Category: English

My high school nemesis, Lucas Vance, became my younger brother’s direct supervisor. He recognized my brother and frequently asked him about me, both intentionally and unintentionally. My brother knew perfectly well that Lucas and I hated each other’s guts back in school. To avoid getting caught in the crossfire and facing Lucas’s wrath, my idiot brother panicked and told him I died in a car crash. That entire day, Lucas took the elevator to the wrong floors, burned himself pouring hot water, and stapled his own hand. He practically had “distracted and terrified” stamped on his forehead. My brother saw right through it. “Sis, he’s just scared you’re gonna haunt him tonight.” Yet, that very night, a message from him popped up on my long-abandoned Facebook account. [If there’s a next life, I will definitely tell you I love you sooner.] Me: “?” Is he insane? 1 When Leo got home from work, he was holding my favorite strawberry shortcake. Seeing me mopping the floor, he eagerly rushed over. “Sis, let your little bro handle this. You rest.” He snatched the mop from my hands and started vigorously mopping the floor. He hadn’t even taken off his briefcase yet. I leaned against the wall, eyeing him suspiciously. After he finished mopping, panting heavily, and put the mop away, I dashed forward and put him in a headlock. “Tell me the truth, kid. What kind of lies have you been feeding Lucas about me now?” Leo patted my arm, his eyes rolling back. “Let go, Sis, let go first.” I released him. Leo took a massive gasp of air. Then, under my intense glare, he dropped to his knees with a loud thud. I jumped, startled. Just as I was about to speak, I heard his incredibly soft voice: “Sis, for the sake of your brother’s future career, could you maybe… die for a little bit?” Me: “?” Leo’s direct supervisor, Lucas Vance, was my high school classmate. But not just any classmate. We were sworn enemies, completely incompatible. We couldn’t stand the sight of each other. In high school, we had a minor argument every three days and a major blowout every five. Everyone knew it. Leo looks a lot like me, and since he’s only a year younger, we went to the same high school. He came to find me for lunch every day, so most of my classmates had seen him at some point. Therefore, the moment Lucas was transferred from headquarters, he recognized him immediately. He constantly asked Leo about me. Even though I explicitly forbade Leo from revealing a single detail. But my idiot brother let everything go in one ear and out the other. To suck up to his boss, he sold me out a long time ago. And over time, he figured out a pattern. Lucas and I didn’t get along, so naturally, hearing that I was doing poorly would put him in a good mood. The last time I caught him, I overheard Leo talking to Lucas on the phone. He thought I wasn’t home and had him on speaker. “My sister has been in a terrible mood lately.” Lucas’s interest peaked. “Oh? What happened?” “Ah, it’s hard to say, but it’s you, Lucas, you’re not an outsider.” Leo feigned hesitation, then let out a long sigh. “My sister broke up with her boyfriend.” The other end was silent for a few seconds. His tone couldn’t hide his curiosity. “Oh? How did that happen?” “My sister has terrible taste in men. The guy she was dating was absolute trash. They hadn’t even been together a month, and he cheated on her. She caught him in bed…” He really knew how to spin a tale. When I pushed the door open and glared at him, he still had a smug look on his face. The result was entirely predictable: I beat him so badly he couldn’t get out of bed. So this time, the moment I saw Leo’s sycophantic behavior, I knew he had definitely done something to wrong me. Under my relentless interrogation. Leo’s head almost touched the floor. “Sis, my brain short-circuited… I said you died… in a car crash.” Pfft— I spat out a mouthful of water. My eyes went wide as I turned to look at him. Leo scrambled two meters away. “Sis, I’m sorry! But don’t get mad yet! There are two sides to every story! Lucas thinks you’re dead, so he won’t ever ask me about you again! And…” His eyes darted around. “Maybe in the dead of night, he’ll feel so guilty about bullying you that he’ll slap himself!” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Lucas? If he didn’t pop champagne at midnight to celebrate, it would be a miracle. 2 In high school, Lucas and I were the perfect storm: I was the tomboyish troublemaker, and he was the fist-swinging school bully. My feud with Lucas started on the very first day of freshman year. Back then, I had short hair, wore the unisex school uniform, had a slightly deep voice, and an overly energetic personality. I was popular with both the guys and the girls. But sometimes, being too energetic can make you seem like a… well, a real creep. On the way to the cafeteria, I spotted my childhood best friend. Without thinking, I sneaked up behind her and smacked her butt. My friend let out a startled yelp. She turned around to look at me, but before she could say a word, I was violently kicked to the ground by a flying foot. A guy stood over me, looking down with pure disgust. “Where did this little pervert come from? Disgusting.” I lay on the ground, completely stunned. My friend stood nearby, frozen in shock. Two seconds later, I snapped back to reality, jumped up, and kicked the guy hard in the leg. “Are you insane?!” The guy instinctively started defending himself and fighting back. We started brawling, and my friend couldn’t even pull us apart. And so, on the very first day of school, Lucas and I became famous. Because it was lunchtime, there was a huge crowd, and the incident had a terrible impact. We were forced to make a public apology at the first school-wide assembly. That day, two new names were added to the disciplinary record book for the new semester at Skyline High: Lucas Vance and Chloe Price. For the next three years, we had countless arguments and tried to trip each other up countless times. If he didn’t pour vinegar in my water bottle, I’d put a fake cockroach in his textbook. I made friends with everyone Lucas hated. When Lucas played in basketball games, I brought a megaphone to cheer wildly for his opponents. Though harmless, it was incredibly annoying. He and I were like two opposing magnets; the moment we got close, there was a violent clash. All these years later, that reaction hadn’t weakened one bit. Otherwise, Lucas wouldn’t be constantly asking Leo about me. Hearing that I was unlucky or doing poorly probably made him eat an extra bowl of rice that day. Well, this is just perfect. Leo told him I was dead. I took two deep breaths, forcing myself to calm down. Furious, I demanded, “And that idiot actually believed you?!” From what I knew, Lucas wasn’t easily fooled. “He didn’t believe me at first.” Leo didn’t quite dare to look at me. “But you know that family in the building next to ours is having a funeral, right? When I was at work today, I heard the mourning music, got a little sentimental, and posted a status update…” I froze, grabbing my phone to check. His latest status update: [Life is unpredictable. May the departed rest in peace. 🕯️] I laughed out of sheer anger. Talk about perfect timing and location. Exhausted, I asked my final question. “Is that bastard gloating right now?” “Actually, no.” Leo perked up, leaning in closer. “On the contrary, Lucas has been acting really weird all day.” “He had a meeting this morning, got in the elevator, hit the top floor, then went from the top floor down to the basement. He was totally spacing out.” “During his lunch break, he burned himself in the breakroom. He poured boiling hot water right onto his hand without even blinking.” “This afternoon, while organizing files, he stapled his own hand.” “Tsk, tsk, tsk. He basically has ‘distracted and terrified’ stamped on his forehead.” I was surprised. “Because of me?” “Most likely.” Well, that was truly bizarre. My death hit him that hard? Leo thought for a moment, then slapped his thigh. “I got it, Sis!” I gave him a side-eye. Leo: “Lucas is definitely scared! He’s afraid that now you’re dead, you’ll turn into a vengeful ghost and come after him!” My temple throbbed. Unable to hold back any longer, I smacked him upside the head. “Get lost!” 3 After giving Leo a good scolding, I went back to my room. Maybe it was because Lucas’s name had been brought up so many times today. The moment I lay down on my bed, my mind uncontrollably started replaying my high school years. But for some reason, almost all the memories I could recall prominently featured Lucas. Undeniably, he truly left a “heavy, colorful stroke” on my high school life. But there was a brief period when our relationship actually softened. It was the second semester of our junior year. Our homeroom teacher, Mr. Yang, was diagnosed with cancer and was in his second week of hospitalization. While I was getting some fresh air on the roof, I heard a group of guys smoking and chatting in the corner. “Did you hear? Old Yang has terminal cancer.” “Really?” His tone was gleeful. “Serves him right!” “He confiscated three of my phones! He even called my parents to complain, and I got the beating of a lifetime!” “Exactly, he’s done so much petty, annoying crap, he finally got his karma.” “I hope he dies soon, I can’t wait.” My face darkened, and I started walking toward them. Mr. Yang was strict, but he was a genuinely good teacher. He would use his own money to buy school supplies for students struggling financially. When a student was facing domestic abuse, he did home visits every single day for a month to protect them. On snowy winter mornings, he was always the first to arrive at school, turning on the heat in the classrooms, and clearing the snow from the hallways by himself… So, a good teacher like him shouldn’t be cursed so viciously. But before I could even reach them, I heard a scream. Rounding the corner, I saw the guys brawling. Lucas was taking on three of them by himself, and he was clearly winning. He shoved a filthy, stinking rag into one of the guys’ mouths. “Your mouth is so dirty, I’m cleaning it for you!” Right. Lucas was one of the underprivileged students Mr. Yang had sponsored. The commotion eventually drew the attention of nearby teachers. There were no security cameras on the roof, so as a witness, I was called to the office too. The guys’ faces were bruised and swollen. I stared quietly at Lucas for a few seconds, then raised my hand and pointed at the others. “Teachers, they started it, and they were insulting Mr. Yang.” Lucas looked up in shock. I didn’t meet his gaze. Because I was terrible at lying, my hands were shaking nervously behind my back. Lucas couldn’t help it; he let out a laugh. For a long time after that, our relationship was actually okay. At most, we’d exchange a few sarcastic remarks when we saw each other. It was practically harmonious. But later, our relationship deteriorated rapidly again… Ding-dong. A sudden notification sound pulled me from my thoughts. I picked up my phone to check. It was a Facebook notification. [You haven’t been here in a while! Come see who sent you a message!] I froze, and as if possessed, I clicked on it. I hadn’t used Facebook in a long time. Most of my friends on there were from middle and high school. After refreshing for a few seconds, a flood of messages popped up. Over the years, quite a few classmates had actually sent me messages. Most were generic holiday greetings, with a few scattered ones asking how I was doing. I scrolled through, picking a few to reply to. Just as I was about to exit, a red notification dot suddenly appeared at the very top. I froze. Who is sending me a message right now? I scrolled to the top, and Lucas’s name jumped out. The message he sent… was a little creepy. [If there’s a next life, I will definitely tell you I love you sooner.] I let out a shriek and practically threw my phone across the room. Either my phone was possessed, or Lucas had suffered a traumatic brain injury! What kind of garbage is he sending?! Still shaken, I grabbed my phone again. I clicked into the chat, frowning and thinking hard for a long time. Then, it hit me. He probably still doubted Leo’s story, so he decided to use this disgusting, cheesy line to test if I was really dead. Realizing this, I couldn’t be bothered to reply to him. 4 I scrolled on my phone for a bit and was just about to go wash up when Leo sprinted out of his room. He slid on his knees right in front of me. “Sis, save me!” I stared at him blankly. “Lucas said he wants to come over to our house and pay his final respects to you.” I continued to stare blankly. “Sis, could you please hide for a bit? Just help me get through tonight! My probation evaluation is the day after tomorrow! Once I’m a permanent employee, I’ll clarify everything immediately, I promise!” I sneered. “What does that have to do with me?” “Clean up your own mess.” With that, I turned and headed for the bathroom. Leo lunged forward and hugged my leg. “Sis, I’ll buy you the newest tablet and phone! And that trip to Hawaii you’ve been wanting? I’ll book it for you!” He said those words as if his heart was physically breaking. I stopped walking and looked down at him. Three seconds later, I crouched down and affectionately patted his head. “Why didn’t you say so earlier? Look at this misunderstanding.” “Get up, the floor is cold.” “Tell me, where do you want your sister to hide?” “The toilet? The rice cooker?” Leo’s mouth twitched, clearly shocked by how fast my attitude changed. He pointed to my bedroom. “Just don’t come out.” “You got it.” I walked into my room, put my phone on silent, and started playing games. Half an hour later, there was a knock at the front door. I paused my game, crept out of bed, and pressed my ear against the door to eavesdrop. Who could resist being curious? Certainly not me. “Lucas, you’re here.” “Yeah.” Lucas’s voice was deep. “Leo, your sister…” Leo: “We already shipped her back to our hometown.” Even though I knew he was lying, hearing it still felt incredibly weird. I clenched my fists and kept listening. “My condolences.” “I know, Lucas. Time heals all wounds.” The two of them sat outside chatting, their voices dropping low. I couldn’t really hear what they were saying. “Your sister’s… photo…” “In her room… afraid it would trigger bad memories…” What are they saying?! Mumble, mumble, mumble. A surge of inexplicable annoyance flared up inside me. Just then, there was another knock at the door. Leo paused, then got up to answer it. “Hello, delivery.” Leo went to the door to get the package. But why did I hear… another set of footsteps heading straight for my bedroom? I panicked and instinctively started looking for a place to hide. The closet? No room. Under the bed? Couldn’t squeeze in. I looked at the wide-open window, my eyes narrowing in determination. When Leo returned with the package and saw what was happening, his soul almost left his body. He sprinted over at record speed and grabbed Lucas’s arm, his voice trembling. “Lucas, what are you doing?” Lucas already had one hand on the bedroom doorknob. His voice was heavy, carrying a faint sadness. “You said her memorial photo was in her bedroom. I just wanted to see her.” As he spoke, he turned to look inside the room. The light was still on. Leo said stiffly, “My sister was afraid of the dark.” “You’re very thoughtful.” Lucas walked in naturally. “Oh my, why is this window still open?” Leo said as he walked briskly to the window. He made a show of closing it, leaned out, looked down, and instantly gasped. I was crouching on the small balcony outside, mouthing words to him. [Get him out of here!] Leo slammed the window shut. He turned and pushed Lucas’s shoulder. “Lucas, let’s go back out. Being in here really makes me want to cry.” “I didn’t see your sister’s photo.” “The photo editors made her look too ugly, so I sent it back to be redone. I forgot.” “…Is that so?” “Yeah!” Click. The door was shut. I waited quietly for a few seconds, then pushed myself up on the windowsill and agilely flipped back into the room. After graduating high school, I went to the police academy. Now, I’m a police officer. I never stop training, which is the only reason I have this kind of agility. I was supposed to be on vacation for a few days, but then this ridiculous mess happened. Lucas didn’t stay much longer. After he left, Leo knocked on my door. I threw the door open, but before I could start yelling, he shoved his phone in my face. “Sis, I’ve already picked out the newest phone model. You just need to choose a color.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391805”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After my mother died, I seduced the son of her lover. In the heat of passion, he pinned me by the neck and demanded, “Is this how you seduced my father?” Later, his younger half-brother also fell for me. Consumed by frantic jealousy, he snarled, “Having a great time with that little bastard, huh?” I feigned terror, but inside, I was laughing hysterically. Go crazy. Father against son, brother against brother. How entertaining! 1. My mother plummeted to her death from a high-rise. For years, she had been imprisoned in a towering attic, treated as a plaything, a forbidden canary. She was forced to endure his demands, all for my sake. On the day I came of age, my mother, as delicate and fragile as white porcelain, threw herself from that high attic and shattered right in front of me. The man who caused her death was Richard Vance. The patriarch of the Vance family. After my father died, Richard seized our family’s business. Along with the business, he also forcibly took my beautiful, vibrant mother. That animal, Richard Vance, fell in love with his best friend’s wife. To get my mother, he orchestrated my father’s death and stole our family’s fortune. Now that my mother is gone, he has set his sights on me. I need to protect myself. I need revenge. I need Richard Vance to pay in blood. He took everything from my father, so I will destroy everything he holds dear—his wealth, his status, even his life. I want him to feel the exact same agonizing pain of losing his family that I did. The first step in my revenge is to destroy the son he is most proud of. His own son, falling in love with his kept canary. Father and son fighting over the same woman, turning into bitter enemies. How entertaining would that be? Just thinking about it thrills me. My revenge begins tonight. 2. Hailed as a business prodigy, Liam Vance is the Vance family’s most outstanding heir. At only twenty-four, he has already founded his own company and become the most sought-after new money in the city. I gently trace the outline of Liam’s face in my mind. Such an aloof, arrogant man—what would he look like groveling at my feet? I’m very curious. Richard is currently on a business trip in Europe, away from the main estate. This gives me the perfect opportunity to seduce his son. As night fell, I specifically chose a white lace nightgown. It exuded a mix of innocent purity and just the right amount of seductive charm. I softly pushed open Liam’s door. He didn’t have the habit of locking it. Right now, he was taking a shower in the en-suite bathroom. I pulled back the covers and slipped into his dark-colored king-size bed, enveloped by his crisp, cold scent. The mattress dipped beside me. He was in bed. I knew Liam slept naked. Sure enough, as soon as he got in, he noticed me pretending to be asleep. I knew exactly how alluring I looked right now. Glossy, rosy lips, cheeks flushed as if from deep sleep. And the hem of my nightgown, hiked up to my upper thighs due to my “restless” sleeping position. The sight of my full, unconstrained curves was undoubtedly stimulating the fragile nerves of a slightly drunk man. I could feel Liam’s burning gaze on me. I purposely let out a soft whimper, rolling over to hug him as he lay hesitating beside me. The solid muscles of his entire body instantly tensed. He was restraining himself. Am I not tempting enough? Seems I haven’t stoked the fire quite enough. I purposely rubbed against him, as if talking in my sleep. Liam finally lost control. With a dark gaze, he pinched my chin. “Are you seducing me?” Suddenly, something soft and cold covered my lips. It was his mouth. I pretended to be startled awake by him, looking at him with innocent, confused eyes. “What are you doing?” My sweet, soft voice carried a hint of sleepy desire. The thin strap of my nightgown slipped down, half-exposing my shoulder. Pure yet seductive. Hearing my voice, Liam froze. Then, his kisses rained down on me overwhelmingly. “Be good. Let me kiss you.” His voice was deep and husky, thick with undeniable lust. Pinned beneath him, I struggled in a panicked flurry. “Brother, you can’t do this.” Just then, footsteps echoed from the hallway. Click, clack, click, clack! It was Mrs. Vance. 3. “Liam, I made you some hangover soup. Get up and drink a little.” Eleanor Vance pushed the door open without knocking. She knew her son had been at a business dinner and drank quite a bit. I cowered in fear, trembling slightly. And “accidentally” brushed against Liam’s terrifyingly hard, sensitive arousal. He gently pressed a kiss to my forehead to calm me. Then he pulled the covers up, hiding me completely beneath him. His aggressive, masculine scent surrounded me entirely. His current position essentially had me caged in his arms. Liam answered impatiently, “Mom, I’m going to sleep.” Eleanor walked in and placed the hangover soup on the desk. “Liam, why is your face so red?” Of course his face was red. He was currently lying naked against me, our hearts beating wildly against each other. If his own mother saw this, how thrilling would that be? The thrill of the taboo caused a thin layer of sweat to break out on Liam’s body. A drop of sweat rolled down his temple and past his Adam’s apple. Eleanor tried to step closer, but Liam stopped her. “I need to sleep. Please leave!” Eleanor knew her son was always haughty and didn’t dare cross him. “Then remember to drink your soup.” She gave a few more instructions before turning to leave. Liam was nearing his breaking point. My hot breath hit his chest, every exhale scratching at his heart like a feather. I wasn’t going to let him off that easily. I deliberately shifted my body, my soft, glossy lips brushing against his chest. My fingertips also “accidentally” grazed his straining desire. “Ah!” He let out an agonizing, heavy pant. “Liam, what’s wrong?” Eleanor, who was just about to leave, turned back around. She approached with concern to check on her son, who was acting strangely. “I’m fine!” Liam irritably yanked the covers up even higher, covering himself completely. Trapped beneath him, I couldn’t move an inch. I used my hands to push against his chest, which was pressed tightly against mine. My soft, seemingly boneless hands touching his burning, rock-hard chest pushed his sensitive nerves to the brink of collapse. Eleanor cast a suspicious glance at the unnaturally high lump under the covers. She seemed to have noticed something. The shape of the blanket… was there someone else hiding in there? 4. Eleanor held her tongue and didn’t expose her son. Her son was her only support in the Vance family; she didn’t want a direct confrontation with him. Forcing down her shock and fury, Eleanor closed the door to Liam’s room. She then ordered the servants not to disturb the young master’s rest. After Eleanor left, I pushed Liam away forcefully. I slumped on the bed, gasping for fresh air. My violent movements caused my nightgown to slip entirely. My beautiful figure was fully exposed. The alcohol had mostly worn off Liam. He stared at me with a dark expression. Just as he opened his mouth to interrogate me. I scrambled off the bed before him and ran away in a panic, tears trailing from the corners of my eyes. Liam watched in stunned silence as I fled. For a moment, he actually felt a pang of frustration. Is she disgusted by me? After I left, Liam didn’t sleep. He kept replaying the scene of me pinned beneath him. Lying in bed, he sought release again and again. He had no idea that while he was passionately calling my name, I was peeking at him from outside the door. … The next day was a weekend. I was painting in the art studio. Eleanor stormed in with her people. “Grab Chloe!” “You little slut, just as cheap as your mother!” Furious beyond words, she dragged me into the greenhouse and threw me onto the floor. The greenhouse was her territory. Her favorite thing to do here was stab me with needles. Richard Vance didn’t allow any visible marks on my body. So she could only use needles. After stabbing my back, she still wasn’t satisfied. She wanted to jam the needles under my fingernails. To be honest, I was terrified. Memories of her abusing me when I was little flooded back, and I almost passed out from the fear. I was gambling. Gambling that either Richard or Liam would come save me. Sure enough, a split second before the steel needle pierced my finger, Richard kicked the greenhouse door open. He yanked Eleanor away. “Eleanor, I’m warning you. Don’t forget your place.” Pushed to the ground, Eleanor screamed hysterically. “Do you know what she did?! She seduced Liam! She’s a shameless slut just like her mother!” Richard ignored her. He picked me up and walked straight toward the attic. That was the forbidden zone of the Vance estate, the place where my mother lived before she died. Richard threw me onto the rug. He stood in front of me, slowly unbuckling his belt. He wasn’t saving me; he was just torturing me in a different way. He tied my hands and feet, leaving me completely immobilized. Richard drank heavily. With every gulp of liquor, he lashed me with the belt. The belt snapped against my skin, bringing a fiery, agonizing pain. When he was tired of beating me, he collapsed onto the sofa, panting. My opportunity was coming. I silently counted the time, waiting for him to get completely drunk. Richard grabbed me by the hair, forcing me to look up at him. “Chloe, you should know exactly why I’m keeping you.” With that, he threw the belt aside, untied me, and started tearing at my clothes. I struggled desperately, crying and reminding him. “Uncle Richard, you promised my mom you wouldn’t touch me.” His hands paused for a fraction of a second, but then he started biting me even more frantically. I calmed myself down, tried my best to imitate my mother’s voice, and spoke coldly: “Richard Vance, are you an animal?” Richard froze, his blurry eyes focusing on me… 5. “Joy… we met first. I fell in love with you first. Why did you…” His voice cracked with a sob. I knew I had succeeded. Richard had mistaken me for my mother. I pushed him away and picked up the dropped belt. My pale, delicate foot stepped hard on his surging desire. I viciously whipped him with all my strength. He didn’t dodge; he took it with a mix of pain and twisted excitement. Richard Vance was a sick, twisted pervert. “On your knees!” I whipped him again. Richard trembled violently as he knelt straight up. It seemed he really enjoyed this. Suppressing my nausea, I used the handle of the whip to lift his chin. “Richard Vance, do you know how filthy you are? You disgust me!” He didn’t look away, his eyes staring at me in a hazy daze. “Joy, I just love you too much. Please, give yourself to me. Give me a child that belongs only to us.” “You don’t deserve it!” I slapped him hard across the face. I pinched his jaw open and poured the rest of the liquor down his throat. He got dead drunk and finally collapsed onto the floor. I tied him up and escaped from the little attic. As I was returning to my room, I happened to run into Liam coming home. The purple and blue whip marks on my pale skin shocked his system. Liam glanced at me, then walked straight into his room. I let him see it on purpose. I wanted him to know the horrific marks his beloved, respected father left on my body. 6. After showering, I sat at my vanity, trying to apply ointment. The wounds were on my back; I tried several times but couldn’t reach them. The door was pushed open, and Liam walked in holding a tube of ointment. He tossed it onto the bed and turned to leave. I grabbed the hem of his shirt, my voice pitiful. “Brother, can you help me apply the ointment?” I knew exactly how alluring I looked right now. My pale, glowing skin was slightly exposed, highlighting my full curves. He hesitated for a long time before finally sitting on the edge of the bed. Liam squeezed a dab of the cooling ointment onto his long index finger and applied it to my lower back. The moment his finger, slick with the cold ointment, touched my skin, I instinctively flinched like a startled fawn. I even let out a small cry of pain, “Ah~” My innocent, fragile, girlish voice, laced with suppressed pain and a hint of coquettishness, was more intoxicating than any stimulant. Liam’s finger paused, and he looked up at me. My eyes were brimming with tears. Forcing myself to hold the crystalline drops in my eyes, I looked devastatingly pitiful. “It hurts. Be gentle, brother.” Liam’s prominent Adam’s apple bobbed twice. He put down the ointment and stood up to leave. “It’s done.” I stood up faster than he did, but the moment I got up, I “accidentally” tripped and let out a gasp as I fell forward. Liam reached out and caught my soft waist. With a gentle pull, I landed squarely on his lap. His legs were strong, muscular, and radiated power. Liam looked at me. “Careful.” Pretending to lose my balance, I instinctively wrapped my soft, pale arms around his neck. The unique, sweet scent of a young girl filled his senses. Liam’s rationality crumbled. He kissed my lips gently, and I responded with feigned inexperience. This time, he was completely sober. I knew I had succeeded. But halfway through the kiss, Liam suddenly grabbed my throat.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391822”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Right before I died, my parents sat down and did the math with me. They told me that in this life, they had never mistreated me. Whatever other kids had, I had too. “But, we just don’t have that kind of money anymore,” my mother said. “Your mom and I are just normal people. The doctor said your leukemia is incurable. Even if we go bankrupt trying to save you…” my dad trailed off. “Not to mention we still have to put your brother through college and help him with a down payment for a house. If he doesn’t have a house, who would want to marry him?” “Lily, let’s stop the treatments. Okay?” My mother’s voice trembled as she said it. She framed it as a question, but she had already made the decision. My father stood beside her, offering his own twisted comfort: “You want Ethan to have a good life too, right?” After they decided to give up on my treatment, they had the doctors pull my IVs and take me off life support. My father stood to the side, crying. My mother had tears in her eyes, but she stood rigidly, saying nothing. They had my Uncle David lift me up and place me in a wheelchair. She wouldn’t even touch me. As they rolled me to the hospital entrance, she looked at my uncle and said, “I’m leaving her in your hands.” Uncle David nodded, remaining silent. I looked back at her through blurry, tear-filled eyes. “Mom, aren’t we going home?” I didn’t realize it then, but the moment they decided to give up on me, I no longer had a home. They didn’t take me home. On the drive with my uncle, he told me, “Your brother is about to take his final exams and apply for colleges. Being at home would distract him.” “You wouldn’t want your parents and your brother to have to watch you looking like death every single day, right?” Tears streamed down my face, but I nodded. “Then where am I going?” Where was I supposed to go? Uncle David didn’t answer. He just drove in silence for a very long time. Three hours later, he brought me to a tiny, rundown cabin. It was out in the countryside, surrounded by nothing but empty fields. The cabin stood there, completely isolated from the rest of the world. He locked me inside and came by once a day to drop off food. Laying there, staring at the walls of that tiny, ten-by-ten room, it suddenly hit me: I had already been locked inside my tomb. What was Ethan doing? Was he doing his homework? Did Mom make him her special chicken noodle soup? If I were home, Ethan would always sneak two chicken wings into my bowl, and then eat the drumsticks himself. But honestly, just having the wings was enough to make me happy. Thinking about that, I closed my eyes. I could almost see Ethan smiling at me. I could see him pulling me onto the couch to watch cartoons. I could hear him say, “Don’t be scared. Your big brother is right here.” And then, I never woke up again. When I regained consciousness, I was no longer in that terrifying, suffocating little cabin. I was home. Afternoon sunlight spilled across the living room. My mother was talking to Uncle David. My uncle’s expression was heavy, his eyes rimmed with red. “She passed in the night. I only found out this morning. She went peacefully, no pain. I don’t know if she was having a good dream, but she still had a smile on her face…” As he spoke, tears began to slide down my uncle’s cheeks, hitting the floor. My mother didn’t say a word. She sat quietly, her face devoid of any visible emotion. She simply stared blankly at the small box of my belongings that my uncle had brought back. “And the arrangements?” my uncle asked. “Cremate her,” she said coldly. “Leave the ashes there.” Uncle David nodded. Right then, Ethan walked through the front door. He was spinning a basketball on his finger. Before he even fully stepped inside, he called out, “Mom, is Uncle David here? I saw his truck outside.” A momentary flash of panic crossed my mother and uncle’s faces. Ethan walked in, looking around the living room before heading straight toward my bedroom. When he didn’t find me, he looked at my uncle, confused. “Uncle Dave, didn’t Lily come back with you? Mom said she went to the countryside to hang out with you for a few days. Where is she?” My mother discreetly pinched my uncle’s arm. Uncle David quickly lied, “Oh, Lily is with… your Grandma. She said she wants to stay there until after summer break.” It turned out, Ethan had no idea how sick I really was. He only knew I had been running a lot of fevers, and that Mom had taken me to the doctor. Ethan frowned. “Summer break is still two months away. She’s not coming back? She’s just going to play out there?” My mom walked over and took his backpack and basketball. “Oh, you know your sister isn’t cut out for studying anyway. Let her play. Don’t worry about her.” Ethan looked annoyed. “Who said that? Lily is really smart. Ever since I started supervising her homework, she jumped up ten spots in her class rankings. I need to keep keeping an eye on her.” He turned to my uncle. “Uncle Dave, bring Lily back tomorrow.” My uncle remained completely silent. Before his eyes could turn red again, he turned and walked out the door. My mom walked him out. In the hallway, she whispered, “Don’t tell Mom. She loves Lily the most. She won’t be able to handle it.” Uncle David didn’t say anything. He just looked at her. “Sarah, do you even have a heart? Does this really not hurt you at all?” My mother’s face remained an impenetrable mask. After a long pause, she simply said, “The living still have to live.” Ethan was preparing for his final exams. His workload was massive. But instead of rushing to do his practice tests, he walked over to my desk. He looked at the messy piles of notebooks I had left behind and shook his head with a fond sigh. He started organizing them. Suddenly, he picked up my history workbook. He opened it and saw that I had drawn a pair of roller skates on Abraham Lincoln so he looked like he was zooming away. Ethan laughed out loud. He picked up a pencil and scribbled in the margin: You need to focus on your studies, you little brat. He neatly stacked all my workbooks. Then, he opened my planner and wrote out a detailed study schedule for me. He carefully calculated how many vocabulary words I could memorize each day, mapped out my reading assignments, and wrote it all down. At the bottom, he added a little note in parentheses: (If you can’t finish it all, don’t force yourself. As long as you’re a little better than yesterday, that’s enough.) After finishing my study plan, he stretched his arms over his head. Then, as if remembering something else, he picked up the pencil again. At the very bottom of the schedule, he wrote one last sentence. Lily, you study hard for your own sake. I just want the best for you. He smiled gently as he wrote it, probably imagining how motivated I would be when I finally saw the note. My mother was cooking in the kitchen. When I was little, I loved hanging out in the kitchen with her. Whenever she cooked, I’d act as her little assistant, passing her ingredients and utensils. I always looked so serious doing it. I liked to pretend the kitchen was an operating room. Mom was the lead surgeon, and I was the trusty scrub nurse handing her the scalpels. Sometimes, I’d even take a paper towel and dab the sweat off her forehead, just like the nurses did on TV. It always made her laugh. She’d look at me with such affection and say, “Alright, Nurse Lily, hand the doctor an egg.” Day after day, she had grown completely used to the fact that the kitchen belonged to the two of us. Cooking wasn’t a lonely, tedious chore when I was there. People always say that when someone dies, it doesn’t really hit you right away. When exactly do you realize that a person is truly gone forever? Usually, it happens like this— “Grab me two tomatoes.” My mother scrambled the eggs, and without thinking, tossed them into the hot pan to fry. Once they were done, she scooped them onto a plate, turned around, picked up her knife, and reached her hand out behind her, waiting for me to hand her the tomatoes. Suddenly, her hand froze in mid-air. She looked up. The kitchen was completely empty. She was entirely alone. The whole house felt suffocatingly quiet. She stood frozen in the silence. Suddenly, tears welled up in her eyes, brimming over her lashes. She clenched her fists, violently choking back her sobs, desperately trying to suppress the wave of emotion. She tried her hardest to pretend nothing was wrong, letting the tears fall uncontrollably down her cheeks while maintaining a cold, wide-eyed stare. She opened the fridge, grabbed the tomatoes herself, and looked down at the cutting board to slice them. And then, she suddenly remembered. She had never, not once, asked while cooking: “Lily, what do you want to eat today?” She only ever asked Ethan. Ethan would always just say, “Whatever.” And I would lean against her arm and say sweetly, “Whatever Mom makes is my favorite!” Uncle David went back to the countryside to handle my affairs. He took me to the crematorium, and then carried my ashes back to that tiny cabin, all alone. It was nighttime when he arrived. Everything was pitch black. He walked into the cabin. There were no lights. A memory flashed in his mind—the image of me lying there in the dark, clinging to my last breaths, waiting to die. I always lay facing the wall, my back to the door. He set my urn down and went to fold up the blankets I had used. Then, illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the single window, he saw the wall I had stared at every day. There, etched into the drywall, was my timeline. I had used a small pebble to scratch tally marks into the wall. Above the marks, I had written a messy, crooked sentence. When I finish the last tally, Mom will come take me home. The final tally mark was missing its very last stroke. I had died that night. Uncle David froze. His brow furrowed in deep agony. He grabbed the blankets, turned around, and left. When he got back to his house, Grandma Jenkins was sitting in the yard under the porch light. She had her reading glasses on, squinting furiously at her old, brick-like flip phone. She looked incredibly angry. I knew exactly why she was angry. I used to call her every other day just to chat. Once, I waited two days to call, and she got so mad. She claimed I hadn’t called her in half a month. I laughed and said, “It hasn’t been half a month! It’s only been two days!” She scoffed proudly. “You think two days is acceptable?! Why haven’t you talked to your grandma in two days? If you don’t want to call, then just don’t call ever again! Just pretend I’m dead!” Her dramatic, prideful act always made me laugh uncontrollably, and I’d spend the next ten minutes gently coaxing her. I promised I would call her every single alternate day. Right now, she was gripping that flip phone, her face tight with stubborn anger, refusing to go to bed. The neighbor lady saw my uncle walk up and said, “Oh, thank God you’re back. Your mother has been wandering around with that phone for days, asking everyone if it’s broken or if she forgot to pay the bill. Please check it for her.” Uncle David knew exactly why Grandma was acting like this. He walked over, gently took the phone from her hands, and tried to help her inside. Grandma resisted. “Give me my phone back.” “Why do you need the phone?” Uncle David said, trying to mask his emotions. “Go to sleep.” “What if Lily calls me? What if I miss it? Give it back.” Uncle David stood in silence, refusing to hand it over. After a long pause, he finally offered a comforting lie. “Lily and Ethan have their final exams coming up. They’re studying day and night. She just doesn’t have time.” Grandma nodded in immediate understanding. “I know, I know. They have their finals. But Lily wouldn’t forget me. Lily isn’t heartless like the rest of you. She doesn’t get busy and just forget I exist. She’s closest to me.” Stubbornly, she snatched the phone back from my uncle’s hand. She sat on the edge of her bed, gripping it tightly, staring at the blank screen. Uncle David’s eyes grew red again. His lips parted, but the words wouldn’t come out. It looked like he wanted to just rip the band-aid off and tell her that Lily was never going to call again. But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t break her heart. He rubbed his eyes and said, “I saw Lily today.” Grandma’s eyes lit up. She leaned forward eagerly. “Really? You went to their house today?” Uncle David nodded. “Yeah. Lily said her grades used to be bad and she knew it worried you. So she promised she’s going to score a perfect 100 on her finals to show you.” Grandma smiled, nodding her head in pure joy. “Good, good, good. If she’s working that hard, I wouldn’t even mind if she didn’t call me for a whole month.” But then she immediately backtracked. “No, a month is still too long.” Then, remembering something, she beamed happily. “Tomorrow is Sunday. She’ll definitely FaceTime me tomorrow.” Satisfied, she lay down, pulled the covers up, and tucked her precious flip phone safely under her pillow. She closed her eyes, already plotting how she was going to playfully scold me tomorrow for not calling her for five whole days. Thinking about it, she drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face. My dad worked very late. By the time he got back to our neighborhood, it was already midnight. The streets were empty. A small pack of stray dogs was roaming around, digging through the trash. One of the dogs stopped and stared at the tall, exhausted silhouette walking through the darkness. The dog stood there, watching him for a long time. My dad recognized him. His name was Shadow. I was the one who named him. When Shadow was a puppy, he almost died. He was the runt of the litter. When it was time to eat, the other puppies aggressively pushed him out of the way to get to their mother’s milk. He was kicked to the side, and even the mother dog rejected him. They say animals instinctively reject weak offspring. They think weak pups can’t survive, so they choose to give their limited resources to the stronger ones. That day, I was walking back from picking up a package with my dad when I found Shadow in the bushes. His mother was right there, but she completely ignored him. I couldn’t bear it. I tugged on my dad’s sleeve. “Dad, can we take him home?” My dad glanced at the puppy and frowned. “No. Your brother needs to study. We can’t have a noisy dog in the house.” I listened to him. I didn’t bring him inside our apartment. Instead, I went down to the basement of our building and used cardboard boxes to build Shadow a little shelter. I lined it with an old blanket I didn’t use anymore, bought him goat’s milk, and set up a small heat lamp to keep him warm. I hid him in a quiet corner and fed him every single day. I researched everything about taking care of puppies and found out he needed his shots. I carried him to a nearby clinic that offered free vaccines for strays. The vet told me Shadow had congenital defects and had been abandoned by his mother. He said Shadow probably wouldn’t live long enough to even need his vaccines. Holding Shadow, I cried my eyes out. But Shadow seemed to sense my sadness. He licked my face, his innocent eyes full of concern and confusion. He didn’t understand why I was crying, but I knew what he was doing. He was trying to comfort me. I shook my head, looked him dead in the eyes, and told him with absolute certainty: “Shadow, listen to me. You can do this. You have to stay alive for me.” Against all odds, Shadow actually lived long enough to get his shots. The vet smiled warmly when I brought him back in. He patted my head, and then patted Shadow’s. With kind, glowing eyes, he said, “Love always creates miracles.” As time went on, Shadow grew up. He became the undisputed king of the neighborhood strays. He was a fierce fighter and bowed down to no one—but the moment he saw me, his tail would wag so hard his whole body shook. Right now, Shadow stood in the distance, watching my father. He slowly approached, sniffing my dad’s shoes and ankles, desperately trying to find my scent. But my dad was exhausted and impatient. He kicked Shadow away. But Shadow refused to give up. He ran off into the dark, and a few minutes later, he came running back. In his mouth, he was carrying a pink, dirt-stained blanket. He chased after my dad. Disgusted by the dirty stray, my dad was about to kick him again when his eyes suddenly caught sight of the faded Hello Kitty print on the blanket. He froze. It was the blanket he had bought for me. When I was in kindergarten, I treated that blanket like a treasure. I couldn’t fall asleep unless I was holding it. It was precious to me because I had begged him for months before he finally agreed to buy it. My dad stared at it, completely shell-shocked. He started chasing Shadow. “Why do you have that blanket?! Give it here!” Shadow grabbed the blanket and bolted. My dad chased him through the dark. He ran and ran, until he tripped and fell hard onto the pavement. And then, he finally broke down crying. He clenched his fists, pounding them against the asphalt, weeping silently into the night. A ragged, agonizing sound tore from his throat, but he couldn’t bring himself to scream my name. Shadow took the blanket back to his little cardboard shelter. He curled up in his dark corner, wrapping the pink blanket tightly around himself. He didn’t sleep. He just stared out into the pitch-black night, his dark eyes filled with thoughts I couldn’t comprehend. Maybe he was wondering where I went. Maybe he was wondering if I was ever coming back. Wondering when we would see each other again. When he could run in circles around me, wagging his tail, so happy he wouldn’t even know what sound to make to tell me— “It’s been so long.” My father picked himself up off the pavement, brushed the dirt off his pants, and forced his emotions back down. He walked into the apartment. As soon as he took his shoes off, his eyes landed on the little snack cabinet I had built for him out of cardboard boxes. It was fully stocked with all the snacks I had carefully prepared for him. He always worked so late. He would come home starving, and over the years, he had developed stomach ulcers from the hunger. Because he was always too tired to cook a real meal at midnight, I started preparing a stash of snacks for him. Stuck to the boxes were sticky notes I had written, letting him know which flavors were in which bins. He reached out, his fingers tracing the little hearts and cartoon faces I had drawn on the notes. He grabbed a bag of chips, sat heavily on the couch, and numbly opened it, stuffing a handful into his mouth. A moment later, my mother walked out of the bedroom. He didn’t turn around. His voice was raw. “Honey, what if we just…” Before he could finish his sentence and say we should continue my treatments, my mother cut him off. “She’s dead.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391428”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Everyone in Manhattan’s elite circles knew Silas Sterling had a girl he kept on a pedestal. She was spoiled, entitled, and utterly arrogant. Even on our wedding day, she showed up in a white gown that mirrored my own, making me look like the punchline of a joke. I stayed silent until my family and I systematically dismantled Silas’s empire and drove him into bankruptcy. Only then did that girl crawl to me on her knees, begging for mercy. I looked down at her with a cold smirk. “Weren’t you the one dying to be his bride?” I asked. “Well, I hope you both enjoy each other’s company in federal prison. Till death do you part.” 1 As I began my walk down the aisle, I saw her. She was standing on the mezzanine balcony of the ballroom, draped in a white silk gown that mirrored my own. She looked down at my fiancé, Silas Sterling, with eyes brimming with tears. And Silas? He was looking right back at her, his expression filled with a longing that made me, the actual bride, look like a circus act. Beside me, my father’s hand tightened on my arm, his knuckles white. I placed my hand over his, forcing him to stay calm. The whispers from the pews were like static in the air: “Who is that girl? Showing up to a wedding dressed as the bride? Where’s the class?” “Don’t you know? That’s Chloe, the ward Silas raised for eighteen years. They’re… ‘close’.” “Everyone knows she’s obsessed with him. The only reason Silas chose Elena Vance is because his mother forced his hand to secure the Vance family merger.” Under the icy glare of the Sterling matriarch, Silas finally, reluctantly, tore his eyes away from the balcony. Chloe was eventually pulled back into the shadows by a bridesmaid, forced to change into a cocktail dress before being ushered to a seat. I marched forward with a dignified smile—the perfect picture of the “refined heiress” Mrs. Sterling Senior demanded. In front of the priest and the city’s elite, I let Silas slide the ring onto my finger. I watched Chloe’s eyes turn a deeper shade of red with every word of the vows. Silas looked miserable. I looked amused. Oh, you’re heartbroken? I thought. Let me give you something real to cry about. Before the reception could even begin, I grabbed Chloe’s hand in front of a group of socialites. I flashed a wide, beaming smile. “You must be Chloe, right? From today on, you can call me Mom.” The surrounding guests froze for a heartbeat before several of them muffled their laughter. I maintained my “gracious” expression, looking at her with faux maternal warmth. “They say a daughter is a father’s first love,” I added, my voice dripping with sugary malice. “Looking at the two of you, I can see that’s true in more ways than one!” Chloe looked like she had been stripped naked in the middle of Times Square. Her deepest, dirtiest secret had just been paraded in front of everyone she wanted to impress. She turned and bolted out of the hall in a fit of hysterical tears. Silas tried to follow her, but I clamped my hand onto his arm with a grip like a vice. “Husband,” I whispered, the smile never leaving my face. “For the sake of the multi-million dollar merger between our firms, I suggest you stay and finish the toast.” He glared at me, his face twisted in a silent snarl of rage. But he stayed. He didn’t have a choice. 2 The wedding was a “success,” at least for the stock market. Silas was immediately buried in the overseas expansion project we had launched together. He didn’t have time to play peacemaker between his new wife and his “little girl,” so I had to handle her myself. When I arrived at the Sterling estate for the first time as its mistress, I found my designer luggage sitting on the wet grass of the front lawn. Chloe was standing in the grand doorway, arms crossed, looking down her nose at me like she owned the place. I grew up as a Vance. My family’s staff didn’t even breathe without my permission. When my personal assistant saw the suitcases on the grass, her hand literally twitched. I held her back. I stepped out of the car, leaned down, and picked up an emerald necklace that had spilled out of one of my bags. I stood up and looked at Chloe with a playful glint in my eye. “Do you have any idea how much this insurance premium costs?” Chloe scoffed. “Only peasants care about the price of jewelry. I have drawers full of stuff Silas bought me. Do you want some of my hand-me-downs, Elena?” I didn’t say a word. I just looked at my assistant. She didn’t need a verbal command. She stepped forward and delivered a backhand so sharp the sound echoed off the limestone pillars. Chloe stumbled back, clutching her face in disbelief. “How dare you?” she shrieked. My assistant sneered. “Know your place. You’re talking to a Vance.” Following my nod, the staff pinned Chloe down, forcing her to her knees at my feet. I reached down and tilted her chin up with one finger, admiring the shock on her pampered face. Then I slapped her. Twice. Hard. This was a gated community. The houses were close. The sound of the blows brought the neighbors out onto their balconies. I didn’t care. I let out a light laugh. “Listen to me, Chloe. I know Silas has babied you for a decade. But I’m the woman of this house now. You want to marry him? Get in line. But until you do, you’re under my thumb.” “Keep acting out, and I will break you every single time until you learn to sit.” Chloe tried to scream a curse at me. I slapped her again, making sure her lip bled. Suddenly, someone came sprinting from the neighboring lawn. “Elena! Stop it! She’s just a kid!” I turned to see Greg Montgomery, the neighborhood playboy, grabbing my wrist. I didn’t hesitate. My free hand swung around and connected with his face, too. As he stood there, stunned and clutching his cheek, I hissed: “Greg, mind your own business. Chloe is a legal adult. If you want to play house with her, do it on your own time. This is a family matter, and frankly, you don’t have the bank balance to interfere.” His face turned beet red. “The Vance Group just acquired thirty percent of your father’s firm,” I reminded him. “If you want to keep your trust fund, I suggest you go back inside.” He went silent. I looked at my staff. They grabbed Chloe by the hair and dragged her into the house like a bag of trash. 3 Chloe wasn’t related to Silas by blood, but he had raised her since she was a toddler. Their dynamic was sick. Her bedroom was literally connected to his through a shared walk-in closet. The house staff whispered that Silas liked to stay close in case she had “nightmares.” I laughed when I heard it. “So,” I said to the head housekeeper, who was looking at me with pure terror. “I’m the third wheel in my own marriage? Is this a group project?” The housekeeper knew I wasn’t someone to mess with. By that evening, every single one of Chloe’s belongings had been moved to a guest suite in the basement. I watched the boxes go down, my expression cold. I didn’t care what Silas did in his spare time. But if Chloe thought she could scream in my face and get away with it, she was delusional. Silas came home that night, clearly tipped off that his “princess” was being mistreated. At the dinner table, I sat elegantly in a silk robe, sipping soup. When I set a bowl down for Silas, he looked at me, let out a disgusted scoff, and swiped the bowl off the table with his forearm. The scalding broth splattered across my hand. Across the table, Chloe’s eyes lit up with malicious joy, though she quickly masked it with a fake, worried pout. “Does it hurt?” Silas sneered. “Not as much as Chloe’s face hurts after you attacked her this morning. Do you think you’re untouchable just because of your last name, Elena?” Chloe stood up, playing the peacemaker. “Uncle Silas, please… don’t fight. It was my fault.” I slowly stood up. The “gracious wife” mask was gone. I looked Silas dead in the eye and delivered a bone-shattering slap across his face. “Silas Sterling,” I said, my voice like a whip. “I gave you the benefit of the doubt. But don’t you dare think for one second that I’m the kind of woman who takes hits.” The ring on my finger had caught his cheek, drawing a thin line of blood. Chloe screamed and rushed to his side. “Silas! Are you okay?” I didn’t stop. I grabbed the porcelain dinner plate and smashed it onto the floor. A shard flew up and nicked Chloe’s eyelid. She shrieked, covering her eye. My security team stepped in, forming a wall between me and an enraged Silas. I picked up a sharp piece of porcelain from the floor. 4 Silas tried to lunge at me, but he couldn’t get past my guards. “ELENA! STOP!” he roared. I ignored him. I looked at my assistant and nodded. She stepped forward, grabbed Chloe’s arm, and held it steady. Before Chloe could even realize what was happening, I used the porcelain shard to carve two quick lines into her cheek. Nothing deep, just enough to leave a permanent reminder. Chloe wailed, backing away in horror. I stood there, smoothing out my robe, and picked up a glass of Cabernet. I raised it toward Silas. “Silas, if you were smart, you wouldn’t have married me. You need the Vance money to keep your company afloat, and as long as I’m the one paying the bills, I run the house.” “Chloe is a houseguest. If she insults me again, I’ll make sure she’s deaf or blind by morning. Do I make myself clear?” I set the glass down and walked upstairs without looking back. While we were fighting, my staff had already called Silas’s mother. They told her Chloe had staged a coup and that Silas was helping her bully me. Since the Vance-Sterling merger was the only thing keeping their family out of the tabloids, Mrs. Sterling Senior was terrified. By the time I reached the top of the stairs, her private car was already in the driveway to pick me up. I left with my staff and spent the next two weeks at the Sterling family estate. Mrs. Sterling spent the entire time apologizing to me, plying me with heirloom diamonds to make sure I didn’t tell my father to pull the funding. I played the “broken, dutiful wife” perfectly. 5 I stayed at the family estate until Silas finally came to beg me to return. My brother had “accidentally” mentioned to Silas during a board meeting that he was looking into other investment opportunities. Silas knew what that meant. When we finally returned to the villa, the layout had changed. The housekeeper had replaced the modern furniture with the heavy, antique pieces I preferred. It felt like a fortress. I took off my coat and smiled at the butler. “Where is Chloe?” Before Silas could speak, the butler bowed. “Miss Chloe moved into a private apartment downtown. She said she didn’t want to disturb your peace.” I raised an eyebrow. “She moved to the Chelsea District?” I asked. The butler hesitated. I smirked. “Isn’t that building known for housing ‘kept women’?” I laughed. “Silas, really? You’re making it look so tawdry. People will talk.” “Poor Chloe. Her reputation in the city is going to be ruined. She’ll never find a decent husband now.” Silas’s face was a map of humiliation. He and I were both sharks; we knew exactly what the move meant. He wanted her where I couldn’t touch her, but in doing so, he had effectively branded her as his mistress. I didn’t care. I spent the next month systematically taking over the house. I fired the staff loyal to him. I audited the household accounts. I made sure every person under that roof knew who held the checkbook. By the time Chloe came back for a visit, the house was a Vance stronghold. She had been quiet lately, focusing on her senior year at the New York School of Design. Silas had spent millions to get her in, despite her mediocre grades. He even promised her a trip to Paris once she finished her thesis. At dinner, Chloe was back to her old tricks, whining about how “hard” her design project was. Silas was cooing over her, promising her the world. I couldn’t help it. I let out a sharp laugh. Chloe snapped. “What’s so funny? Do you think my education is a joke?” “I think your grades are a joke,” I said smoothly. “That’s an Ivy-equivalent school. Do you really think you got in on talent?” My assistant chimed in with a smirk: “Our lady graduated summa cum laude from Oxford. She actually knows what a library looks like. Unlike some people who buy their way through.” I looked at Silas. He looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole. He had kept Chloe in a bubble, making her believe she was a genius. I just enjoyed watching the bubble pop.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391446”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The Campbell family, the wealthiest in the capital, sent people to find Alice Campbell. I was with her, catching chickens on our farm. They said Alice was the Campbell family’s missing heir, presumed gone for five years, inheriting billions. “This money is the Campbell family’s compensation for your five years. We hope you’ll accept it.” I knew this money was hush money, severing any connection between Alice and me. Alice’s eyes were bloodshot. She clutched my sleeve, looking wronged and sad. “I’ll go back, but only if he comes with me!” Watching everyone exchange awkward glances, I wiped chicken manure from my hands and, in front of Alice, accepted the black card. “Alice, you go back alone.” “I’m used to living in the South. The North is dry and cold; I don’t like it.” Alice, it’s not that I haven’t gone back with you before. It’s just that I died too tragically in my last life. This time, I’ve learned my lesson. 1. The December wind was damp and cold. Alice tightly gripped my sleeve, her eyes glistening. “Lucas, are you abandoning me?” The same words, the same look as in my previous life. But this time, I wouldn’t soften. Through her, I looked at the dark mass of people standing on the ridge, then slowly, one by one, pried Alice’s fingers from my hand. “Alice, you don’t belong here.” “Have you forgotten? You’re just a stray cat or dog I picked up on the roadside.” Alice’s glistening eyes immediately turned crimson at my words. These were the words Alice hated most. When I first found Alice, she couldn’t even speak clearly. When asked her name or where she lived, she knew nothing, only shook her head. Helpless, I had no choice but to keep her with me. Some mischievous children in the village nicknamed her “Fido,” saying she was a dog following me everywhere. Alice hated those words, but couldn’t stop others’ mouths. “Alice, it’s okay.” “Their mouths are their own. As long as we know it’s not true, that’s what matters.” My deceased grandfather taught me that. Later, I taught it to Alice. But now, I was saying those very words to Alice myself. “Lucas, are our five years of shared life only worth this amount of money?” Alice’s voice trembled as she spoke. In my previous life, I also felt our five years together shouldn’t be severed by mere money. So even knowing that returning to Capital City with her would mean facing scrutiny and criticism from the Campbell family, I still wanted to stand by her side and face it together. “Alice, without money, people die. But without sentiment, people live more easily.” “You should know how important money is, having been with me for these five years. This money can ensure my grandmother and I live comfortably for the rest of our lives.” I didn’t want to get further entangled with Alice. I called out to the people behind her: “What are you still waiting for?” “Are you expecting your Miss Campbell to climb into the car herself?” My utterly indifferent words landed, and Alice completely lost it. She snatched the card from my hand, forcefully snapped it in half, and threw it into a nearby muddy puddle. Alice desperately clung to me, holding on tightly. “Lucas, I don’t want to go!” “I just want to be with you! I promised Grandma I would take good care of you. You even said we’d have a son and a daughter, that we’d work hard together to buy a house and move to the city!” “Now I can give you the best life, why have you suddenly changed?” Five years had etched Alice’s dependence on me into her bones. She felt she couldn’t leave me, that she absolutely needed me. That was only because, for now, she didn’t remember her fiancée in Capital City. And that fiancée had waited for her painstakingly for five years. If she had known all of this back then, she wouldn’t have chosen to take me with her. “Alice, stop acting like a child.” “Are you really taking a children’s game seriously?” Those arms wrapped around me loosened. “Lucas, you’re so heartless.” The tearful accusation made it sound as if I were a cruel, unfaithful lover deserving of a thousand cuts. But Alice, you don’t know. In my previous life, I also believed we could have a lifetime of happiness. But it wasn’t until you remembered the person you loved that I realized how foolish I had been. The moment my grandmother and I died in that foreign land, I wished for another chance. I would never go back to Capital City with you again. The news that Alice was the daughter of the capital’s wealthiest family quickly spread throughout our impoverished little mountain village. Everyone, wearing ingratiating smiles, gathered in our yard to watch the spectacle. “Lucas, you’ve really hit the jackpot. Don’t forget us folks once you’re rich and famous!” “That’s right, I heard the Campbell family only has one daughter. So you’ll be the heir to a fortune, won’t you?” “I always said this Alice looks different from the children in our poor backwater. See, she’s a rich family princess!” The yard was bustling with their chatter. I glanced over, then walked to the water pump, washed my hands, and splashed water on my face. “Everyone, disperse.” “Alice is gone.” I knew the people gathered at the door simply wanted some benefits from Alice. After all, a little dust falling from the capital’s wealthiest family was enough for an ordinary family’s year-long sustenance. Everyone was surprised I hadn’t gone with her, and murmurs of discussion rose and fell. Too lazy to bother, I closed the door. “Lucas…” Grandma’s weak voice came from the bedroom. I quickly went in. Seeing Grandma, who in my previous life had frozen to death at the Campbell family’s gate because of me, tears welled up in my eyes. “Good child, why are you crying?” “Is it because Alice didn’t want to take you, and you’re sad?” I shook my head. “Then tell Grandma what’s wrong. Grandma will stand up for you.” I shook my head again, helping Grandma sit down. “Grandma, I chose not to go with her.” “I want to stay by your side forever.” Grandma lovingly ruffled my hair, holding me and gently stroking my back. “Silly child…” The lullaby she hummed was like a sleep-inducing melody, drawing me into a dream. But in that dream was my previous life, a past I could never forget. The first day I followed Alice back to Capital City, I stood at the opulent Campbell Manor, carrying the dried fish, dried meat, and free-range chickens Grandma had specially prepared for me. At that moment, I realized what it meant to be out of place. I clutched Alice tightly beside me, as if she were my only lifeline. Alice gently squeezed my hand, smiling. “Don’t be afraid, I’m here.” Those were words I often said to her. When I first found Alice, she was injured everywhere, especially her right knee, which was severely hurt. She always walked with a limp, often mocked and bullied. Back then, I stood in front of her, defending her, telling her, “Don’t be afraid, I’m here.” Grandma and I worked desperately to earn money for her treatment, buying her the best and most expensive rehabilitation equipment. She always said with red eyes that she would repay us someday, promising to earn money and support us once she recovered. Later, she did. But she also broke her promise. “You’re Lucas?” The question came from Alice’s mother, Eleanor. Fifty years old, yet showing no traces of time. Completely different from the fifty-year-old women in our village. I timidly nodded, the expensive carpet beneath my feet feeling like pins pricking my soles. “These are specialties my grandmother asked me to bring. Here, for you…” I crouched down, taking out the items one by one as Grandma had instructed. Alice bent down, handing them over to Eleanor piece by piece. But when I looked up, I saw the almost identical expressions of disgust on their faces. They covered their mouths, frowning, as if what was before them was something filthy. My heart instantly turned cold. Seeing their reaction, Alice roared, “Is no one going to take these?!” No one dared to defy this young princess. At her command, several people scrambled out and carried away everything I had brought. Alice, her face cold, helped me up, then solemnly introduced me to everyone. “This is my boyfriend, Lucas.” “He is my future husband. If you don’t accept him, it means you don’t accept me.” In the enormous living room, you could hear a pin drop. No one dared to speak; the atmosphere was terribly eerie. Until a soft sigh came from the crowd, and a path was automatically cleared. I looked in that direction; a man in a suit silently watched Alice and me. “Alice, you say he is your future husband.” “Then what am I?” 2 The first time I saw Victor, I realized a man could be so refined and handsome. He was like a star stepped out of a movie, dazzling and brilliant. It was then I learned that he and Alice had been childhood sweethearts, growing up together. Their bond was so deep that even when Alice was missing for five years, Victor remained, waiting painstakingly. “Alice, I waited for you for five years. Do you know what those five years were like for me?” “Alice, how could you forget me?” “And how could you fall in love with a man like this?” Alice instinctively let go of my hand. That was the first time I saw such a conflicted expression on Alice’s face. Alice arranged for me to stay in a villa, just across the street from Campbell Manor. That night, Alice held me tightly as she slept, talking about her hopes for the future. “Lucas, this will be our home from now on. Don’t worry, I will give you a proper answer.” “I told you, I only recognize you.” Those words were like a steady anchor, calming my uneasy heart. Alice hadn’t recovered her memory, but she still remembered how to handle company affairs. She traveled between three points every day, and I rarely heard her mention Victor again. Fearing I’d be bored, Alice brought my grandmother to Capital City. Grandma and I spent every day making her favorite dishes, and she always smiled contentedly. Every evening after dinner, we would watch the sunset from the rooftop. We used to love watching the sunset behind the farm in our village; she said she wanted to watch sunsets with me for the rest of her life. Those few months were the happiest time of my life. We no longer worried about money and lived the life we had dreamed of. But later, Alice became increasingly busy with the company, and Grandma and I often went days without seeing her. Occasionally, she’d visit, but only for a short while before leaving. Sunsets, too, became something I watched alone. I often zoned out until nightfall, still unable to wait for Alice to watch the sunset with me. It wasn’t until Alice’s birthday that she said she wanted to take me back to Campbell Manor. I once again stepped into that intimidatingly large house. I wore a suit I wasn’t used to, surrounded by eyes filled with malicious judgment. I tightly gripped Alice, but this time, Alice didn’t say, “Don’t be afraid, I’m here.” She said, “I’m going upstairs to change. Wait for me here.” I wanted to follow, but she went upstairs before I could speak. The next second, I saw Victor. “Do you know Alice is undergoing memory recovery treatment?” “She’s about to remember me.” A piercing ringing sound erupted in my ears; my nerves snapped at that moment. A violent impact, and I was brutally knocked to the ground. Victor’s sharp heel dug into the back of my hand, almost drilling a hole through it. “Ah…” The elegant music and the chatter of the crowd drowned out my cry of pain. I lay there on the ground, watching Alice, dressed in exquisite attire, pass through the crowd. “Alice!” Victor smiled, waving to her, and walked to her side. They danced song after song amidst thunderous applause, clearly the most perfectly matched couple in the world. Like a prying thief, I numbly turned and left the Campbell residence. Outside, Eleanor was seeing off guests. “Alice and Victor’s wedding is set for the fourth day of the New Year. Make sure you all come.” Amidst the flattery and congratulations, Eleanor said, “Campbell Manor is not a place for just any stray cat or dog.” I knew “stray cat or dog” referred to me. Though it was only across the street, it felt like I walked for an eternity. That day, Alice didn’t return to the villa for the first time. [Lucas, something came up at the company. I won’t be coming over today.] I knew Alice was lying. But some things, I just wanted to hear her say to me. Yet she didn’t come for half a month straight. When she finally did, her face was grim. “Lucas, Victor said he came to Jade Creek Village to find me. He even met you.” “But you kept it hidden. You said you hadn’t seen me. Is that true?” That was the first time I saw Alice angry with me. The way she looked at me was like she was looking at a stranger. I held back the tears welling in my eyes, stubbornly looking up. “I didn’t.” I wouldn’t admit to something I hadn’t done. “I never saw anyone come to Jade Creek Village looking for you!” “You’re still lying!” Alice roared, playing a video on her phone, amplified. The video showed villagers from Jade Creek Village saying they had seen Victor. “Seen him, yes, he came from the city. I even gave him directions.” “That’s right, I told him the person he was looking for was at the Lius’. I was wondering why he didn’t take Miss Campbell home!” “Lucas must have been hiding something malicious!” … One accusation after another, almost everyone was blaming me for hiding Alice. I had no way to defend myself, only continuously clutching Alice’s sleeve, saying I hadn’t. “Lucas isn’t like that, Alice!” “Five years, don’t you trust him?” Grandma, holding me, confronted Alice, pulling at Alice’s hand, telling her not to be fooled by the villagers. But those dark eyes held no trace of tenderness. “My name isn’t Alice; it’s Alice Campbell.” She shook Grandma off, and even when Grandma fell to the ground, her face showed no emotion. I suddenly realized the person in front of me wasn’t my Alice anymore. Her name was Alice Campbell, and she was Victor’s Alice. “If I had known this, I would never have brought you back to Capital City!” Alice’s resolute words were an unspoken death sentence for me. “Alice, you remembered, didn’t you?” I recalled Victor’s words, realizing the woman in front of me had recovered her memory. She hadn’t appeared for half a month straight. Only because she remembered that the person she was meant to love, meant to marry, wasn’t me. “You really didn’t have to put on such a show for me. If you had just said it, I wouldn’t have clung to you.” Alice looked down at me from above, emotionless. “There was no show.” “Lucas, Victor… he waited for me for five years. I can’t let him down.” I lowered my head and couldn’t help but smile, tears streaming down my face. “Her five years are five years. Are my five years not five years?” Alice’s step faltered slightly, but in the end, she walked out of our home without looking back. “This house is your compensation. The Campbell family will also cover your future living expenses.” “From now on, don’t look for me again.” After that, that villa became my cage, and also my tomb. That year was the darkest period of my life. The pain from the dream extended into reality, and I struggled awake. Sitting up, I looked around the room and let out a long sigh of relief. Good, it was just a dream. This time, I didn’t go with Alice. Suddenly, there was an urgent knock at the door. I pushed open the door, my palm sweating slightly, hidden by my side. Standing outside the door was no one else. It was Alice.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391467”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Our families were merging their trusts, and an alliance was required. When my older brother asked me who I wanted to choose, I didn’t hesitate. I chose my arrogant, playboy childhood best friend: Cole Harrington. Yet, after we married, he kept his first love strung along. They even ended up having a child together. When his wealthy friends joked about his infidelity, Cole just scoffed. “Vivienne Vance is the world’s biggest doormat. No matter what I do to her, she’ll never leave.” My heart finally died. I packed my things and walked away, only to end up in a horrific pile-up on the interstate. Two lives were lost that night—mine, and the baby I was carrying. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the evening of the engagement gala. Chapter 1 “Vivi, have you decided who you want to choose?” my brother, Wyatt, asked gently. I stood frozen, trembling from head to toe, completely unable to process that I had actually been reborn. Before I could answer, Mrs. Harrington stepped right up to me, slipping a priceless vintage estate ring onto my finger. She smiled warmly. “Vivi will definitely pick our rotten boy. They grew up together, thick as thieves. No one can compare to their bond.” “Mom, are you drunk without touching a drop?” Cole sneered, his brow furrowing as he looked at me. “Who wants to marry Vivienne? Her grades were awful, she’s short, and her looks are painfully average. Marry her? She’d taint the Harrington gene pool.” His gaze was laced with a deep, unmistakable disgust. It was the exact same venomous tongue as my past life. Back then, I was so blinded by love I thought it was just our usual childhood banter. I never realized that Cole genuinely despised me. Snapping out of my daze, I immediately took two steps back. “Mrs. Harrington… Cole and I are just friends.” The words dropped, and the bustling ballroom went dead silent. Everyone in elite society knew the Vances and Harringtons were century-old allies. And everyone knew I had been hopelessly in love with Cole Harrington since we were kids. Mrs. Harrington’s smile stiffened. She pulled her eyes away from me and sharply slapped her son’s shoulder. “Stop talking nonsense! If our family manages to marry Vivi, it means we hit the absolute jackpot.” Cole clearly hadn’t expected me to reject him. His already icy expression dropped a few degrees colder. My hands shook as I tugged at Wyatt’s tuxedo jacket. My eyes were red. “I don’t feel well,” I whispered. “I want to go home.” The corporate marriage wasn’t urgent. Wyatt immediately raised his hand to summon his driver. But in the next second, Cole grabbed my wrist. He practically dragged me toward the exit, his voice hard. “Wyatt, I’ll take Vivi home myself.” His grip was like a vice; I couldn’t pry his fingers off. I wanted to call out for help, but when I looked back, Mrs. Harrington had expertly stepped in front of my brother to block his path. The moment we stepped out of the hotel doors, Cole ruthlessly threw my hand away. Off-balance, my high heels betrayed me. I stumbled backward. Out of pure instinct, I reached my hand out toward him to catch myself. Cole hadn’t anticipated the fall. He reached out to grab me, but my reflexes kicked in faster. I violently yanked my hand back and crashed hard onto the concrete pavement. A sharp, shooting pain radiated up my spine. My face twisted in agony. Cole’s expression shifted. He stepped forward to help me up. “Don’t come near me,” I snapped without a second of hesitation. Catching my breath, I unbuckled the designer stilettos, pushed myself off the ground with my bare hands, and stood up. My reaction turned Cole’s face completely dark. He sneered, “What kind of game is this? Playing hard to get? Vivienne, since when did your tricks get so pathetic?” I looked up at him. Without realizing it, tears had pooled in my eyes. “Cole…” There was so much I wanted to say, so much pain I wanted to hurl at him. But meeting his eyes—seeing that same profound disgust—every word felt like a fishbone lodged in my throat. I looked down and let out a broken laugh. Before he could speak again, I threw the ten-thousand-dollar heels onto the pavement, turned my back, and walked away barefoot without a single ounce of hesitation. Those shoes were a coming-of-age gift from Cole. Mrs. Harrington had told me he spent weeks picking them out. Knowing how important tonight’s gala was, I specifically chose to wear them. But I forgot that the shoes were a half-size too big. They didn’t belong to me. Just like I forgot that forcing a fit with the wrong person will never work out. Chapter 2 Cole didn’t chase after me. To him, this was just another calculated, manipulative stunt to get his attention. When I finally got home, I climbed into the bathtub, feeling entirely drained. My mind was a hurricane, spinning with every horrific event from my past life. My hands clamped down on the edges of the porcelain tub, shaking uncontrollably. The water slowly crept over my nose, and I choked violently, coughing up water as I scrambled out of the tub, finally fully awake. I wrapped myself in a robe and stared at the mirror. This face had no burn scars. It was flawless. I touched my cheeks, bowed my head, and began to sob hysterically. In my past life, the Harrington estate caught fire. Cole didn’t hesitate; he scooped up his first love, his “golden girl,” and carried her out to safety, leaving me behind. I was left trapped in the flames. By the time the firefighters pulled me out, my face was irreparably destroyed. Afterward, Cole explained it away. “I didn’t see you. Chloe’s legs were pinned under a beam, and the fire was spreading too fast. I had to save her first.” Remembering that, I raised my hand and slapped myself hard across the cheek. It was laughable. I was as stupid as a dog in that life, played like a fiddle by Cole’s empty excuses. Maybe because the shock of rebirth was so heavy, I tossed and turned all night, trapped in nightmares of the past. When I woke up the next morning, my entire body ached with exhaustion. Perhaps noticing something was wrong last night, Wyatt—who usually left for the corporate office at dawn—was sitting downstairs waiting for me. “Come eat breakfast since you’re up.” Wyatt looked at the dark circles under my eyes, a flash of deep heartache crossing his face. “Did I wake you up when I came in late last night?” I shook my head, my eyes watering as I sprinted into his arms. I hugged my brother with everything I had. Wyatt froze for a second, then set his newspaper down and gently patted my back. He spoke softly. “If loving the Harrington boy is too exhausting, then stop loving him, okay? Even if you never marry in this lifetime, I can take care of you forever.” I sniffled, choking back a sob. The truth was, the families didn’t strictly need an alliance. Wyatt had just noticed how deeply I loved Cole, so he paved the road for me. Remembering how Wyatt had died taking a bullet for me in my past life, my chest tightened with agonizing pain. I hugged him even tighter. Until a light cough broke the silence. I turned my head, my eyes still red. I hadn’t noticed a man sitting on the adjacent sofa. With tears blurring my vision, I couldn’t make out his face at first. The man smirked. “Good morning, Princess.” I blinked in shock, quickly stepping out of Wyatt’s arms as I recognized Liam Sullivan. He was Wyatt’s closest friend. In my past life, after my brother was murdered, it was Liam who hunted down the killer and beat him to death with his bare hands. The last time I saw him, he was behind the glass in a state penitentiary. He told me he wanted to take me away. He told me Wyatt’s death wasn’t a simple kidnapping. But I was blinded by love. I genuinely believed that Cole, a man I had known for decades, could never be involved in something so sinister. By the time I realized Liam was right, I was bleeding out on the interstate. In a daze, I also remembered the very last voice I heard before I died. “Why are you here?” I blurted out in shock. At this hour, Liam should have been dead to the world, sleeping off another wild night of partying. Liam raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Ahem,” Wyatt cleared his throat, gesturing toward the breakfast spread. I nodded, sat down, and started eating, sneaking glances at the man behind me every so often. After a few bites, Wyatt hesitated before asking, “Vivi, did Cole do something to upset you recently?” I looked at my brother, not quite understanding. Wyatt unlocked his phone and pulled up Cole’s latest Instagram story. It was a photo of a foggy mountain peak at dawn. The caption read: “What do I do? I made the princess angry. How do I coax her back?” My fingers clamped around my spoon, my entire body trembling with a rage I couldn’t suppress. In my past life, it was this exact post that tricked me into believing Cole actually cared about me. It wasn’t until much later I discovered that his “princess” was his first love, Chloe Jenkins. It was never me. The warm oatmeal suddenly tasted like wax. I couldn’t swallow it. I lowered my eyes, my voice shaking. “Wyatt, I don’t want to talk about Cole ever again.” In this life, I wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. The twenty years I spent loving him was nothing but pathetic, unrequited delusion. Wyatt paused. He didn’t say a word. He just opened his text thread with Cole—a thread where Wyatt had been asking him if I made it home safe—and ruthlessly blocked and deleted the contact. He smiled warmly. “As long as your brother is around, you will never suffer a single grievance.” Tears welled in my eyes again. Wyatt was always like this. He chose me without hesitation. When I loved Cole, he built the bridge. When I hated him, he’d gladly burn it down. Chapter 3 After breakfast, Wyatt took me to his corporate headquarters. Originally, I was supposed to inherit the company. But because I was so obsessed with marrying Cole, I wanted to dedicate all my time to him. I practically never showed up to work, which caused massive operational issues. Wyatt had to abandon his ventures in Europe just to come back and clean up my mess. The employees all knew about my obsession with Cole. As I walked through the lobby, an assistant covertly tried to hand me a limited-edition movie poster of Cole. Before I could even react, a hand shot out, snatched the poster, crushed it into a ball, and tossed it into the nearest trash can. I looked up. It was Liam. Wyatt’s voice rang out coolly. “From this day forward, no merchandise or mention of Cole Harrington is permitted in this building.” It hit me then—I had almost forgotten that Cole was an A-list Hollywood actor. Once we got into the executive office, Wyatt instructed his assistant, “Pass the word down. Tear down any posters of Cole Harrington in the breakrooms. And also…” “Wyatt, you don’t have to go that far,” I interrupted. After all, Vance Corp still had massive business dealings with the Harringtons. Wyatt saw through my worry. He shook his head with a light laugh. “I told you, you won’t suffer any grievances.” With a wave of his hand, he sent the assistant off to execute the order. Wyatt had to step out for an emergency board meeting, leaving just me and Liam in the massive office. I didn’t actually interact much with Liam. The only thing I knew about him was that he had been hopelessly in love with a girl for years, but couldn’t have her because she loved someone else. Feeling his intense gaze on me, I awkwardly looked away. A moment later, my phone buzzed in my purse. I pulled it out, stared at the screen for three seconds, and hung up without hesitation. Liam raised a brow, amused. “Not gonna answer?” “Spam call,” I said, my face dropping into a scowl. A second later, a text popped up: [I’m sick. Bring me medicine.] Followed immediately by a hotel room number. I stared at the screen, my brow furrowing deeply, completely oblivious that Liam had stood up and walked over. By the time I noticed, Liam was smirking over my shoulder. “Well, well. Who’s sending our princess hotel room numbers?” My situational awareness was usually top-tier. In the past, I could sense Cole walking into a room before I even saw him. But this time, I jumped, clutching my chest as I gasped for air. Liam seemed equally surprised by my severe reaction. He grabbed a bottle of water and handed it to me, though he couldn’t resist a jab. “That room number looks familiar. Isn’t that the Harrington golden boy’s permanent suite at the Ritz?” Every heir in our circle had a dedicated suite at the top hotels. Cole’s room was always 0726. In my past life, I never thought twice about it. But now, it clicked with sickening clarity. July 26th. Chloe’s birthday. My fingers began to tremble violently. Liam, who had been teasing me just a second ago, instantly sensed the shift. His smirk vanished, replaced by a dark frown. “What is it? Did that Harrington punk put his hands on you?” “I might not be good at corporate politics,” Liam added, his voice dropping low, “but I’m excellent at breaking bones.” I shook my head quickly, then immediately blocked and deleted Cole’s number. “He’s an insignificant person now. It’s not worth getting into trouble over someone who doesn’t matter,” I said, looking up at Liam. His eyes were incredibly intense, holding a flirtatious depth that made my face flush. Liam clearly didn’t believe me, but he didn’t push it. Chapter 4 Back in suite 0726, Cole was waiting for his medicine. Yesterday, someone had witnessed our fight outside the gala, and the elite group chats were having a field day. [Ooh, trouble in paradise? The childhood sweethearts breaking up?] [The Vance princess looked genuinely pissed this time.] [Cole, stop pissing Vivi off. If she actually stops caring about you one day, you’ll cry yourself to sleep.] Reading the messages, Cole let out a cold, arrogant scoff. He had known Vivienne since they were toddlers. He knew her personality inside and out. Once she showed up with the medicine, he’d buy her a cheap designer trinket, and she’d immediately go back to being his pathetic, loyal puppy. They had played this game a thousand times. He was genuinely getting bored of it. He lounged on the velvet sofa, scrolling through TikTok for over half an hour, but his medicine never arrived. The group chat was still popping off, people asking if she had come crawling back yet. The relentless teasing finally struck a nerve. Cole aggressively closed the app, opened his pinned contacts, and dialed her number. Call failed. He froze. He stared at the screen, bewildered, and dialed again. Call failed. The young heir of the Harrington empire had never been blocked a day in his life. He didn’t even know what the dial tone meant. He had to Google it. When he read the search results, he sat entirely paralyzed for a full minute. When reality finally set in, his face contorted in rage. He hurled his brand-new iPhone against the marble floor, shattering it into a dozen pieces. “Vivienne Vance. You’ve got nerve.” Miles away, I had no idea what kind of tantrum Cole was throwing, and frankly, I couldn’t care less. By the time Wyatt finished his board meeting, it was past noon. Liam stretched lazily and suggested, “Let’s get hotpot. I’m craving it.” I looked at Liam. Whenever I was in a terrible mood, I loved eating insanely spicy hotpot. I would eat until my lips went numb so I wouldn’t have the brain capacity to think about my miserable life. Cole had definitely ruined my morning, but right now, I felt surprisingly free. Wyatt didn’t know the context, but seeing I had no objections, he told his assistant to book a table for three. We went to our usual high-end spot. Walking through the doors, a wave of nostalgia hit me. In my past life, when I got pregnant, Cole claimed spicy food would stunt the baby’s development. For nine excruciating months, I wasn’t allowed to touch a single drop of chili oil. To hell with Cole Harrington. To hell with his rules. The moment we sat down, I ordered everything on the menu, telling the manager, “I want the broth entirely spicy. Extra spicy. Lethal.” It was the first time I had ever shown such a fiery temper. Even the manager looked a bit shocked. Suddenly, I remembered Wyatt telling me once that Liam couldn’t handle spice at all. I quickly corrected myself, “Wait, make it a split pot, please.” We were seated in a private VIP room, so I didn’t have to worry about maintaining the elegant socialite facade. When the food arrived, I dove in, practically inhaling the beef. Wyatt shot Liam a curious look, communicating silently. Liam just waved his hand dismissively. But midway through the meal, a loud commotion erupted outside our private doors. I hated loud noises. Hearing the shouting, my face instantly scrunched up. Seeing my reaction, Liam raised a hand and flagged down the manager. “I’m buying out the restaurant for the rest of the afternoon. Let the current guests finish, but don’t seat anyone else. It’s getting too loud.” He pulled out a sleek black Amex card. The manager didn’t take it. He looked terrified. “Mr. Sullivan… it’s the Harrington boy. He just walked in.” Neither the Vances nor the Harringtons were people a restaurant manager could afford to offend. He was paralyzed. I stopped chewing. Before any of us could react, a voice cut through the tension faster than the door opening. “Wyatt, you don’t mind if I bring a plus-one, do you?” Chapter 5 Cole strode into the room without waiting for an answer. Before anyone could reject him, he waved a hand behind him. Chloe Jenkins, dressed in a form-fitting silk dress, stepped out from behind his shadow. She offered a sickeningly sweet smile. “Pardon the intrusion, everyone.” Cole pulled out a chair and sat down right across from me. Facing Wyatt and Liam’s deadly glares, he smiled effortlessly. “Suddenly had a craving for hotpot. This is my assistant, Chloe. We went to high school together, figured it was a good time for everyone to meet…” “I refuse,” I said, my voice dripping with ice. Crashing our private lunch like this was something Cole had never done before. I didn’t understand what he was playing at, and I didn’t care to figure it out. Chloe, who had been halfway through sitting down, immediately stood back up, acting deeply wronged. She looked at Cole with huge, teary eyes. Cole’s casual smile vanished instantly. Completely ignoring my brother’s presence, he issued a cold warning. “Vivienne, if you keep throwing these tantrums, I swear to God I will never speak to you again.” The entire room fell into a suffocating silence. Even the manager, who had been secretly wiping sweat from his forehead, froze in place. Wyatt’s face turned thunderous. He opened his mouth to absolutely decimate Cole, but I grabbed his sleeve and pulled him back. I looked Cole dead in the eye. “Please. Never speak to me again. Cole Harrington, from today onward—no, from yesterday onward—we are complete strangers. Whether you live or die has absolutely nothing to do with me.” I never want to love Cole again. I never want to know him again. This was the vow I repeated to myself all night long. Cole’s entire body went rigid. He clearly never expected me to say something so final. His eyes darted to Liam, who was sitting comfortably beside me. Cole didn’t recognize Liam. Assuming he was just some young, fresh-faced heir, Cole sneered mockingly. “Ha. No wonder you cut ties with me so fast. You already had a backup lined up.” “You really have no shame, Vivienne. Professing your undying love to me yesterday, booking a private room with another guy today.” “Then again, a pretty boy like this does have a decent face.” His insults flowed effortlessly, turning the air in the room dangerously cold. Even Chloe felt the shift; she desperately tugged at Cole’s jacket under the table, but he ignored her. Liam just laughed. He leaned back in his chair, radiating an arrogant, untouchable aura. He didn’t seem angry at the insults at all. Instead, he raised an eyebrow and pointed directly at Chloe. Cole didn’t understand the gesture. Not until a horde of paparazzi burst through the restaurant’s front doors. Liam clapped his hands lazily. He smirked. “If Vivi actually liked me, it would be the honor of my life. But an A-list actor caught secretly hooking up with his assistant? I wonder if that headline is explosive enough?” He threw a flirtatious wink at the flashing cameras. The reporters, entirely seduced by the drama, instantly swarmed Cole and Chloe, cornering them against the table. Before I could even process what was happening, Liam grabbed my hand, pulled me up, and sneaked me out the back exit. I hadn’t expected Liam to speak up for me. Remembering what he just said, my heart skipped a strange beat before settling back down. “Liam, thank you.” I turned to look for my brother. Wyatt, usually the epitome of calm, was furiously barking orders into his phone at his executive assistant. “Set up a meeting with the Harrington board. Let’s see exactly how they raised this bastard of a son.” “And run a full background check on Chloe Jenkins and her exact relationship with Cole!” He didn’t skip a beat. Wyatt was still burning with rage. I gently grabbed his hand. Originally, I just wanted to quietly sever ties with the Harringtons and never see them again. But I knew Wyatt. He would never let anyone disrespect me like that, and Cole’s insults had crossed a massive line. “Wyatt, Cole’s words can’t hurt me anymore. I just want you…” I paused, looking over at Liam as well. “I just want you both to be safe, healthy, and alive.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391485”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I Couldn’t Move On After My Mother Passed. Then I Found Her Diary: “Let Mom Help You One Last Time.” After Mom passed away. I was lost in a dark place for a long time. More than once, I wanted to jump off that bridge. But Mom was the wind blowing across the water. Time and time again, pushing me back to safety. …… It was 1 AM when I finally got home. When I opened the door, Dad was exactly as he always was. His thumb and index finger weakly pinching a glass of whiskey, pouring it down his throat. I couldn’t help but think that after Mom passed. I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t move on. Dad was trapped, too. But neither of us knew how to hide our emotions. Just like right now, he wanted to present the image of a cheerful dad welcoming his daughter home for the holidays. But all I saw was. A miserable man with tear stains all over his face, forcing a smile. He pulled the corners of his mouth up toward his ears. Looking at me helplessly, waiting for a hug. I mirrored his expression, forcing a smile of my own. Then I put my backpack down, stepped forward, and hugged him tightly. He said, “Chloe, have you eaten?” “Let me make you some mac and cheese.” Saying that, he let go of me and went into the kitchen. He reached up and pulled open the top cabinet. I watched from afar. Inside was an entire row of instant mac and cheese cups. Next to the microwave, there were several empty wrappers and cheese powder stains. I figured this was how he had been getting by all these days alone. This was our first Christmas after Mom left. It was too lonely, too bleak. Without her, we just couldn’t manage our lives. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. My tears dripped onto the floor like a leaky faucet. Dad seemed a little drunk. Not only did he fail to notice my breakdown. But he also accidentally knocked a stack of bowls and plates onto the floor. The sound of shattering porcelain instantly scared my tears back. I ran over to him. The back of his hand was cut. The blood dripped… It dripped right onto a notebook. I froze for a moment. A diary? 2 My mom’s name was Mary. She only had a middle school education. She knew how to read, but not perfectly. She still made spelling mistakes. The names saved in her phone contacts. Many of them were spelled phonetically or as jokes. For example, Mrs. Sullivan from the farmer’s market. She saved her as: Sue Livin, “Her vegetables are a rip-off.” Mrs. Baker from the grocery store. She saved her as: Bakes Bad, “Was mean to Chloe, never buying her stuff again.” And her best friend, Aunt Brenda. She saved her as: Brenda Bestie, “Chloe loves her, so I love her too.” Every time I saw her contact list, I wanted to laugh. But every time I saw what she named me, I wanted to cry. She wrote: Chloe Miller, “Mary’s sweet girl,” “My absolute favorite.” With three little heart emojis at the end. And now, I was holding a diary in my hands. Filled entirely with her own handwriting. There was a message on the cover. “For Chloe.” “My dearest daughter.” “If you don’t know how to live your life anymore.” “Then let Mom help you one last time.” The diary was thick. I flipped through it quickly. Every page was completely filled. And the handwriting was incredibly neat. There were no spelling mistakes, no scribbled-out words. She probably guessed it—I always hated it when my school notebooks looked messy. Naturally, I’d want a diary to be clean and tidy, too. So she must have secretly practiced for a long time. In an instant, my eyes burned. To control my emotions, I put the diary away. Then I helped my dad into the living room. And bandaged his wound. 3 2 AM. Dad had fallen asleep on the couch. I lay in my bedroom. Too afraid to open the diary. Eventually, I couldn’t take the silence. So I imitated how Mom used to be. I put on yellow rubber gloves and tied an apron around my waist. I deep-cleaned the entire house from top to bottom. Just to distract myself. I remembered, she used to do this every year a few days before Christmas. The sofa—she insisted on pulling it out to sweep up the dust bunnies underneath. The pots and pans—everything had to be scrubbed spotless. The bedsheets—we had to put on fresh, newly bought ones. She said the holidays meant a fresh start, everything had to begin anew. Whether it was something terrible or something wonderful. It was all left in the past year. A new year meant embracing new changes. She also said. Whether it’s heartbreaking or painful. Whether it’s joyful or lucky. We have to accept it all calmly. Everything must look forward. Right. I had to accept the fact that she was gone. By the time I finished cleaning the house. It was already morning. Dad still hadn’t woken up. And I had already put on a thick winter coat and headed to the store. In past years, Mom and I always went to pick out a Christmas wreath together. She would always be so picky, saying one didn’t look full enough. Or another didn’t have the right holiday spirit. It would take her half the day just to choose one. But now, standing in front of the old man selling wreaths in the parking lot. I didn’t know what to pick. They all looked exactly the same to me. A piercing, bright green and red. Especially the wooden sign that read “Home for the Holidays.” It stung my eyes. In the end, just like rushing through a homework assignment. I picked one at random. After buying it, I couldn’t help but think of her again. But this time, there was a bit of resentment. I couldn’t help but complain in my heart. Look, Mom. I haven’t grown up yet. I don’t even know how to pick out a simple wreath. It’s all your fault, leaving too early. You didn’t even have time to teach me. Later, after I walked around the market, I realized. Mom didn’t just fail to teach me how to pick out a wreath. How to buy the sweetest apples in winter. How to pick the freshest vegetables. How to haggle with the vendors. She never taught me any of it. Even the fastest route back home. She had never mentioned it. Otherwise. Why was it that the further I walked, the blurrier the road ahead became? 4 When I got home, Dad was still nursing a hangover. He saw me holding bags of groceries. And sobered up instantly. Without even putting his slippers on properly, he took the bags from my hands. After putting them down, he came back and gently rubbed my freezing, red hands. He said, “It’s all my fault, I drank too much again.” “Are you tired? Are you hungry? Should Dad make you some mac and cheese?” After he spoke, a flash of guilt crossed his eyes. I saw his mouth twitch. Then he explained. “I’m sorry, mac and cheese is the only thing Dad knows how to make.” I nodded. It was true. Dad only knew how to make mac and cheese and how to make money. Mom took care of us too well. So, after she left. Our world. Just collapsed. I shook my head and told Dad I’d already eaten a breakfast sandwich at the market. Then I went into the kitchen. Just like in the early hours of the morning. I picked up the apron. Imagining Mom’s posture. Making the dough. Slicing the apples. Baking an apple pie. I tried to keep myself as busy as possible. To make myself forget about the diary Mom left behind. It was the only piece of her I had left. I wanted to wait for a solemn, perfect moment to open it. Because it said. “For Chloe.” “My dearest daughter.” “If you don’t know how to live your life anymore.” “Then let Mom help you one last time.” I thought, I couldn’t let Mom down. I couldn’t let her know that my life was falling apart. 2 (Author’s Chapter Numbering) But, I was pathetic. That solemn, perfect moment. Just arrived without any warning. After failing to make the pie crust for the umpteenth time. I suddenly missed her like crazy. Why could she blend the flour and butter so perfectly? Yet every time I tried, it turned into a sticky, ruined mess. Why could she do everything so flawlessly. And I couldn’t even make a simple dough. Did I even deserve to be her daughter? Should I have been the one to get cancer? Should I have been the one writing a final diary? The more I thought about it, the more twisted my mind became. Until my eyes landed on the kitchen knife on the counter. My bloodshot eyes widened. I guess it was because I had been quiet for too long. Dad rushed in. He arrived just in time. I hadn’t lost too much blood yet. My consciousness was still clear. I could hear him screaming my name. I could hear the ambulance sirens. And. In a daze. I thought I heard Mom say. “Silly girl.” “How can you be so clumsy? You can’t even make a simple dough?” “Be good, Mom will teach you.” 3 That’s right. Mom. I’m too clumsy. Come back and teach me. 4 The doctor pulled my dad out into the hallway. He said I had severe depression and suicidal tendencies. Then the doctor shot me a cautious look. And pulled Dad into another room entirely. They were discussing my condition. I wondered if my dad was going to break down. His wife died of cancer. And now his daughter was severely depressed. Would it push him over the edge? I imagined him crying and venting to the doctor. But suddenly, I couldn’t feel empathy anymore. I just thought the birds outside the window looked so free. I felt a bit happy, and I smiled. At dusk. I finally couldn’t bear the weight of missing her. I opened the first page of the diary. I was afraid that if I didn’t open it now. I might never get the chance to. 5 The first page of the diary. Was Mom’s secret whisper to me. She wrote: “Chloe.” “When you heard Mom decided to stop treatment, were you really angry?” “Don’t be mad, sweetie.” “Just think of it as doing Mom a favor.” “Mom is in so much pain.” “Please don’t ignore Mom in these final days.” “Mom wants to talk to you a lot.” “Otherwise, I just can’t be at peace.” …… “Chloe.” “After you left the hospital room, Mom thought for a long time.” “It’s all my fault for spoiling you so much.” “I turned you into a little princess who doesn’t know how to do anything.” “If Mom could stay by your side forever, I wouldn’t worry at all.” “But Mom has to leave soon.” “There are things I have to teach you before I can rest.” “But I thought about it… Mom isn’t highly educated.” “The only thing I can teach you is common sense.” “Then I thought about it some more.” “Mom’s wish isn’t a big one.” “I just want you to live a good life.” “So, this diary.” “Besides expressing how much Mom loves you.” “Is also here so that, after Mom is gone.” “You can learn how to live well.” 6 Mom was right. I didn’t know how to do anything. When I was little, learning to ride a bike, other kids got it in a few days. But I was terrified the bike was too tall, and absolutely refused to get on. Mom never forced me. She said: “If you’re scared, then we won’t learn. From now on, Mom is your bicycle.” “Mom will carry you anywhere you want to go.” Later in elementary school, the neighbor’s daughter was learning ballet. When she danced, she looked like a little fairy. Mom’s eyes were full of admiration. She looked at me and asked. “Chloe, do you want to turn into a fairy too?” I cluelessly shook my head and told her I didn’t want to learn, I just wanted to play in the mud. She still didn’t force me to do anything I didn’t want to do. She just squatted down and helped me build a mud castle. She told me: “It’s okay. It doesn’t matter if Chloe can’t dance. Mom just wants Chloe to be happy in her own little world.” In middle school, my homeroom teacher called Mom in. I hid behind Mom while they discussed whether I might have autism. The teacher said: “Mrs. Miller, you should take Chloe to see a doctor. She doesn’t say a single word in class all day, it makes it very hard for us to teach her.” Mom rubbed my head, her eyes full of pride. “She doesn’t speak because she doesn’t want to speak.” “When she wants to talk, she’ll talk.” Later, throughout all of high school. I rarely ever spoke up in class. But I never felt like I was any different from anyone else. Just like Mom said. I didn’t speak because I didn’t want to. Everyone thought I was arrogant, stubborn, aloof, and completely full of myself. Doing whatever I wanted just because I had good grades. I didn’t deny it; I was definitely cocky. Because I knew, no matter what I did. She would always have my back. I always believed. That under her wings, I would go far. Fly higher. But. Suddenly, one day. God took her wings away. I lost my protection. I fell into complete panic. I felt that a life without Mom. Was just that. Not worth living. So, I started trying to find her, over and over again. I once stood on her tiptoes on a thirty-story rooftop. But a gust of wind blew me back. I also plunged into the ocean, breathlessly asking if she could take me with her. And again, a wave crashed and pushed me back onto the shore. Later, the edge of the cliff I went to, the tip of the knife I picked up. There was always a breeze beside me. Stopping me from staring into the eyes of death. I had my answer. That wind was her. And this diary she left behind. Was her broken wings. 7 For some reason, I felt it was a bit absurd. Even a little ridiculous. How should a daughter live after losing the mother she loved most? She was actually trying to teach me with a diary. Didn’t she know? I didn’t want to live at all. I just wanted to see her right now. To be held tightly in her arms.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391503”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

New Year’s Day dinner was always an exercise in endurance, but this year, my sister-in-law decided to skip the pleasantries and go straight for the jugular. She looked across the table, a smug, cat-like grin spreading across her face. “Oh, Morgan, I almost forgot,” Cynthia said, swirling her Pinot Noir. “About those twenty workstations your firm ordered? I’m going to have to pass. I’m not filling the order.” I paused, my fork halfway to my mouth. “Excuse me?” “I landed a contract with a massive tech corp the other day. Fifty high-end units, top-of-the-line specs. Real money,” she said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “To be honest, I’ve been handling your office supplies for ten years, and I haven’t made as much from you in a decade as I’ll make from this one deal.” She leaned back, looking at her husband—my brother, Brad—who just kept chewing his steak, eyes fixed on his plate. “Especially those printers, fax machines, and shipping supplies you always need,” Cynthia continued, waving a dismissive hand. “The paperwork is a nightmare and the margins are pathetic. It’s just not worth my time anymore.” Cynthia had opened her tech boutique a decade ago and had spent years begging me for business. For ten years, my company had been her lifeline. Every laptop, every ream of paper, every toner cartridge was bought from her. My business had literally kept her shop afloat through the lean years. Now, with forty-eight hours’ notice, she was ghosting me. I spent the rest of the holiday in a blind panic, cold-calling vendors until I found a local supplier who could deliver on short notice. That was when I got the real shock: for the exact same twenty workstations, the new quote was five thousand dollars cheaper than what Cynthia had been charging me. A month later, my phone buzzed. It was Cynthia. “Morgan! Hey, honey. Do you still need those computers?” Her voice was frantic, the smugness replaced by a shaky desperation. “I can knock two hundred bucks off the total, but you have to wire me the full payment today. Right now.” “What? No, Cynthia. I already bought them. I signed a long-term contract with a new vendor.” “You can’t do that!” she shrieked. “I need the cash today. Just return the ones you bought and buy mine instead. We’re family, Morgan!” I hung up. 1 The New Year’s dinner had started like any other: with me being the invisible ghost at the feast of my own bank account. “Yes, we did quite well last year!” Cynthia’s voice boomed the moment I walked through the door. She was flaunting a diamond-encrusted bracelet. “Brad bought me this to reward me for all my hard work. And we just landed a huge new client. It’s going to be a golden year.” She caught my eye and smirked. “Once the check clears, I’m finally trading in the SUV for a Porsche.” My mother beamed, her eyes shining with pride. “You’re so talented, Cynthia. Having you in this family is such a blessing. Brad is a lucky man.” My aunt and uncle chimed in from the couch. “Cynthia really knows how to run a household. Don’t forget us when you get that Porsche, dear. I’ve never even sat in a car that expensive!” Cynthia tilted her chin up, the picture of arrogance. When she saw the bags in my hands, she stood up with a fake, theatrical warmth, immediately reaching out—not to hug me, but to rummage through the gifts I’d brought. She frowned, looking at the high-end skincare sets and the premium cashmere throw I’d picked out for my mother. “Morgan, really?” she sighed, sounding disappointed. “You only come home a few times a year. You couldn’t have put a little more effort into this? It’s a bit stingy, don’t you think?” I looked at the gifts. I’d spent nearly eight hundred dollars on things I knew my mother needed. “And what would you suggest I bring, Cynthia?” She rolled her eyes. “Do I have to teach you everything? Your mother worked hard all her life. She deserves something substantial. Jewelry. Or honestly, just a check. You’ve always been a bit socially stunted, Morgan. You should really learn a thing or two from your brother.” She adjusted her bracelet so it caught the light. I looked at my mother, hoping for a word of defense. She immediately looked away, shifting her gaze to the kitchen. “Oh, it’s not about the money,” Mom murmured. “I just want my children to be happy. That’s all your father wanted before he passed.” I felt a familiar, hollow ache in my chest. This was why I hated coming home. My mother lived by a different set of rules for her son. She didn’t exploit me—not exactly. She seemed to love me in a vague, non-committal way that kept me on a leash of “maybe.” Every time I thought about cutting them off, she’d do something small and sweet, making me feel guilty for my own resentment. She could have said, ‘Morgan sends me a check every month, she doesn’t need to bring gifts.’ But she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t risk offending Cynthia. Instead, she’d wait until Cynthia was out of the room to pull me aside and say, ‘I made your favorite pot roast because I know you don’t eat well in the city,’ with those watery, pitying eyes. It was exhausting. “So, what did you bring, Cynthia?” I asked, my voice flat. “I brought eight hundred dollars’ worth of gifts. That’s eight hundred more than the nothing you’re holding.” Cynthia’s face turned a blotchy red. “How dare you? We’re here all the time! We take care of her! Even if we didn’t bring something today, our presence throughout the year is worth more than your guilt-money.” I let out a short, dry laugh. “You’re right. I should learn from you. I’ll start coming by twice a month, bring a ten-dollar bag of grapes, and then leave with three bags of groceries from Mom’s pantry. I’d save a fortune on my grocery bill.” “Morgan!” Cynthia slammed her hand on the table. “Stop acting so superior. Don’t you realize what she needs is companionship? Brad is her only son. If she wants to give us things, that’s her right as a mother!” “I hear you,” I replied calmly. “So, starting next month, I’ll stop the wire transfers. I’ll just ‘be here’ more. That’s what’s important, right?” Cynthia froze, her mouth agape. My mother finally stepped in, her voice trembling. “Stop it, both of you. You’re both good kids. I’m the lucky one. I have money, I have family… everyone envies me.” 2 The silence that followed was heavy. My heart felt like lead. Cynthia let out a sharp huff and shifted gears. “Fine. Since we’re being so ‘honest,’ Morgan, I should tell you: I’m not doing that computer order for your office. I’m too busy.” She went into her speech about the “big tech corp” and the fifty units. “I’ve been wanting to drop your account for a while. The margins are tiny. Ten years of your ‘charity’ hasn’t made me as much as this one contract will.” I frowned. “Cynthia, why are you telling me this now? The holiday ends the day after tomorrow. That’s when you were supposed to deliver. We’ve already cleared out the old hardware. How is my staff supposed to work on Monday?” She waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, please. Just find someone else. It’s not like you’re ordering custom rigs; any big-box store has that stuff in stock. Besides, how much work does your little firm actually do? A few days of downtime won’t kill you.” Looking at her, so smug and self-assured, I realized there was no point in arguing. For a decade, I had fed her business. During the 2008 crash, when everyone else was closing their doors, my steady stream of orders kept her lights on. Back then, Brad would hold my hand and tell me, “Morgan, if it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t be able to pay for our son’s tuition, let alone the mortgage. I owe you everything.” And now? “Does Brad know about this?” I asked. Cynthia smirked. “Of course he does. To be honest, he’s the one who’s most sick of your orders. All those tiny line items—staples, paperclips, ink. It’s a mess to track and a headache to invoice. We’re done with the ‘pity’ business.” I nodded. I didn’t say another word. In that moment, I realized I didn’t have a brother anymore. I left and spent the next six hours on the phone. By a stroke of luck, I remembered the woman who ran the shop right next to Cynthia’s in the tech district. Cynthia hated her. She used to gossip about her constantly. “She’s a predator,” Cynthia would say. “Every time Brad walks by, she’s fixing her hair. She’s a single mom looking for a handout.” I’d met the woman, Tess, once in the building’s stairwell. She’d been having a dizzy spell from low blood sugar, and I’d bought her a soda and a candy bar. Since then, she always made a point to bring me a coffee whenever she saw me in the district. I called her. “Tess, it’s Morgan. I need twenty workstations by Monday morning. Is there any way you can make that happen?” Tess didn’t ask why I wasn’t calling my sister-in-law. She was a professional. “Give me the specs. I’ll call you back in thirty minutes with a quote.” When I stepped back into the living room to grab my coat, Cynthia was watching me with a mocking grin. “Having trouble, Morgan? I told you, nobody wants those low-margin scraps. Tell you what—if you add twenty thousand to the price, I might be able to find someone to help you out.” My phone buzzed. A text from Tess: I have them. Twenty units, $12,000 total. Delivery and setup included. I looked at the number and felt a cold chill run down my spine. 3 Cynthia’s price for the exact same setup was $18,000. I knew she wasn’t giving me a “family discount,” but I’d assumed her prices were at least fair. I’d looked at it as a way to support my family. I never imagined she was overcharging me by fifty percent. She wasn’t just doing business; she was harvesting me. If she wanted to play dirty, she was about to find out how well I could play, too. Monday morning, Tess arrived at the office with a crew of three. She was a whirlwind of efficiency, helping the cleaning staff clear away the packing materials once the setup was done. My head of IT checked the specs and looked up, impressed. “Morgan, these are perfect. Actually, the monitors are a grade higher than what we asked for.” I looked at Tess. She smiled, wiping a smudge of dust from her jeans. “You were in a rush. I couldn’t source the base models in time, so I gave you the premium ones for the same price.” “I should pay you the difference,” I insisted. Tess shook her head. “No way. A contract like this is huge for a shop like mine. We don’t get twenty-unit orders every day. In my world, five computers is a ‘big’ day. I’m making a fair profit, trust me. I’m just happy for the business.” I looked at her—really looked at her—and saw the kind of partner I should have had years ago. “Tess, we go through a lot of supplies. If you’re up for it, I’d like to move all our procurement to you. I’ll have my legal team draft a long-term agreement this afternoon.” Tess’s eyes lit up like it was Christmas. Later that day, my CFO walked into my office, looking hesitant. “Morgan? You might want to see Cynthia’s latest post.” Because of our long history, Cynthia was Facebook friends with half my staff. I opened the app. Cynthia had posted a selfie, grinning ear to ear. New year, new levels! Just closed a massive contract. Say goodbye to small-time hustle and hello to the Porsche life! #Blessed #BusinessMogul Brad had commented: So proud of my wife. We finally made it, baby! Cynthia replied publicly: Yes! Finally done with those annoying little orders from tiny companies. So much work for so little money, and having to act grateful for the ‘favor’ was the worst part! It was a blatant, public slap in the face. I thought about it for a minute, then I typed out a post of my own. I wondered if Cynthia would still be smiling by tomorrow morning.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391520”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Victoria was picking up my car when the accident happened. A fractured tibia and a couple of broken ribs. By the time I reached the hospital, a young man with eyes swollen red from crying was already there, barking at me with a startling lack of restraint. “How could you let Victoria pick up your car? If you weren’t so lazy, she wouldn’t be lying in that bed right now!” His voice was thick with indignation, as if he were a protective son or a loyal lover scolding a negligent servant. “Do you have any idea how much pain she’s in? A broken leg, internal bruising…” The room went silent. The relatives and friends who had gathered to check on Victoria exchanged baffled glances. They knew who I was. More importantly, they knew who he was—or rather, who he was supposed to be. Victoria cast a surprisingly tender look at him before turning to me, her voice softening into a placating coo. “He’s just a kid, Gavin. He’s one of my dealership managers, fiercely protective of his clients. He’s blunt, but he means well. Don’t take it to heart.” I didn’t take it to heart. How could I? To take something to heart, you have to care where that heart is currently residing. And looking at the way her eyes lingered on his disheveled hair, I knew hers was no longer with me. I watched the boy—Parker—until he ran out of breath and his tirade sputtered into a sniffle. “Done?” I asked, my voice flat, devoid of the theatricality they were both indulging in. “Then it’s my turn.” I shifted my gaze to Parker. “This is the second time your dealership has made a ‘clumsy’ error with my vehicle. If I don’t receive a comprehensive, forensic explanation by tomorrow morning, you can explain it to the police and my family’s legal team instead.” 1 Parker’s face went paper-white. He instinctively turned toward the bed, seeking sanctuary. Victoria’s expression shifted. “Gavin, it was my fault. I fumbled the controls. It has nothing to do with Parker. I’ve already handled the insurance.” “Your fault?” I arched a brow, looking directly at her. “How is it?” Victoria coughed, a dry, nervous sound. “I’m fine. Just the leg and a mild concussion. It’s really not—” “I was asking about the car,” I interrupted. Parker gasped, the sound sharp and theatrical. “She’s in a hospital bed and you only care about the car? Do you even have a soul?” “You must be Parker Reed,” I said, folding my arms slowly. I didn’t raise my voice; I didn’t need to. “First, that car is a two-million-dollar limited edition hypercar. There are five in the country. Second, Victoria is my wife. Legally, she was doing me a favor. Is there a problem with that?” I paused, my eyes dropping to where his hand was white-knuckled, clutching the hem of Victoria’s hospital gown. “And finally… you’re just a scholarship student Victoria once sponsored. Tell me, in what capacity exactly are you standing here questioning me?” Parker’s face flushed a deep, ugly crimson. He let go of her gown as if it had turned into a live wire, but his mouth kept moving, desperate to salvage his dignity. “I… I just care about her! You could have picked up that car yourself, but you made her do it. And now she’s bleeding, and you haven’t even asked if she’s had water!” I glanced at a text from my assistant that had just buzzed in my pocket. I let out a short, cold laugh. “You should worry less about her hydration and more about your future, Parker. The damage appraisal just came in. Preliminary repairs are estimated at four hundred thousand dollars. How would you like to pay? Visa or Mastercard?” Parker’s knees buckled. He swayed, looking at me with a mix of terror and righteous fury. “Four hundred thousand? That’s… that’s extortion!” He turned piteously to the bed. “Victoria…” Victoria groaned as she tried to sit up, the movement clearly aggravating her ribs. “Gavin, stop. He’s just starting out in the world. He doesn’t have that kind of money. Don’t scare him.” She looked at him, then back at me. “It was my error. I’ll cover the costs.” A flash of triumph crossed Parker’s face. He tried to hide it, but the smug curl of his lip was unmistakable. I looked at my wife, the woman I had built a life with for five years, and felt a wave of profound exhaustion. “You’re quite the philanthropist, Victoria. Wasn’t buying him the dealership enough?” The blood drained from her face. She hadn’t realized I knew about the “gift.” Parker lost his bravado instantly. He bit his lip, trying to look small. “Mr. Emerson, please… take it out on me, not her. She only helped me because she felt sorry for me.” Victoria sighed, waving a hand at him. “It’s fine, Parker. Just go. I’ll handle this.” He lingered, walking toward the door like a kicked puppy, only to turn back at the last second. He pressed a small, decorative glass jar into Victoria’s palm. His eyes were shimmering, a look so heavy with longing it was practically cinematic. Anyone with a pulse could see the electricity between them. “Mr. Emerson,” Parker whispered as he passed me, “it was a mechanical oversight. The car wasn’t fully inspected before I let her drive it. Please don’t misunderstand… the jar is full of hand-folded paper stars. I made one for every hour she’ll be in recovery. Just to help her heal faster.” Mechanical oversight? The dealership had called me specifically to say the car was “perfect.” And the last time the brakes failed… was that an oversight, too? 2 “Gavin, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the dealership business.” Victoria’s voice pulled me back to the sterile reality of the room. Now that we were alone, she tried to smile, tucking the jar of stars onto her bedside table and reaching for my hand. “The boy graduated, and it was his birthday. I thought I’d give him a head start. My big, powerful CEO isn’t actually jealous of a kid, is he?” She said it with such airy nonchalance, as if a multi-million-dollar business venture were a mere teddy bear. I stepped back, avoiding her touch. “Is that what you like now? The starving artist type?” The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. Victoria’s face hardened. She rubbed her temples. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d overthink it. Parker and I are… we’re clean. It’s professional.” “I don’t care,” I said, and the terrifying thing was that I meant it. “I haven’t caught you in a bed yet, but I don’t tolerate dirt in my eyes, Victoria. If you have some fantasy about being a benefactor to a boy-toy, keep it out of my house and my sight. Don’t push me.” Victoria looked up, her eyes wide with hurt. “You don’t trust me?” I looked down at her, my expression a blank mask. Silence was the only honest answer I had left. Before she could respond, her phone buzzed. The name “Parker” lit up the screen like a neon sign. She hesitated, then pressed ignore. But a second later, a voice memo came through, loud enough for me to hear in the quiet room. “Victoria, did Gavin give you a hard time? Please don’t fight with him because of me. I ordered the bone broth you like from that bistro. I won’t bring it by myself—I don’t want him to get the wrong idea—but please eat something…” It was a masterclass in manipulation. In two sentences, he had managed to be the martyr, the caregiver, and the “secret” she had to keep. I didn’t move. Victoria looked at my face, then shoved the phone under her pillow. I turned toward the door. “Gavin!” she called out, her voice cracking. “Are you really this angry? I promise, I’ll stay away from him. I won’t call him. Just… don’t be so cold to me. My leg hurts…” I paused at the door, looking over my shoulder. My voice was like ice. “If your leg hurts, call the nurse. I have a company to run. Rest up.” Outside, the biting wind of the city hit my face, finally dulling the white-hot rage simmering in my chest. I pulled out my phone and dialed my head of security. “Run a full background check on Parker Reed,” I commanded. “And get the forensics team to look at the ‘accidents’ on my car again. I have a feeling the brakes didn’t fail on their own.” That night, at Victoria’s request, the regional manager of a luxury watch brand arrived at my penthouse with a dozen timepieces, each worth more than a suburban home. “Mrs. Emerson was very insistent,” the manager smiled, oblivious. “She said you deserved something special. She really dotes on you.” I looked at the glittering gold and platinum and felt a wave of nausea. “Did you know,” I said quietly, “that when a woman feels guilty, she usually starts buying her husband gifts to silence her own conscience?” Victoria thought this was a tantrum. She thought I was like any other husband who finds out about a straying wife—someone who would scream, cry, and eventually be bought off with a few million dollars and a “sorry.” But she forgot who I was. I was Gavin Emerson. I took over a crumbling empire at eighteen and clawed my way to the top of the hedge fund world by twenty-two. I married her because our families were close, yes, but mostly because she had promised me a partnership. A ride-or-die loyalty. It was funny. Five years was all it took for her to forget the vow that “forever” didn’t include a third party. 3 The next day, I received a friend request from Parker. The note attached read: “Mr. Emerson, I’d like to explain the maintenance issue with your car. I feel terrible.” I was in back-to-back meetings all day before catching a flight to D.C. for my uncle’s gala. It wasn’t until I landed that I finally hit ‘accept.’ Parker immediately sent a voice note. The gist was that the mechanic who worked on my car was a “temp” who had since disappeared. Unreachable. Convenient. I didn’t reply. But as I browsed his profile, I saw his latest post from thirty minutes ago. It was a photo taken inside my villa. Victoria was sitting on our Italian leather sofa, sipping soup. In the background, I could see the $4 million Basquiat I’d won at Sotheby’s. Even more galling: Parker was in the frame, wearing my favorite silk robe and my slippers. He was leaning in close to her, holding the camera high for a “candid” selfie. The caption read: “Finally getting to take care of you. People might misunderstand, but the truth is always clear to those who know. Home-cooked bone broth for the soul. Get well soon, V.” I screenshotted it and sent it to Victoria. “In my house? Wearing my clothes? Cuddled up to my wife? Is this your version of ‘clean’?” Victoria replied instantly. “Gavin, Parker spilled soup on his shirt while cooking for me. He’s just wearing that temporarily. He’s being a sweetheart because I’m immobile. Don’t overthink it.” I laughed, a harsh, jagged sound. “A sweetheart? He’s not cooking soup, Victoria. He’s measuring the drapes for when he moves in. He’s wearing my clothes to see how the life of a ‘rightful heir’ feels. Does he think if he sleeps in my bed, he becomes me?” “Can you stop being so cruel?” Victoria’s tone shifted. “You’re never here. He’s the only one actually looking after me. Have a little grace, Gavin. You used to be a man of character. Now you’re just… cold. Mean.” I stared at the screen until the words blurred. Cruel? Mean? When Victoria’s family firm was facing a hostile takeover three years ago, I was the “mean” one who stayed up for seventy-two hours straight to bury her competitors. When her mother was dying, I was the “cold” one who cancelled a billion-dollar merger to hold her hand in the hospice for two weeks. She used to say she loved my ruthlessness. She said it made her feel safe. Now that she had a “sweet” little angel, my strength was suddenly a character flaw. I stayed in D.C. for three days. When I finally flew home and walked up to my front door, my fingerprint wouldn’t work. The lock had been reset. I rang the bell. Parker opened the door. This time, he was wearing one of Victoria’s oversized button-downs. His hair was damp, as if he’d just stepped out of the shower. “Mr. Emerson?” He sounded shocked, though his eyes gleamed with something else. “You’re back early? Victoria is still sleeping…” “I’m back at my own house,” I said, stepping forward. “Move.” “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, physically blocking the doorway. “It’s just… she’s had a rough night. She’s finally resting. I’d hate for you to wake her up with… you know, your energy.” I didn’t waste words. I shoved him aside. “Get out of my way.” Victoria was already hobbling into the hallway on her crutches, alerted by the noise. She frowned at the sight of us. “What’s going on?” 4 Parker didn’t even wait for her to finish before the tears started. “I’m so sorry, Victoria. I just wanted you to sleep. I didn’t mean to offend Mr. Emerson.” He sniffled, looking like a wounded rabbit, though the smugness was still radiating off his skin. Victoria sighed, looking at me. “Gavin, you really did misunderstand. Give him an apology.” I ignored her. I walked into the living room and sat down. I noticed the mantle. Our wedding photo was gone. In its place was that hideous jar of paper stars. And on the coffee table, a pair of men’s boxers—not mine—were draped over a chair. “No wonder you didn’t want me coming in,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “You two are having quite the staycation.” Parker scrambled to grab the underwear. “I… I washed them. I was just drying them here…” “Drying them in the living room?” I sneered. “Tell me, Victoria. Is a broken leg really enough of an excuse for this level of disrespect? Or are you just that far gone?” Parker’s face went scarlet. “Mr. Emerson, nothing happened! We… we just watched movies!” “Enough!” Victoria snapped, her temper finally flaring. “Gavin, must you be so vulgar? He’s a simple kid. He’s not like you—he doesn’t spend every second calculating his next move!” I looked at her. “What exactly am I calculating?” “How to humiliate him! How to make me subservient! How to keep me trapped in your perfect, cold little world!” Victoria was shaking now. “Yes, I let him stay. He’s taking care of me! I’m grateful to him! Why does your mind have to be so filthy?” “My mind isn’t the problem, Victoria. My spreadsheets are.” I pulled a file from my briefcase. “Six months ago, you funneled twenty million dollars of your company’s capital into a ‘charitable investment’ that just happened to be Parker’s dealership. You didn’t clear it with your board. That’s embezzlement, Victoria. Embezzling to fund a boy-toy. How do you think the shareholders will feel about that?” Victoria’s face went ashen. “You spied on me? He’s not a boy-toy!” “Then what is he?” I stood up and walked over to Parker. “Parker, tell me. What are you?” Parker bit his lip, looking at Victoria. “I… I just admire her. I’m helping…” “Admiring her enough to sleep in my bed?” I pointed to the half-open master bedroom door. “I saw you both come out of there. Explain that.” Victoria gritted her teeth. “He slept on the floor to be near me in case I needed help in the night! Nothing happened!” “I don’t care if you slept or not.” I pulled out a second document—a divorce petition—and set it on the coffee table. “Victoria, you’re going to sign this. You’re going to return the dealership to your company’s holdings. We’ll split assets according to the ironclad pre-nup we signed five years ago, and we’ll end this quietly.” “Or,” I leaned in, “I’ll file for divorce on the grounds of adultery and embezzlement. I’ll hand this file to your board, and I’ll watch those old sharks tear you apart. You choose.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391539”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On the day his mistress gave birth, Arthur gave the newborn baby to me as a birthday present. In front of everyone, Arthur asked me if this child was enough to make me finally give up on him. In that moment, I knew there would never be anything between us. So, after chasing him for seven years, I chose to let go for the first time. Seeing my surrender, Arthur didn’t even glance at the child. Instead, he stroked my hair with ultimate tenderness. “Sera, no matter who you like in the future, Arthur will help you get him.” Later, I got together with his best friend. The usually cold and arrogant man went crazy, trying to stop the wedding that everyone else was blessing. 1 Someone told me that Arthur’s mistress was pregnant. I didn’t believe it. But late at night, I still knocked on the door of Arthur, who had just returned. There was the sound of running water in the room. Arthur opened the door for me, wrapped in a towel. “Come in.” I subconsciously clenched my fists, looking at the fiancé I had secretly loved for seven years. I slowly walked into his room. The man, with wet hair, sat lazily on the sofa, casually pouring himself a glass of red wine. He looked at me standing at the door with a playful expression. “What do you want from me?” I looked down at my toes, not knowing how to ask. I’ve always known. Arthur didn’t like his fiancée, who was five years younger than him. But I really, really liked him. I liked him so much that even though he was never short of women, I never asked him about it once. But today, after hearing that his long-time mistress was pregnant. It was the first time I lost my composure and ran over to confront him. While I was lost in thought, Arthur had already walked up to me with a wine glass. He pinched my chin with his large, unyielding hand. He handed the half-finished glass of red wine to my lips. “Sera, be good, drink it. “Tomorrow is your birthday. I’ve prepared a birthday present for you. You’ll like it.” There was an inexplicable excitement in the man’s low laughter. That night, I had long forgotten the reason I went to see him. I lay in bed with flushed cheeks, listening to the violent beating of my heart. Looking forward to tomorrow. 2 For this birthday party, Arthur invited almost everyone in our circle. It was exceptionally grand. But until the end of the party, the man who said he was going to give me a present never showed up. I stared stubbornly out the main door. The flame that had burned in my heart all night seemed to have been frozen by ice. Arthur, who had always hated and resisted this marriage. How could he suddenly change his temper? Just as I turned around in disappointment, a gentle, magnetic male voice came from afar. “Sera!” The man in the expensive black suit finally arrived. Behind him was a middle-aged woman dressed as a nanny, who seemed to be holding something in her arms. Arthur looked at me intensely. “Did you wait long? I went to get your present.” Under my nervous and expectant gaze, a corner of the child in the woman’s arms was revealed. “My newborn son, Sera, is for you.” The smile on Arthur’s face disappeared at some point. He stared at me fixedly. At the moment our eyes met, I suddenly understood the meaning in his eyes. Before anyone at the scene could react, Arthur spoke again. “Sera, is one child enough to make you give up on me? “If not, give me a year, and I’ll give you another one.” I couldn’t describe the feeling. In that moment, I seemed to lose all my emotions, like a marionette with broken strings. I just stood there blankly. I heard a crisp slap, which instantly rang out in the quiet space. 3 From the study came Arthur’s muffled grunts of pain; two canes had been broken. He never bowed his head to admit his mistake. When I knocked and entered, Arthur was kneeling on the floor with his back straight. He glanced at me coldly. As if speaking for me to hear, he opened his thin lips. “I won’t marry Sera, not even if I die. “If you force me to marry her again, I’ll have a bunch of illegitimate children outside for her to raise.” Arthur’s grandfather glared, raising the spare cane beside him high. “How is Sera inferior to those women outside? What exactly do you dislike about her?” Arthur turned his head, his indifferent gaze falling on me. Just one look made my blood run cold. Years of companionship hadn’t stirred the slightest affection in him for me. In that moment, I knew there was no possibility between us. “Grandpa, let’s cancel the engagement.” I looked up, meeting his grandfather’s heartbroken gaze, and slowly took off the jade bracelet on my wrist. “I don’t think I’m inferior to anyone else. If he doesn’t like me, someone else will.” At my insistence, we exchanged back our engagement tokens. This engagement, which had lasted for over a decade, finally ceased to be the bond between us, just as he wished. Arthur struggled to get up from the floor, a flicker of emotion in his eyes as he looked at me. He didn’t expect me to give him up so readily. “Sera, can you really resist pestering me?” I nodded. Arthur’s gaze lingered on me, seemingly still unconvinced by my promise. I gave a bitter smile. “Arthur, I won’t like you anymore.” The man’s eyelashes trembled, and after a moment of silence. He gave a soft “Hmm.” When the middle-aged woman came in holding the crying child, Arthur didn’t even glance at the baby. He stepped forward, leaving us no way out, and touched my hair with extreme gentleness. “Sera, no matter who you like in the future, Arthur will help you get him.” That day, I didn’t respond. Because starting today, I had completely kicked him out of my world. 4 The day I moved out of the Sterling estate, I didn’t take anything related to Arthur. I declined his grandfather’s repeated requests to stay. Carrying only a suitcase, I left the Sterling home where I had lived for over a decade. But just as I reached the door, a girl ran towards me, blocking my way. The moment the girl looked up, I recognized her instantly. She was the woman who had been with Arthur the longest, and the biological mother of his son. The girl recognized me too. She bit her lip tightly, helpless tears falling before me. “Ms. Vance, please don’t take my child.” The girl took a deep breath, putting on a pained expression. “I know you don’t like me staying by Arthur’s side. As long as you return the child to me. “I can… leave him.” My heart suddenly ached. All these years chasing after Arthur, in their eyes, I was just a vicious fiancée who relentlessly clung to him and used every trick in the book. I laughed self-deprecatingly and was about to speak. Arthur got out of the car. “Don’t worry, no one can take our child.” With his long legs, the man reached the girl in a few strides. The girl seemed to have found her anchor. She leaned weakly against Arthur, tears streaming down her face. Arthur wrapped his arm around the girl’s waist and looked at me warningly. “Sera, don’t forget your promise.” I gestured to the suitcase in my hand. “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten.” Arthur’s gaze swept over, and when he saw the suitcase in my hand. His face suddenly grew colder. “Hmph, leaving the Sterling house right after breaking the engagement, outsiders will think our family went bankrupt and can’t afford to keep you. “Sera, I won’t allow you to leave.” 5 My grip on the suitcase tightened slightly, meeting Arthur’s icy stare. “Without the engagement, if I stay any longer, people will really start talking.” With that, I tried to walk down the steps. But Arthur grabbed my arm tightly. “I said, I won’t allow you to leave.” In my memory, this was the first time Arthur had lost his temper with me. For someone he cared so little about, even a glance from him was a luxury. But now, I suddenly found this man incomprehensible. Regardless of what he said, I couldn’t possibly stay. I forcefully pulled his large hand off my arm and looked at the girl behind him, who had stopped crying. “Ms. Shen is still here, Arthur, you should be mindful of boundaries. “When you marry Ms. Shen in the future, it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to be here.” Arthur was truly angry now. He shoved the suitcase beside me backward, and it instantly clattered down the steps. His face was taut, his eyes dark, staring at me for a long time. Suddenly, he laughed. “Right, I forgot. Xinran and my son are moving in today. It would indeed be inconvenient if you stayed. “Your room can perfectly serve as my son’s nursery. Even if you didn’t want to leave today, I would have made you. Sera, get out!” After he finished, Arthur didn’t spare me another glance. Holding the hand of a secretly delighted Shen Xinran, he went inside without looking back. The heavy door slammed shut with a bang. I stood outside, picking up the suitcase with a broken corner. I didn’t feel much sadness. Instead, I felt a sense of relief. Relief that after seven years of loving Arthur, I finally stopped. That day, I straightened my back and left, firm and resolute.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391557”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel