Three years ago, for the sake of my fiancé Jason Grayson’s bright future, I willingly took the blame for a hit-and-run and went to prison. On the day I was sentenced, he sobbed uncontrollably through the iron bars, swearing that when I got out, he would give me the most magnificent wedding and lay everything he had at my feet. Three years later, I was released early for good behavior. I was overjoyed, wanting to surprise him—only to see on the city’s largest LED screen that he was hosting a live stream with millions of viewers. In the stream, he was tenderly pushing a wheelchair carrying my “sickly” younger sister, Amy Lowe, announcing their engagement to the whole world. I let out a cold laugh, hailed a taxi, and headed straight for that glittering live event. 0″Let’s give a round of applause to Mr. Jason Grayson and Ms. Amy Lowe! Mr. Grayson’s devotion to Ms. Lowe is truly a model of modern romance!” The host’s passionate voice traveled clearly through the heavy doors of the hotel ballroom. I stood outside, glancing down at my faded old clothes, then at the dazzling light spilling through the crack in the door. A bitter, ironic smile tugged at my lips. I pushed open the heavy doors. Before me was a scene of suffocating luxury. Streaming equipment from top influencers was set up all over the venue, with countless cameras aimed at the center of the stage. Jason Grayson stood there in a tailored suit, tall and handsome, wearing that gentle smile I once knew so well. He leaned slightly forward, his hands on the handles of a wheelchair. In it sat my sister Amy, dressed in a pure white gown, her delicate makeup designed to look fragile and ill. “Jason, thank you for taking care of me all these years,” Amy said, her eyes reddening, her voice so frail it seemed a gust of wind could knock her over. “If it weren’t for you, I might not have made it. My sister… if she knew how happy we are now, I’m sure she’d be happy for us too.” “Don’t mention her. Today is our day.” A flicker of barely concealed disgust passed through Jason’s eyes, then he gently slid a diamond ring the size of a pigeon egg onto Amy’s finger. “Amy, I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for all the suffering you’ve endured.” On the big screen, comments scrolled wildly. The whole internet was weeping over this perfect, fairy-tale romance. I took a deep breath and stepped forward, walking into that light that didn’t belong to me. The click of my heels echoed across the marble floor. At first, no one noticed this uninvited guest. Not until I reached the edge of the stage and, from a stunned crew member, took a spare microphone. Screech— A sharp feedback screech cut through the room, drowning out the soft background music. Dead silence. Every camera, every pair of eyes, locked onto me at once. Jason and Amy’s smiles froze on their faces, as if struck by lightning. The color drained from them, leaving them pale as paper. “Mr. Grayson, Ms. Lowe. Quite the performance.” I gripped the microphone, stepped up onto the stage, and walked right up to them, my eyes cutting into Jason’s hypocritical face like knives. “Anyone would think I’d died in there.” “Amanda?! How… how are you out?!” Jason was the first to react. He instinctively shielded Amy behind him, his handsome face twisting with fear and rage. “Security! Where the hell is security?! Get this crazy woman out of here! Cut the stream! Now!” I watched the panic in his eyes, and it felt incredibly satisfying. Crazy woman? Yeah, in their eyes, I went to prison for him, and seeing this, I was supposed to throw a tantrum like a hysterical mess. But I wouldn’t. I turned to the camera, flashing a brilliant smile, my voice steady and clear: “Hello, everyone watching online, and all the media friends here. My name is Amanda Lowe. I’m the former girlfriend of this deeply devoted Mr. Jason Grayson. And I’m also the ex-convict who took the blame for his hit-and-run three years ago—and was just released from prison.” The ballroom erupted like a bomb had gone off. “Oh my god! She took the blame?!” “What did she just say? Jason Grayson was the one who did the hit-and-run?!” “This is huge! Record it! Hurry!” The security guards froze, unsure what to do. “Sis…” Amy finally snapped out of it. She struggled to stand halfway from her wheelchair, then collapsed back into it weakly, tears streaming down her face like broken beads. “Sis, please don’t say that! I know you hate me for taking Jason, but… but you were the one driving that night! Don’t destroy everything Jason has built just because you’re jealous!” She looked so pitiful, sobbing like that, that it stirred a protective instinct in many of the onlookers. My mother, Karen Shaw, rushed out from somewhere, grabbing my arm with nails digging into my flesh. Through gritted teeth, she hissed at me: “You ungrateful child! You had to show up now of all times?! Your sister is sick—she can’t handle this stress! Are you trying to kill her? Get out of here right now!” I turned to look at my biological mother. Her eyes held only tenderness for her younger daughter—and disgust for her elder one. I yanked my arm free, so hard she stumbled back several steps. “Don’t touch me. You make me sick.” I looked at her coldly, then turned back to Jason, raising the mic to my lips, mimicking the tone he’d used with me three years ago in that visitation room: “Jason, what are you so nervous about? Three years ago, you said to me through that glass—’Amanda, trust me, wait for me.’ So now I’m waiting. And what do I find? You using the money from selling my freedom to marry my sister?” Jason’s body went rigid. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “Amanda, what the hell do you want?!” he hissed, voice low enough for only the three of us to hear. “Is it money? I’ll give it to you! Ten million—is that enough? Take it and get out of the country. Forever.” “Ten million?” I laughed, the sound carrying through the microphone. “Grayson, do you think three years of my life—and an innocent person’s life—is worth ten million?” I stepped back, facing the flashing cameras, and dropped the biggest bomb of the night: “Since my sister says I’m jealous, as her older sister, I should give her an engagement gift. Here it is—the original footage from the dashcam from that accident three years ago, the one you two tried so hard to destroy. Jason, guess what’s on it?” Jason’s pupils shrank. He looked like he’d been plunged into freezing water. The bomb had detonated. I didn’t give them a chance to respond. I tossed the microphone to the floor with a harsh thud. And with everyone’s shocked, curious, and frantic eyes on me, I straightened my back, walked out of the ballroom like a victorious queen, and never looked back. Behind me was utter chaos—and Jason’s furious roar. 0
The night air hit me as soon as I stepped out of the hotel. Only then did I realize my back was soaked through. The rush of revenge faded like the tide, replaced by a deep exhaustion and wariness. I knew that once my words spread online, Jason would come after me like a rabid dog. I had to disappear. Now. I hurried into a dead-end alley with no cameras and was about to pull out my SIM card when my phone screen lit up. A text from an unknown number. Just one line: “The dashcam footage you mentioned—is it the original copy?” My heart sank. My blood ran cold. The only people who knew about that dashcam, aside from me and Jason, were a few of his trusted people from back then. Jason wouldn’t text me like this—he’d just send men to grab me. So who was this? They were in the shadows. I was in the open. Not only did they know I had leverage, but they were even questioning whether I’d been bluffing on that live stream. The word “original” hit me right where it hurt. I didn’t reply. I shut off the phone, yanked out the SIM card, snapped it in half, and flushed it down a sewer grate. I couldn’t go home—that place belongs to Karen and Amy now. I didn’t reach out to any old friends either. I knew Jason’s methods too well. I couldn’t drag anyone else into this. With the little cash I had left, I found a small motel on the outskirts that didn’t require ID, then bought a cheap burner phone and an untraceable prepaid SIM from a used electronics shop. By the time I was done, it was late at night. The room was small and damp, smelling of mold. I sat on the stiff mattress and stared at the neon lights blinking outside the window, my eyes cold and empty. Less than half an hour after I turned on the new phone, it rang. I looked at the unknown number flashing on the screen, let out a cold laugh, and answered. “Amanda, where the hell are you hiding?!” Jason’s voice on the other end was hoarse and distorted with rage and fear. He had already tracked down my new number that fast. I clearly underestimated his reach in this city. “Mr. Grayson, in such a hurry to find me—are you inviting me to your wedding?” I leaned against the wall, my tone light as if we were talking about the weather. “Cut the crap!” Jason was breathing heavily. “Let’s talk. Name your price. How much do you want for the footage? Houses, cars, cash—just name it. But don’t make me do this the hard way. You know what I’m capable of.” “The hard way?” I scoffed. “Like what you did to my brakes three years ago?” Silence. Dead silence on the other end. “Listen to me, Jason.” I dropped the smile, my voice cold as a blade dipped in ice. “Three years ago, you tricked me into taking the fall, promising to take care of my mom and sister. Now, I want the penthouse downtown—the one worth eighty million. By noon tomorrow, I want to see the deed transferred to my name. One dollar short, one minute late, and you’ll be dealing with the police.” “Eighty million?! Amanda, you’re insane! That’s extortion!” Jason completely lost it. With his company’s current cash flow, pulling out eighty million in a single day would be like ripping out his spine.. That was exactly what I wanted—to make him hurt, to make him panic, to make him lose his cool. “Then don’t pay. We’ll see each other in court.” Without another word, I hung up and blocked the number. I could picture him smashing up his office in helpless rage. But this was far from over. I put down the phone. The mysterious text message came back to mind. Then my phone buzzed again. Same unknown number. This time, they were calling. I took a deep breath and answered. “Miss Amanda Lowe, hello.” A low, raspy male voice came through—weary, but sharp. “I’m Leo Meyers. My father was the truck driver killed in that accident three years ago. I think we need to meet.” My eyes went wide. Leo Meyers. The boy who’d stared at me in that courtroom with bloodshot eyes, wanting to tear me apart. 0
Leo’s words hit me like lightning, cutting through the fog. If it was him, it all made sense. He had every motive to investigate the truth, and every reason to hate Jason to the core. “When and where,” I asked with no hesitation. “Tomorrow, 8 a.m. The abandoned auto shop garage south of the city.” I couldn’t sleep all night after I hung up. The next morning, I arrived at that desolate, rusting garage on the south side. The air stank of oil and rust. Leo stepped out from behind a beat-up van. Three years had aged him—stubble, weary lines—but his eyes were as sharp as a hawk’s. He looked at me, his gaze complicated—hatred, yes, but also a trace of curiosity. “Ms. Lowe. Brave of you to come alone,” he said flatly. “You reached out to me. That means you’ve found something. My enemy’s enemy is my friend. Why wouldn’t I come?” I held his gaze without flinching. Leo paused, then pulled a thick stack of papers from his worn backpack and tossed them onto a rusted oil drum. “See for yourself.” I stepped forward and opened the files. After just a few pages, my hands began to tremble uncontrollably. Financial statements. Money trails. A few shady double contracts. “My dad wasn’t just a truck driver,” Leo’s voice echoed through the empty garage, heavy with suppressed rage. “He was an early logistics contractor for Jason’s company. He stumbled onto evidence that Jason was using shell companies to launder money—massive commercial fraud. My dad was an honest man. He was going to report it. And on his way to the police station—that ‘accident’ happened.” My mind went blank. Commercial fraud? Money laundering? Murder?! I stared at those documents. The cold numbers and signatures slithered like vipers. So that wasn’t just a hit-and-run. Jason wasn’t just afraid of jail—he was covering up a premeditated murder. And I, like a complete fool, had taken the fall and even felt grateful to him. A wave of nausea and dread shot up from my feet. “Jason cleaned up the scene well. Cameras were broken and no witnesses,” Leo continued, his voice cracking, eyes bloodshot. “You took the blame. He played the victim’s family and gave me a settlement check like he was being generous. Amanda, do you realize you helped a killer escape justice?” “I didn’t know…” I whispered, my nails digging into my palms so hard they drew blood. “I really didn’t know…” “Now you do.” Leo took a breath, steadying himself. “I’ve been digging for three years. These documents prove financial crimes, but they’re not enough for a murder conviction. But your dashcam footage can change that. If it proves he was driving, proves he hit my father on purpose—then he’s done for.” I looked at Leo, the same fire igniting in my eyes. “Okay. I’ll work with you.” I said each word deliberately. “We’ll make him pay.” After I left Leo, I didn’t go back to the motel. My prison-honed instincts told me I was being followed. I deliberately took a winding route through a residential area, and sure enough, spotted two shady men in black trailing me. Jason was faster than I’d expected. Using my knowledge of the area, I lost them and immediately contacted Leo. He picked me up and took me to a basement apartment he’d rented on the outskirts. “You’re safe here for now.” Leo handed me a bottle of water. “What’s your next move?” I turned on my phone. Online, the tide of public opinion had already flipped completely. Jason’s PR team had moved fast. They’d not only buried the buzz from my live stream, but they’d turned it against me. The top trending post was a video of Amy crying in a hospital bed. Pale and fragile, she said: “My sister was under a lot of stress in prison, her mental health has been unstable. She just loves Jason too much. I don’t blame her—I just hope she gets the help she needs…” Then came my mother Karen’s interview. She wept on camera: “My eldest daughter has always been extreme and violent. I failed to raise her right. I’m so sorry she did this to her sister and brother-in-law…” They’d painted me as a lovesick, mentally unstable lunatic. The comments poured in—thousands of people cursing me. Someone even doxxed me, vowing to take matters into their own hands. “Those animals!” Leo slammed the table. I stared at my mother’s hypocritical face on the screen, and felt nothing. Shockingly calm. When you’re past the point of caring, nothing hurts anymore. “Let them talk.” I turned off my phone, a cold smile curling at my lips. “The higher they climb, the harder they fall. Leo, I need a micro camera and a drone. Tomorrow, I’m sending Jason a special gift.” I used the burner number to text Jason: “Tomorrow 3 p.m. Abandoned chemical plant, west side. Bring five million in cash. Come alone. Otherwise, the dashcam footage goes to every police department in the city.” 0
The abandoned chemical plant on the west side was overgrown and crumbling. I arrived at 2 p.m. I hid the micro camera on a rusted iron shelf on the second floor, with a clear view of the entire open area below. Leo was parked in a car a few miles away, piloting the drone as it circled above the plant, monitoring every movement in the area in real time. So we have a Plan B stand by. At exactly 3 p.m., a black Maybach pulled up in a cloud of dust. The door opened and Jason Grayson stepped out, carrying a silver briefcase. He wore a black trench coat, his eyes dark and predatory. I stood in the shadows on the second floor, watching him coldly. “Amanda! I’m here! Get out here!” His voice echoed through the empty building. I walked down the rusted iron stairs, step by step. The clang of my heels on the metal was sharp and unnerving in the silence. “Mr. Grayson, punctual as always.” I stopped about fifteen feet away. Jason’s eyes were fixed on me, burning with murderous intent. He threw the briefcase on the ground—thud—and flipped it open. Stacks of cash. “Five million. Every dollar.” He ground out the words. “Now give me the footage. Take the money and disappear.” I stared at that suitcase of cash and suddenly started laughing, so hard tears nearly came. “Five million? Jason, are you tipping a waitress?” I stopped laughing, my eyes cutting like blades. “All that money you laundered through shell companies, the life you took to cover it up—that’s worth five million to you?” Jason’s face went pale, his pupils contracting. “What… what the hell are you talking about!” “Am I talking nonsense? Was Leo’s father’s death really an accident?” I stepped closer. “You were afraid he’d report you, so you ran him down on purpose. Then you used my feelings for you to make me take the blame. Jason, you’re a monster.” “Shut up!” Jason, cornered, finally dropped all pretense. He raised his hand and four burly men with iron pipes rushed in from outside, surrounding me. “Amanda, you had your chance! Did you really think I’d come alone?” Jason’s face twisted into a manic grin. “Since you know too much, go keep that dead truck driver company! Beat her—leave her breathing, and find that footage!” The four men closed in. Then, at that exact moment, the factory doors were shoved open again. “Stop! Jason, no!” Amy was in her wheelchair, pushed by my mother Karen, both of them rushing in with panic written all over their faces. “Amy? Mom? What are you two doing here?!” Jason froze. Amy threw herself at Jason, gripping his arm desperately: “Jason, you can’t kill anyone! My sister just made a mistake—please let her go!” Karen rushed forward too, jabbing her finger in my face. “You jinx! Are you really going to drag this whole family down with you?! Just give him what he wants and walk away! If you want to destroy yourself, don’t you dare take us with you!” I stared at the scene unfolding in front of me and felt nothing but a hollow, bitter amusement. How did they know to come here? The answer was obvious — either Amy had been following Jason, or Jason had brought them here on purpose. Amy was putting on a show. In front of Jason, she played the role of the gentle, caring angel. But underneath it all, she couldn’t wait to see me gone. And my mother — she had always been Amy’s most loyal accomplice. “Family?” I laughed coldly and stepped back. From my pocket, I pulled out a black USB drive and held it high. All eyes locked onto that tiny device. Jason’s eyes lit up with greed. “You want it?” I looked at them, a wild smile on my lips. “Amanda, don’t do anything stupid! Give it to me!” Jason lunged forward. “Stay back!” I shouted. Then, in front of all of them, I smashed that USB drive onto the ground. Crack! The USB drive exploded into pieces. I lifted my foot and ground every last fragment into dust with my stiletto heel. Dead silence fell over the room. Jason froze. Amy froze. Karen froze. A few seconds passed, Jason burst into manic laughter: “Hahaha! Amanda, you stupid bitch! You just destroyed your only evidence! Now what are you going to threaten me with?!” He raised his hand and barked at his men: “Grab her! I’ll make her wish she was dead!” I watched his smug, ugly face, completely calm. And then I gave him a look of pure pity. “Jason, do you really think three years in prison rotted my brain?” I smiled, speaking slowly and clearly: “Did you really think I’d carry the original on me? It was a throwaway drive with a couple of pop songs on it.” Jason’s laughter died in his throat. His face went rigid. “Ten minutes ago, the real dashcam footage—along with all the evidence of your financial crimes—was personally handed over to the detectives at the Economic Crimes Division and the Criminal Investigation Division by my partner.”
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “433932”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster
Leave a Reply