeover. They’re buying us out.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391532”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My boyfriend left me to die in a burning building so he could save his first love. Consumed by the roaring flames, I was reborn on the exact day he confessed his feelings to me. Amidst the roaring cheers of the crowd, I rejected him. I turned and walked toward the lonely, quiet boy standing at the edge of the crowd. But my boyfriend tightly grabbed my wrist, his voice trembling: “Didn’t you say you were going to marry me when we grew up?” 1 “Say yes! Say yes!” When I opened my eyes, Caleb was holding a massive bouquet of red roses, looking at me with a confident smile. Yet, my mind was flooded with the agonizing memory of being swallowed by the fire. I remembered watching Caleb firmly scoop up his first love, Chloe, into his arms. He walked away so decisively, without leaving even a single glance for me. In my despair, I begged the heavens: If I am ever given another chance, I will never choose him again. I will stay as far away from him as possible. Suddenly, a voice echoed in my head: “Are you sure?” I answered with absolute unwavering conviction: “Yes.” And just like that, I actually returned to the day Caleb confessed his love to me. 2 Caleb and I were childhood sweethearts. The whole world knew I loved him. At the beginning of our senior year of high school, he confessed to me after evening study hall. That night, I thought the paper-thin barrier between us had finally been broken, and that our feelings were mutual. It was only much later that I found out his confession was just a petty act of retaliation against Chloe. Throughout college, and even after graduation, he remained endlessly entangled with her. Every time he had to choose between us, I was always the one left behind. I finally woke up, asked for a divorce, and unexpectedly had Chloe show up at my door to provoke me. Then, the fire broke out. I waited for a rescue that never came, watching Caleb carry Chloe out without looking back. In that moment, my heart completely died. So, this time, amidst the cheering crowd… I rejected him. The noisy school courtyard instantly fell dead silent. It made sense. In my past life, I had always been Caleb’s shadow. I chased after him, catered to his every need, brought him breakfast every morning, handed him water during P.E., bought his school supplies, organized his test papers, and waited for him after study hall so we could walk home together. Anyone with eyes knew I was madly in love with him. Caleb’s face instantly darkened. “Harper, say that again?” I looked at him and sneered. “I could say it a hundred times, and it would still be the same. Caleb, I don’t want to be your girlfriend, and I don’t like you. I’m a senior now; I just want to focus on my studies.” The entire crowd gasped collectively. Whispers rippled through the onlookers: [I’d believe I was the Queen of England before I’d believe Harper doesn’t like Caleb.] [She’s probably just playing hard to get.] [But getting rejected in public… Caleb looks like he’s about to explode.] I didn’t want to be the center of attention, so I turned to leave. But Caleb grabbed my wrist, suppressing his rage. “Harper, what kind of crazy act is this?” What kind of crazy act? Maybe he should ask himself that. When Chloe came to me in my past life, she smugly told me that he only confessed to me because he was mad at her. They had gotten into a fight, and Chloe started flirting with another guy in her class. Furious, Caleb turned around and confessed to me. He did it because he was absolutely certain I loved him and wouldn’t reject him. He wanted to force Chloe to yield, so he weaponized my feelings. I looked down at my wrist, which was turning red, and peeled his fingers off one by one. I pointed at the girl standing at the very back of the crowd. “Aren’t you in love with her? You two get into a lover’s spat and use me as a pawn to make each other jealous. What, do I look like a willing sacrifice to you?” 3 For a split second, Caleb froze in place. He watched Chloe turn and walk away, then snapped his gaze back to me, a warning in his eyes. “Harper, are you done throwing this tantrum? This is between us. Why are you dragging other people into it?” I’m throwing a tantrum? His defensive posture only confirmed the absolute truth of my words. I shook off his hand and stared at him, enunciating every word. “Caleb, do you not speak English? I said, I do not like you.” He sneered. “If you don’t like me, who else could you possibly like?” Seventeen years of history gave him the blinding confidence to believe I could never live without him. But I had fought tooth and nail to return to my senior year. I only wanted to live for myself now. I walked past Caleb, heading straight toward the quiet, lonely boy standing behind him. It was Liam, the valedictorian of our grade. I stood next to him and looked back at Caleb. “I like studying. I want to get into MIT.” Then, I turned to Liam. “Hey, academic god. I might need to ask you for a lot of tutoring from now on.” 4 After I rejected Caleb, we entered a cold war. Everyone was placing bets that I wouldn’t last a single day before crawling back to him. I just laughed. And placed a bet myself. [Forever.] [No way, did Harper take the wrong meds?] [Just quietly, Caleb is practically foaming at the mouth. Harper didn’t bring him breakfast, and he’s already thrown a fit three times during morning homeroom.] That was none of my business. All I wanted to do was study. All I asked was for him to stop bothering me. I actually had excellent grades in high school. But in my past life, after getting together with Caleb during senior year, I purposely slacked off so I could stay in-state with him. I found out later it was because Chloe was staying in-state too. He did it on purpose. Opening my backpack, I realized I still had the expensive matching stationery set I had prepared for Caleb. As I pulled it out, I heard Caleb’s desk-mate snicker, “See? I told you. She couldn’t even last the morning.” Caleb wore a smug, arrogant expression, clearly waiting for me to walk over and hand-deliver it to him. Instead, I took all the supplies out. And turned to my desk-mate, Liam. “Hey, valedictorian. A little preemptive bribe. I’m going to be relying on you a lot.” Honestly, in my past life, I didn’t interact much with Liam. He seemed to spend every waking second studying. I occasionally asked him a question or two. But since I knew my score was more than enough for the local college I aimed for, I eventually stopped trying. I faintly remembered him asking me once where I wanted to apply. Back then, my heart and soul were entirely consumed by Caleb. I pointed in Caleb’s direction and said, “Wherever he goes, I go.” Liam hadn’t said anything else. Now, as I handed him the stationery, he lifted his eyes to look at me. His cool, distant gaze held a hint of quiet observation. I smiled openly. “Sorry if this is too forward. If you don’t like it, I’ll just throw it away.” Hearing the words “throw it away,” Caleb’s face turned incredibly ugly. He aggressively kicked the leg of the desk in front of him. But to my surprise, Liam simply said, “Thank you,” and accepted it. 5 Only after I decided to study hard and distance myself from both of them did I realize how far my current level was from my dream university. But I absolutely loved the feeling of wrestling with a brutal math problem until midnight, feeling like I was dying and coming back to life. I loved discussing different ways to solve a problem with the top students, and the rush of clarity when it finally clicked. It turned out that a life not centered around Caleb was actually incredibly fun. Soon, the Senior Pep Rally arrived. In my past life, I was pushed onto the stage and encouraged to publicly confess to Caleb. What did I say back then? Oh, right. I said that youth should be lived without regrets, that you should love whoever you want to love, and that I was confident Caleb and I would get into the same college, so we should spend the rest of our time enjoying the beauty of our school days. The whole school was in an uproar, and our parents were even called to the principal’s office. Thinking back on it now, I wanted to punch my hopelessly romantic, idiotic past self. This time, I stood quietly in the crowd, silently memorizing vocabulary flashcards, trying to make myself invisible. But during the open-mic segment, a girl in my class suddenly shouted, “Harper took broadcasting classes! Let her go up and say a few words for our class!” Others immediately chimed in: “Hilarious, is she gonna go up there and confess to Caleb again? So embarrassing.” “Didn’t she reject Caleb? Is she trying to use this to make peace and confess her feelings?” “I bet she doesn’t have the guts, haha.” “Yeah, she definitely wouldn’t dare.” “It’s so annoying. She placed a bet herself that she wouldn’t crawl back, but she’s still just a desperate lapdog.” I took a deep breath. I knew this was coming. They all wanted to see me make a fool of myself. I understood why—after all, the “old me” revolved entirely around Caleb. Even Caleb himself probably thought I was just throwing a prolonged temper tantrum. But only I knew how incredibly precious this second chance at life was. I turned to look at Caleb, who was standing a short distance behind me. Our eyes met. Wearing his school uniform, he looked arrogant and self-assured, his chin tilted up slightly, seemingly waiting for me to step onto the stage and publicly declare my devotion to him, washing away the humiliation of my previous rejection. Out of the corner of my eye, I also caught Liam’s gaze. For some inexplicable reason, I actually felt a little guilty. Encouraged by the teachers, I stepped out and slowly walked up to the podium. Behind me, the whispers continued: “If Harper doesn’t confess to Caleb today, I’ll lose all respect for her.” “My boy Caleb always wins. You just can’t spoil women.” “…” Looking out at the massive sea of students, I adjusted the microphone and spoke with bright, confident clarity: “Respected teachers, dear classmates, good morning! I am Harper from the Senior 1 AP Class.” “The September osmanthus is blooming. As we begin our senior year, carrying the hopes of our teachers and the weight of our own dreams, standing before the dawn of our college admissions exams, I solemnly pledge: The sharpest sword is forged in the hottest fire, and the sweetest plum blossom blooms in the bitterest cold. We have sharpened our blades for years, waiting for the moment to conquer the peak. I will give it my all and not waste my youth. I hope everyone here perseveres to the end, fights hard for this one year, and lets your dreams set sail!” I was greeted by a thunderous standing ovation. In my past life, when I finished that embarrassing confession, all I heard were whistles, mocking laughter, and boos. I had finally changed the trajectory of the story. But to my surprise, after the rally was dismissed, Caleb cornered me. “Harper, we need to talk.” 6 “I have nothing to talk to you about.” I didn’t even give him a second glance. I walked straight toward the classroom. Caleb chased after me, grabbed my arm, and ignoring my resistance, dragged me toward the edge of the football field. “What is wrong with you?” He frowned, interrogating me. I didn’t back down. I shook his hand off. “How many times do I have to say it before you understand? I just want to study.” I turned to leave. He threw his arm out to block me, his eyes filled with disbelief. “If you want to study, fine! But why aren’t you bringing me breakfast? Why did you give the things you bought for me to someone else? Why aren’t you waiting for me to walk home after study hall? Why did you rej—” He didn’t finish the last word. So I finished it for him. “Why did I reject you? Do you think you’re a hundred-dollar bill? Why wouldn’t I reject you?” He was furious. He gritted his teeth so hard his jaw jumped, struggling to keep his temper in check. Right. In the past, he was always the one rejecting me. He stood on his high horse, caring only about his own feelings. He soaked up all my unconditional love, and then gave all his love to someone else. And as for me, as long as he tossed me a crumb of affection, I would gratefully eat it up. I used to be such an idiot. An idiot who acted like every other man in the world had died except him. After a long silence, Caleb finally spat out, “Harper, you never used to be like this.” I looked up at him. “Caleb, I was blind to ever like you. Go ahead and fly off into the sunset with your precious Chloe. Stop buzzing around my face like an annoying fly.” I walked away. From behind me, I heard Caleb’s low, angry shout: “Fine, Harper! Don’t regret this.” 7 Ever since our bitter fallout by the football field, every morning, Chloe would walk up three flights of stairs just to deliver Caleb breakfast. During the main recess, she would thoughtfully bring him drinks. During our combined P.E. classes, she would even wipe his sweat and feed him water while he played basketball. Soon, the whole school was gossiping that they were a couple. And Caleb never denied it. Some nosy classmates still came up to ask me what I thought about it. I was in the middle of a brutal battle with a physics problem. Hearing the question, I just replied flatly, “That’s great. I hope they lock it down so they don’t ruin anyone else’s life.” Unable to solve the problem, I used my pen to poke Liam in the arm. I pushed my test paper over. “I only got the first step down, I have no idea how to do the rest.” Liam glanced at the problem, and his long, elegant fingers picked up a pen. Seeing he was about to explain it, I quickly grabbed my notebook and leaned closer. I thought I saw a fleeting smile cross his lips. “For this problem, we need to use this formula. Let’s break down the prompt first…” I had to admit, Liam truly lived up to his valedictorian title. Coming from him, these insanely difficult problems suddenly made perfect sense. In a few sentences, he completely untangled my logic. I took the opportunity to slide my entire notebook of mistakes over to him. “Could you look at these too? I understand some of them now, but I still can’t find the underlying pattern.” He took the notebook from my hands, our fingertips brushing. His hand was so cold. I quickly pulled mine back. He looked at the problems I had copied down with intense, focused seriousness. I suddenly remembered my past and realized what an absolute fool I had been. The academic god was literally my desk-mate, and my brain was entirely occupied by a high school romance. I deserved to fail! Just as he was about to speak, I leaned in a little closer. Without warning, a basketball came flying out of nowhere and slammed into me. The next second, a blinding pain exploded in my nose, and warm liquid started gushing down my face. Before I could even see who threw it, a gust of wind rushed toward me. Caleb forcefully grabbed my head, tilting it upward. He rapidly yanked some tissues from a pack and pressed them against my nose. His voice was laced with an indescribable panic. “Does it hurt?” Then he grabbed my arm, trying to drag me toward the restroom. I violently yanked my hand out of his grip and glared at him coldly. “Caleb, what the hell is wrong with you?” 8 I picked up the basketball by my feet and hurled it as hard as I could right into his chest. He didn’t dodge. He stood perfectly still, looking down at me, then glanced at Liam sitting beside me. He sneered, “Harper, is your love really this brief?” Brief? I almost laughed in his face. In my past life, I revolved around him for over twenty years. When we got married, he cried and swore he would be with me for eternity, promising he’d never let me suffer. I believed him every single time. I enabled him every single time. Because he had been a part of my entire existence. I naively thought growing old with him would be the most romantic thing in the world. But I overestimated him, and I underestimated my own feelings. My heart felt a sudden, sharp ache. But I still met his gaze head-on. “Caleb, everyone knows you and Chloe are dating. Date whoever you want, but why are you dragging me into it? Am I just a prop in your little couple’s game?” My voice wasn’t overly loud, but it was loud enough for everyone in the classroom to hear. A wave of muffled laughter rippled through the crowd. Caleb panicked. He reached out to grab my hand to explain, “I am not dating her.” I dodged him, turning my body away. “Oh, so you’re just stringing her along too? You’re absolute trash.” “I’m not! She’s the one who keeps initiating it.” Just as the words left his mouth, a loud thud echoed from the doorway. Chloe stood there, her eyes rimmed with red. The drink she had brought for Caleb was spilled all over the floor. She wiped the corner of her eye, turned around, and ran. I saw Caleb’s hands clench into tight fists. The next second, he sprinted after her. 9 After I sat back down, Liam pulled a wet wipe from his bag and handed it to me. “Do you want to go to the restroom?” I shook my head. “No, it’s fine.” Some blood had dripped onto my pants. It was already drying into dark red spots. I took the wipe and carefully tried to clean it, but the stain wouldn’t come out. It was strange. I hadn’t been thinking about anything at all. Yet, my eyes uncontrollably began to burn. I quickly lowered my head. Even though I was the one abandoned in every choice he made in my past life… Living through it again still hurt. But I figured it was just an involuntary reflex from the twenty-something-year-old Harper inside me. So I dug my fingernails hard into my palm until a sharp pain shot through me. I silently repeated to myself: Seventeen-year-old Harper, this time, you have to win. A moment later, Liam’s clear, calm voice broke the silence. “There are a few different ways to solve these problems. Do you want to hear them?” I quickly wiped my face with my hand, lifted my head, and flashed him a massive, toothy grin. “Yes!” That night during study hall, Liam pushed his meticulously organized physics notes in front of me. “You might need these.” I opened the notebook. It was filled with his neat, elegant handwriting, summarizing every core concept and its classic application problems. In his past life, he got into MIT. I heard he moved back to our hometown after graduating. I didn’t know why. I wrote a note and slid it over to him: “Liam, do you think if I start trying hard right now, I can get into MIT?” He unfolded the note. The warm white light from the desk lamp illuminated his face, casting thick shadows from his eyelashes. Below his straight nose, the corners of his lips curved upward. He picked up his pen. My heart was in my throat. I was terrified he would write back: “At your level? Highly doubtful.” But when he slid the note back, there was only one word. “Yes.” 10 Maybe it was because my desire to change my fate in this life was so overwhelming, or maybe it was the validation from the ultimate academic god. A blazing fire of determination ignited inside me. I started organizing notes for every subject and breaking down the core concepts. In the past, I relied on being somewhat naturally smart, so I only ever half-understood a lot of problems. Now, I started from the absolute basics, chewing through the textbook material until I truly understood it. Taking full advantage of sitting next to Liam, I ruthlessly exploited my access to this genius resource. I even added his contact info so I could conveniently ask him about difficult problems after hours. He rarely posted on social media, but the only thing that kept appearing on his feed was a potted sunflower. Maybe that sunflower held a special meaning for him. Just like how Caleb used to post vague pictures of white gardenias—which translated to “Zhi” (Chloe’s Chinese name) in my past life. I eventually understood it meant Chloe. Come to think of it, Chloe hadn’t come to bring Caleb breakfast lately. But surprisingly, a carton of yogurt and a pastry appeared on my desk. I asked Liam, “Is this yours?” He shook his head. The girl sitting behind me poked my back and whispered, “I got here early. Caleb dropped it off.” Tsk. They get into a fight, and he comes running back to me to validate his existence. I didn’t even turn to look at him. I walked straight to the back of the classroom and threw it in the trash can. When I walked back, Caleb stuck his foot out into the aisle to block me, his eyes harboring dark anger. “Harper, what is your problem?!” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He pointed at the trash can. “I bought that breakfast.” “Oh.” “Oh? That’s your only reaction?” It actually made me laugh. “Caleb, did you get possessed by an alien? It’s just breakfast. What kind of reaction do you want? Do you want me to get on my knees and bow to you?” His eyes widened in fury, completely exasperated. “Harper, haven’t you thrown this tantrum long enough? What do I have to do to get you to talk to me?” I crossed my arms, shot him a sideways glance, and threw the exact words he used in our past life right back in his face: “Are you ever going to stop? Go find a hobby. I’m busy.” Then I stepped over his leg and sat down at my desk. Caleb lowered his voice. “Fine, Harper. Have it your way!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391551”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

During the most desperately broke year of my life, I used an anonymous alt account to cyberbully the university’s arrogant billionaire heir every single day. [So what if you’re handsome? You still just have two eyes and a nose.] [Wearing that white button-down every day like you’re starring in a movie. Stop acting so pretentious.] [I hate fake, high-and-mighty rich people like you the most! Why isn’t your money mine?!] [I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you!] Later, my phone broke and I had to send it in for repairs. When I finally turned it back on a few days later, my messages exploded. The billionaire heir: [Why didn’t you say you hated me today?] [Did you find a new target?] [Are they sexier than me?] [Image: v-line_abs.jpg] [Or do they have more money than me?] [Image: bank_account_balance.jpg] [I’m not showing you this for any specific reason. Don’t overthink it.] [Actually, you can overthink it if you want.] [But I’m not easy. Only my girlfriend gets to enjoy my body and my money.] [Seeing as how desperate you are for cash, I suppose I could consider you.] [But you have to make the first move.] [Say something.] [Fine, you win. I accept your pursuit.] [Baby, what are you doing? Come pay attention to your boyfriend (‘ε`)~] Me, staring at my newly fixed phone: [?] 1 I was an incredibly broke, deeply cynical college student. My mother was severely ill in the hospital, and my father was drowning in gambling debts. Every dime of my college tuition was paid for by student loans. While everyone else was enjoying the golden years of college—eating out, partying, traveling, and taking selfies—I was grinding through four or five part-time jobs a day just to survive. I was worked like a dog. Every night, I’d drag my exhausted body back to the dorms, only to be forced to listen to my rich-girl roommate casually flex her lifestyle. Which elite gala she attended, what artisanal pastries she ate, which luxury designer bags her endless line of suitors bought her. After working myself to the bone all day, I’d lie in bed, physically exhausted and desperate for sleep. But listening to her brag made my eyes burn with so much jealousy I couldn’t close them. I had to scrape together tuition for the next semester. I had to stay hyper-vigilant against the debt collectors showing up at our door. On my phone, the hospital bills for my mom’s treatment updated daily, draining my account like a leaky faucet. Even if I did absolutely nothing all day, the money still vanished from my account, penny by agonizing penny. I was terrifyingly broke! Meanwhile, a single piece of jewelry on my roommate’s wrist cost more than several months of my blood, sweat, and tears. Whenever she complained about how “boring” her life was… I practically ground my molars into dust. Why can’t I be the one who’s bored?! 2 Tonight, just as I was finally drifting off to sleep. CRASH— Something was violently smashed onto the floor. I jolted awake instantly. I had finally found a moment to rest, and being violently woken up made a fire ignite in my chest. I looked over and saw my other roommates crowding around the rich girl, trying to comfort her. “Lily, it’s Carter Sterling! He’s literally the king of the university!” “Yeah, if my dad told me I was arranged to marry him, I’d be smiling in my sleep.” “I heard his family’s wealth is basically a GDP, and they donated four buildings to the school!” Lily kept her chin high, her face twisted in an arrogant sneer as she threw another textbook on the floor. “So what?! I hate that my family is trying to arrange my marriage! Am I just an object for them to control? I don’t care if he’s the sole heir to the Sterling conglomerate, I just don’t like him!” Hearing that sentence, my teeth ground together, my face contorting with rage. If you don’t want the arranged marriage, give it to me! I’ll take it! Marrying the heir to the Sterling empire meant my entire life would be permanently set on easy mode. Listening to Lily’s pathetic complaints, the fire in my chest grew hotter. Thinking about having to wake up at 6:00 AM tomorrow for my first shift made me even angrier! Some people had everything handed to them without lifting a finger. I was basically crawling on the ceiling in the dark, consumed by pure, unadulterated jealousy. The frustration just wouldn’t dissipate. I knew who Carter Sterling was. He was the most famous guy on campus; finding his WeChat ID wasn’t exactly difficult. The hard part was getting him to accept the friend request. After my roommates finally went to sleep. I stared at my phone screen with a deadpan expression. I logged into my burner account and sent him a friend request: [So what if you’re handsome? You’re still totally unlikable.] I knew he would never accept it. It was purely a way to vent my toxic rage. My phone buzzed. A few seconds later, the screen showed he had accepted my friend request. Him: [?] My fingers, which had been typing out a second venomous insult, froze. His profile picture was a vast, pristine blue ocean. It stood in stark contrast to my profile picture, which was just a pitch-black square. It made me feel even more like a rat hiding in a sewer. In the safety of the dark, I shed my daytime persona of the frugal, hardworking, sweet girl. I typed out a string of bitter, spiteful words: [Do you think sending a single question mark makes you look cool and aloof?] [Stop acting so pretentious stop acting so pretentious stop acting so pretentious.] Him: [Who are you?] Me: [A cynical, spiteful beautiful girl.] Him: […Why did you add me?] Me: [I hate how you rich people always look down on everyone. Just because you asked doesn’t mean I have to tell you. I won’t!] Him: [Fine. Blocked.] When I tried to send another message, a red exclamation mark appeared. But honestly? I felt incredible. I had found a brand-new way to vent my miserable life. Every time my rich roommate showed off in the dorm, or threw a loud tantrum while I was trying to sleep. I used my burner account to unleash a barrage of cyberbullying on her arranged fiancé, the Sterling heir. I just kept sending him new friend requests. [Why are you sleeping? I can’t sleep, so you don’t get to sleep either!] [I hate fake, high-and-mighty rich people like you the most! You have everything, yet you still act so moody and dramatic!] [Everyone only surrounds you because of your money! Without your money, you’re nothing!] [Why isn’t your money mine?! Ahhhhhh why!!] [I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you!] I treated Carter Sterling like my personal emotional dumpster. I gleefully chanted my dark, toxic curses. Carter Sterling: […Enough.] The system showed we were friends again. When did he accept my friend request this time? Me: [Did I give you permission to accept my request? Block me again.] Him: [Did I do something to offend you?] Me: [Yes!] Him: [What?] Me: [You have more money than me. I hate everyone who has more money than me.] Him: […Do you ever sleep? You always message me in the middle of the night.] Is it because I don’t want to sleep?! It’s because your arranged fiancée is staying up late watching K-dramas with no headphones and ruining my sleep! If I can’t sleep, no one gets to sleep. I typed darkly: [Because cynical beautiful girls only roam at night. By offending me, you’ve offended the rat in the sewer!] He replied with a sticker of a sighing cartoon cat. My heart felt immensely lighter. After expelling all that toxic energy, my physical health genuinely felt better. I fell into a deep, comfortable sleep. 3 A month later, the university held its annual sports festival. I woke up at the crack of dawn to volunteer, handing out water to the athletes. Carter Sterling was there. On the basketball court, he and his teammates moved with flawless synergy. His movements were fluid and explosive. Every time he went for a dunk, his jersey rode up, exposing a glimpse of his abs, causing the girls in the bleachers to scream like they were at a concert. It was giving me a massive headache. I already wasn’t sleeping well. I stared blankly at the golden boy dominating the court. His jawline was razor-sharp, his nose perfectly straight. Sweat dripped from the tip of his nose down to his collarbone. A girl shyly handed him a bottle of water. He took it and offered a polite “Thank you.” Courteous and gentlemanly. The girl covered her face and ran away, her heart practically beating out of her chest. She even bumped into me in her panic. I cursed internally. Noticing Carter’s gaze drift my way, I slapped on a bright, customer-service smile and told him he played a great game. The second he turned away, I aggressively rolled my eyes. I’m the one working the hardest here! I still had to clean up the entire court later. I crawled back into my dark mental space. I take back what I said before. Besides being filthy rich, Carter Sterling also had a face that could ruin lives. Why did the universe favor him so much, while I was treated like an NPC? Handing him water was treated like some supreme honor. It’s not fair! Those basketball shoes he was wearing cost enough to pay off all my dad’s gambling debts. And he was just casually stepping on them. My face twisted in pure bitterness. “Excuse me, are you Chloe?” Suddenly, the guy who had just walked away turned back around. I didn’t have time to fix my face, so my features just twitched awkwardly. “Are you okay?” His voice was laced with genuine concern. Carter was much taller than me. Standing right in front of me, his shadow completely swallowed me. I guiltily covered my twitching face, terrified he’d realize I was the cyberbully: “I’m fine, I-I just… my blood sugar is a little low.” He looked at me with gentle detachment. “Carrying all this water by yourself must be exhausting.” He bent down and helped me carry the remaining cases of water. He even called over a few of his friends to help me pick up all the empty plastic bottles left on the bleachers and throw them in the trash. The sun was blinding. My eyes stung with tears. Why is this billionaire heir suddenly acting like a saint?! Doesn’t he know I can recycle those empty bottles for cash?! My heart bled, but my last shred of poor-person dignity wouldn’t let me scream at the billionaire and his elite frat brothers: “Put the bottles down! Let me do it!” After they finished cleaning up, Carter saw my expression of utter devastation. He assumed I was just overwhelmed with gratitude. “No problem, it was nothing. Our game caused a mess, it’s the least we could do.” Fake! I couldn’t fathom why the school’s golden boy was suddenly being so helpful. Did my dark, cynical rants actually make him start pitying the working class? As they walked away, they weren’t quite out of earshot, and I could hear their conversation. “Carter, why are you suddenly playing the knight in shining armor? Trying to hit on her?” “No way. Carter didn’t even look twice at the girl from the arts campus. Why would he go for some broke girl whose sweater is literally pilling? You know what a clean freak he is.” “Speaking of which, hasn’t Carter been chatting up some girl online lately? How’s that going? Did you hit a home run yet?” The guys erupted into laughter. Carter’s sharp eyes narrowed, and he laughed, cursing at them. “Fuck off, all of you.” “You guys have way too much free time.” I knew it! Just a typical, sleazy rich playboy. He has an arranged fiancée, and he’s still casually hooking up with girls online. After silently roasting him with pure disgust, I sprinted to the trash cans to fish out the empty water bottles. They were still worth money! 4 The world of a poor, cynical college student is incredibly monotonous. Part-time jobs, classes, sleep. Surviving was fine, dying was also acceptable. Lying in bed, I unlocked my phone, desperate to look at something that would bring me a tiny ounce of joy. I opened my main WeChat account, and the first thing I saw was Lily posting photos of her three new Hermès Birkin bags. Disgusting! I switched to my burner account. And the first thing I saw was Carter posting videos of himself racing sports cars and working out at the gym. Pretentious! My vision went dark. I felt even more exhausted. I am going to war with you rich people! I started maliciously harassing Carter again. [Why do you have so much money?! I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you!] He seemed to be in a good mood today, and actually replied. Him: [Are you really struggling for money?] [I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you!!!] Carter Sterling has transferred $5,000 to you. Me: [!!] I could collect recycling for years and never see that kind of money. Him: [Do you still hate me?] Me: [Don’t think that…] Carter Sterling has transferred $50,000 to you. I clutched my chest. I counted the zeros. Tens, hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands… [Do you still hate me?] As someone who literally saved money in increments of ten dollars, I had never witnessed such a direct, aggressive display of wealth. My morals were severely tested. Me: [Honestly… you’re not that bad.] He sent a voice memo. I instinctively tapped it. The man was laughing. His voice was cold, yet incredibly magnetic, the final syllable dragging out lazily. “I’m just… ‘not that bad’?” I almost dropped my phone. Why is he using that tone of voice?! Did he really think I would be seduced by his fake charm? He had merely blinded me temporarily with his overwhelming wealth. [Of course you’re just ‘not that bad’. Don’t think that just because you have money, you’re a flawless human being.] Him: [For example?] Me: [Wearing that white button-down when you play basketball is incredibly pretentious. And in the library, when that girl confessed to you, you ripped up her love letter right in front of her and threw it on the floor. Did you ever think about the janitor who has to clean that up…] Him: [Are you stalking me?] Stalking him?! As if! It was just that every time he caused a scene, I happened to be working a shift nearby. Is it my fault I have too many part-time jobs?! [I wouldn’t waste my time stalking you. I wish you would disappear from my sight forever.] Him: [So it sounds like we’ve definitely met in person.] Realizing he was quietly interrogating me to figure out my identity, I panicked and immediately deleted the rest of my drafted complaints. No matter what he sent after that, I only replied: [I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you!] He suddenly changed the subject: [You hate when I wear white button-downs. So what do you like? I’ll wear whatever you want.] What kind of line was that? Did he really mean he’d wear whatever I told him to? I let my malice run wild: [I like it when you wear absolutely nothing, and I walk you around on a dog leash.]

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391568”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My fiancé and my own brother hated me for ten years. They were convinced I’d bullied their precious little innocent. And at my engagement party, they exposed my supposed crimes to the world. “She’s a disgrace, a bully who tormented her classmates!” In the live-streamed video, the innocent girl smiled through tears: “I’ve forgiven her. Looking back, I’ve long since moved past it.” She became an overnight sensation. I, on the other hand, was vilified, attacked with acid by extreme fans, and in despair, I dragged her down with me. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in my senior year of high school. The innocent girl was pouring water over her head, smiling as she asked, “Have you thought about how you’re going to apologize to me?” I snapped. Grabbing her by the hair, I dragged her into the restroom and shoved her head into the toilet. “Let me show you what real bullying looks like.” “Such a filthy mouth. Remember to wash it clean before you go tattling.” 1 My last memory of my previous life. The agonizing, near-fatal pain of concentrated acid splashing into my eyes. Enduring immense agony, I found Daisy, shielded behind my brother, through my blurring vision. Then I grabbed a cake knife, charged, and plunged it into her chest. “Let’s go to hell together!” … My eyes snapped open again. The unusually clear sight before me left me stunned for a couple of seconds. Until I saw Daisy, much younger, not far away. She was wearing a faded school uniform, twisting open a faucet, and pouring water over her own head. As the water streamed down, she smiled and asked, “Who do you think they’ll believe, me or you?” It hit me then. This was the day. The beginning of my being branded a bully in my past life. Seeing me standing there, frozen, Daisy’s smile widened. “Have you thought about how you’re going to apologize to me, Miss Fancy Pants? —Ah!” Old grudges and fresh fury surged. I lunged, seized her by the hair, and dragged her into the restroom. Amidst her sudden, shrill shriek, I shoved her entire face into the toilet. “You think a little cold water is enough to pin this on me? Come on, I’ll personally teach you what real bullying means.” Daisy thrashed wildly, her arms flailing like windmills, but she couldn’t escape my grip. Her face buried in the murky water, she could only gurgle out muffled sounds. “Eleanor, let me go… gurgle… retch—” I threw my head back and laughed. “Such a filthy mouth! Remember to wash it clean before you go tattling later!” Whether this was a do-over or a post-mortem hallucation. It didn’t matter. I was completely, utterly insane. 2 In my past life, I died on the most triumphant day of my life. That day, I’d won my third Best Actress award, dressed in a haute couture gown, standing on a grand, live-streamed engagement stage with my childhood sweetheart, Evan. Then he announced to everyone, “I will never marry a despicable bully who tormented classmates in high school.” As I stared in disbelief. Daisy emerged from the audience. Her eyes glistening with tears, she looked up and smiled. “Eleanor, do you remember me? Daisy, the girl you bullied for ten years.” “You probably never imagined I’d stand here, equal to you, one day.” “But it’s alright, I don’t blame you anymore.” “Looking back, I’ve long since moved past it.” The live broadcast instantly made her a sensation. Before I could even react, a swarm of reporters, arranged by my brother and Evan, rushed in and surrounded me. “Miss Moreau, is it true you still maintain your habit of bullying newcomers on set?” “Someone photographed you visiting a gynecologist recently. Was it due to a dirty disease from your promiscuous private life?” An extremist fan burst through the crowd and hurled acid onto my face. “Bitch, just die!” The liquid splashed, bringing an overwhelming, searing pain to my face. My vision never cleared again. From heaven to hell, in an instant. 3 Snapping back to reality, I released my grip. Daisy lay on the ground, gasping for breath. Her innocent, pure face was streaked with grime. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Cry, throw a fit, then go tell the whole world I bullied you with that face—go on!” My voice rose sharply at the end. Remembering the searing pain of my face being dissolved by acid in my past life, I stomped on her face twice more with all my might. Only then did I turn and leave. Downstairs, my classmate, Sarah, was waiting for me. “Gym class started ages ago, what were you doing upstairs?” I said nonchalantly, “Oh, just bullied the new kid a bit.” She turned, shocked. “What?!” I replied, “As Mark Twain said, when the whole world thinks you’re a bully, you might as well be one.” “Mark Twain… said that…?” “It’s not important.” As we walked towards the sports field, we ran straight into Evan. He wasn’t in my class. But everyone in school knew he was Eleanor Moreau’ childhood boyfriend. Evan’s gaze skimmed my face, then subtly, almost imperceptibly, landed behind me. “Ellie, why are you so late? By the way, I heard there’s a new transfer student in your class?” In my past life, every time Daisy slandered me. He would always tell me to apologize to her, to just move past it. He seemed to be on my side. But in reality, a few words from him solidified my guilt as a bully. At that thought, I unexpectedly raised my hand and slapped him. “?!” Sarah, beside me, was stunned again. Evan’s expression remained unchanged, though his eyes momentarily hardened. Then he acted as if nothing had happened. He leaned down intimately, rubbing his cheek against mine. “What’s wrong, Ellie? Are you in a bad mood?” 4 In my past life, I didn’t know until much later. When Evan was a child, his mother abandoned him at an amusement park, and he spent some time in an orphanage. There, he met a cheerful, bright little girl. She slept in the same bed as him and gave him a piece of candy. She was the only light in his life. That light was Daisy. And on her very first day transferring to our school, Evan recognized her. He had always believed Daisy’s claims that I bullied her, hating me to the core. Yet, constrained by his status as an illegitimate child, he had to endure and curry favor with me. Because he needed to secure his position in the family through marriage to me. At this thought, I said, “Let’s break up.” His pupils suddenly constricted. “…Why? Give me a reason, Ellie.” I pulled out a tissue, wiping my cheek where he’d touched it, stroke by stroke. “I don’t want to date a mistress’s son. It feels dirty. Is that reason enough?” 5 After I left, Sarah cautiously asked if I was possessed. Her question didn’t surprise me in the least. Because in high school, I had loved Evan so openly and intensely. Every day after school, I’d wait to walk home with him, baking cookies until my hands were scratched and cut, then smiling sweetly as I brought them to him. My favoritism was so obvious, the whole world knew. But now, it was different. The Eleanor Moreau who had just started her senior year was dead. The person standing here now was Eleanor Moreau, reborn from the ashes! 6 Daisy didn’t reappear all day. I knew her face was her most prized asset. She wouldn’t make a move unless she could fully leverage it. I waited patiently. Soon, it was Saturday, my eighteenth birthday. My parents had said they’d host a grand dinner to celebrate my coming of age. But then something urgent came up at their company, and they had to arrive late. Under the glittering crystal chandeliers. I, dressed in a bespoke cocktail dress, descended the spiral staircase into the living room. From afar, I saw my brother, Victor Moreau. He was impeccably dressed in a suit, his face impassive, calling out to me. “Eleanor, come here.” I walked over. Pretending not to see Evan’s shadowed gaze behind him, nor Daisy, who looked on the verge of tears. I smiled sweetly. “What is it, brother? Did you prepare a gift for me?” Victor looked at me with cold eyes for a moment, then spoke. “Bullying classmates, insulting friends, Eleanor. Is this what the Moreau family taught you?” His voice hadn’t softened in the slightest. Suddenly, all the guests’ eyes in the room turned our way. “What are you talking about, brother? I don’t understand.” I looked at Daisy, tilting my head. “Who did I insult, and when did I bully a classmate? I don’t even know her.” “It’s too late to deny it now. You made a mistake, and you’ll pay the price.” “Since Mom and Dad aren’t here today, I’ll discipline you on their behalf.” With that, Victor took a ruler from a nearby display cabinet. Looking at me, he stated each word sternly. “Kneel.” 7 In the vast ballroom, countless eyes watched, eager for a show. “What? Bullying a classmate? The Moreau daughter does things like that?” “Oh, raised in luxury, it’s normal for her to resent others being better.” “Good thing her brother is fair and not protective.” Under Daisy’s smug and defiant gaze, I straightened my back. Smiling, I unleashed a torrent of sarcasm. “What rubbish are you spewing, brother? Anyone who knows you would think you’re Victor Moreau; anyone who doesn’t would think some ghost from the old days possessed you.” “I only kneel for my ancestors.” I cocked my head, scrutinizing him from head to toe, then smirked nastily. “How about this: you go jump off a building right now, and I’ll immediately kneel and bow three times to send you off.” Victor’s face instantly darkened. Behind him, Daisy feigned concern. “Eleanor, I know you don’t like me, but it’s one thing to pick on me, how can you speak to your own brother like that?” Her eyes widened, tears welling up, deliberately putting on a childish, innocent expression. Evan, seeing this, showed a flicker of obscure darkness in his eyes. Then he spoke softly. “Ellie, if you’ve made a mistake, just admit it and apologize. There’s no need to—” I also widened my eyes, feigning distress. “Excuse me, I don’t understand dog barks. Could you please repeat that in human language?” “Enough!” Victor snapped. “Eleanor Moreau, as a young woman, do you have no sense of decency? Who taught you to speak like that, full of vulgarity and without manners?” He was still the same, refusing to believe anything I said. Instead, he would, with strong prejudice, nail me to the pillar of shame again and again. I tugged at the corner of my mouth, mimicking his cold sneer. “Mom and Dad are busy, no time to manage me. Who do you think taught me?” “Of course, it was you, my dearest brother.” 8 In my past life, I was always a mixture of fear and affection for Victor. He was several years older than me, and in my heart, he was always an authoritative brother. When we were little, Mom and Dad were busy with the company, so he was the one who disciplined me. If I made even a small mistake, I’d get my palm smacked with a ruler, or be forbidden to eat. When I brought home a curly-haired stray dog I’d found, he wouldn’t let the housekeeper open the door for me. “It’s filthy. We don’t welcome things like that in this house.” So I sat on the steps outside our house, clutching the puppy, all night long. I was still young then. I always thought that was just his personality, that he couldn’t learn the gentle affection other brothers showed their sisters. It wasn’t until Daisy appeared. That I realized. My brother did know how to be gentle. It just wasn’t for me. I’d seen him in his car, handing Daisy hot milk, ruffling her hair and saying, “Remember to eat three meals a day. If you need more money, I’m here.” I’d also seen Daisy pick up a scrawny stray cat in the rain, while he held an umbrella over her, softly asking, “Do you want to keep it?” When Daisy was drunk and mumbled nonsense, tugging at his shirt, he listened patiently, his eyes full of tenderness. In my past life, I was trapped in a web of deceitful love. Confused why my brother didn’t love me, why my fiancé wasn’t on my side. Only after living through it again did I finally understand. I was a completely independent individual. I didn’t need love to survive. 9 The birthday dinner ultimately didn’t end well. Because as I confronted Victor without backing down, Mom and Dad finally returned. They politely thanked and sent off the numerous guests. Daisy tried to pull her usual victim act with Mom, but Mom cut her off with a smile. “Excuse me, young lady, we handle our family matters ourselves. Please leave.” Daisy choked, giving Victor a tearful glance before turning to leave. Once only Victor and I remained, Dad finally spoke, his voice authoritative. “Alright, now tell me exactly what happened.” Before Victor could speak, I quickly interjected. “A new transfer student arrived at school recently. On her very first day, she went crazy, poured water over her own head, and insisted I was the one who did it, saying I bullied her.” “Later, I found out this person was Daisy, the underprivileged student you’ve been sponsoring, brother.” Victor, who was sitting on the sofa, suddenly looked up at me, his eyes full of shock. Surprised, aren’t you, brother? That your secret affair was discovered by me so early. I pressed my reddened eyes, my voice choked with sobs. “Actually, I don’t blame her. It’s just a birthday, I can just skip it.” “I’m just sad, why don’t you believe me, brother…” It wasn’t as if Daisy was the only one who could play the innocent victim in this world. Amidst my tearful voice, Dad made a final decision. “Alright, no matter who bullied whom, don’t make a fuss anymore.” “If it escalates and gets out, it won’t be good for any of you.” “This matter, ends here.” 10 Back at school, I began overtly bullying Daisy. Pouring ink into her drawer, loudly mocking her when she recited English with an accent. Tearing her physics test into pieces and sprinkling them over her head. “Go on, go tattle again.” I smiled. “Isn’t that what you’re best at?” A piece of shredded paper floated gently from her hair. She looked at me, a flicker of deep-seated malice in her eyes. In the end, she still trembled and cried, apologizing to me. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Eleanor. If I’ve done anything to upset you, I apologize now. I’ll change, alright?” “Your existence upsets me.” I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “How will you change? Are you going to die right now?” She was speechless, unable to utter a single word. Finally, she could only continue to cry. I realized for the first time how exhilarating it was to be the villain. Of course, she told the teachers. The teacher called me to the office. I tearfully recounted what happened at the birthday dinner, finally pulling out a doctor’s note. “Because of her rumors that day, my brother humiliated me in front of so many people. I cry every time I think about it, even waking up from nightmares.” “I’m still seeing a psychologist and taking medication. The doctor says I have severe depression.” In the end, the teacher had to console me. Everyone could see I disliked Daisy. Sarah was puzzled. “Why are you targeting her so much? Has she done anything bad?” I looked up and smiled at her. “Can’t I just be a bad woman, using my family’s wealth to look down on a new student from a poor background?” “Oh, come on.” She rolled her eyes at me. “If you were like that, why wouldn’t you bully me? My family is much poorer than hers.” “On the very first day we became friends, you bought all my school supplies for three years of high school. Asking me to believe you bully classmates is like asking me to believe I’m Queen Elizabeth.” “I understand that much.” Yes. That much, everyone understood. But my brother and the person I loved, they just didn’t. I curved my lips, but there was no smile in my eyes.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391587”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

It had been five years since I left Arthur Sterling, and I finally stopped thinking about ending my life every day. I found a new love and gave birth to an adorable son. On my son’s third birthday, an interview with Arthur suddenly went viral and topped the trending charts. In it, he said: “I will only ever have one wife, and that is Luna. She is also the mother of my only child.” Going viral right alongside it was a ten-thousand-word, handwritten apology letter from the daughter who had once cried and screamed for me to stay away from her, calling me a “psycho.” 1 I thought today was going to be a wonderfully happy day. It was my son Leo’s third birthday. He held a little paper flower he made at daycare and insisted on giving it to me, saying, “Mommy works so hard.” My boss had just given me a generous bonus, and my husband, Mark, had transferred his entire paycheck to me the second he received it. So, I bought a ton of groceries, planning to cook a massive feast to celebrate tonight. But as soon as I reached the entrance of our apartment complex, my upstairs neighbor, Mrs. Davis, blocked my path. She looked me up and down without hiding her curiosity. “Tsk tsk, Luna, I never would have guessed it! You used to be a rich man’s wife!” I was stunned for a second, then laughed naturally. “Mrs. Davis, please don’t joke like that. I’ve only ever had Mark.” Mrs. Davis shot me another look. “Look at your phone. The whole internet knows your business now.” The forecast said it was 95 degrees today, but standing there in the blinding sunlight, my entire body went ice cold. I pulled out my phone with trembling hands, unlocked it, and randomly opened a social media app. I didn’t even have to search for it. The number one recommended video on the homepage was an interview clip with Arthur Sterling. It was from a press conference for the Sterling Group’s newest project launch. The reporter asked about his personal life. In the video, Arthur froze for a moment, and a look of profound pain crossed his face. After a long pause, he looked directly into the camera for the first time. Enunciating every word, he delivered a perfectly executed performance of a deeply devoted man. “I will only ever have one wife, and that is Luna. She is also the mother of my only child.” Arthur’s eyes were filled with a depth of affection I had never seen before, and he used an intimate nickname he had never used for me before. “Luna, come home. I’ve been waiting for you.” After watching the video, I felt absolutely no positive emotions. My stomach churned with nothing but pure nausea and disgust. I had no idea what had happened over the last five years to cause such a drastic change in his attitude. But even now, I clearly remembered the final phone call I made to Arthur right before I jumped off the bridge five years ago. At that time, his “true love,” Chloe, had practically moved into his house. There was nothing left to say about our relationship. I just wanted to give him one last reminder to take good care of our daughter. But on the other end of the line, Arthur let out a cold, mocking scoff: “Luna, stop acting like you’re leaving a dying wish. I’ve seen this exact trick a million times. “You don’t need to worry about our daughter. But honestly, if you actually managed to die, she’d be much better off. “After all, having a mother who used to be some rich guy’s kept woman, who used a pregnancy to force her way into marriage, is a lifelong humiliation for her. “If you really can wash that stain off her record, maybe she’ll actually appreciate you for once.” The wind was howling furiously on the sixty-foot-high bridge, but tragically, I heard every single word Arthur said. I wanted to cry, but the freezing wind stung my eyes so badly I couldn’t open them. I opened my mouth several times, waiting until the frigid air filled my lungs and my heart turned completely to ice. Finally, I said: “Okay. I’ll go die then.” Arthur’s voice remained completely flat. It was as if my entire existence wasn’t worthy of causing even the slightest emotional ripple in him. “Then go die somewhere far away. Don’t expect me to collect your corpse. “Don’t forget, we never actually signed a marriage certificate. Legally, we have absolutely no relationship. “If you’re just having another psychotic episode, don’t bother coming back. You’ve already brought enough misery to our daughter.” I hung up before he could finish whatever else he was going to say. I was carrying far too much pain, enough to drag me straight to the bottom of the river. I truly didn’t want to hear another word. When I jumped off the bridge, it was the first time since I got together with Arthur that I felt completely relaxed. When the river water rushed up my nose, I didn’t struggle at all. I had been thrashing in the swamp of the Sterling family for so long. I was just so tired. I faced death with absolute calm. It was my husband, Mark—a math teacher who rarely exercised—who desperately jumped in and fought with everything he had to pull me out. From that day on, sunlight finally entered my life. So why couldn’t Arthur just let me go? My daughter, Mia’s, ten-thousand-word apology letter was sitting at number two on the trending list. When Mia was born, I gave her the nickname “Angel.” I truly believed my daughter was a little angel sent to save me. But in the end, it was she who dragged me straight into hell. 2 My physical health was incredibly frail. I once almost died over a few pieces of meat. The first time I ever ate a proper serving of meat was when I was 20, the day Arthur brought me to the Sterling estate. The meat smelled incredible, but I only took two small pieces. Growing up, I only ever ate out of a tiny teacup; my stomach couldn’t handle more than that. But those two pieces of meat were enough. Shortly after eating, I suffered agonizing abdominal pain and started vomiting blood. I was rushed to the hospital. The doctor said my body was so malnourished and frail it was like I had illnesses from a different century. Because of this, I never thought someone in my condition could ever get pregnant. That day, I was standing on the roof of an abandoned construction site, ready to jump. The name “Arthur Sterling” had become my living nightmare, and I despised myself. I felt like I didn’t deserve to live. But just as I stepped one foot off the edge, an overwhelming wave of nausea hit me. I felt so sick I started throwing up violently, accidentally pressing my phone and answering a call from Arthur in the process. I failed to die. At the hospital, the doctor told me I was pregnant. The sudden promise of a continuing life instantly washed away my desire to die. I didn’t have an umbrella to protect myself from the rain, but I wanted to provide a sunny sky for my child. Touching my stomach, I thought this baby would be my salvation. With a child, there would finally be someone in this world who loved me. I wouldn’t be someone who deserved to die anymore. The pregnancy was brutal. Every single day was agonizing, torturous pain. My body was too weak. Several times, doctors advised me to terminate the pregnancy, but I refused. Of course, in Arthur’s eyes, this just looked like I refused to give up the opportunity to use the baby to secure my position as his wife. But all I wanted was to forge a connection with this world again. First, it was my grandmother. After she passed away, I finally had someone again. To others, I probably looked completely insane. I was in constant, agonizing pain, dripping with cold sweat, my face pale as paper, my lips devoid of color. But whenever I touched my growing belly, I smiled. A genuine, heartfelt smile. I felt like all the suffering was worth it. After Mia was born and I was told she was completely healthy, I smiled for a long, long time. I felt like a victorious warrior. It was the first battle I had ever won in my life. I felt like I was amazing. The two critical condition notices issued during labor felt like distant memories. Newborn Mia was a very good baby. Watching her grow day by day, my mood improved significantly. When did it all change? It was when she learned to run and talk. She would call out for Grandpa, Grandma, and Daddy, but she stopped calling me Mommy. She always reached her little arms out and ran toward the Sterling family members, never toward me. Back then, I naively thought it was because I wasn’t doing a good enough job, so I just tried to love her even more. But by the time she turned four, she had developed a strong sense of autonomy. The question she asked me the most was: “Are you really my mommy?” That tiny little girl even tried to find various “evidence” to prove I wasn’t her mother. I would try to correct her. I even showed her photos of my pregnant belly, telling her that she used to live inside there. But Mia would snatch the photos and throw them on the floor. “Watermelon stripes. Disgusting. You’re bad.” I was painfully thin during my pregnancy, but Mia grew very well, causing my stomach to stretch rapidly. It left me with severe stretch marks, so ugly that even I couldn’t bear to look at them sometimes. But hearing my own biological child call them ugly still broke my heart. Mia would intentionally stand next to me in front of a mirror and say, “I look like Daddy, not you. Looking like you is ugly.” One time, she seemed to be in a particularly good mood, so I took the opportunity to get closer, hoping to bond with her. But she ran upstairs and quickly came back down with a photograph. “Daddy looks at this every day. This is my real mommy. You’re a fake.” The photo was of Arthur’s childhood sweetheart, Chloe. Arthur was standing next to her, smiling warmly. It was a gentle look I had never once seen him direct at me. Mia’s betrayal was the final straw that broke me. My mental health deteriorated rapidly. There were many times I was so delirious I couldn’t distinguish hallucinations from reality. The final explosion happened when the whole family was watching TV, and Chloe appeared on screen. Mia excitedly jumped off the sofa and ran to the TV: “Grandpa, Grandma! It’s Mommy! My mommy!” 3 Her proud, joyful smile was like a sharp knife plunging directly through my heart. Arthur’s parents smiled and praised Mia, not saying a single word to correct her. Years of accumulated grief and injustice made me snap. I lunged from the sofa and grabbed Mia’s arm. “Look closely! I am your mother! How many times do I have to tell you?! I am your mother! “That is a fact that will never change! “It doesn’t matter if you’re unhappy, or if you don’t like it. I AM YOUR MOTHER!” My outburst terrified Mia, and she started crying, struggling fiercely to get away. Arthur’s parents yanked Mia out of my grasp. I was shoved backward, and the small of my back crashed directly into the sharp corner of the coffee table. Tears of pure physiological pain immediately sprang to my eyes. Mia wailed loudly, but she didn’t forget to kick me, causing me to repeatedly slam against the sharp corner. “Waaaah! I don’t want to be with this psycho! I want Mommy Chloe!” The crying disturbed Arthur, who was in his study. He stormed out and, without asking what happened, immediately interrogated me: “Luna, what kind of crazy fit are you throwing this time?!” His mother sneered, “Who knows how she treats Mia when we aren’t around? What kind of child hates their own biological mother? “She must have some malicious intentions and treats the child poorly.” Then she turned to me: “I used to feel guilty that our family never gave you a proper title. But looking at you now, we did the right thing. “You simply don’t deserve to be Mia’s mother.” The crying Mia in her arms suddenly stopped. The childish voice that followed was, to me, the final trumpet call of death. “Grandma, if she dies, can Chloe be my mommy then?” So, my departure was exactly what Mia wanted most. Why would she come looking for me now? The person I loved most hurt me the deepest. I jumped into the river seeking death, but I wasn’t afraid of the water. For the first year after I was rescued, what I feared most was little girls. Especially little girls calling out for their mommy. To me, they were more terrifying than vengeful ghosts. Why couldn’t we just leave each other alone now? It wasn’t that I hadn’t carefully read Mia’s letter. But in my heart, I had long ceased to be her mother, and she was no longer my daughter. Yet, a few lines in the middle still stung my eyes. [Mommy, when I was little, you used to get jealous because I loved other people. I’m sorry. Please come back. I promise I’ll only love you from now on, okay? I’ve prepared so many gifts for you for every holiday and birthday. Mommy, I miss you. I love you.] I remembered one Mother’s Day, Mia drew a picture and said it was a Mother’s Day gift. When she ran toward me holding the drawing, I was so flustered and excited that I immediately started looking for wet wipes to clean my hands, accidentally dropping my phone on the floor. But Mia ran right past me and gave the drawing to our cook, Maria. I remained frozen in a half-crouched position, my arms open, waiting for a hug that never came. Like an absolute joke. At the very end of the ten-thousand-word handwritten letter was a family portrait. Arthur sat on the sofa, his expression serious, even cold. I sat next to him, holding baby Mia in my arms. My eyes were red, and I was forcing a stiff, unnatural smile for the camera. This was our only family photo. We had been together for years. We had no marriage certificate, no wedding, not even a single photo together. I had to beg him for this picture. I just wanted something to show my grandmother when I visited her grave, so she would know I was doing well and not worry about me. But Arthur just mocked me. “Luna, in my eyes, your only identity is Mia’s biological mother. Nothing else. “Don’t even try it. I won’t fall for your manipulative schemes again. “And I will never, ever have any real relationship with a woman like you.” I just wanted one single photo, but I received nearly thirty minutes of vicious mockery instead. The heartbreak, the humiliation, the sheer helplessness made my eyes involuntarily turn red. Just as I was about to take the baby and go upstairs, Arthur spoke again, agreeing to the photo in a tone that sounded like he was tossing scraps to a beggar. I saw comments from netizens saying Arthur looked like the perfect, strict, disciplined father. And that I must have been so overwhelmed with emotion from becoming a new mother and having such a doting husband that my eyes turned red, even though I was clearly so happy. So many netizens commented that they wished they could trade places with me. But that past is a wound on my soul that will never, ever heal. I looked at the bold words written beneath the photo: Wife/Mommy, come home. How incredibly ironic. They were using the photo I had to grovel and beg for, to beg me to come back. 4 I sat blankly against the wall, feeling like I was about to disconnect from this world all over again. The blinding sun beat down on me. Beads of sweat rolled down my hair and across my face, eventually splashing onto the ground and forming a small puddle. But I remained motionless. The freezing chill radiating from my heart froze me from the inside out, locking my entire body in ice. Cold and stiff. Suddenly, a shadow fell over me. As I struggled to lift my head, the person crouched down in front of me. The next second, a cool, soothing sensation touched my forehead. Mark was using a wet wipe to gently clean the sweat from my face. He pulled out a small, portable fan, turned it on, and placed it in my hands. With one hand, he pulled me up, and with the other, he picked up the scattered groceries. “Did you get heatstroke? It’s really hot today. Let’s go, let’s head home early. Our son already turned the AC on. “When we get back, the three of us will crush that giant tub of ice cream.” My consciousness slowly returned. I opened my mouth, my voice dry and raspy. “Hubby, the internet…” For the very first time, Mark interrupted me. He turned around, smiled brightly, and said: “You mean those two trying to extort us? It’s no big deal. As long as the three of us live our lives happily, nothing else matters.” I had never hidden my past from Mark. But after he found out, he treated me even better. When we first got together, Mark was a bit of a dense, quiet guy. He didn’t talk much, had a terrible internet connection, and when he wasn’t solving math equations, he was prepping lesson plans. But later, just to make me smile, he started reading jokes online, clumsily trying to learn how to be funny. I gripped Mark’s hand tighter, desperately trying to find a sense of security. Mark slowed his pace and squeezed my hand even tighter. “Don’t be afraid. I’ve got you.” My nose stung. Mark immediately started teasing me. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Let me tell you, our family is rich, okay? We don’t need you crying pearls of sorrow!” When we opened the door to our apartment, a blast of cool air washed over us, carrying the scent of flowers and buttercream frosting. Our son, Leo, holding a massive bouquet of flowers, practically tumbled over his own feet running toward me and threw himself into my arms. “Mommy, you work so hard! This is for you!” I immediately looked over at the shelf where his piggy bank usually sat. Sure enough, it was gone. Mark whispered in my ear: “He took his piggy bank to the flower shop and demanded to buy the absolute biggest bouquet they had. But it was too heavy for him to carry, so he had to settle for this one.” Leo pulled me over, insisting I cut the cake. I placed the first slice in front of him, but he pushed it back to me. “For Mommy! Mommy worked so hard to give birth to me. Today is all about Mommy!” Mark waved his hand in front of my face, and a beautiful gold necklace dropped from his palm. “Here! I have a gift too! Thank you for all your hard work, wifey. “You’re the reason our family is so complete and happy.” Looking at the big and little guys standing in front of me, my heart felt like it was soaking in warm syrup. Sweet and comforting. I felt like I was the center of their universe. Every holiday, this father-son duo perfectly coordinated their efforts, finding every excuse in the book to tell me I was the hero of the family. Like during the Spring Festival, which they turned into my annual “Awards Ceremony.” On Father’s Day, Mark would still buy me a gift, insisting it was because I gave him the opportunity to be a father. On Valentine’s Day, he thanked the heavens for letting us meet. Even on his own birthday, he would always say that I was the greatest gift he had ever received. He and Leo were always telling me how wonderful I was, but the truth was, they were the ones who truly saved me. Just as the tears were about to fall, a chubby little hand smeared with frosting touched the corner of my eye. “Mommy, smile! If you’re happy, I’ll give you all my reward stickers from now on!” Mark pulled out a tiny, clear jar. “I’ll give you little gold beans. We don’t want your pearls of sorrow.” I sniffled. “Okay, okay, I’m fine now! Come on, let’s eat cake first!” Just as I was serving cake to my boys, a loud knock echoed from the front door. Mark went to open it. After the sound of the door opening, there was a long, heavy silence from the entryway. I turned around, the plate of cake in my hand nearly slipping from my grasp. Arthur was standing in the doorway. Beside him, Mia violently shoved past Mark, sprinted into the apartment, and threw herself directly into my arms. “Mommy, I missed you so much!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391605”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

During my time working undercover, to prove my absolute loyalty, I took a bullet for a ruthless mafia boss. I ended up losing my memory for three years. On the day I finally woke up, I casually reached my hand out. The terrifying boss dropped to his knees immediately, offering his cheek to my palm. He looked at me with puppy-dog eyes and whined, “Can you hit me a little lighter today? I have a board meeting later.” 1 I was completely, utterly dumbfounded. “B-b-b…” Before I could even get the word ‘boss’ out. Damien lowered his head, gently rubbing my hand. “There are a lot of outsiders here. Save it for when we get home, okay?” Wait. Was this the same cold-blooded, ruthless mafia boss who murdered people without blinking? My last memory of him was him pointing a gun directly at my forehead, looking at me with pure disgust, and snarling, “Stay away from me!” Back then, forget about touching him; if you even looked at him wrong, he would shoot you a glare that could kill. But now? Not only was he initiating contact, but he also looked like an obedient, well-trained puppy. The most absurd part was that all his terrifying henchmen standing around the room looked completely unfazed, as if this was perfectly normal. I was so horrified I tried to yank my hand back. The man gripped it tighter, his eyes suddenly turning dangerous. “Wife, why aren’t you hitting me?” “You still have your eye on that pretty-boy doctor, don’t you?” “Fine. I’ll send him to the Sahara to get a tan.” He was being completely unreasonable. But Damien was a man of his word. I gritted my teeth, raised my other hand, and slapped him across the face. Smack! It was a crisp, loud sound. The man didn’t dodge at all. Half of his breathtakingly handsome face instantly turned bright red. My hand was shaking violently. I was terrified he was going to pull the gun from his waistband and blow my brains out the next second. Instead, the man gently touched his red cheek, his lips quivering slightly. “That hurts.” What am I supposed to do?! You told me to do it! Do you want me to blow on it for you?! Just as the thought crossed my mind… Damien dropped to both knees, pressed his face against my palm, and nuzzled it. “Wife, blow on it.” Oh my god! Just kill me now! 2 Three years ago, I was sent undercover to infiltrate his syndicate. But things went wrong right from the start. Damien’s inner circle was entirely out of my reach. He never went anywhere without an army of bodyguards. My only option was to get a job at a high-end nightclub he owned. I waited forever for the day he finally showed up. Desperate to impress him and get noticed, I insisted on doing a party trick: opening a beer bottle with my bare hands. The bottle cap flew off and hit Damien squarely on the nose. The beer sprayed everywhere, soaking his custom-tailored designer suit. That night, I learned what a truly intimidating, murderous glare looked like. As punishment, I was banished to guard the restroom doors. I guarded those doors for an entire month. Finally, I caught Damien coming to the club again. This time, he was here for a business meeting. My superiors had tipped me off that he was involved in some highly illegal trafficking deals recently. They ordered me to keep a close eye on him. I begged the club madam for a chance to serve his VIP room. The madam looked at me with a deeply conflicted expression. “I mean, you’re gorgeous, and your body is amazing, but…” She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. “The boss doesn’t swing that way!” Oh, right. I had always kept my hair short. When I applied for the job, I found out they only hired women with long hair for the hostess positions. Left with no choice, I lied and said I was a guy. I stomped my foot, urgently arguing my case. “But what if he does like guys?” “Think about it! He comes here all the time and never touches any of the beautiful women. He’s always alone!” The madam had a sudden look of realization. My logic convinced her. She tried to give me a sheer, see-through shirt to wear. I frantically waved my hands. No way. I have a large chest; it would be completely obvious. I’d heard that these powerful, wealthy men often had weird fetishes. So, I asked for a classic school uniform. I didn’t wear a drop of makeup, just some strawberry-flavored lip balm. When I pushed the door open and walked in, everyone inside simultaneously put down their drinks. A kind-looking older man warned me, “Kid, I think you’re in the wrong room.” I looked at Damien, whose face was completely unreadable, and called out timidly, “Brother.” The man’s brow furrowed deeply. “You have the wrong person.” I ran toward him, but I didn’t watch my step and stepped squarely on an empty bottle. I executed a flawless, sliding drop to my knees. My face nearly smashed directly into “Little Damien.” It was mortifying. The man reached out a finger, pressing it against my forehead to stop my momentum. “Where exactly are you looking?” I looked up at him, gently massaging his leg. “Brother, please take me in.” I made the tears flow on command. “My dad is a gambling addict; he lost all our money. My mom is terminally ill, and my little sister is starving. We can’t even afford food.” Damien toyed with his expensive lighter, his face entirely unmoved. “I’ve heard that exact story at least ten times.” So what? This time, no matter what he said, I wasn’t leaving. I had to get back everything I lost! One of his subordinates walked in. “Boss, Mr. Shaw is here.” Alarm bells rang in my head. My superiors had specifically told me to watch out for this guy. Damien’s expression turned cold. He stood up, stepping around me. “Get out.” I won’t. “Only if you promise to take me in.” The man’s eyes were dark and heavy, staring intently at me. “Are you of age?” I nodded. He looked away, letting out a dark scoff. “What a shame. I don’t like legal adults.” ??? He really is a massive pervert. Just as I was about to say something else, this ‘Mr. Shaw’ walked in. He looked back and forth between Damien and me with an amused, sleazy expression. “I didn’t realize Boss Damien was into this type. You should have said something! I have plenty of these at my place.” Damien pulled out his gun, pressed the cold barrel directly against my forehead, and said with eyes full of ice: “Stay away from me.” I lingered sneakily outside the door. Constantly monitoring the situation inside. Suddenly, an argument broke out in the room. I rushed in right behind Damien’s subordinates. I saw this ‘Mr. Shaw’, clutching his bleeding forehead, pointing a gun directly at Damien. “Go to hell!” Right as he was about to pull the trigger— In that split second, I didn’t think. I just purely didn’t want Damien to die that easily. I sprinted toward him faster than I ever had. The exact second I tackled him to the ground, the gunshot rang out. In my last moment of consciousness. I heard Damien’s furious, roaring voice: “Are you a complete idiot?!” If I hadn’t pushed him, that bullet would have gone straight through his brain. Miraculously, I survived. But I lost my memory. The amnesiac version of me had a completely different personality. According to bystanders’ summaries: I became a massive pervert. I would constantly hug Damien and demand kisses for no reason. I would barge into the bathroom while he was showering and try to measure his “dimensions” with my hands. Even more absurdly, I demanded to sleep using his abs as a pillow every single night. I became incredibly extroverted and arrogant. The identity I gave myself to the outside world was Damien’s “Ancestor.” I loved throwing my arms around him and calling him “Hubby” in public, regardless of the setting. Relying on his absolute indulgence, I constantly picked fights and caused trouble everywhere we went. And finally… I became extremely violent. I would slap Damien at the drop of a hat. When I took it too far, I would even make him wear handcuffs. The basement of his mansion was filled entirely with “tools” I had prepared for him. 3 I slammed my hands on the table and stood up. “That’s absolute bullshit!” Barnaby jumped, visibly terrified. “M-m-ma’am… y-you really did do all those things.” He was the personal bodyguard Damien had assigned to protect me. He was a good guy, his only flaw being a severe stutter. Honestly, I already knew about everything I did during my amnesia years. But… I just couldn’t accept it. I desperately tried to convince myself it was all a terrible nightmare. I asked Barnaby quietly: “When I hit Damien… did he never fight back at all?” Barnaby picked at his fingernails nervously. He recalled that every time I hit the boss, not only did the boss not get angry, but he also looked like a submissive little wife, holding my hand and asking if I wanted to hit him again. “F-f-f…” “F-f-f…” Fight back? That doesn’t make sense. Then how do I still have all ten of my fingers? “F-f-fine… it didn’t matter, you just hit him harder.” Barnaby finally finished his sentence, looking at me with pure terror. “The boss said, ‘Only a man with a wife gets to be hit. You guys don’t have wives, so no one hits you. It’s truly pathetic.’” I was speechless. Now that my memory was back, I was anxious about my mission progress. I contacted my handler. My handler started by sending a bunch of question marks. “Aren’t you dead?” Me: “Are you cursing me? Watch it, or I’ll file a formal complaint!” Handler: “Oh? Is my little baby throwing a tantrum? Keep it up, and I’ll take away your pacifier!” Me: “…Did I offend you somehow? Why are you being so mean?” My handler continued with his sarcastic, passive-aggressive tone: “I wouldn’t dare! You’re Damien’s precious little baby! I couldn’t reach you anywhere and thought you’d been kidnapped. When I finally found you on the street and tried to bring you in, you—” I remembered. I treated my handler like a human trafficker. I remembered everything. Every single detail. He got more and more agitated as he spoke: “You called me a creepy old fossil! You said I was ugly and tacky! You said I couldn’t even compare to a single finger on your precious Damien!” “I was so pissed off I didn’t eat for three days!” “How am I ugly?! I was the hottest guy in the bureau!” I admitted my mistake and apologized profusely. Finally, we got down to business. My handler told me they had investigated everything. Mr. Shaw was arrested. As for Damien, because he cooperated with the police and played a key role in the arrest, he received a commendation as an “Outstanding Citizen.” They investigated his entire organization inside and out and found absolutely zero illegal activity. But during my amnesia, Damien kept me under incredibly tight surveillance, so the bureau didn’t dare make a move to extract me. Most importantly, my amnesiac self refused to leave Damien. I threw massive, hysterical tantrums whenever they tried to take me away. It gave the bureau a massive headache, so they just decided to leave me with him for the time being. As for now, it was up to me to find a plausible excuse to leave on my own. Before hanging up, my handler said with a gloating, schadenfreude tone: “It looks to me like he’s genuinely in love with you, letting you beat and scold him like that. If you just pack up and leave, who knows, hehe…” What the hell are you ‘hehe’-ing about, you old fossil?! 4 While I was having a massive headache over the situation, Damien’s assistant called. “Ma’am, you haven’t checked in today.” Me: “Checked in for what?” He sighed. “No wonder.” Then he pleaded with me: “Ma’am, please come down here and coax the boss! He’s about to blow up the entire company.” Leave it to me! I didn’t know the way, so I made Barnaby drive. He looked like he was about to cry. “W-w-w-w…” I thought he was just too excited to serve me, so I patted his shoulder encouragingly. “From now on, you are my most trusted man! Keep up the good work!” “N-n-no, Ma’am. I wanted to say, I’ve failed my driving test… f-f-five times.” Useless! I forced him to act as my human GPS. Half an hour later, I deeply regretted that decision. We came to an intersection. I asked Barnaby which way to go. He rolled down the window, sticking his head almost entirely out. “S-s-s…” “S-s-s…” Straight, right? Got it. I even sped up a little. Barnaby’s face turned bright red from the effort. “S-s-s-suddenly turn right!” …I really should just throw him out of the car. Damn you. Thanks to Barnaby, it was already nightfall by the time we arrived at Damien’s corporate headquarters. Damien’s assistant, Mr. Davis, was a true professional. The security guards told me he had been waiting for me by the curb since the afternoon. “Sorry about that. Traffic.” He gave a mysterious, knowing smile. “It’s completely fine. This little wait is absolutely nothing.” Then he led the way. He was limping heavily. “Mr. Davis, what happened to your leg?” Barnaby jumped in: “It’s p-p-probably p-p-p-paralyzed!” Mr. Davis sternly reprimanded him: “Don’t curse in front of the Madam.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391621”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

At my cousin’s wedding reception, I handed over a fifteen-hundred-dollar check in a card. My new sister-in-law, Tiffany, didn’t even open the envelope before she slid it back across the linen tablecloth with the tip of her manicured finger. “Ben, honey, you’re making the big bucks in Chicago,” she said, her voice carrying just enough to kill the conversation at the head table. “Is fifteen hundred really all you could manage?” The clink of silverware died. My parents sat next to her, staring at their plates. “Your Uncle Pete and Aunt Sarah chipped in fifty thousand,” Tiffany continued, her smile as sharp as a razor. “This is your only cousin’s big day. Don’t you think it’s a little embarrassing?” I looked at my parents. Just last month, they’d called me crying about “unexpected repairs” and “medical bills,” asking for another two thousand. Where the hell did they get fifty thousand dollars? I stayed silent, the confusion visible on my face. Tiffany saw it and let out a cold, sharp laugh. “Oh, don’t tell me. You didn’t know? Your parents sold the family estate in Connecticut. The developer payout was over a million. Did they really keep you in the dark?” The room started to spin. It felt like a physical blow to the solar plexus. I felt a ringing in my ears as I turned slowly toward my father. “Is that true?” I whispered. “What happened to the rest of the money?” My father couldn’t look me in the eye. He rubbed his weathered hands together, his face turning a deep, shameful crimson. He grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the table, toward the quiet hallway near the restrooms. “We spent it on Tyler’s wedding, Ben,” he muttered, his voice trembling. “He’s family.” “All of it?” I asked, breathless. “Six hundred thousand for his house. A hundred thousand for the honeymoon and the new car. Thirty thousand for tonight… and the fifty thousand we just gave them as a gift.” My mother joined us, her eyes red-rimmed. “You’re successful, Ben! You’ve always been the smart one, the one who could handle himself. But Tyler… if we didn’t help him, he’d never have anything! He’d be alone!” I looked at them—really looked at them. For ten years, I had been their safety net. I’d paid their mortgage, their insurance, their lifestyle. And here they were, exhausted and broke, having bled themselves dry for a cousin who had never worked a day in his life. I nodded slowly, a single, bitter laugh escaping my throat as the tears finally came. “I get it now,” I said. “I was never the son. I was just the bank.” I looked my mother in the eye. “From this moment on, consider me dead. You don’t have a son anymore.” 1 I turned on my heel and walked. I was halfway across the grand ballroom when Tiffany’s voice rang out over the speakers. “Bennett Miller! You forgot your gift!” I stopped. The room went silent. I turned back, my gaze fixed on the happy couple on the stage. Tyler was wearing a smug, “nice guy” mask, holding a microphone. “Hey, come on, Tiff,” Tyler said, his voice dripping with faux-sympathy. “Big city life is expensive. A thousand or so is plenty for a guy like Ben. It’s the thought that counts, right?” I realized then that I still hadn’t taken my check back. I walked back to the head table through a sea of stunned faces. I snatched the envelope, then reached over and took the microphone right out of the MC’s hand. “Good evening, everyone,” I said, my voice steady and cold. “Since my cousin’s house, his car, and every single flower in this room were paid for using my family’s inheritance—money my parents conveniently forgot to tell me existed—I have a public announcement to make.” I looked directly at my parents. “From this day forward, Tyler and Tiffany will be responsible for my parents’ retirement, their medical care, and eventually, their funerals. Since they have the money, they have the duty.” I looked back at the crowd. “As of today, I, Bennett Miller, am officially done with this family. No more checks. No more favors.” I looked at Tyler. “Keep the change, cousin. I hope she was worth it.” I dropped the mic. The thud echoed through the hall as I walked out the double doors and never looked back. The second I hit the sidewalk, my phone started screaming. My dad called, then my mom. I declined them both and blocked the numbers. I hailed a cab and told the driver to take me straight to the airport. I didn’t care where I was going, as long as it was back to my life in the city. By the time I unlocked my apartment door, the “Extended Family” group chat was a war zone. I had dozens of messages from my parents’ burner accounts. “Bennett, you went too far! Do you have any idea how embarrassed your uncle was?” “We’re family! Helping Tyler was a family decision! Why are you acting like a child?” “Tiffany almost called off the wedding tonight because of the scene you made! You need to come home tomorrow and apologize!” I scrolled through them with a numb heart and deleted every single one. I opened the group chat—over a hundred unread messages. My parents were in there frantically telling everyone I was “just stressed” and “joking.” I typed out one final message: “Every word I said at the wedding was the truth. I am legally and emotionally done with the Millers. Whoever took the money can take the responsibility of caring for my parents. Goodbye.” I hit send and left the group. A second later, my Aunt Martha called. She didn’t even say hello before she started screaming. “Are you insane? Your father’s heart is weak, and you’re in there starting fires! He’s in the ER right now because of your stunt, and your mother’s blood pressure is through the roof!” “Then call Tyler,” I said. “He has six hundred thousand dollars of my father’s money. He can pay the hospital bill.” “How can you be so cold?” she gasped. “It’s just money, Bennett! You’re talking about your own flesh and blood over a few hundred grand!” “’Just’ a few hundred grand?” I let out a jagged laugh. “If it’s so little, Martha, why don’t you write me a check for it?” Silence. Then, the excuses started. “Tyler just… he doesn’t have your grit, Ben. He needed a head start. Your parents did it because they love him. They said it was just a loan, he’ll pay it back eventually.” “With what? He’s thirty years old and still ‘finding himself.’ He can’t even pay for his own Netflix. They’ve been giving him ‘loans’ my entire life, and not a single dime has ever come back.” I felt a heat rising in my chest. “I’ve spent seven years grinding in this city, and every promotion I got, half the raise went back to them. Three years ago, when they wanted to remodel the house? I gave them sixty thousand dollars—my entire savings. Two years ago, when Dad broke his hip? I was the one who flew back and paid for the private nurse. Last year…” My voice cracked. “Last year, when Mom’s kidneys were failing, I was the one who went under the knife. I gave her my literal kidney so she could live. And this is how they repay me? By giving my future away to a spoiled brat behind my back?” Martha stayed quiet for a long time. “You did those things because you’re a good son, Ben. But—” “I gave them my money, my time, and a piece of my body,” I interrupted. “I’ve paid my debt for being born. Tell them that from now on, whether they live or die is no longer my concern.” I hung up and blocked her, too. I blocked every cousin, every uncle, every family friend who tried to ‘mediate.’ Finally, the silence was absolute. But inside, I felt like a hollowed-out tree—wide open and aching. 2 My screen lit up again. This time it was my landlord. “Hey Ben, just a heads-up. Starting next month, your rent is going up by three hundred. Are you planning to renew?” I stared at the text. “Everywhere else is going down, Mrs. Gable. Why the hike?” “Location, honey. You’re right next to the tech hub. I’ve got a dozen people asking for that unit. I’m giving you a deal at three hundred.” I opened my banking app. $3,500 in my checking. Plus the $1,500 check I’d taken back from the wedding. Five thousand dollars. That was it. After eight years of high-level marketing work, I didn’t even have fifty thousand dollars to my name. I didn’t own a car. I didn’t own a home. I had spent my youth building a foundation for people who had just set fire to mine. I couldn’t stay in this apartment. Not anymore. A week later, I found a place. It was an hour and a half outside the city, a tiny basement studio in a house owned by a grandmotherly woman who only charged eight hundred a month. The commute was a nightmare—four hours a day on the train—but it was the only way I could start saving for a life that was actually mine. A month passed. I lost weight. The bags under my eyes became permanent fixtures. One evening, after a grueling twelve-hour shift, I walked out of my office building and stopped dead. Two figures were standing by the fountain, clutching worn duffel bags. My parents. My mother’s face crumpled the moment she saw me. “Bennett! Oh, thank God. We’ve been waiting for hours!” I felt a flicker of something—pity, maybe—but it was quickly extinguished by a cold wall of granite. “How did you find me?” “We called your old roommate,” my father said, his voice small and desperate. “You blocked us. We didn’t know what else to do.” “We brought you those lemon bars you like,” my mother said, holding out a plastic container. “I remember you said you lived close to the office. Can we go home? I’ll make you a real dinner.” “I moved,” I said shortly. My mother blinked, confused. “Moved? Why? You loved that place.” I didn’t answer. My father looked around at the towering glass buildings, uncomfortable. “Well, wherever it is, let’s go. It’s cold out here, and your mother’s legs are bothering her.” “You aren’t coming to my home,” I said. “I told you. We’re done.” My father’s face hardened. “Bennett, enough of this! We drove six hours to see you! You can’t just turn us away like dogs!” “I didn’t ask you to come.” He went red, the old entitlement flaring up. “I don’t care! We’re here now! You aren’t leaving us on the street!” I sighed, pulled out my phone, and booked the cheapest motel nearby. I sent the confirmation to his phone. “You’re staying there tonight. Tomorrow, you go back to Tyler.” I turned to walk away. My mother grabbed my sleeve, thrusting the lemon bars at me. “Ben, please, just take these…” “I don’t want them.” I shoved the container back, and it hit the pavement, the bars scattering across the concrete. My father exploded. “Are you happy now? Your mother spent all day in a hot kitchen making those for you! Look at her hands—she burned herself twice!” I looked at her hands, and for a second, my heart twisted. But then I remembered the million-dollar check they’d signed over to Tyler. “You’ve always done that,” I said, my voice trembling with suppressed rage. “You give me these cheap, meaningless gestures—cookies, a hand-knit scarf—to prove you ‘care.’ But when it comes to the things that actually matter—my future, my security, my dignity—you throw me to the wolves. If you had an ounce of conscience left, you’d leave me alone.” I gave them one final warning: “If you show up at my office again, I’ll quit. I’ll move to another state and change my name. Don’t test me.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391640”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel