“Six days. Don’t you think your mom’s visit has, you know, run its course?” My husband, Adam, put his fork down with a deliberate clatter that nearly sent it skittering across the table. My mother, Elaine, sitting next to me, visibly flinched. Her face went white. She left the next morning. Clutching the bag of fruit I had insisted she take, her shoulders slightly stooped, she looked back at me just before the security checkpoint at the train station. I didn’t have the courage to meet her eyes. Three days later, Adam came up to me, a casual, friendly smile on his face. “My mom, Joyce, is coming to stay for a while next week. Can you clean up the guest room?” His tone was as light as if he were discussing what we should have for dinner. I looked at his face and a slow, quiet smile spread across mine. “Sure.” “This time,” I said, “I’ll make sure she’s properly hosted.” 1. I had practically forced my mother to come. It had only been three months since her gallbladder surgery. My father had passed years ago, and my brother, Sam, worked in construction a thousand miles away, only coming home once a year. She was alone in the cramped old house, the kitchen sink leaked, and the only bathroom was outside in the yard. I told Adam, “I want my mom to stay for a few days. She needs a place to rest and recover.” Adam was staring at his phone and didn’t look up. “Fine. Whatever you think is best.” The day Mom arrived, Adam came home from work, saw a different person sitting on our sofa, and paused. “Elaine’s here, then.” He called her Elaine. Five years of marriage, and he had never once called her “Mom.” “She just had surgery, Adam. I want her to recuperate here for a bit,” I explained. “Uh-huh.” Adam slipped off his loafers, went into the bedroom, and closed the door. That first night, I cooked four of her favorite dishes. Mom ate one small bowl of smash potato and kept saying, “This is enough, honey, you shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.” Adam finished his plate, pushed it forward. “I’m going to my study. Working late.” He didn’t say a single word to my mother. The next morning, Mom was up before five. When I woke up, the living room had been meticulously cleaned. “Go on to work, sweetie,” she said. “I’ll take care of things here.” When I got back that evening, dinner was ready. A pot roast, some scalloped potatoes, and steamed asparagus. Adam tasted the roast. He frowned. “Bit salty.” Mom rushed over. “Oh, I can take it back and adjust the seasoning.” I put my hand on her arm. “No, Mom, it’s fine. It’s delicious.” Adam didn’t reply. He ate a couple more bites and then retreated to his study. On the third day, Mom mentioned she wanted to walk to the supermarket. I Venmo’d her fifty dollars and told her to pick up anything she wanted. She came back that evening with a bag of groceries and a container of gourmet deli turkey that Adam loved. “I saw that Adam likes this kind of meat,” Mom said, smiling. “I made sure to get a good brand.” Adam came home late that night. At dinner, he glanced at the turkey, but didn’t touch it. “Where did you get that? The color seems off.” “From the market,” Mom said, a flicker of tension in her voice. “Is it not fresh?” “You buy prepared meats from the local supermarket?” Adam put his fork down. “Full of preservatives, I bet.” My mother’s hand froze. She barely ate anything else that evening. When I went to the kitchen to load the dishwasher, she followed me, her voice a whisper. “Sweetie, should I not have bought that meat?” A sudden, sharp ache hit my chest. “Mom, please don’t think about it. That’s just how he is.” On the fourth day, Adam began breaking things. Not intentionally, of course. Always by “accident.” In the morning, he “accidentally” slammed the bathroom door shut so hard the shower curtain rod rattled. In the evening, he “accidentally” let the remote slip and hit the glass coffee table with a thud. Mom sat on the sofa through all of it, gradually turning the TV volume lower and lower until she finally switched it off. “Honey, do you have a mop? I can tidy up a bit.” “Mom, you don’t need to. Please rest.” “I’m just sitting here anyway.” As she was wiping the floor, Adam came out of the bedroom, looked at her for a moment, said nothing, and went back inside. On the fifth day, I came home from work and found my mother’s small suitcase by the door. “Mom, what are you doing?” “Sweetie, I’m leaving tomorrow.” She was smiling, but her eyes were red-rimmed. “I’ve rested enough. I miss my own place.” “You’ve only been here a few days!” “Six days,” she said, patting my hand. “That’s long enough.” That night, Adam actually stayed in the living room and watched TV instead of retreating to his study. Mom brought out a plate of sliced fruit and placed it carefully in front of him. “Adam, have some fruit.” He grunted in acknowledgment, but didn’t reach for it. Mom then said, “I’ll be leaving tomorrow. I hope I haven’t inconvenienced you too much these past few days.” Adam finally looked up. “Elaine, you’re fine. Don’t worry about it.” Then he looked back down and continued watching his show. My mother stood there for a few silent seconds, then turned and went to the guest room. Later that night, I heard her turning and tossing. She didn’t sleep a wink. On the sixth morning, she was gone. I drove her to the station. She carried the fruit and the vitamins I’d forced on her, her back slightly bowed, saying over and over, “Too much, too much, I can’t carry it all.” At the entrance, she turned back one last time. “Go home now, sweetie. You need to focus on your life.” I nodded, unable to speak. Because if I opened my mouth, I knew I would start to cry. 2. Three days after my mom left, Adam told me his mother was coming. “My mom, Joyce, is coming to stay for a while next week. Can you clean up the guest room?” I was doing the dishes, and my hand stilled under the running water. “For a while? How long is ‘a while’?” “No set time,” Adam said from the living room, still looking at his phone. “Maybe a month or two. Her back’s been bothering her, and she wants you to look after her.” A month or two. My mother stayed six days, and Adam wore a dark cloud of resentment the whole time. His mother was coming for two months, and he spoke of it casually. “Fine,” I said, turning off the faucet. “I’ll get it ready.” The next few days were a master class in “preparation.” Adam took a half-day off work and went to IKEA for a brand-new bed set. Organic cotton, four hundred bucks. When my mother stayed, she slept on the old, faded sheets we’d used when we first got married. Adam told me to replace the guest room curtains because Joyce was sensitive to light. When my mother stayed, the curtains were the original flimsy sheers; the sun woke her at six every morning. Adam bought a case of his mother’s favorite specialty organic milk and a box of expensive health bars. “My mom has low energy. You need to make sure she has one of these every morning.” When my mother left, I gave her two bottles of vitamins—which I had bought with my own money, not a penny of Adam’s. The day Joyce arrived, Adam drove to the station to pick her up himself. When my mother arrived, I went alone. Adam said, “Work conflict.” When Joyce walked in, Adam was a different person—fawning, solicitous. “Mom, are you tired? Sit down and rest.” “Mom, are you thirsty? Have some water.” “Mom, what do you want for dinner tonight? Maya will cook it.” Maya is me. I stood there, watching Adam hover, and a strange, cold humor bubbled up. When my mother was here, he couldn’t even manage a genuine “Elaine.” When his mother arrived, he shouted “Mom” loud enough to shake the walls. Joyce surveyed the living room, then turned her gaze to me. “Maya, is the guest room ready?” “Yes, Mom.” “The sheets are new, right? My skin is very sensitive; I can’t sleep on old linens.” “They’re brand new. Changed them today.” “Good.” Joyce nodded. “Alright. I’m going to lie down.” She went into the guest room and closed the door. Adam turned to me, smiling. “She had a long trip. Can you make sure you work a little harder these next few weeks?” “I know.” “Also, she likes bland food. Go easy on the salt.” “I know.” “And her back hurts, so don’t let her lift a finger.” “I know.” “What’s with the attitude?” Adam’s smile faltered. “My mom is here to help us, Maya. Why do you look so unhappy?” I looked at him. “Your mother is here to help us?” “Yes. You’ll be more relaxed with her here.” “Did you ever say, ‘My mother-in-law is here to help us,’ when my mom stayed those few days?” Adam froze. His face changed. “Why are you bringing that up now?” “I’m not bringing it up.” I placed the dishcloth on the counter. “I’m asking you a single question.” “My mother stayed six days, and you were sullen, dropping things, refusing to say a kind word. Your mother is coming for two months, and you’re telling me to ‘work a little harder,’ ‘go easy on the salt,’ and ‘don’t let her lift a finger.’” “Why?” Adam was silent for a few seconds. “Your mother has somewhere to live, Maya. What was she even doing here?” The sentence felt like a direct slap across my face. I stared at him, and then I laughed—a short, sharp burst of air. “You know what?” “You’re right.” 3. On the third day of Joyce’s visit, I took out the ledger from the back of my cabinet. It was a notebook I’d started keeping right after our wedding. It wasn’t for tracking household expenses. It was for tracking the money given to our respective parents. Adam didn’t know I had it. He thought I was “easygoing” and didn’t care about money. I wasn’t. But every time I tried to mention money, he’d say, “Why are you so petty?” So I stopped mentioning it. I just tracked it silently. The first page dated back five years. First month of marriage: Joyce’s birthday. Adam sent her a $2,000 cash gift and bought her a gold necklace for $3,800. My mother’s birthday: Adam said, “You handle it.” I bought her a skincare set for $80. Third month of marriage: Joyce visited for the first time. She stayed a month and a half. During that time, our household spending doubled because Joyce insisted on organic, grass-fed meat and expensive imported fruit. Adam paid the bills with our joint card. I tallied it up: an extra $12,000 in expenses. Sixth month of marriage: My mother had her gallbladder surgery. I wanted her to stay with us, but Adam said, “The apartment is too small. You go home and take care of her.” I took two weeks of vacation and went back to my hometown. Hospital bills, home care, and supplements cost $8,000. How much did Adam contribute? $0. He said, “Your brother, Sam, should cover that. He’s her son.” Sam was working minimum wage in a different state. I didn’t argue. I paid for it all myself. I turned to the third page. First year of marriage: Joyce said her house had a minor roof leak. Adam wired her $10,000 for repairs. My mother said her kitchen sink was leaking. Adam said, “Just patch it up. It’s fine.” Second year of marriage: Adam’s father was hospitalized. Adam flew home for a week and transferred another $15,000. When my father passed away, Adam took three days off. On the third day, he said, “Work emergency,” and left early. I paid for the funeral expenses myself. Third year of marriage: Joyce mentioned wanting to travel. Adam immediately booked her an all-inclusive Caribbean cruise. Cost: $8,000. My mother said she wanted to visit me and see the monuments in D.C. Adam said, “Too crowded, too much hassle, not worth it.” She never came. The ledger grew thicker. Five years of dense, meticulously recorded numbers. I added them up, line by line. Money given to Joyce/Adam’s father (from joint account): $185,000. Money given to my mother (from joint account): $0. It wasn’t that I didn’t give her money. It was that every time I brought it up, Adam would say, “What about Sam? Shouldn’t he pay for that?” So I always gave her money secretly, using my own salary, my own personal savings. Those payments weren’t in this ledger. The $185,000 was from “family expenses”—our shared money. $185,000. In five years, $185,000 of our combined earnings went to his side of the family. To my mother? Zero. I stared at the number for a long time. Joyce’s voice drifted in from the living room. “Maya, my tea’s cold. Can you brew me a fresh cup?” I closed the ledger and put it back in the cabinet. “Coming, Mom.” 4. On the fifth day of Joyce’s visit, Adam came home from work and found me calculating the numbers again.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389950”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The fake heiress, Veronica, was a mess of tears and mascara on the day I officially came back to the manor. Her drama queen moment? Mom and Dad were forcing her to marry Gideon Kessler—the notorious, ill-tempered playboy of the city’s elite, who also happened to be confined to a wheelchair. My mother, Elaine Ashton, glanced at my own rough hands, the skin calloused and scarred from years of manual labor, and let out a cold, dismissive laugh. “Since you’ve decided to show up, Maisie, you can take the contract. It’s not like you’ve seen the inside of a decent restaurant, let alone the world. You’ll be lucky to have it.” Veronica sat beside her, barely concealing a smirk, waiting for me to throw a fit, to beg, to refuse. Instead, I simply took a calm sip of the cheap coffee I’d been given and asked in my unpolished, direct way: “What’s the actual money we’re talkin’ here? Is the dowry stock options or cold, hard cash? And does the monthly allowance come on time?” The entire family froze. My mother, visibly stunned, stammered that the monthly allowance would be two million. I couldn’t help it—I laughed out loud, slapping my thigh. “Two million a month? You serious? Shoot, give me the money, and he can have the temper of a psycho. If he’s rich enough to pay, I’ll sponge-bathe him, flip him like a pancake, and tuck him in until he kicks the bucket!” “Where I come from, survival is the only virtue. What’s a little hardship, huh? Piece of cake!” My grand declaration landed with a thud. My birth mother stared at me as if I were a lunatic, before finally digging into her Birkin bag and tossing a bank card onto the coffee table. “Here’s a million. Your severance, so to speak. You’re the elder, but this marriage was always… well, never mind. Once you’re married, stay gone. Don’t come back and embarrass Veronica.” My hand shot out, pressing down on the card before it could slide off the polished wood. One million dollars. Back home in the country, my step-parents were ready to sell me to the village simpleton for a five-thousand-dollar bride price. To pay for my little brother’s school fees, I’d prick my hands bloody clipping thousands of threads a day at the factory just to earn fifty bucks. Now, I get a monthly salary and a one-million-dollar bonus just to play nursemaid to a rich cripple? This wasn’t a punishment. This was the lottery. “What’s the PIN?” I pulled out my beat-up phone—the screen spiderwebbed with cracks—and opened my notepad to write it down. Veronica, sitting primly across from me, covered her mouth, a sneer flashing in her eyes. “Sister, you’re just… going to check your dignity at the door? That’s the Kesslers. It’s a literal death trap. You might get the money, but you’ll never live to spend it.” I didn’t even lift my head. I jotted down the password, then carefully slipped the card into my inner pocket, patting it securely. Then I looked up. “Dignity, little sister? How much is that going for a pound these days? Does it buy dinner?” “Back home, I spent winters hauling a hundred-pound sack of feed to the pigs, with my little brother strapped to my back. If I was a minute late, I got hit. Now all I have to do is look after one guy for two million? Only an idiot like you would call this a death trap.” Veronica rolled her eyes, deciding I was clearly a lost cause, a peasant too poor to be reasoned with. My father, Robert Ashton, waved his hand dismissively from the head of the table. “Fine. Since you have no objections, pack your things and go. The Kessler car is waiting outside.” “You got it, Boss… I mean, Dad.” I agreed instantly, turned, and walked back to the cramped guest room where I’d left my belongings. I came out carrying one thing: a battered, bright red-and-blue utility tote. It held my entire life: two sets of faded clothes, a pack of my frozen pasta, and a few bottles of medical muscle rub. When I reached the front door carrying that ratty bag, Elaine’s face went pale green. “You’re going to show up at the Kesslers with that? Are you trying to make the Ashton name a joke in this city?” I looked down at the sturdy, synthetic canvas. “It’s durable. It holds a lot and it’s waterproof. We always used this kind for travel.” “Just go! Get out!” Elaine shooed me away, unable to look at me a moment longer. I shrugged, unbothered, and climbed into the stretch limo sent by the Kesslers. As the door closed, I looked through the tinted window. The three of them were huddled together: Veronica clinging to Elaine’s arm, whining, and Elaine stroking her hair. A perfect, intimate family tableau. I touched the bank card in my pocket, and a genuine, private smile stretched my face. If they knew this wasn’t punishment, but a rescue, a genuine opportunity for me, I wondered if they’d be furious enough to demand that million back. The car made a smooth climb into the exclusive hillside community. The Kessler estate loomed on the hillside like a silent, black beast. It was late, and only a few dim ground lights were on. The man who’d picked me up, the butler, stopped the car. His eyes held a mixture of pity and contempt as he opened my door. “Miss Ashton,” he said, using the wrong name as a deliberate slight. “We’re here. Mr. Gideon’s temper is… challenging. Especially at night. Good luck to you.” I grabbed my utility tote and stepped out, looking up at the obscenely large house. I took a deep breath. “Show me the way,” I said, straightening my spine. My gaze was steady, as firm as a rock. “I’m clocking in.” The butler led me to a door at the end of the second-floor hallway. He dumped me with a curt, “The master doesn’t want visitors. Take care of yourself,” and vanished, as if a ghost were chasing him. I held my bag and reached for the knob. The moment my hand touched the brass, a heavy, metallic scent of medicine wafted out of the crack in the door. “Get out!” The door was barely ajar when a black shadow accompanied by a furious, primal roar flew at the opening. The years of endless farm work and factory shifts had trained my reflexes better than any boxing class. I sidestepped, and a delicate porcelain cup shattered against the doorframe. The shrapnel grazed my cheek, leaving a stinging trail. The room inside was pitch black. The legendary crippled husband was hidden in the shadows, his voice a gravelly snarl. “Are the Ashtons that desperate for cash? Sending me this?” I touched my cheek, feeling the warm bead of blood, but I wasn’t angry. I was relieved. He could still throw things. That meant he wasn’t dead. My long-term meal ticket was secure. Instead of retreating, I pushed the door open, walked in, and flipped the main light switch. The sudden glare made the man in the wheelchair throw an arm up to shield his eyes. I took him in: gaunt, too thin, with a pale face and sunken eye sockets. But nothing could hide the sharp, exquisite bone structure of his face, or the dark, bloodshot fury in his eyes. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Gideon Kessler saw my cheap clothes and the ratty utility tote and his disgust intensified. He snatched a black Amex from the bedside table and threw it. It hit my collarbone—sharp, painful—but the crisp sound it made as it hit the marble floor was music to my ears. My eyes lit up. I bent to snatch the card faster than a gambler seizing a winning hand. “Boss, what’s the PIN?” I pulled out my phone, opening my banking app. Time to verify the goods. Gideon choked on his anger, clearly not used to someone so mercenary. He gritted his teeth. “Six eights! Now get out!” I typed it in. Search. Seeing the dizzying string of zeros on the screen, my breath hitched. Hundreds, thousands, millions… Two million. It was real. Back home, I cooked, fed the livestock, washed clothes for ten people, and still had to bring piecework home from the factory—all for barely three thousand dollars a month, tops. Now, I take one hit, and I get two million? “Thank you, Boss!” I tucked the card into my inner pocket, patting it firmly, afraid it would somehow fly away. My sheer, naked greed made Gideon laugh—a weak, humorless sound. He pointed at the door. “You have the money. Can you leave now?” “Oh, no can do.” I put down my utility tote, rolled up my sleeves, and walked to the corner, where I expertly located a broom and mop. “I’ve accepted the money. And where I come from, we honor a deal. The money’s taken, the job’s getting done.” I knelt down and began to silently sweep up the shards of porcelain. The work was second nature, quick and efficient. I wasn’t kidding; this felt like a break. In the old village, I spent winters washing ten people’s clothes in the icy river, my hands covered in cracked, weeping chilblains. I endured that soul-deep, burning pain for twenty-three years. Standing here now, in an air-conditioned mansion with the thermostat set to a comfortable seventy-eight degrees, and getting paid two million to sweep a floor? What reason did I have to leave? Gideon stared at me, as if I were a madwoman. “Are you deaf, or just trying to get yourself killed?” I finished mopping the floor until it gleamed, even wiping a smudge of dirt from his wheelchair tire, before standing up. I gave him a standard, deferential smile. “I’m Maisie Shaw. And from now on, I’m your full-time everything. You can have the worst temper in the world. As long as the checks clear, you can tear the roof off the house, and I’ll stack the bricks back up for you.” “Also, that cup looked expensive. Next time you need to vent, just smash the stainless-steel thermos. It won’t break, it’s loud, and it’s way cheaper.” My “dead pig doesn’t fear boiling water” attitude seemed to completely baffle Gideon. He stared at me, then slammed his finger onto the call button on his wheelchair armrest. Ten minutes passed. The massive mansion remained utterly silent. No one came. “Do you see now?” Gideon slowly lifted his finger, a self-mocking sneer on his lips. “In this house, I’m less than a dog. Follow me, and you’ll get those numbers, but you’ll get nothing else.” I ignored his cynicism, my attention snagging on the untouched food tray on his bedside table. It was a bowl of congealed pastas, topped with sickly yellow, rotting greens. The oil had solidified into white grease. I walked over and touched the bowl. Ice cold. Hard as a rock. “You’re supposed to eat this?” I frowned. Gideon turned his head away, utterly jaded. “It’s fine. Just go. Stop playing the martyr.” I didn’t say another word. I picked up the bowl and walked out. “Where are you going?” “To file a complaint.” Carrying that bowl of slop—worse than pig feed—I marched downstairs. As I approached the kitchen door on the first floor, I heard laughter, the sharp click of cards, and the rich, pungent scent of a catered hot meal wafting out. Unbelievable. The master eats cold slop while the staff hosts a party? I kicked the kitchen door open. The three housekeepers huddled around the table, their mouths slick with grease, nearly jumped out of their skin. The head cook, Doris, saw me and snorted, spitting a grape skin. “Well, look at the new Mrs. Kessler. Hungry? There’s some leftover dishwater in the pot. You can serve yourself—” “Splat!” I didn’t wait for her to finish. I backhanded the bowl of cold pastas onto the center of the poker table. Broth splattered everywhere. A long, yellow piece of congealed vegetable clung to Doris’s cheek. The room went dead silent. “Are you crazy?!” Doris shrieked, jumping up. “You backwoods—” “I am backwoods, but I know this much: you take the money, you do the job,” I cut her off. I grabbed the heavy meat cleaver off the cutting board and brought it down hard onto the corner of the table. It sank deep into the wood. The handle still vibrated. All three faces drained of color. Doris swallowed her next insult. I yanked the cleaver out, my voice flat and cold. “I don’t care what the old rules were here. I’m here now, and the rules change.” “That man upstairs? He’s my money tree. You feed him trash, you’re trying to starve my future.” “And messing with my money… is worse than killing my family. Got it?” My eyes were hard, the reflected light off the cleaver’s blade glinting. The sheer, unrefined menace I’d learned from decades of living under the threat of violence was now fully deployed. No one spoke. Doris’s legs were shaking. “Make him a pot of rice congee, slow-cooked. The best shrimp and dried scallops you have. It needs to be upstairs in half an hour,” I tossed the cleaver back onto the board. “Do it wrong, and I’ll make you taste that cold pasta slop.” Without another glance at the three bullies, I turned and went back upstairs. Returning to the room, Gideon was in the same position. Seeing me empty-handed, his eyes were full of scorn. “Get chased off already?” I didn’t answer. I walked over, bent down, and crossed my arms beneath his armpits and under his knees. Gideon’s eyes widened. “What are you doing? Don’t touch me!” “Ah!” Following his startled shout, I inhaled, centered my weight, and—with the strength of a woman who’d spent two decades hauling pig feed and firewood—lifted him, blanket and all, off the wheelchair. “Let go of me! Maisie Shaw! I will kill you!” Gideon’s face was crimson with rage as he struggled violently in my arms.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389948”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The shove woke me at two a.m. Wesley’s voice was a frantic hiss: “Get up! Pack a bag. We have to go, now.” I was still swimming in the haze of sleep, barely grasping what was happening, but he was already stuffing random items into a duffel bag, his hands shaking. “What is it?” I mumbled, my voice thick. “The neighbors across the hall,” he gasped, pulling me toward the door. “Something happened. I heard a huge commotion. Sirens—they’re everywhere.” We fled into the night, stumbling into the nearest chain hotel, The Hampton Court Inn. Once inside, he behaved like a man escaping a battlefield, repeatedly checking the window latches and deadbolt. We didn’t sleep. Hiding in the sterile glow of the room, an unsettling feeling crept into the space between us. Something wasn’t right. His friend called the next morning. A long, chilling pause hung in the air, followed by a single sentence that stole our breath: “Only you two are left alive in the whole building.” 01 The air in the hotel room was clotted thick, like old blood. The harsh white light from the ceiling fixture beat down on Wesley Shaw’s face, which was etched with terror and the aftershock of what he thought we’d escaped. He paced the room like a caged animal, muttering the same phrases over and over. “That was close, Sophia. We were this close to being caught in it.” “Thank God I heard the noise. Thank God I reacted so fast.” I huddled in the corner of the bed, my arms wrapped around my knees. My body was still trembling. Part of it was the sheer horror of the “murder” he’d described, but the other part was a bizarre, chilling sense that something was fundamentally wrong. “Were there really sirens, Wesley?” I finally asked, my voice a dry croak. My mind was blank. From the moment he’d dragged me out of bed to the second we crashed into this room, the entire sequence felt like an absurd dream. I hadn’t heard a single sound. The whole apartment building had been silent as a tomb. “Of course, I heard them! Blaring down the whole street!” he insisted, his voice sharp, laced with the subtle sting of a man who feels his version of reality has been questioned. “Maybe you just sleep heavier than I do.” He came over, his voice softening, and reached out to touch my hair. I instinctively pulled away, dodging his hand. His arm froze mid-air, then he casually dropped it to his side. “Don’t be scared, I’m here.” He sat on the edge of the bed and tried to pull me into a hug. “It’s over now. We’re safe.” I didn’t resist the embrace, but my body remained rigid, unyielding. The combined smell of stale tobacco and a sharp, unfamiliar cologne hit me. My stomach lurched. Three years of marriage, and Wesley never wore cologne. “I’m thirsty,” I lied, gently pushing him away. “Oh, right. I’ll get you some water.” He was on his feet instantly, his solicitousness almost unnerving. He brought me a cup of lukewarm water and watched as I took small sips. The way he looked at me wasn’t one of care; it was a gaze of surveillance. “Sophia, hand me your phone,” he suddenly said. My hand tightened around the cup. “Why?” “We don’t know what’s going on. What if the killer hasn’t been caught? They could track us through the signal.” He explained it with a solemnity that seemed unimpeachable. “Every device is a risk. We can’t contact anyone, for absolute security.” The reason sounded watertight. Yet, the deep knot of my unease only tightened. He took my phone, powered it down, and removed the SIM card. Then he did the same with his own regular phone, locking all the evidence into the hotel’s safe. Finished, he let out a long breath, as if he had just defused a massive bomb. I was officially an information island. That entire night, the lights stayed on. Wesley barely closed his eyes, checking the locks and windows every thirty minutes, playing the role of the shell-shocked husband to perfection. I lay on the bed, my eyes closed, pretending to sleep. Around four a.m., I heard him get up. His footsteps were almost silent as he crept toward the small balcony. The curtain had a slight gap. I slowly opened my eyes and watched him reach into his pocket, pulling out a burner phone I’d never seen before. His voice was a low whisper, but in the dead stillness of the room, every syllable was a pinprick, a sliver of ice in the dark. “Relax. She bought it.” “Yeah, got both phones. Dumb as a box of rocks.” “Next step is exactly as planned.” “The money will be in my account soon.” His tone was relaxed, even smug, a stark contrast to the terrified man who had held me moments before. All the blood in my body seemed to freeze instantly. The source of the crushing dread I’d felt finally revealed itself. This entire terrifying midnight escape, from beginning to end, was nothing more than an elaborate, tailor-made ruse. And I, his wife, was the prey he was setting up for the kill. I slowly closed my eyes, forcing the rising tide of emotion back into my chest. My fingernails dug deep into my palms, leaving bloody crescent marks. 02 Late the next morning, a shrill phone call sliced through the fragile calm of the room. It was Wesley’s regular phone, the one he’d placed on the nightstand. He jumped up from the sofa, answered, and put it on speaker. “Hello? Wes, are you two okay?” It was Mitch, his friend from college. “Mitch? How did you get this number? I told you not to contact me!” Wesley’s voice was filled with a convincing mix of alertness and panic. “I…” Mitch hesitated on the other end. “Wes, you need to brace yourself. I just heard from a cop friend. Your building… The whole floor, man. Only you two made it out alive.” The line was a clap of thunder in the quiet room. I watched Wesley’s body sway, his face instantly draining of color. “What did you say?” His voice was a pathetic tremble. “Did you say… everyone… everyone is gone?” “Yeah, they’re… all gone.” Mitch’s voice sounded genuinely broken. The call ended. Wesley stood frozen, a statue with no soul. A few seconds later, he let out a guttural, earth-shaking howl. “Ahhhhhh—!” He violently hammered his fists into his chest, tears and snot smearing his face. He looked utterly destroyed by grief and terror. “It’s my fault! I should have knocked on their doors! I should have saved them!” He sobbed, collapsing in front of me and pulling me into a crushing hug, his body racked with convulsions. “Sophia, thank God! Thank God I saved you!” “Thank God we’re alive!” His performance was so raw, so utterly convincing, that for a moment, I almost doubted my own sanity—maybe the balcony conversation was just a stress-induced hallucination. I reached up, gently stroking his shuddering back, my movements soft, but my gaze was arctic cold. “It’s okay, Wesley. It’s not your fault.” My voice was steady, surprisingly so. He cried for a long time before finally calming down. He looked up at me, red-eyed, the picture of a lost, homeless dog. “Babe, we can’t go back,” he choked out. “That house—it’s a grave now. We can’t live there. It’s too terrible.” I lowered my eyes, waiting. I knew where this was going. “We have to sell the house,” he finally said. “Sell the house, leave this city, and wipe away all the painful memories. We’ll start over.” What a thoughtful suggestion. What a declaration of undying love. If I hadn’t heard that phone call last night, I would have been overwhelmingly moved and would have agreed without hesitation. After all, the apartment was my sole asset, purchased with cash before we married, and only my name was on the deed. “Okay,” I whispered, compliant as a lamb. The hunger in Wesley’s eyes was instantaneous. A flicker of raw, undisguised greed—quick enough that it was gone before most people could register it. “And listen,” he pressed his advantage. “The world is chaos right now. For safety, I need you to give me your ID, your bank cards, everything. I’ll handle the sale of the house. You just rest, okay? Don’t worry about a thing.” The shark finally breached the water. This entire elaborate charade was for one thing: the apartment in my name and the savings in my bank accounts. This man, who I had shared a bed with for three years, was a meticulous, cold-blooded executioner. And he wanted to murder my financial independence. My heart sank to the bottom of a frozen well, devoid of all warmth. “All right,” I said, looking up at him with a pale, dependent smile. “I’ll do whatever you say.” 03 “But…” I frowned slightly, displaying the perfect amount of confusion and distress. “My driver’s license… I think I left it in my desk drawer at the firm.” I saw the barely perceptible twitch in Wesley’s cheek. “Why would you leave it at the office?” His tone was laced with irritation. “I needed a copy for a client file the other day. I used it and just locked it in the drawer, meaning to bring it home the next day, and then… I forgot.” I spun the lie convincingly, my eyes wide with innocence and self-reproach. He stared at me for a few agonizing seconds, judging the truth of my words. I let him watch, keeping my gaze open, even adding a touch of the fragile, shell-shocked look I’d carefully put back on. Finally, my performance won him over. “It’s fine. I’ll drive you to the office right now to get it,” he immediately stated, his tone brooking no argument. He clearly wasn’t going to let me out of his sight. “But what about outside?” I looked at him anxiously. “It’s fine. I’ll wait downstairs. You run up, grab it, and come right back. Nothing will happen.” He patted my hand like I was a frightened child. On the drive to my office tower, he played the radio too loud, perhaps trying to chase the heavy silence from the car. I leaned against the window, watching the city blur by, my brain racing. I had one shot. The car pulled up to the curb. “I’ll be right back down,” I told him. “I’ll be here. Don’t worry.” He offered a gentle, reassuring smile. I turned and walked into the lobby. The moment he couldn’t see me, the fear and dependence vanished from my face. I practically sprinted toward the elevator. Only when the doors closed did I dare to take a deep breath. I rushed into my deserted office, locked the door, and ignored the drawer. I went straight for the desk phone. My hands were shaking, but I quickly punched in the number I knew by heart. It rang only once before a dry, professional voice answered. “Hello?” It was Harper, my best friend. “Harp, it’s me. Sophia.” My voice was thin with adrenaline. “Sophia? You’re calling from a landline? Where’s your phone?” Harper immediately sensed the distress. “No time to explain. Just listen.” I spoke at the speed of thought, condensing everything that had happened since midnight—Wesley’s performance, the sirens, the phone call on the balcony—into a few frantic sentences. A long, stunned silence fell over the line. I could hear her breathing quicken. “That bastard!” Harper’s roar nearly burst my eardrum. “It’s a set-up! The murder? A hundred percent fake. He invented it!” As a financial journalist, Harper was a bloodhound for dirt, far more acute than I was. “Sophia, hold it together. Don’t panic, and whatever you do, don’t let him know you know.” Her voice instantly became calm, a solid anchor I could cling to. “You’re still playing his wife. If he wants the ID? Give him a fake one, an expired one. Buy time.” “I’m on it now. News, police blotters, property records—I’m turning over every single stone. Wait for my call!” “Okay.” After hanging up, I leaned against the desk, utterly drained. The sun shone brightly outside, but I was ice-cold. The call with Harper was a shot of pure adrenaline, pulling me back from the brink of absolute despair. I wasn’t fighting alone. I dug into the bottom of the drawer and pulled out an old, expired state ID. I clutched it, adjusted my breathing, and put on the vulnerable, helpless mask once more.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389947”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was a useless beta, raised by my stepbrother. But I took advantage of his rut and crawled into his bed. Terrified that he would find me disgusting, I fled while he was still unconscious. Half a month passed in silence. When I came home, I found him sitting on the sofa. In his hand was a positive pregnancy test. “Who the hell did you get pregnant?” “Get over here. On your knees.” 1. Seeing my brother, Caleb, in a rage was no less terrifying than meeting the Grim Reaper himself. I trembled as I walked over to him. I knelt perfectly straight. “Read this to me. Tell me what it says.” The pregnancy test report was thrown in my face. I bit my lip, too scared to speak. “Bro…” “How old are you?” “Eighteen.” He sneered, his eyes icy. “Great. Just great. This is how I raised you.” “Eighteen years old and you’re already knocking someone up.” My heart gave a huge sigh of relief. Thank god the report didn’t have my name on it. Seeing I didn’t answer, he continued. “Who is it?” “Is it that girl, Mia, who’s been chasing you? Or Lily, who gave you chocolates?” “Or is it your best friend, that little omega, Sam?” I was surprised. I didn’t expect him to remember my pursuers better than I did. “I… I’ll handle it myself, Bro.” “Handle it how? Tell me.” I thought for a moment. My brother hated irresponsibility more than anything. He especially loathed people who dared to act but didn’t dare to face the consequences. So I said, “I’ll take responsibility for them. And then, I’ll work hard, make money, and support them…” The atmosphere froze. Caleb didn’t speak for a long time. Just as I was confused. I suddenly heard a crisp metallic click. My heart lurched. That was the sound of my brother undoing his belt. 2. My brother was actually a pretty rough guy. Cold-hearted, bad temper. But when it came to raising me, he was meticulous. Growing up, he only hit me twice. Once during my rebellious phase. I felt like he was too controlling, so I ran away from home. I stayed at an internet cafe with friends for a few days, eating instant noodles. I felt so independent, so cool. Then he dragged me home and whipped my ass with his belt until it bloomed. I was crying so hard I almost passed out, but he still yanked me up and asked, “Dare do it again?” “No, never again, Bro.” Only then did he frown and throw me onto the sofa, panting with rage. “Shawn, if anything happened to you, I would have to follow you down to hell just to apologize to your mother.” The second time was now. I was this big, yet here I was, pants down, getting spanked. My face burned with shame. I struggled, but he pressed me tighter against his thigh. My nose was filled with the scent of wild roses on him. Crack. Crack. One crisp sound after another. “Bro! Bro… stop, please stop…” “Eighteen, and you tell me you’re going to be a father.” “Didn’t I tell you a thousand times? If you don’t like someone, don’t touch them!” “No messing around outside!” “No, I didn’t.” My voice cracked as I begged him, “Bro, it hurts.” “Pain will help you remember.” Despite saying that, he threw the belt aside. Still angry, he slapped my butt with his bare hand. I shuddered all over, suddenly clamping my legs together. When he threw me onto the sofa, I stayed curled up, not getting up. He noticed something was wrong. Frowning, “Did I really hurt you?” He reached out to pull me. I quickly shook my head, curling up tighter. “No, no, I’m fine.” It was just… the scent on my brother was too good. This smell easily reminded me of that crazy night. I could barely control my reaction to him. 3. My brother told me to talk to the omega. The child couldn’t be kept. Whatever compensation was needed, we would pay. And for the abortion, my brother insisted on going to the clinic personally to supervise. “Why?” “Why? What if they take the money and secretly have the baby?” “What if they use the kid to harass you later?” “With a child involved, two people can never cleanly break ties. Do you understand, Shawn?” He was so serious when he said this that I couldn’t argue. I was even more troubled inside. My brother wanted to supervise personally. How was I going to cover this up? I went to my best friend, Sam, to discuss it. He didn’t have any good ideas either. “Why don’t you just confess to your brother?” “Just say you’re the one who’s pregnant, and it’s his child.” “You’ve had a crush on him for years anyway.” I lowered my head, my voice dropping. “But my brother has always just seen me as a little brother.” “If he knew I deliberately took advantage of his rut, and did that with him…” “He would find me disgusting.” Even Sam couldn’t answer that. I didn’t dare risk it. I could keep my crush a secret. At least… I still had a role, a way to stay by his side forever. Watching, waiting. 4. He kept a close watch on me lately. As soon as I got home from school, he stopped me. “Well? Haven’t talked to them yet?” I dodged his gaze, afraid to look him in the eye. “Um…” “You like that omega a lot? Can’t bear to do it?” I couldn’t answer. A brief silence. Caleb seemed irritable. “Speak.” “No, Bro, can you just… give me a little more time?” He frowned, loosened his tie, and threw his chopsticks onto the dinner plate with a harsh clatter. The atmosphere became even more tense. Just as anxiety peaked, his phone rang. “Hello?” “Haven’t found the person yet?” “The surveillance at The Sanctuary was broken?” Hearing “The Sanctuary,” my heart tightened instantly. That was the place where I crawled into my brother’s bed. I looked at him; his expression was terrible. “What do you mean, ‘what to do’? Keep looking! Turn the whole city upside down if you have to, but find that bastard!” “When you find him, break his legs first.” “Just keep him barely alive and bring him to me.” My heart pounded like a drum. I couldn’t help but try to plead for myself. “Bro, our family has been doing honest business for so many years.” “Even if someone provoked you, you shouldn’t…” He looked up at me, his gaze dark and complex. I actually thought my brother looked a little sad. “You don’t understand, Shawn.” “I thought it was…” He choked on his words. “Forget it. I have no right to lecture you anymore.” “I feel… so dirty. So disgusting.” 5. So dirty. So disgusting. Those few words kept me awake for nights. I dreamed of my brother’s fingers interlaced with mine. Our bodies tightly locked together, kisses inseparable. But when I woke up, those words floated in my mind. I slapped myself hard. I hated my own greed, defiling the god I loved most in my heart. Pregnant, anxious, sleepless, and heavy-hearted. Sam looked at my face, worried. “Are you okay?” I shook my head gently. “I’m fine.” He steeled his heart and gritted his teeth. “Just tell your brother I’m the one pregnant with your child!” I disagreed. “How can we do that?” “It’s nothing. We’re best friends anyway.” “Just like that. Tell your brother I’m pregnant with your kid.” “Then after a while, I’ll say I already got the abortion.” “I’ll get a checkup in front of your brother to prove there’s no baby. Problem solved, right?” We sat on the carpet plotting for half the day and finally came up with a seamless plan. Just as I stood up, everything went black. The world spun. “Hey! Shawn!” Afraid I would fall, Sam frantically grabbed me. “Are you okay?!” “I’m…” Before I could finish, the door was pushed open. Caleb’s gaze fell on us, hugging tightly. His usually dominant face went blank for a moment. I saw his breathing stop for a second. His voice was a little hoarse. “I bought you chestnut cake from the west side.” “Do you still like it?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389946”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

As a female protagonist from a steamy romance novel, I did my duty and spent a passionate night with the male lead until dawn. But when the System came online, it was dumbfounded: [Host, what the hell are you doing?! This is a wholesome redemption romance novel! The two of you are supposed to stay pure until marriage!] While the male lead was fast asleep, the System panicked and wiped all his memories of me. Only then did I realize that a system error had transported me to the wrong world. And the real female protagonist of this redemption story was already standing outside the door of his dingy apartment. The next second, my wrist was seized. Ethan, whose memory had been forcibly erased, opened his eyes and stared at me coldly: “Who are you?” 1 I froze, completely at a loss for words. The System was screaming in my head: [I told you to leave ages ago! Now look, the male lead is awake. How are you going to explain this?!] I felt a little wronged and whispered back: “It’s not my fault. You sent me here. I thought Ethan was my target.” The System’s voice pitched higher: [So you just slept with him?! Hello! This is a crazy, germaphobe male lead. In the early stages, if a girl even touches his finger, he scrubs his skin raw!] [Do you think everyone sleeps around like in your trashy romance novels? Now the male lead isn’t pure anymore. What is the heroine supposed to do?] I opened my mouth to argue, but the knocking on the door grew more urgent. “Ethan? Are you home?” A gentle female voice called out. It was Sarah. The original heroine of this world line, Ethan’s destined partner. Ethan frowned, his grip on my wrist loosening slightly. “Sarah…” He muttered the name, his expression growing more painful. He seemed to be trying hard to remember something, yet resisting it at the same time. After a moment, his expression slowly calmed. A hint of unconscious tenderness crossed his brow. “Wait a second, I’m getting dressed.” He raised his voice to shout through the door. Sarah’s crisp laughter rang out: “It’s okay, I brought you breakfast. Hurry up and get ready, didn’t we agree to go sketching together?” “Sketching…?” Ethan rubbed his temples, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. He looked at the scattered sketch paper and paints on the floor. On the easel stood an unfinished painting. A woman in a white dress lay on the grass, chin in her hand, reading a book. But the woman’s face was blank, yet to be painted. Ethan lowered his eyes, staring at the painting for a while. Suddenly, he turned his head to size me up. Then he spat out cold words: “Take it off.” 2 I blinked, confused. “Take… take what off?” Ethan pursed his lips, pointing displeasedly at the dress I was wearing. This was the gift he gave me after our date yesterday. He worked at a convenience store for $13 an hour; I didn’t know how long he had to save for it. The System shrieked again: [Take it off quickly, Host! That dress is the token of love between the leads. The male lead cherishes it!] In the original plotline, the heroine was like a lively little sun, approaching the male lead and warming his heart. Ethan, however, remained lukewarm. Out of politeness, he gave the heroine a white dress as a birthday gift. It wasn’t until he went sketching in the wild with the heroine. Ethan set up his easel to paint the scenery. The heroine, in the white dress, danced nearby. Ethan, while painting, inadvertently glanced over, and in that moment, fell in love forever. From then on, the heroine’s unrequited crush became a mutual romance. Therefore, this white dress was crucial to both of them. With the System urging me on one side and Ethan’s cold, unfamiliar gaze on the other, I was panicked to death. I scrambled to take off the dress. But as I turned, I realized the hem of the dress had been stained with a large patch of paint at some point. It looked hideous. My brain buzzed. It’s over! 3 The System was about to faint from anger: [You, you, you… I’ve never had such a terrible host! Do you know how important this dress is to the male lead? Later, this dress gets stolen by the villain, and when he becomes famous, he spends a fortune buying it back at an auction! The heroine cherished it like crazy! And now you’ve ruined it?] “I… I’m sorry.” I bowed cowardly to Ethan. “I’ll pay for it.” But he held my hand down. “…Forget it. No need.” Ethan frowned. “It’s just a piece of clothing. It’s not important.” Sarah knocked again. “Are you done yet? The bagels I brought are getting cold!” Ethan took a deep breath and spoke to the door: “Sorry, Sarah. I just twisted my ankle. I can’t go sketching.” Sarah sounded worried immediately: “Huh? Is it serious? Do you need me to take you to the hospital?” “Open the door, let me see!” Ethan lied without blinking: “…No need. I haven’t washed my face yet. Sorry to make you come all this way for nothing.” “Alright then. I left breakfast at the door, remember to eat it! I’m going back now!” The sound of footsteps faded away. My tense shoulders finally relaxed slightly. Ethan threw one of his jackets at me: “Put this on and get out.” 4 I held Ethan’s jacket; it still smelled of cheap laundry detergent. Ethan stared at me, then sneered coldly. “Without a jacket, how did you plan to go back? With a neck full of hickeys? Afraid people won’t know you just slept with a guy?” I looked at him, feeling so unfamiliar. So… this was the real Ethan. Indifferent to the point of cruelty. 5 Honestly, my life was pretty tough. I’ve been a “tasker” for so long, always stuck in these trashy romance novels. The Systems didn’t want to work with me because I was slow and not very bright. I couldn’t handle any plot that required high-level strategy. So all I got were physical, mindless plots. The System said I didn’t need to use my brain for these, just lie back and enjoy. When I got this redemption script, I was truly happy. I read the script over and over again, perfectly executing every key event. Ethan’s affection for me soared. I couldn’t help but start fantasizing. Could someone mediocre like me… also be qualified to redeem someone else, to be their ray of light? Until the climax of the novel. The leads have a conflict, and the heroine decides to fake her death to escape. As for the night before the fake death, the script didn’t specify, so I guessed it was free play. So, as an experienced trashy romance tasker, I drugged the male lead’s water and entangled with him all night. That was when the System finally arrived, late as always. It said it made a mistake. It sent me to the wrong world. The heroine of the redemption story wasn’t me, but Sarah. Finally, when it learned I had slept with the male lead, it almost exploded with rage and scolded me severely. When Ethan opened the door, Sarah was already far away. The breakfast she left was still steaming at the door. I looked at the white steam, feeling a bit dazed. So, this is how redemption stories work. The leads only have a gentle first night in an ocean-view room full of roses after falling in love over time and dating seriously. But last night, in this shabby rental apartment. I casually consummated with Ethan. It was his first time; he was clumsy and shy, and it hurt a lot. But Ethan was incredibly emotional. With tears in his eyes, he choked out that he would be good to me for the rest of his life. I was moved to a mess. It was the first time I met such a serious target. I wanted to stay in this world forever. But who would have thought it was all a mistake. To force the plot forward, the System forcibly erased Ethan’s memory. All my efforts were wasted. He forgot me completely.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389945”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

It’s been N years since I became Harrison’s “canary.” He spoiled me so much that my appetite grew bigger and bigger. One day, I asked him for pocket money 30 times. Until I was about to ask him for $700,000 to buy a sports car just to show off. Suddenly, a barrage of comments floated before my eyes: [Don’t do it! Don’t do it, little ancestor! If you spend money like this, what will you do when the female lead appears?] [I know this one! I remember later, the little sister got kicked out for being too greedy and angering the male lead. She ended up homeless, couldn’t handle going from luxury to poverty, and got tricked into a scam center. It was so miserable, boohoo…] [Sigh, although Chloe is spoiled, she’s truly beautiful. I really can’t bear this ending!] Chloe is my name. My heart skipped a beat, and I silently withdrew the hand that was about to send the message. An hour later, Harrison called, his voice deep: “Didn’t you want to buy that sports car?” “Why didn’t you send me the message?” “Or did someone else already buy it for you?” 1 Harrison rarely spoke so much at once, so hurriedly. I don’t know if it was an illusion, but by the end, his voice even sounded a little aggrieved. As a qualified canary, I was very dedicated. So I quickly denied it: “No, no, I didn’t buy a sports car.” There was a pause on the other end, as if he hadn’t expected my answer. After a while, he said: “Why didn’t you buy it?” I thought of that super flashy Barbie pink Lamborghini in the dealership. The latest model, my favorite color. My heart was bleeding, but I remained stubborn: “Just… just suddenly didn’t want to buy it anymore. That sports car isn’t anything special anyway, um, it’s just okay…” Heaven knows, when I said the last few words, my tears were about to fall. Goodbye, beloved sports car. Mommy is setting sail tonight. But at this moment, Harrison asked again: “Really?” What to do? It felt like a provocation. As a sugar daddy, he really didn’t know how to read the room. Oh right, he couldn’t see me right now. The barrage was still constantly educating me about the consequences of my lack of restraint. I was upset and just wanted to end the call early. “Really, really. I have something to do, gotta go.” Hanging up the phone, my brain went blank. 2 Harrison spoiling me was known throughout the New York elite circle. He didn’t talk much, but he never said no to my requests. Especially when it came to transferring money. At first, I only dared to ask him for pocket money once a month. Now, I could ask him for pocket money thirty times a day. In the morning, I saw a $30,000 diamond necklace and sent a message: [Want this.] Harrison: [Transfer: $30,000] An hour later, I saw a friend posting a famous artist’s painting on Instagram, and I was moved again. Me: [Harrison, I like this artist’s paintings so much. Want.] Harrison: [Already told the assistant. Ordered twenty first.] [Transfer: $300,000] [Buy other paintings with this money.] By the afternoon, I saw a vacation ad and was mesmerized by the private island in it. Liked and forwarded it immediately. Me: [This island feels perfect for our vacation. Want.] Harrison: [Okay, buy it.] [Transfer: $75,000] [Buy some vacation supplies you like with the rest.] … Just like that, every day was either “want want want” or “buy buy buy.” I could spend hundreds of thousands of Harrison’s pocket money in a single day. But he never complained, just kept transferring money. Sometimes, when he didn’t transfer money in time because he was busy, I would angrily question if he didn’t care about me anymore. Then, Harrison would transfer double the pocket money to me. I felt this was only natural. After all, I was a canary. Canaries naturally cost gold. What’s more, for a canary as beautiful as me, what’s wrong with spending a little more money? Until I saw the barrage just now. I still didn’t think I had a problem. I just loved spending a little money. What was wrong with that? If there was a fault, it was Harrison’s fault. Only incapable men would dislike their women spending too much money! Just as I was skeptical about these comments. The next second, a piercing comment flashed before my eyes: [Wow, that sports car was taken by the female lead. Indeed different from the supporting female character. The male lead took the initiative without her even mentioning it.] [I remember later, the little sister was dissatisfied with everything and delusional enough to fight with the female lead for things, which led to that ending…] [Little sister, absolutely do not look out the window. With her temperament, confronting the female lead so early would be suicide.] What female lead? My rebellious spirit rose, and I turned my head to look out the window. In an instant, my blood froze. That Barbie pink Lamborghini stopped right downstairs at the mall, incredibly eye-catching. But even more eye-catching was the charming girl stepping out of the car. Dressed like an heiress, exquisite makeup. I looked down at the white lace V-neck short dress I was wearing. Indeed different from my seductive style. Suddenly, I felt even sadder. Sure enough, men’s mouths are deceitful ghosts. Before, Harrison swore that after being with him, everything I liked would be mine. Just because I didn’t want to buy that sports car now didn’t mean I wouldn’t buy it later! How much time had passed, and he so easily bought the car I liked for someone else. Who knew how he would treat me later. Thinking about it, my tears couldn’t help but fall. The barrage was right. I had to do something. At least I couldn’t end up being kicked out by Harrison, dying penniless in a strange land. I, Chloe, swore to be a woman who sleeps on a pile of money! This wasn’t the life I wanted. Wiping away my tears, after thinking it over, I set two directions for myself— Save money, and hoard money. Saving money was to win back Harrison’s favor so he wouldn’t be annoyed enough to kick me out after the female lead appeared. Hoarding money was so that if I really got kicked out later, at least I wouldn’t be homeless. I made up my mind, but taking action was extraordinarily difficult. My heart for buying things was dead, but my hands were still alive. They would still place orders. It was terrifying. Restrain, restrain again. In one afternoon, I still couldn’t help swiping my card for tens of thousands of dollars worth of stuff. No, I couldn’t go on like this. I gritted my teeth and simply ran to the bank to put my remaining meager savings into a fixed deposit. Then I froze the card Harrison gave me. After doing all this, I ran home again. Started packing up unused items. My habit of loving the new and loathing the old was severe. Old clothes, jewelry, and bags, selling them all on Poshmark could save up a considerable sum of money. Busy left, busy right. I didn’t notice the passage of time at all, and even completely forgot about Harrison’s existence. Late night fell. The main door creaked. Harrison was back. He looked at me buried in a pile of clothes and jewelry, stunned. After a moment, he asked me stiffly: “Chloe, what’s wrong? What are you…” 3 I popped my head out from the fabric, instinctively perfunctory: “Nothing, just tidying up.” “You don’t need to worry about me, go busy yourself.” As my voice fell, the temperature around Harrison seemed to drop a bit. I was completely unaware, still immersed in managing my Poshmark store. Until a man’s cough came from behind. Harrison bent down and circled me in his arms. He handed an exquisitely framed catalog into my hands. “This is the catalog just sent from the auction house. See if there’s anything you want.” What came into view was a V-brand diamond tiara I liked the most. Golden cut, top-quality raw stone. Harrison lowered his eyes and looked at me: “How’s this one? Do you like it?” The barrage went crazy at this moment: [Little sister’s eyes lit up when she saw the picture. So cute, so cute, let auntie kiss you.] [Still cute? The female supporting character is cruel and greedy. She definitely won’t let go of any of these auction items. Not to mention the male lead, even I couldn’t stand it…] [Person upstairs, mind your own business about the beauty. You can’t stand it because you have no money!] [But honestly, if the female supporting character can restrain herself this time, maybe she can win back some favorability from the male lead and not be kicked out of the house in the end…] [Thinking too much. With Chloe’s personality, do you expect her not to buy a single thing?] […] If it were the past, I would indeed nod vigorously. Only children make choices; I want them all. But now, thinking of that female lead figure at noon, I was truly afraid. Could this be Harrison testing me on purpose? My body couldn’t help but stiffen. Seeing no reaction from me, Harrison said again: “If you want it, I’ll have the assistant go…” “Don’t want it, don’t want it! Didn’t I already buy a tiara last time…” I forced a smile and shook my head repeatedly. Isn’t it just a tiara? Wearing it won’t make me taller. Forget it, don’t want it means don’t want it. “Is that so…” the man murmured with a frown. “What about this one? Want it?” He turned to the next page. It was a set of antique ceramic tea sets, carved with my zodiac animal, the rabbit. Cute and exquisite beyond words. I gritted my teeth, tears almost flowing from the corners of my mouth: “Don’t want it. I have a cup to drink water, no need to buy more.” Isn’t it just a tea set? Drinking from it won’t make me live longer. Forget it, forget it, don’t want this either. “Then this one, want it?” “Don’t want it, don’t want it!” … Harrison frowned and turned more than ten pages in a row. I hardly dared to open my eyes, my teeth were about to shatter. I didn’t notice the man’s increasingly difficult voice at all. Until the last page. A waist chain encrusted with red and green gems, luxurious and sexy. Beautiful enough to make one breathless. I didn’t have this kind of jewelry yet. Like it so much, like it so much, like it so much. My mouth was faster than my brain: “Want it.” Doomed! Would Harrison think I was still the same as before? I turned my head to carefully observe his expression. Just wanted to say, it’s not like I absolutely have to have it. But I found the corners of his mouth hooked up, and his eyes were full of gentle and relieved smiles. Very happy and satisfied. “Okay, I’ll have the assistant buy it.” I quietly let out a breath. Seems Harrison isn’t that unreasonable. But then again, I only bought this one item from this auction. I’ve improved a lot, okay? As a canary, I’m proud, I’m proud! Thinking I had become obedient, I never thought Harrison would let me off just like that. Unexpectedly, that night, his emotions seemed more intense than ever, and his movements too. He held my waist, pressing tightly against the bathroom glass. Cold and hot at the same time. He also talked more than usual. Asking me over and over again if I liked him. I wanted to say I liked him, but the figure of the female lead couldn’t help but pop up in my mind. My heart was sour and astringent. What is this? Provoking me when there’s someone else? But I was a canary with integrity. Voice hoarse, nodding repeatedly: “Like, like…” The man’s movements suddenly stopped. It seemed like a long time passed, and yet not long. A kiss fell very lightly on my trembling eyelids. “Then baby… why cry…” Warm fingertips rubbed my eye sockets. I heard a very low sigh. “Go to sleep.” With that, he stretched out his long arm. Confining me tightly in his arms. 4 When I woke up again, it was already the next morning. When I went downstairs, breakfast was ready. Harrison sat on one side drinking coffee. Seeing me, he curved his eyes and waved at me. Seeming to have long forgotten the unhappiness of last night. I yawned and walked over, pulled into his arms. “Freshly fried sunny-side-up eggs, want a taste?” Unlike other rich people, Harrison liked to cook. Liked to make all kinds of delicious food to feed me. I was too lazy to move, so I simply nested in his arms the whole time, letting him serve me. Fed full, I kissed his chin ingratiatingly as a reward. Harrison laughed very low. Stuffed something into my hand. Cold and icy. I lowered my head in hindsight. It was a brand new black card! If it were the past, I would definitely jump up happily and cover his face with kisses. But who knew if this was another trap to test me. The barrage also started spamming. [Didn’t expect the female supporting character to only want one auction item last time. This time her true colors should be revealed, hehe.] [Who can withstand this test! That’s a black card! The male lead is too generous…] [Little sister, come on, bravely refuse bad temptations, start with me!] [Don’t care, I can’t do it, you do it little sister, bring wealth, bring wealth, bring wealth…] Harrison saw me motionless with my head down and explained: “I saw that previous card was frozen by you. Is it because the balance wasn’t enough?” “This new card has the same limit as mine. Spend as much as you want.” I took a deep breath, ruthlessly stuffing the card back into Harrison’s hand. “No need for a new card. My current money is enough.” Closed my eyes, not daring to look at that black card which was like Pandora’s box. Harrison shouldn’t be too moved now, at least he wouldn’t kick me out. Just be fascinated by the sensible me like this, hehe. Looking up. Harrison’s face was stiff. Ugly as if he took the wrong medicine. He stared at me and started talking to himself again: “Harrison Group has 30 subsidiaries around the world, total assets about 700 billion. My personal liquid assets exceed 10 billion US dollars, and I have over a hundred properties…” No, who asked? Who exactly asked? Is this a provocation? Perhaps my questioning gaze was too intense, Harrison paused and said: “I mean, I have a lot of money, enough for you to spend. So, why don’t you want it?” This time I was silent. I couldn’t say it was because the barrage told me that in the future you would kick me out because you couldn’t stand me anymore. And the existence of that female lead. Wouldn’t saying it be jumping into a fire pit? Don’t kick me out on the spot… Holding it in for a long time, I had to bite the bullet and say: “No obligation to explain.” “Anyway, I won’t spend so much of your money like before.” I’m so sensible. Couldn’t he be sensible too and ask fewer questions? What a presumptuous guy! Harrison stopped talking. He carried me to the sofa and stood up himself. His figure seemed a bit unstable, swaying slightly. Until he raised his head. Only then did I see his pale face and reddened eyes clearly. Never seen Harrison like this. I subconsciously wanted to say something, “Harrison, I just think…” Before I could finish, I was interrupted by him taking a deep breath. “No need to explain. Where the money is, the love is.” Harrison’s voice trembled, seeming about to shatter at any moment. “You don’t spend my money, do you not love me anymore?” Me: ?? Something’s not right? What is he saying? Is this English? Before I could react. With the sound of a door closing, Harrison was gone. The barrage exploded too. [The male lead doesn’t feel quite normal. Is this something one can say?] [Is this the world of rich people? I also really want someone to ask me this once…] [Don’t understand, anyway my figure is very graceful.] [Luckily, I don’t understand English.] [Little sister doesn’t spend money and the male lead isn’t happy? Possessed? The original plot doesn’t seem to be like this…]

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389944”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Liam was my best friend, and I was secretly in love with him. But he hated that kind of thing. To avoid future embarrassment, I decided to confess to him. “I like guys.” He frowned: “What did you say?” As expected, he was angry. Not wanting him to have bad associations, I quickly added: “Don’t worry, I have a boyfriend.” Liam’s face darkened, his voice coldly terrifying: “Say that again.” 1 “See you Saturday then, senior!” The sweet and cute junior girl from the club waved goodbye to me with a smile. I nodded at her: “See you Saturday.” Suddenly, someone hooked my neck from behind and pulled me back. I lightly bumped into a broad chest. The movement was familiar, and I knew who it was without looking back. A low, rich voice sounded: “What Saturday?” His breath hit the sensitive skin beside my ear, causing a slight ticklish heat. I turned my head slightly to avoid this too-close distance: “Don’t you have training today?” Liam rested his chin on my shoulder and reached out to turn my averted face back: “Are you meeting that girl on Saturday? Why haven’t I seen her before? When did you meet her?” He was always like this, putting his arm around my shoulder without any shyness. These were all playful gestures between best friends. But for someone like me with ulterior motives, this was undoubtedly torture. I pushed his hand away and kept my distance: “A junior from the club. There’s a club gathering on Saturday.” Liam straightened up and said earnestly: “I’ve always reminded you, competition is fierce in society now. Focus on your studies. It won’t be too late to date after you find a job.” I dared not hope for love. He didn’t know my true inner thoughts, and I dared not let him know. I nodded absentmindedly. Liam put his arm around my shoulder again and led me in another direction: “Come on, keep me company during training.” 2 There was no lack of audience during the varsity team’s training. Liam was always the center of attention. He was tall, with a long wingspan and sharp movements. Not to mention that face, which made headlines on campus the first day he arrived. My gaze couldn’t help but follow him. Heart racing, could it be that I’m obsessed with looks? Liam walked towards me, wiped his sweat, and said hoarsely: “Water.” I came back to my senses and looked around for his water bottle. Liam, however, snatched the half-drunk mineral water from my hand. Before I could stop him, he had already tilted his head and finished it. I had drunk from that… “Yo, Senior Lian is here.” The one who approached was a junior who had just joined the varsity team this year, very lively. “How was it? My performance on the court just now wasn’t worse than Captain Lu’s, right?” I smiled and praised him a few words. The junior was very pleased and patted his chest: “If Senior Lian wants to play basketball in the future, just find me. I’ll teach you hand in hand…” Liam smashed the empty bottle in his hand over, his voice inexplicably cold: “Get lost.” The junior was pulled away by the teammates behind him, amid ridicule: “You kid want to go over Captain Lu to teach his ‘wife’ basketball? Looking for death, aren’t you…” I had a good relationship with Liam, always together. When he participated in competitions, I often helped him handle some trivial matters. His team members jokingly called me his “little wife”. At first, I blushed too. But Liam also joined in the teasing. Later I understood that these were just jokes between brothers. Taking them seriously would be foolish. Liam smoothed his hair and looked at me seriously: “If you want to play basketball, find me. No one here is better than me.” If it weren’t for him, I should be in the lab right now, instead of wasting time sitting on this basketball court. 3 After training, a group of people rushed into the food stall at the school gate. They ordered a table full of food. At this age, they ate more than animals. I sat next to Liam and barely touched the beer. After eating and drinking enough, someone suggested playing Truth or Dare. After a few rounds, it fell on me. “Truth or Dare?” Seeing their few rounds of bottomless questions, I didn’t have the guts to choose Truth. I had to choose Dare. But Dare wasn’t much better. “Kiss the person closest to you now.” As soon as these words came out, everyone slapped the table, laughing and jeering. Liam sat on my left, and on my right was a classmate from the varsity team. Everyone knew I had a good relationship with Liam, so who to choose was naturally obvious. Even Liam crossed his arms and looked at me with a smile, waiting for my move. But I had a guilty conscience. I was afraid. I didn’t even dare to turn back and look at Liam’s expression. I took a deep breath. Sorry, classmate. Under everyone’s surprised gaze, I leaned towards the person on the right. Before I touched him, my back collar was suddenly grabbed and pulled back with great force. I was forced to lean back and saw Liam’s face, darker than the night. “Lian Youqing, do you know what you’re doing?” 4 Liam’s face wasn’t very good for the second half. After paying the bill, he dragged me away first. I looked at his back and sighed. His inexplicable small gestures had once given me fantasies. Until that incident happened. 5 Liam and I had different majors but were assigned to the same dorm room. Maybe because I have a milder temperament, I got along with him. To outsiders, he seemed cold and unapproachable. But he was always willing to lower his status and soften his temper in front of me. He treated the friends he recognized very well. So when I realized it, my mind was full of his figure. I couldn’t quit even if I wanted to. During the most passionate period, my confession was on the tip of my tongue, ready to come out. Then, Lin Lin appeared. He was Liam’s classmate in the same major, handsome, cheerful, and very proactive. Lin Lin spent a lot of effort to build a relationship and deepen friendship with Liam. Gradually, I also saw his feelings for Liam. I even envied him a little, envied his courage. But Liam was always lukewarm towards him, even a little annoyed by his pestering. Lin Lin took advantage of his drunkenness to confess to Liam. At that moment, Liam’s expression became very terrifying. He scolded hideously: “Get lost.” Then he blocked Lin Lin and never contacted him again. I once tentatively asked him why he was so angry. He looked at me and said: “Not angry, disgusted.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389943”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My boyfriend suddenly regained his memories. He remembered his childhood sweetheart, the one he had loved for years. He couldn’t wait to break up with me. Our two-year relationship was voided. He warned me: “Forget this relationship. Pretend we never knew each other.” I breathed a sigh of relief. Just yesterday, the System notified me: [Host, your mission is complete.] [Erasing memories from the mission period…] 1 On our two-year anniversary, Liam got into a car accident and fell into a coma. I sat by his side for eight hours, only to hear him say: “Anything I did while I had amnesia wasn’t my will. Naturally, the relationship we had these past two years doesn’t count.” After recovering his memories, he wanted to break up with me immediately. I wasn’t surprised by this ending. After all, from the beginning, we weren’t honest with each other. Back then, He was an amnesiac with broken legs, hurt by love. I was a redeemer with a mission, here for him. The System told me: [The mission goal is to make him stand up again.] Not just physically, but mentally. His state was too passive, and he wasn’t cooperating with treatment. A person who doesn’t remember the past and can’t see the future is lonely and lifeless. To visualize the mission progress, the System showed me his Love Value for me. It said love can give a person the courage to live again. With love, one can overcome anything. Using the value as a reference, my mission would be complete when his Love Value for me reached 100. I spent two years pulling him out of the abyss, helping him stand again. The Love Value climbed slowly at first, then soared. Finally, it stopped at 99. It wouldn’t go up anymore. I was anxious but couldn’t find the reason. Finally, the System reminded me: [Love requires sincerity. Only a true heart can exchange for a true heart.] So, I sat on the balcony all night and decided to let go of the mission goal and gamble with my true heart once. Finally, on our two-year anniversary, on the way to our date, Liam swerved to avoid a truck running a red light. In the moment of life and death, he desperately turned the steering wheel towards his side, leaving the chance of survival to me. In that instant, the System broadcasted: [Love Value Progress: 100%] [Host, your mission is complete.] Luckily, the two cars brushed past each other, resulting only in a minor collision and no casualties. But Liam fainted due to the deployed airbag. I sat in the hospital room from night till dawn, watching his Love Value for me drop from 100 to zero. Then it fluctuated, rising and falling, until the progress bar finally disappeared. When dawn broke, he opened his eyes and said to me: “Eva, let’s break up.” From the beginning until now, all redeemers face two endings after completing the mission. One: stay with the mission target forever. Two: forget each other and disappear into the crowd. Liam frowned slightly, saying word by word: “Forget this relationship. Pretend we never knew each other.” This was the ending he chose for us. I looked at him quietly and summoned the System: “Will Liam’s Love Value for me change now?” The System was silent for a few seconds before telling me: [Mission complete. The ending is set.] [From now on, Love Value will not be displayed.] Right. Without the System, love and hate between people don’t have visual data. Moreover, every look and action from Liam right now told me clearly without a progress bar. The person he loves now isn’t me. It’s his “White Moonlight”— Sophie. 2 They were childhood sweethearts. Before I met Liam, the System told me about his past with Sophie. It was a cliché story of unrequited love. Sophie fell for someone else and wanted to go abroad with him. Liam raced to chase her on a rainy night and got into a car accident. He lost his memory and broke his legs, becoming depressed ever since. Mutual friends couldn’t stand it and called Sophie. From across the ocean, she only said three sentences: “It’s good that he forgot me. Saves him from pestering me.” “We just grew up together. Helping him recover should be your duty.” “Please don’t disturb me anymore. My boyfriend will be unhappy.” Liam felt nothing about this, even annoyed that his friends kept bringing up Sophie and emphasizing his love for her. Their reminders told Liam that he, who should have shared memories with everyone, remembered nothing. Every gathering after that, everyone he met was an acquaintance, yet a stranger. He was an insider, yet felt like an outsider. Surrounded by noise, but empty inside. This was probably why I could approach him smoothly. We had no shared past. In a sense, it was equal. I smiled and told him: “Our memories start from now.” Countless gazes and touches condensed into a Liam who loved me. Unfortunately, when his past memories surfaced… Our two years couldn’t compare to their twenty years. Worse, Sophie came back. Just a few days ago, she fought with her boyfriend and broke up. She secretly returned, appearing before Liam in the rain, crying: “I have nowhere to go, Liam.” Facing the uninvited guest, Liam was annoyed. He exposed her mercilessly: “Go home, stay in a hotel, or under a bridge. Even if you have nowhere to go, my place isn’t for you.” Sophie crumbled, looking at him in disbelief: “You never spoke to me like this before.” “Sorry about that,” Liam sneered. “I forgot how I used to speak to you.” I couldn’t bear to see her in the rain, so I handed her an umbrella. She slapped it away, looking at Liam with hurt eyes. “Even if you don’t remember, Liam, someone must have told you about our twenty years. Treating me like this, aren’t you afraid you’ll regret it when your memory returns?” “Or are you doing this on purpose to revenge me because I went abroad? So you found a random girlfriend now, an eye for an eye?” She looked at me and sneered: “Do you know what this behavior is called?” “Taking advantage of a weakness.” I didn’t know if I counted as taking advantage, capturing Liam bit by bit when he forgot his love for her. But Sophie was right about one thing. Liam, with his memory restored, regretted it. Unexpectedly, when Sophie learned he was in the hospital, she came to visit. Facing Liam’s soft question: “Are you not mad at me anymore?” She huffed coquettishly: “I’ll settle the score after you’re discharged.” “You got into a car accident; how could I ignore you?” 3 The hospital room was soon crowded. I became the extra one. They chatted enthusiastically about the past, a life I never participated in. The topic always revolved around Liam and Sophie. Going to school together, skipping class, Liam fighting for her, taking punishment for her. I suddenly felt bored and turned to leave. Sophie called out to me, inviting warmly: “Miss Yu, we’re going to celebrate Liam’s new life. You should come too.” I was about to refuse when Liam spoke before me: “No need. I’ve broken up with her. I’ll explain later. Don’t mention it again.” The room fell silent for a few seconds. Sophie looked surprised: “Is that so? Okay then.” “But I still want to remind you, Miss Yu, don’t do this kind of thing in the future. Or you’ll be the only one hurt.” She looked at Liam flirtatiously and said to me: “Especially…” “When you meet a bad guy like Liam, stay far away.” I nodded and smiled gently: “I will.” Liam frowned, but smiled and teased: “Tsk tsk, if Liam is a bad guy, then how did you survive growing up with him, Sophie?” She looked radiant, her voice crisp: “I’m not afraid of him. I’m the kryptonite for bad guys like this.” Everyone laughed together. I walked out of the hospital and finally felt I could breathe. Bending over and pressing my chest, I asked the System: “How long left?” Yesterday, when the System announced I completed the mission, it also notified me: [About to erase memories from the mission period.] This procedure starts by default upon mission completion, but can be terminated at any time under Ending One. It’s a protection mechanism for the redeemer. After all, a mission is like an immersive life dungeon. Many redeemers are traumatized by the second ending and cannot continue their original lives. Giving a true heart is giving the other person a knife to hurt you. Now, this knife was stabbed straight into my heart. It really hurts. The System replied quickly: [Organizing mission data. Please wait.] I couldn’t wait. The uncontrollable pain almost made me lose control. I needed to do something to distract myself. My phone rang. The person on the other end named a restaurant, saying I left something there. Without thinking, I rushed over. Upon arrival, the restaurant manager said it was Liam’s item and my number was left as an emergency contact. Just as I wanted to say I’m not that person anymore, the elevator doors opened, and I froze. Fields of tulips filled my vision, gentle lights twinkling among them, spreading all the way to the hall at the end of the corridor. Like stumbling into a romantic sea of flowers. The manager handed me an exquisite velvet box from a cart, smiling kindly: “Mr. Liam booked the whole restaurant floor yesterday, but he never came, and we couldn’t contact him. This is what he left here.” The scene before me stung my eyes. I knew what was in the velvet box without looking. The setting, the atmosphere, and yesterday being our two-year anniversary. It was hard not to guess. This was a proposal scene. 4 Liam originally planned to propose yesterday. I remembered his nervous look in the car and his expectant tone when I asked about the restaurant: “Secret. It won’t be a surprise if I tell you.” So this was the secret he couldn’t wait to hide. I didn’t expect it to be revealed this way. I stood there in a daze, suddenly hearing footsteps around the corner and people talking excitedly. I recognized Liam’s friends immediately. “Is this a double blessing?” “Memory restored! Single again!” “What do you mean single again?” Sophie sounded slightly displeased. “He had amnesia. That relationship doesn’t count. Just playing around.” “You guys too. I wasn’t here, and you didn’t watch him.” “Letting any woman get close to Liam.” Liam’s friends indeed didn’t like me much. They always felt I was an intruder in their circle. They only held back because Liam liked me enough and saw me making him better bit by bit. The relationship maintained a delicate balance. Sophie’s return caused a fluctuation in that balance. Liam didn’t take her in on that rainy day. That night, he received a call from a friend, voice angry: “It was raining so hard, and you didn’t even let her in? Liam, you grew up together. You just have amnesia; you don’t remember how much you liked her before.” “Aren’t you afraid you’ll regret this later?” Everyone was sure he would regret it. Liam sneered into the phone: “How many times do I have to say the only person I like is Eva? Bringing up Sophie repeatedly… is it me who likes her, or you guys like her but dare not say it, using me as a cover?” Silence on the other end. Liam threw the phone and hugged me, voice softening: “So annoying. Why does everyone say I like her?” “Is liking someone hidden in memory?” I smiled and hugged him back, thinking for a moment: “Liking someone is hidden in the heart.” But now, the liking in his heart was obviously not for me anymore. Around the corner, Sophie’s voice continued. She pretended to be angry and said to Liam: “Better think about how to compensate me.” “I’m still angry.” Liam seemed weak because he just woke up and left the hospital: “What compensation do you want? I—” He stopped abruptly because he saw me, and the romantic proposal scene behind me. The manager reacted first and stepped forward to explain, thinking Liam brought friends for the proposal. He congratulated with a big smile until he saw everyone’s faces weren’t looking good. He slowly stopped talking. Someone asked: “Playing around… and proposing?” Liam’s face was cold. He watched me walk closer step by step, shoving the velvet box into his hand, and saying gently: “Since you’re here, I’ll go. Returning this to you.” “Wait.” He suddenly spoke, looking down at me: “If we meet again, pretend we’re strangers.” I didn’t look back: “Okay.” The elevator doors opened and closed slowly. The last scene was Sophie taking the ring from his hand to play with, saying displeasedly to the manager: “Why haven’t you disposed of these flowers yet?” The elevator went down with a “ding.” System notification: [Data organization complete.] [Start erasing Host’s memories of the mission period and all traces of existence.] [Start unsealing Host’s emotional module from before the mission.] [Mission reward—Recovery Card, issued.] [Your fiancé is about to wake up.]

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389941”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I’m a delivery girl. Just when I managed to snatch an order with a $100 tip for a box of condoms, my joy was cut short. The delivery address was my boyfriend’s apartment. I charged into the elevator with a kitchen knife in hand. But inside, there was already a man wearing a raincoat, holding a sledgehammer. Just as I was about to press the button for my floor, several twisted lines of text floated before my eyes: [Is the cannon fodder female supporting character going offline already? The ex-girlfriend who just won’t let go.] [Holy crap, that’s the hidden serial killer next to her! Is the first scene this intense?] [She’s about to become the first victim. When the male lead finds her body, he’ll go on a revenge rampage and kill the serial killer.] [But isn’t the male lead with the official female lead right now?] [What do you know? The death of the ‘white moonlight’ is the ultimate weapon~] My finger froze in mid-air. The mirror-like doors reflected the shadow behind me. The man in the raincoat was silently raising his hammer, the shadow looming over the back of my head. Just as the wind from the hammer pressed down, I spun around violently. Instead of slashing with the knife, I slapped him heavily on the shoulder. “Bro, let’s make a deal.” He froze. “Can you let me kill that cheating couple first?” I gripped the knife handle tight, gritting my teeth. “Then I’ll come back and let you hammer me?” “?” 1 His gaze fell on the kitchen knife I was gripping tightly, and the hand holding the hammer slowly lowered. “Which floor?” “Eighth, thanks.” The numbers on the elevator panel jumped up one by one. Anger burned away all my fear. I scrimped and saved, delivering food day and night to put him through college. And in the script of his life, I don’t even deserve a decent exit? I’m just supposed to die under a stranger’s hammer to serve as a catalyst for his grief? Screw his plot. Screw his male and female leads. Even if I die today, I’m going to serve justice first and slaughter that modern-day Cheating Chad and his mistress! Ding. We reached the eighth floor. I strode out, but heard footsteps following close behind. I turned around. Raincoat Guy was following me at a leisurely pace. “Bro,” I shook the knife in my hand, “those two heads are mine. Don’t steal my kill.” From under the hood of the raincoat came a low, barely audible response: “…First time seeing someone catch a cheater live.” Got it. Some things really are engraved in DNA. Even a serial killer can’t resist the urge to watch the drama. I reached the door and knocked. “Who is it?” A man’s voice came from inside, a bit slurred. “Delivery.” The door opened a crack. The first thing I saw wasn’t a face, but a tanned, muscular chest with water droplets still clinging to it. Obviously fresh out of the shower. Moving my gaze up, I saw a handsome face. Deep set eyes, high nose bridge. Very striking. But I didn’t know him. I took a step back, instinctively looking up to stare at the metal doorplate. This is the right place. “…Is this Gu Cheng’s apartment?” The man who opened the door raised an eyebrow. He didn’t answer, just stepped aside and lazily called into the room: “Honey, someone’s looking for you.” “Who is it, hubby?” A voice I knew all too well rang out. Then, the face I had looked at for five years, the face I thought I would look at for a lifetime, poked out from behind the stranger. He was wearing loose home clothes, hair messy, a look of satisfaction on his face. The air solidified for half a second. My brain buzzed. Before my eyes, the barrage exploded with unprecedented speed and density, almost blocking my entire vision: [Holy crap??? Information overload! Is this a dual male lead script?!] [Wait a minute, my CPU is fried… So where’s the female lead? Who is she?] [Turns out the ‘official female lead’ meant… (pupils quaking)] [Nobody said the male lead was a bottom?!] So that’s how it is. I really am a huge idiot. I raised a massive bottom for five whole years! Rage instantly burned through my rationality. Without thinking, I swung the kitchen knife at Gu Cheng’s face. “Bastard! I’ll fucking kill you!” The sound of the blade slicing through the air stopped abruptly. A hand with distinct knuckles accurately clamped onto my wrist. It was the man who opened the door. He didn’t even look at me, just twisted his fingers slightly. Crack. A very slight but tooth-aching crisp sound. I didn’t even feel the pain immediately. I just watched helplessly as my wrist bent at an angle absolutely impossible for a human, limp and broken. Then, severe pain crashed into my brain, and my vision went black. Just as I was about to curl up in agony, A black blur, wrapped in a dull wind, swung violently from behind me. That heavy hammer smashed mercilessly into the man’s face. The last sensation before losing consciousness was my body being thrown out like a broken sack, the back of my head hitting a sharp cabinet corner hard. 2 When I opened my eyes again, overhead were the pale elevator lights and the metallic walls gleaming coldly. I stood frozen. My wrist was perfectly intact; the agonizing pain felt like a hallucination. Beside me, the figure in the raincoat also paused noticeably. His grip on the hammer tightened, the hood shifting slightly as if silently confirming our surroundings. Before my eyes, twisted text surged frantically again: [Holy crap… That Top is too fierce, isn’t he?! A double kill instantly? Took out both the female supporting character and the serial killer?!] [Didn’t they say the male lead has the strongest plot armor? Why is Gu Cheng standing there like a scared little boy? (laugh crying)] [What’s the situation? Reloaded save file? Can the plot rewind?] […Are you new upstairs? Don’t know the rules? If the killer’s mission isn’t complete, he can’t go offline early. He has to clear out everything else in this building first.] [Got it, forced plot lock. So this is… the second loop? Exciting!] The elevator doors were slowly closing. Without hesitation, I reached out and jammed my hand between the doors at the last second. The metal doors made a buzzing sound and reopened. I walked quickly towards the building exit. Are you kidding me? If my life is really at stake, I’m out. So what if I raised a cheating bottom for five years? Thinking about it now, I’m not that angry anymore. No reason to fight to the death with these lunatics. I reached the building entrance and pushed hard. It didn’t move. The door wouldn’t budge. Why is this happening? [What’s wrong with the female supporting character? Why isn’t she going to settle the score with the male lead?] [She seems to remember what happened in the first loop.] [Poor girl. The plot has already started. Unless the plot ends, the door won’t open.] Plot ends? The words “killer’s mission” flashed in the barrage. Does that mean… I can leave here once his mission is complete? I turned my head blankly and looked at the elevator. Surprisingly, the elevator doors were still open. The man in the raincoat had one hand casually blocking the door, silently watching me. Just as I hesitated whether to go back, a shuffling sound of footsteps came from behind, followed by an old, raspy voice. “Girl, make way.” I turned around abruptly. A hunched old lady, leaning on a cane, was trembling as she moved from the direction of the building entrance. She wore an old floral padded jacket, her silver hair sparse. Every step seemed slow and strenuous, as if she might fall apart at any moment. However, the moment she appeared, the barrage appeared before my eyes again. [Holy shit! Here comes the exciting part! It’s the Collector Granny!] [She loves collecting tall, strong men the most! Locked several in her basement just to drink… (content hidden due to violation)] [Explain clearly upstairs! You’re killing me! Drink what?!] [Don’t ask. Just know it’s for nourishment… (manual mosaic)] [This old lady looks like she’d break if you touched her. One hammer from the killer and she’s gone, right?] [Don’t underestimate her! She’s fierce. Carries poison on her.] Likes… tall, strong men? Almost instinctively, I stepped aside to let her pass, then silently followed behind the old lady, stepping back into the elevator together. The elevator doors slowly closed. From the moment she entered the elevator, the old lady’s cloudy eyes were glued to the tall, upright figure of the raincoat man. That gaze was murky, yet revealed a sticky greed that made one uncomfortable. I saw clearly that the raincoat man’s fingers gripping the hammer handle tightened one by one, veins popping on the back of his hand. Just as the hammer was about to be raised, I leaned towards him as if by accident, my arm gently touching and pressing down on his forearm that had just lifted. With this touch, the hammer was quietly pressed back down. “Did you know?” I suddenly turned my head and nudged the raincoat man with my elbow. “In 802, there are two incredibly handsome men.” “Especially the tall one. Great body, looks like a model.” 3 “How do you know?” The raincoat man’s raspy voice sounded in the narrow elevator car. “I always deliver food to them. Just this week, I delivered condoms to 802 four or five times.” I smacked my lips, deliberately dragging out my tone so every word drilled clearly into the old lady’s ears: “Tsk, young people… good stamina, strong desires. Understandable, understandable.” The moment my voice fell, The old lady’s cloudy, yellowed eyes moved extremely slowly away from the raincoat man’s tall figure. Then, she extended a dark purple tongue and licked her dry, cracked lips. That wasn’t the action of an ordinary old person relieving dryness. It was a conditioned reflex, a biological palpitation filled with craving. Her hand moved. Her finger lifted slowly and pressed the button for the eighth floor accurately. Then, she turned her head, wrinkles on her face stacking up with a smile. “Girl, give the stuff to me. I just happen to be… going to 802 to see them.” I instinctively pulled the bag back, shaking my head: “No can do. We have rules. Must hand it to the recipient personally.” “I’m their grandmother.” Her voice was raspy but carried a tone that brooked no refusal. “Just give it to me. Save you a trip. It’s a hassle.” Hesitation appeared on my face; I pursed my lips. Finally, as if compromising, my shoulders relaxed, and I handed the bag over. “Well… okay then.” I squeezed out a smile. “Thank you, Grandma.” “Don’t mention it.” Watching the old lady’s back as she walked out of the elevator, I focused on the constantly scrolling barrage. [What the hell… is the plot going off the rails? Why is the old hag going to the male lead?] [Can this old lady beat that big handsome Top?] [Hard to say, but I want to see it!] [It’s been so long, why hasn’t the killer started? Who’s the first victim?] [I hope he kills the pervert on the fifth floor first. Relying on being a pediatrician to molest little girls, absolutely disgusting.] [Relax, the killer attacks indiscriminately. He’ll kill room by room until only one person is left alive in this building, then the plot ends.] So, I’m doomed to die anyway. I lowered my gaze in silence, but the elevator stopped without warning. Looking up, I saw the raincoat man’s back as he walked out of the elevator. I looked at the floor indicator. Second floor. The barrage was right. He’s clearing floor by floor until only one person is left alive in this building. And in the original plot, the survivor was the male lead. This means… the killer himself will definitely not be the survivor. So… can I make a bet? I followed silently behind the killer, watching him swing the hammer. Bang! He smashed open the door of 201. He went in and looked around. No one. Only dust floating in the light of the empty living room. [Which apartment actually has people in this building?] [202 has a chainsaw maniac. Third and fourth floors are empty. 501 has that doctor. Sixth floor is the old lady. Seventh floor empty. Eighth floor is the male lead. That’s it.] [Not many people then. Isn’t this killer’s mission easy?] [Hehe, upstairs is too naive. Fewer people means it’s scarier. It means none of the remaining ones are easy to deal with.] [The female supporting character’s move just now directly put the male leads and the old lady together. 666] [Is the old lady gone already?] [Not yet, the killer hasn’t reached the eighth floor, perspective not unlocked. But think about it, how could that old lady beat that fierce Top?] 202 has a chainsaw maniac? My body stiffened. I slowly turned to look at 202 behind me, not three meters away. Instantly felt the kitchen knife in my hand was pathetically weak. Just as I was thinking about hiding, The door of 202 opened. 4 A naked man covered in muscle poked his head out from behind the door, glaring at the raincoat man, voice rough and loud. “Hey! Middle of the night, smashing your sister’s door! Have some manners!” The raincoat man slowly turned his head, looked at him silently, and walked over step by step with the hammer. “Oho?” The Muscle Man grinned hideously, suddenly raising the chainsaw in his hand and pulling the cord hard. VROOOM——!!! The ear-piercing roar exploded instantly, echoing through the entire corridor. “Two little punks dare to act tough in front of me?” Listening to that roaring chainsaw, my legs went soft instantly. Big bro… why include me? I was just passing by… [Holy crap! Exciting!!] [Feels like the third loop is starting… Killer only has a wooden-handled hammer, can he take on a chainsaw?] [Female supporting character: My life is over.] I scanned the floating text rapidly, desperately trying to find even a hint about the Muscle Man’s weakness. Unfortunately, not a single one. The harsh chainsaw roar continued to vibrate my eardrums. I stared at the crazily spinning teeth. Calm down. With that chainsaw, the raincoat man couldn’t get close to him at all. Muscle Man pressed forward step by step, forcing the raincoat man to retreat slowly. Seizing the opportunity, I turned and rushed into the elevator, shouting at the raincoat man: “Run!” Then I roared at the Muscle Man: “Chicken! Come find us in 802 if you have the guts! Our big brother won’t spare you! You chicken!” At the last moment before the elevator doors closed, the raincoat man flashed in. I frantically pressed the close button, my finger barely leaving it. Only when the doors completely closed and the elevator started ascending did I finally let out a breath. Glancing at the slightly disheveled raincoat man next to me, I couldn’t help but curl my lip secretly. Really, bro? That’s it? My gaze accidentally swept over the hammer in his hand, and I froze. The wooden handle, which should have been easily severed by the chainsaw… only had a shallow scratch. “Your hammer is so sturdy. Why didn’t you just take that guy down just now?” The raincoat man glanced at me faintly. “You think I’m stupid?” I rolled my eyes at him. The elevator just reached the fifth floor. I grabbed him and stepped out, pressing the close button behind me to let the elevator continue up empty. “501 has a doctor. The people from the second and sixth floors are heading to the eighth floor now. Let them fight first.” I lowered my voice and explained quickly. “When they’re both hurt, we’ll reap the benefits.” The raincoat man listened, looked at me once, didn’t ask much, walked straight to the door of 501, swung the hammer, and smashed it down. Clang——! The door opened at the sound. He carried the hammer and walked in first. I followed closely behind him, subconsciously holding the kitchen knife across my chest, blade outward, stepping extremely carefully. The room was terrifyingly quiet, only our slight footsteps echoing in the dark. The raincoat man stared at the sliver of light coming from under a door. Without hesitation, he kicked the door open. I just followed in, but froze in place. The room was packed with dolls over a meter tall. The doctor had his back to us, completely naked, gently stroking an exquisitely made doll in his arms with a posture bordering on intoxication. My gaze locked onto the faces of those dolls. Skin was cold, stiff blue-white. Pupils dilated and empty. Lips a supernatural purple. These aren’t dolls. These are clearly… corpses of little girls, dressed up meticulously. Fury exploded in my head. I didn’t even notice the raincoat man raising his hammer beside me. Not knowing where the brute force came from, I violently raised the kitchen knife and slashed down at that naked back. One slash! Two slashes! Three slashes! Warm liquid splattered on my cheek and neck. My vision turned scarlet. I heard nothing, only the dull sound of the blade chopping into flesh and bone, and my own heavy breathing. Only when my arm was so sore I couldn’t lift it anymore did I snap back to reality. The doctor had collapsed onto the messy bed. His neck was almost severed, only a layer of skin barely connecting it. His eyes bulged, staring straight at the ceiling, shock and death frozen on his face. Thick blood was gurgling from under him, soaking the sheets and dripping onto the floor.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389940”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When I learned that the high school student I was sponsoring was the future villain of the story, he knocked on my door. I opened it to see a nervous boy carrying a bag of local specialties from the mountains, his eyes bright with hope. Rows of comments floated across my vision: [Is this the future human trafficker villain in the book?] [Tsk tsk, the mad dog in his domestic phase.] [Just wait until he becomes successful; he’ll be the biggest stumbling block for the male and female leads.] [The villain will seek his own death and end up being destroyed by the male lead, leaving nothing but ashes.] I paused, instinctively taking two steps back. Liam’s eyes dimmed, revealing a bitter smile. “Sorry, I just wanted to come and thank you, Miss Carter.” He put down the fertilizer sack he was using as a bag and turned to leave. I frowned and called out to him, “Wait!” 1 Liam froze, slowly turning around. He kept his head down, not looking at me, his voice low and hoarse. “Is there anything else you need me to do, Miss Carter?” I asked him, “You’re leaving just like that?” Liam nodded. “School is on summer break, and I just wanted to see you. Now that I have, it’s time to go back.” Comments floated by: [The villain is actually kinda pitiful. If he could keep this loyal dog persona, he’d definitely be a top-tier character!] [Seriously, bro? You took a motorcycle from the village to town, a bus from town to the county seat, another bus to the city transit center, then a subway to the train station, and endured a 13-hour hard seat ride to New York, just to give your sponsor a bag of local produce?] [This produce is what the villain got in exchange for helping an old lady in the village with farm work. How did such a good seedling grow crooked?] [I really feel for the villain now. God knows how many eye rolls and disdain he suffered carrying that fertilizer sack on the way here!] My throat tightened. Looking at his sweat-streaked face, I couldn’t help but say, “Never mind. Come in and cool off for a bit.” Liam was clearly reluctant, stepping back a few paces. “My… my shoes are a bit dirty.” I looked down. His white sneakers, washed until the fabric was fuzzy, were grey with dust. But it was clear they had been scrubbed clean by their owner many times. I didn’t say anything, just pointed at the fertilizer sack. “Help me carry that in. I have slippers for you.” Liam looked up sharply, stunned. I took out a new pair of slippers for him. “Put these on.” Liam put down the produce and stood awkwardly in the living room. I poured him a cold drink and smiled, “Sit on the sofa. What are you standing there for?” Liam gave me a forced smile. He seemed terrified, as if afraid of dirtying my sofa. I asked about his studies, finally diverting his attention. As soon as studies were mentioned, Liam visibly relaxed. His grades were excellent. He was top of his class at the best high school in his county. I listened quietly, suddenly feeling that this boy was nothing like what the comments described. His eyes were very dark and bright, hiding a resilient strength. That was clearly a hope for the future, a desire to make something of himself. How could a kid like this become the kind of person who would bleed for a woman, as the comments claimed? 2 After he finished, I asked him, “What are your plans for the summer?” Liam paused, scratching his head a little sheepishly. “I plan to do some practice problems, preview the next semester’s content…” [The villain really has a talent for lying from a young age. He was clearly planning to tutor someone else.] [Don’t delay the SATs, big bro! Even if you’re a villain, the obsession with college entrance exams is carved into our bones!] [Ten dollars an hour? Even slave labor isn’t this cheap, right?] [And that parent has a terrible temper and is hard to talk to. If their kid’s grades don’t improve, they scold the villain. The villain suffers endless eye rolls and ridicule, and his heart starts to twist!] [Upstairs, he has no choice. The villain only wants to spend the sponsor sister’s money on his studies; he insists on earning his own living expenses.] I interrupted Liam’s lie. Choosing my words carefully, I asked, “My friend’s bookstore is hiring. If you’re willing…” Before I could finish, an anxious look appeared on Liam’s face. “Is it a very important friend? Can I really help?” My probing words got stuck in my throat. Staring at the boy’s overly handsome face for a few seconds, I slowly nodded. “Can you watch the store for her? I’ll pay you 100 a day.” Before Liam could speak, the comments exploded. [What is this sponsor sister doing? If the villain doesn’t go through those hardships, how will he become that paranoid, gloomy business tycoon later?] [Exactly! If the villain doesn’t go back to tutor the rich kid in the city, how will he accidentally meet the female lead who is traveling there?!] My heart moved slightly. Suffering has never been a necessity for success. If possible, who wouldn’t want to walk in the sunlight? As for the female lead mentioned in the comments… If she would only bring pain to Liam. Then what meaning did their meeting have? Why should Liam, with such a bright future, become the touchstone for the main couple’s love? Liam nervously picked at the seam of his jeans, “I… I haven’t done this before. I’m afraid I won’t do a good job…” I smiled at him and patted his shoulder encouragingly. “It’s okay. There’s always a first time for everything. I believe in you.” Liam was a little stunned. His droopy puppy eyes suddenly widened. His lips trembled as if he wanted to say something. But he was interrupted by the sudden sound of the door opening. “Cousin! I had a huge fight with my mom!” The comments suddenly started scrolling. [Great! The female lead is here!] [Oh ho! Turns out the sponsor sister is the female lead’s cousin!] 3 Female lead? Who? My cousin? I looked up at Chloe at the door, a flash of surprise on my face. But I quickly understood. Chloe is my aunt’s daughter. Her parents are loving, and the Su family has been in business for generations—a standard wealthy family. She has a naive and straightforward personality, holding a natural kindness towards everyone and everything. Looking at it this way, she really is the standard configuration for a novel’s female lead. [Damn it! Our male lead is still on his way, why did the villain meet her so early?] [It’s okay. When the female lead goes abroad to study, the Su family will face a crisis, and the female lead can get engaged to the male lead!] [The main couple marries first and loves later, falling for each other without knowing it. Luckily, the villain became a business upstart by then, appearing beside the female lead to make the male lead feel threatened.] Me: ? Wait— According to the comments. The Su family’s company is operating well; how could a crisis suddenly appear? Liam is already successful and famous. How can he still be a part of the main couple’s play?? In the blink of an eye, Chloe had already walked up to me. “Sis, I want to go to an ancient town in the Southwest to sketch, but my mom just won’t agree. You have to persuade her!” After saying that, she realized there was someone else in the living room. Chloe paused, holding my hand: “Oh, we have a guest.” I came back to my senses and introduced, “This is Liam, the student I’m sponsoring.” Turning to Liam, I said, “This is my cousin, Chloe.” They greeted each other. I watched helplessly as Liam’s gaze stayed on Chloe’s face. Then it traveled down, fixing on our joined hands. The comments were excited: [Who can resist the aura of the little sunshine female lead!] [Haha, the villain must be lovestruck already.] [The place the female lead wants to go is where she meets the male lead, right? So the plot is advancing ahead of schedule.] [Oh my god, sponsor sister, quickly separate the female lead and the villain! Our female lead baby belongs to the male lead!] I frowned slightly in discomfort. Afraid Liam would feel uncomfortable, I told Chloe to wait for me in the study upstairs. After she left, I looked at Liam: “Since I asked you to stay, you can live here. There are many guest rooms on the third floor; pick one.” Liam gazed at me and slowly nodded. “I’ll listen to you, Miss Carter.” After settling Liam, I immediately went to the second-floor study. Listening to Chloe chatter about the causes and consequences, I finally understood. It turned out she went sketching to put together a portfolio to apply to prestigious art schools abroad. Superior family background, prestigious school degree. It seemed indeed to be a good path. I nodded, “I’ll help you persuade Auntie.” Before leaving, Chloe asked me: “Sis, you’re a college student. Why sponsor a high school student?” 4 Choosing to sponsor Liam was a coincidence. I am a person with very low material desires. Just started college, my mom gave me fifty thousand dollars a month for pocket money. Accidentally scrolled onto a post seeking sponsorship. Found many children from impoverished areas leaving messages in the comments. I felt at the time that money sitting in my card was just a dead object; better to use it for something more meaningful. I left a sentence in the comments section, stating I could sponsor. Nearly a thousand people messaged me privately. Liam was just one of them. I started sponsoring 30 students. Later I found out that only a very small number of them were truly poor. So 30 people were reduced to 18. Liam was still among them. But I only had a very shallow impression of him. We truly became familiar because after he finished his high school entrance exams, he got first place in the county and received a scholarship of a thousand dollars. He transferred all that thousand to me. [Miss Carter, I know this money isn’t much, but I earned it myself. Could you please accept it?] It was from that moment that I noticed this orphan child. Destitute but proud. Insecure yet resilient. Every holiday, I would receive his greetings on time. For the money sent every month, he would also be meticulous, sending me a breakdown of expenses. But what he sent more often were his grades, ranking first in his grade every time. I checked the high school Liam attended. It was a key county school. Although the teaching resources were limited, it was a solid good school. The competitive pressure was immense, making the first place in the grade even more rare. I told Chloe all this. She was a bit surprised, murmuring: “…So that’s how it is.” Chloe changed the subject. “But just because of that, you let him live in your house?” I paused. Outside the window, the sun was bright, and the cicadas were loud. For no reason, I thought of Liam carrying his schoolbag and the fertilizer sack. And then I thought of the comments saying Liam would do anything for Chloe, becoming crazy and demonic. I exhaled heavily. I don’t know if I was saying it to myself or to Chloe. “Maybe, it’s because I feel he shouldn’t have that ending.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389939”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel