A ten-year-old girl vanished into the suburban night, the only thing left on her bed a single, bloody pair of underwear. Nine years later, as I was reading a bedtime story to my own daughter, I had a sudden, ice-cold realization: The “Tooth Fairy” the missing girl had talked about was no fairy tale at all. In that moment, I finally understood the blood-chilling motive hidden behind the innocence of a simple childhood story. My hand shook as I dialed the number for the lead detective from all those years ago. “Captain Stone,” I whispered, my voice ragged. “We were wrong. Dead wrong, for nine years.” 1 In 2016, I was working as a security guard at the gates of a high-end complex called Maplewood Estates. That winter, a ten-year-old girl named Sadie Jenkins vanished from her own bedroom. The scene was gruesome. Twisted sheets, spattered blood, and that single pair of bloody underwear balled up near the footboard. The police turned the entire complex upside down, but they didn’t find a single viable lead. Years passed. I got married, had a kid. My daughter was right in the middle of her wobbly-tooth phase. That night, my wife was tucking her in, telling her the story of the Tooth Fairy. When I heard those two words, I shot straight up in bed, drenched in a cold sweat. My voice trembling, I asked my wife, “The Tooth Fairy you’re talking about—she takes the tooth and leaves a coin?” “Yeah, honey. That’s the story everybody tells.” I stayed awake until dawn. As soon as the sky began to lighten, I found the number I hadn’t had the guts to delete in nine years and sent a text to Captain David Stone, the detective in charge of the case: “The whole direction of the investigation. It was completely wrong.” 2 The popular American version of the Tooth Fairy—tucking a lost tooth under the pillow in exchange for money—had only really become widely known in our area over the last decade or so. It came from one of two places: Either the version passed down from parents and teachers who had traveled, or the one popularized around 2015 by imported children’s media. You would never think that the tiny, almost imperceptible difference between the two versions could send a living, breathing person straight to her death. 3 “Officer! Please! Help! My daughter is gone! Someone is trying to kill her!” Brenda Wells’s shriek is a sound that still rips me awake sometimes. It was November 24th, 2016. Sadie Jenkins went missing that morning. It was around 7:40 a.m. I was just finishing my shift handover with the night guy, Old Man Leo, and was settling down in the guard booth with my thermos and a bag of glazed donuts. The fog was thick outside. People were rushing off to work and school, a normal, manic weekday morning. Then the sirens. Loud, close, and stopping right at the main gate. I ran out and saw the squad cars pull up to Unit 8, Building B. Nothing spikes a security guard’s adrenaline faster. As I raised the gate arm and pointed them toward the unit, my gut clenched. Clang. I knew that unit. That’s where Sadie lived. I was usually hiding in the booth, working through a box of glazed donuts and grinding on some mobile battle game. This group of kids would barrel in after school, sniffing out the sugar, and wipe out my snack stash in three minutes flat. I knew those little brats well. Sadie was different from the others. She was a natural-born leader, quick-witted, and she always took charge. Every time she cleared me out of donuts, she’d stuff my pockets with cheap candy or a pack of stale gum from her own stash. That morning, when I heard Brenda’s tortured scream, my chopsticks clattered to the floor. Damn it. Something happened to that kid. 4 Sadie’s unit was on the first floor. When I got there, a crowd of rubbernecking neighbors was already gathered at the entrance. I saw it right away: a huge, jagged hole cut into the iron security bars on the bedroom window. It looked black and menacing. Everyone was whispering that it was Sadie’s room. Humans are easily swayed by the obvious. Terrifying theories exploded in the crowd: breaking and entering, sexual assault, a random abduction. Even though neighborhood security wasn’t as tight back in 2016 as it is now, no one could believe that someone would brazenly cut through iron bars in the middle of the night just to go after a ten-year-old girl. Captain Stone, the lead detective, had a face like granite. He was grilling Sadie’s mother, Brenda Wells. “Brenda Wells, is that right? You called 911 at 7:15?” “Yes! I got up to make breakfast around seven, passed Sadie’s room, and saw the bed was empty and the window was jimmied! I pulled back the sheets and… there was blood! And that pair of underwear… I flew into a panic. I searched the whole apartment, and then I called the police!” “You didn’t hear anything all night?” “Nothing! I’m a heavy sleeper! Slept right through till morning.” I didn’t see the father, so I interjected, “Where’s the girl’s dad?” Brenda scrubbed tears from her face. “Rick—he’s a construction worker. He was on an overnight shift. His phone’s off.” I remembered Sadie mentioning that her dad was in construction and was rarely home. The police went back inside to examine the room. I lingered by the door, trying to peer in. When Captain Stone emerged, his brow was furrowed so tight it looked like a knot. He took a long drag on his cigarette. I offered him a light. “Captain, what’s the read?” Stone blew out a plume of smoke and lowered his voice. “Rookie, I’ve worked B&E cases my whole career, and nine times out of ten, it’s about cash.” “This apartment is a two-bedroom. The girl’s window is small, tucked away—a spot a thief would choose. I started thinking, maybe the thief got in, ran into the kid, and got the wrong idea…” “But the scene is all wrong. The sheets are twisted, there’s blood splatter on the walls and bed, and that underwear—it looks like a passion crime.” “But think about it: the mother next door didn’t hear a thing? The neighbors heard nothing? The girl didn’t even scream for help?” “The biggest piece missing is the body. If it was a passion killing, why take the body? Why the effort? I have a terrible feeling about this one.” 5 A terrible feeling. Stone’s words sent a chill down my spine. Why Sadie? Why her? Stone bent down and pulled a few comic books from under the bed, dusting them off. Looking at those books, a memory flashed in my mind, from the first time I really met Sadie, two months earlier. “Security Uncle! Come outside now!” I was dozing that afternoon when I heard a clear voice shouting for me. I stepped out and saw a tall, fair-skinned little girl in a sundress, standing guard over a chubby little boy who was sitting on the ground sobbing. She pointed at two older boys across the way and said fiercely, “Sir, they stole his stuff and they hit him!” The two older boys weren’t scared; they shoved the girl. “Mind your own business!” My temper flared. I crossed the distance in one stride and pulled the two older boys apart. “You little punks. Try that again.” They were only tough when they outnumbered someone. Seeing I was serious, they yelled, “You’ll pay for that!” and ran off. “Yeah, I’ll be waiting in the booth! Don’t be a coward!” I shouted after them. The girl, Sadie, was all business. She knelt down, picked up the scattered comic books, handed them to the little boy, and wiped his tears. “Stop crying. If they bother you again, you use my name. I’ve got your back.” That was my first impression of Sadie Jenkins—righteous, kind, and she burned bright like a tiny sun. I ushered them into the guard booth and gave them some napkins. “Uncle, I knew you’d help!” “How did you know?” Sadie stared at the mobile game on my screen, her eyes shining. “I watch you play a lot. The other guards yell at the delivery guys, but you’re always polite and let them come inside for a drink. You’re a good man.” “Hey, we’re all just trying to make a living.” “Exactly! My teacher says we have to help each other! But I notice… adults like to bully kids, and big kids bully little kids. I hate that.” I was surprised. This girl, who seemed so loud and bold, was actually quite insightful. “You want to watch me play, just come on in. Don’t wait outside.” “Really? Thank you! Can I… play a round?” she asked, smiling cheekily. “…Finish your homework first.” “Yes! This is the best!” She slapped the little boy on the shoulder. “We have a place to hang out after school now!” The little boy, Matty, shyly handed me his books. “If you get bored, Sir, you can borrow these.” That was the first time my guard booth had ever been so full of life. “Wow, your moves are amazing, Uncle! I want to play that character next!” Those two kids were my little rays of sunshine. Before leaving, Sadie didn’t forget her own parting advice: “Uncle, it’s getting cold. Zip up your coat and don’t catch a cold.” How could such a wonderful child… 6 The evidence collection lasted over half an hour. Stone and his team searched the room repeatedly. I waited anxiously, but all Stone could do was shake his head and sigh. I was getting frustrated. “Captain, what is it?” Before Stone could answer, Sadie’s father, Rick Jenkins, arrived. The man was wearing a hard hat, his face covered in concrete dust and sweat. He burst through the door and went straight for Brenda, ignoring the police. “Where is our daughter? Huh?” Once he figured out what had happened, Rick shoved Brenda hard in the shoulder, his eyes bloodshot. “Someone jimmied the window, our daughter is hurt—maybe dead—and you were sleeping like a dead pig?!” His jaw was clenched tight, his fists cracking. If the police hadn’t been standing right there, I think he would have beaten Brenda on the spot. Seeing the volatile situation, Stone pulled me aside. “How long have you worked here?” “Two months.” “Know this family?” “I know the kid. The adults, not so much.” “I notice the complex doesn’t have security cameras outside the gate?” “Just the one at the main entrance, facing the street.” “Alright, I need a favor. We need to question the parents and talk to the neighbors. You know the area. Help us find our way around.” “No problem. Whatever it takes to find her.” “You asked me what was wrong with the scene. I’ll be straight with you.” Stone lit a cigarette, his eyes sharp. “This scene is all wrong. Ten-year-old kid, the room’s a wreck—she obviously fought back. The security bars were cut, blood everywhere… We can rule out runaway or self-abduction.” “So an outsider came in.” “Yes. But for all the apparent violence, something is missing. No screams, no sounds of a major struggle. If the kid was knocked out or killed right away, the room wouldn’t be this messy, and the blood volume is wrong.” “Since she wasn’t killed here, she was taken. How do you move a struggling human being out of a house in the dead of night without alerting anyone? How do you even clean up some of the mess?” “This tells me one thing: the killer had a way to keep her quiet.” “It might even be… someone she knew.” Stone paused, exhaling the words slowly. “I have two theories. First, a familiar person. Second, the parents are hiding something.” 7 The time snaps forward to 2025. This case was a thorn in my side for nine long years. After I heard the full, real version of the “Tooth Fairy” story that night, I smoked an entire pack of cigarettes on my balcony. The truth had been right in front of us the entire time, just missing that final puzzle piece. Could that final piece bring back a girl who’d been gone for almost a decade? At six in the morning, I scrolled through my contacts and finally hit the number: Captain Stone. 8 Back in 2016. We quickly found that this family was hiding something strange. Sadie Jenkins, ten years old, attended Harborview Elementary, six miles from home. The father, Rick Jenkins, forty-two, a dependable blue-collar worker constantly rotating between construction sites. The mother, Brenda Wells, thirty-four, ran a small food stand in the evening market, leaving in the afternoon and closing up around ten. A typical blue-collar, double-shift household, working nonstop. I was puzzled. Simple folks, no money, no social influence—why would anyone target their kid? The neighbors described Rick as a straight shooter, a little hot-tempered, loud at home, but honest. Brenda and Sadie, however, had impeccable reputations. Everyone said Brenda was sweet, a hard worker who managed everything. Sadie was a big-hearted kid who helped Brenda at the stand and was always cheerful. But behind that facade, we started hearing murmurs. Several neighbors whispered privately that Brenda Wells wasn’t Sadie’s birth mother. 9 “Is the sister who was afraid of being lonely… really not coming back?” The next day after Sadie’s disappearance. I’d spent all of yesterday running myself ragged with Captain Stone. My throat was raw, but we were no closer to an answer. The precinct took the case seriously, sending in more personnel today. I was holed up in the guard booth, feeling sick. I’d only known those kids for two months, but they were the only light in my boring life. I remembered what Sadie had told me. She said the first thing she did after school was find her group. If someone wasn’t there, she’d shout until they came out. “No one gets left behind! People who don’t have friends are the most pathetic people, Uncle. You too!” That’s how seriously she used to lecture me. It was Saturday. Usually, the entrance to the complex would be a zoo. I looked out the window, and for a moment, I thought I saw the group of kids laughing. But when I focused, I saw only Matty, the chubby little boy Sadie had protected, sitting alone on a bench. I walked over. Matty looked up, his eyes swollen like peaches. “Uncle, Sadie’s gone. No one wants to come out. Will she really never be found?” “Don’t talk like that. The police are looking, she’ll be back soon.” “She won’t.” Matty shook his head, a certainty in his voice that chilled me. “Why do you say that?” “Sadie told us. She was most afraid of being alone. If she didn’t come out to find us, it means she wasn’t in this world anymore.” “…” It was a child’s silly talk, but it twisted my heart. Did she already know, deep down, that her ordinary life could be cut short at any moment?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389655”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was the most emasculated husband in the Command Quarters. My wife, Veronica Shaw—a high-ranking Colonel on the General’s Staff—came with an entourage: her sister’s widower, Mitch Thompson, and his daughter. I was the supporting character in my own life. The scene was always the same: Mitch would stumble out of our bright, spacious master bedroom, flustered, with obvious red marks on his neck. Veronica would start to explain, to stammer out an apology, but I would always cut her off, throwing her a lifeline, and severing my own in the process. “I know you had one of your episodes again, V,” I’d say, my voice steady, even reassuring. “You mistook Mitch for me. It’s okay. I don’t mind.” Then came the field trip. A school outing to the mountains. A sudden mudslide. Veronica only had time to grab her niece, Kinsley, and rush away, leaving our own daughter, Juliette, behind. Juliette, or Jules, was later rescued by one of the junior medics, covered in blood, burning up with a fever. Even then, barely conscious, she shook her head and whispered the lines she’d learned from her father. “It’s fine. I know Mom just had one of her episodes. She mistook my cousin for me.” Everyone praised me for being such an understanding man—a rock for a powerful woman—and my daughter for being so mature. But deep down, Veronica was fracturing. She would sometimes rage at us, pleading for us to be the family we used to be. She was losing the war against her own lies. 1 I burst into the hospital room. All I could see was Jules’s little face, bright red from the fever, her tiny body seemingly swallowed by the white hospital bed. “Daddy’s late,” I choked out. I reached a trembling hand toward her cheek, but my tears splattered onto the crisp sheet first. Jules’s eyes fluttered open. She forced a weak, brave smile, her voice muffled and hoarse. “Don’t cry, Daddy. Jules is fine. It’s just a fever. It’s better than the last time…” I clapped my hand over her mouth instantly, shaking my head violently. “Shh, Jules, sweetheart, it’s over. It’s all in the past. This time, I won’t let anything happen to you.” A chill ran through me, a profound, bone-deep coldness that defied the scorching peak of summer outside. It felt like the icy grip of the last life, the agonizing final moments when the pain had swept through my frozen limbs. In that previous life, Veronica’s anxiety and guilt over losing her sister, Lydia, combined with the stress of her promotion, had sent her spiraling. She constantly mixed up Mitch and his daughter with Jules and me. I swallowed the sharp, internal pain, telling myself we were family. I tolerated it all—until her delusion cost our daughter everything. She made the mistake again, giving the one available dose of the life-saving specialized medication to her niece, Kinsley. Jules died. Broken and desperate, I went after Mitch and Kinsley. Mitch just laughed, a cruel, open-mouthed sound. “Stress? Anxiety? You actually bought that pathetic excuse? Veronica is tougher than anyone! It was just a necessary sacrifice to protect her reputation! Now go die quietly, Calvin. I’ll take care of Veronica.” They stripped me of my clothes and threw me out of the house in the dead of winter. I froze to death on the street. I was not letting that tragedy replay. In the past, Jules was trapped in the mudslide, overjoyed when she saw Veronica arrive. She ran toward her mother, only to be bypassed. Veronica went straight to Kinsley, swept her up, and left without a backward glance. It wasn’t until a full day later that Veronica finally remembered Jules hadn’t come home. Finding her in the hospital, still alive, she hadn’t offered comfort, only harsh questions: Why didn’t you shout? Did you expect to risk your life just to get my attention? I’d fought with her then. She’d stormed out, taking Kinsley with her to the Command Quarters’ barracks, refusing to see Jules. It was then, using the flimsy excuse of being “unfamiliar” with Jules due to her “episode,” that she diverted the life-saving medication. This time, I’d planned to keep Jules home. But while I was out talking to the doctor about her initial fever, Veronica had gone behind my back and forcefully sent Jules on the trip. A high-ranking official’s daughter, she’d declared, must be a role model for collectivism. The next time I saw Jules, she was on a stretcher. Staring at the grim diagnosis on the chart, I made a decision. I told the nurse to watch Jules closely, then borrowed the doctor’s desk phone and dialed a number I hadn’t touched in years. The reply I got made me exhale a shuddering sigh of relief. But securing the specialized medication through my connection would take time. I couldn’t risk it. If Jules’s condition worsened suddenly, Veronica’s readily available supply was still the best, fastest option. Reborn, I no longer craved Veronica’s love. I would be silent, compliant, allowing her and Mitch to continue their disgusting charade of “stress” and “mental fatigue.” I simply needed her to perform the most basic duty of a mother—to care for her child when it mattered most—for the sake of our history, and for Jules. I needed her to get the drug without another mistake. The following afternoon, Veronica arrived, Mitch and Kinsley trailing behind her. The security guard was hauling massive bags of shopping. Mitch’s new Omega Seamaster—a watch that screamed status and expense—flashed an arrogant gleam on his wrist, twisting a fresh knife in my gut. I knew how many favors and how much of our savings Veronica had burned for him. Veronica cleared her throat, a nervous, unnatural sound. “The rain was so heavy yesterday, Calvin. I was highly reactive, I’ll admit it. I… I mixed up Kinsley and Jules. That’s why I left her in the cave.” “Kinsley was also traumatized, so I took her to the mall—to the city’s designer shops—to soothe her nerves. As soon as she felt better, we rushed here to see Jules…” She paused, catching my flat stare, and added, awkwardly, “Calvin, you know how close Lydia and I were. Losing her has been incredibly hard on my mental state…” “She abandoned Mitch and Kinsley when she ran off and then died of cancer. They’ve had nothing. You…” Once, Veronica loathed Mitch, convinced he’d stolen her sister and led her to an early grave. After Lydia died, Veronica had spiraled into a deep depression. To give her an anchor, and because I genuinely felt for Kinsley, I’d persuaded Veronica to let them move in. I never imagined that “moving in” would extend to her bed. I looked at Mitch, resplendent in his crisp, silk-blend shirt. I said nothing. Mitch, sensing the advantage, smirked, patting Kinsley’s head. “Oh, right, Kinsley, sharing is caring. We shopped all day and picked up something for Jules. Hand over that dress…” “It’s a designer silk-georgette! It was so hard to find…” But Kinsley clutched the bag tightly, and a few dramatic tears welled up. “No! You said every dress here was mine! If she wants one, she can go pick out her own!” Mitch feigned sternness, lightly scolding Kinsley, then forced a chuckle. “Apologies, Calvin. The child’s been spoiled.” The subtext was clear: We are the real unit here. I instinctively looked at Jules. In the last life, this was the moment she’d compete, trying to win Veronica’s attention. Now, even through the haze of her fever, she managed a painful, distorted smile. “It’s okay. She can keep it if she likes it.” My eyes stung. My seven-year-old daughter was learning appeasement in front of her own mother. Veronica’s brow furrowed at Jules’s sad resignation. A flash of guilt crossed her face, and she reached out to embrace Jules. Jules subtly turned away. “Please don’t come too close, Mom. I have a fever. I don’t want to give it to you.” The utter emotional distance in Jules’s eyes made Veronica stumble backward. Unable to rage at the frail child, she turned the heat on me. “What kind of father are you, Calvin?! Letting her get this sick! And then letting her use her illness to spite us!?” I sighed, not engaging the accusation. I simply handed her the medical chart. 2 “Advanced Lymphoma. She needs the specialized medication immediately. Without it, she will die. She’ll be admitted to the hospital. Room 30.” I deliberately stressed the room number. No matter how bad her “episodes” were, she could only confuse people, not suffer hearing damage. This time, she would not make the mistake. Veronica’s hands shook as she read the file. She took several deep, shuddering breaths to compose herself. “Okay, Calvin. Don’t worry. I’ll make the call. I’ll make sure the medication is routed to our daughter.” I felt a small release of tension. At least she still cared. To try and appease Jules, Veronica promised she could re-enroll in the Conservatory Prep School for singing, which she loved. Veronica had pulled her out of that school only because Kinsley also liked to sing, and she didn’t want the girls competing. Mitch’s face went white. He viciously pinched Kinsley’s arm. Kinsley instantly fell to the floor, gasping and wailing. “I… I don’t want her to take my spot!” Mitch pretended to scold her sternly. “Kinsley Thompson! Be sensible! Can’t you let your cousin have this one thing?!” Normally, Veronica caved instantly to Mitch and Kinsley’s demands. Today, she held her ground, her expression chilling. I intervened with a smile. “It’s fine. It doesn’t matter. If Kinsley doesn’t like it, we’ll drop it.” Before Mitch and Kinsley arrived, Jules had been the apple of Veronica’s eye, the pearl of the Command Quarters. If Jules wanted the moon, Veronica would try to reach it. We were the envy of the base. Veronica always carried a photo of the three of us in her briefcase and spoke of us constantly. Then, Jules’s needs became secondary. Kinsley got the first pick of everything. Veronica claimed Kinsley was motherless and that she had to fulfill that duty, telling Jules she needed to be the “bigger person.” She forgot Jules was only seven. Veronica’s face darkened, a flicker of genuine anger igniting in her eyes. “I am Jules’s mother! And my daughter is sick! What is wrong with her wanting to sing? Do I need your permission, Mitch?” Mitch’s feigned smile froze. He picked up Kinsley awkwardly, moving toward the door. “I understand. Lydia’s elopement disgraced the family. We’re outsiders. We’ll just leave, so we’re not in anyone’s way.” Since Veronica’s feelings for him began, she was constantly trying to measure up to her dead sister, Lydia. Hearing her sister’s name, Veronica immediately snapped, her voice laced with panic. “Don’t be ridiculous! Where are you going in the middle of the night?!” She looked at me, struggling for words, finally spitting them out. “Calvin, let’s put the singing on hold. Jules isn’t in a rush. I need to take them back first, then I’ll return. We can talk about the hospital admission details tonight.” I nodded, watching them go with a blank smile. I knew she wouldn’t come back. That manipulation was second nature to her. In the last life, my hope for her love made Mitch’s digs excruciating. This time, I’d already extinguished all the soft, tender parts of my heart. The next morning, Veronica arrived, dark circles ringing her eyes, with Mitch in tow. Mitch made sure to expose the hickey on his neck, his tone laced with a possessive, smug complaint. “Veronica, you really need to get your stress under control… You were clinging all night… But she’s so dedicated to you, Calvin. She barely slept but rushed straight here. I’ll need to get her some supplements…” He didn’t finish the sentence, a flush of artificial modesty rising on his cheeks. Veronica flinched, shooting him a glare, then turning to me to start her explanation. I kept peeling the orange for Jules, my hands steady. “Since you’re here, talk to the hospital. Jules’s injuries will heal, but the lymphoma is the priority.” She acknowledged this with a simple “Mhm.” She was all business, handling the logistics with her usual ruthless efficiency. I glanced at her. She was wearing her pressed uniform, but embroidered, almost inappropriately, on the cuff, were a few tiny, delicate flowers. I froze. I remembered finding a stain on her uniform once, offering to clean it. She’d flared up in a rare fury, snatching it from me. “This is sacred. Don’t you dare touch it!” Her past declaration now sounded like a clown’s pathetic act. Veronica followed my gaze, her body tensing, ready to explain. I cut her off, bringing up Jules’s condition instead. Suddenly, Mitch slapped his forehead. “Shoot! Veronica, I just remembered! Kinsley was throwing a fit when we left. Since you didn’t take her to school, I bet she’s sulking at home. But she’s the lead in the big performance today!” Veronica’s face hardened. Mitch played the distressed parent. “You know how much Kinsley practices. If she misses this performance, she’ll be heartbroken. She’ll cry for weeks.” I exchanged a glance with Jules. Even pale and weak, she offered Veronica a soft, gentle smile. “It’s okay, Mom. Go with Kinsley. She can’t miss her performance.” Veronica mumbled, “She’s seven years old. She needs to learn some discipline!” But she was already halfway out the door. I knew it was coming, yet the pain was still a fresh, deep wound. I wiped a silent tear and turned to Jules, telling her a silly joke, trying to distract her from the inevitable disappointment. A moment later, my early-generation cell phone—the clunky “brick” model—rang. It was Veronica. My heart lifted briefly. Had she secured the medication? Her apologetic tone froze me. “Calvin. The medication is on hold. We’ll have to wait. Also, I have a necessary business trip to Seattle. There’s a plus-one slot for family, and Mitch and Kinsley have never been.” “I promised Kinsley I’d take her if the performance went well.” 3 My heart dropped, crashing into a dark, empty pit. The same excuse. They’ve never been. Was I, Calvin Rhodes, somehow indebted to them? Veronica tried to compensate. “Don’t worry. The next batch will be secured. I promise. We’ll bring you back a gift from Seattle. Didn’t you always want an Omega Seamaster? I’ll look for one for you…” For the first time since my rebirth, I let the fire out. “You’re lying! You have the drug right now! You’d rather see our daughter suffer than disappoint Mitch!” My memory of the past life confirmed it: the specialized drug was available. Veronica was choosing Kinsley’s vacation over Jules’s survival. I thought of the time she was nearly crippled by shrapnel, and I had pulled every string to get her the best care, massaging and rehabilitating her until she walked again. When she was pregnant with Jules and overwhelmed by her career, I put my own academic future on hold, taking an unpaid leave to be a full-time father. She’d wept then, promising me everything. “Calvin, marrying you was the luckiest thing I ever did. Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.” She’d forgotten that promise. All I wanted was our daughter’s health. My words pierced her carefully constructed facade. Veronica, enraged at being called out, snapped. “Enough! I’m the one managing the logistics! Do you think you know more than I do? I am Jules’s mother, why would I hurt her?!” “Besides, there are top specialists in Seattle who might be able to help with my episodes. You hate me mistaking Mitch for you. If I get better, it stops! This helps us all!” She didn’t give me a chance to argue, hanging up with a definitive click. My knuckles were white. After all my silent sacrifice, she didn’t have an ounce of pity left. The Command Quarters hospital was small. The gossip quickly found its way to me. “Can you believe Calvin? The Chief of Staff is touring Seattle with Mitch and his girl, looking like a family of three!” “Mitch is constantly flaunting those hickeys. No shame.” “Specialized drugs? Only she has the clout to get them. She’s stalling for some pathetic reason.” Jules, catching the whispers, was scared I was upset. She threw her little body into my arms, comforting me. “It’s okay, Daddy. I can wait… We only have six months left to wait. I made it through the last time, I can make it through this one…” Later, while cleaning out the study, I found a faded, yellowed journal hidden in a drawer. On a morbid impulse, I opened it. The truth hit me, fact after fact, like a cluster of depth charges shattering my inner world. Mitch and Veronica had been involved for years. And Kinsley? Kinsley was their daughter. My hands clenched the pages. No wonder the brutal favoritism! But Jules was also her daughter! How could her heart be so ruthlessly biased? Her so-called grief over her sister’s death wasn’t grief at all. It was a calculated performance, a strategy to make me pity her and agree to take Mitch and Kinsley in. My genuine affection was a tool in her campaign. I rushed out, borrowed a camera, and, with shaking hands, photographed every single page of that journal. I looked at Jules, fragile, tormented by the disease, a gust of wind away from breaking. I was done being the silent victim. I developed the photos and walked straight into Veronica’s superior officer’s office. I presented the evidence and filed for divorce. Faced with the undeniable facts, the General’s superior grew serious. “Poor personal conduct. I never thought Veronica had grown so arrogant. Mr. Rhodes, the issues you’ve raised are severe. I approve the divorce immediately. The process will just take a little time.” The immense stone that had been lodged in my chest finally rolled away. Veronica was gone for two weeks. I stopped checking in, stopped calling. She returned to the hospital looking exhausted, immediately rushing to my side, her voice filled with feigned hurt. “Calvin. Why didn’t you check on me? Everyone else’s spouse called. Look, I got the Omega Seamaster you wanted. Try it on.” She paused, a thread of suspicion entering her tone. “I’m just watching out for Lydia’s family, that’s all. I also made a lot of breakthroughs on the research into my episodes in Seattle. Next time, I’ll take you. I swear I’ll fix myself.” “And I secured the specialized medication for Jules.” 4 I was indifferent to Veronica. The Omega Seamaster was meaningless. But the words “specialized medication” snapped my head up. “Good. Give it to her immediately.” This time, Jules’s disease had been more aggressive, more violent than the last. The antidote from my connection was still days away. Before Veronica could answer, Mitch appeared at the door, his face a mask of manufactured anxiety. He called her away. I saw the flash of poisonous resentment in Mitch’s eyes as he looked at me. I hurried to the nurse’s station to arrange the injection, but the doctor stammered. The medication, he said, had been given to Room 26. By Veronica’s request. “Room 26? I specifically told her Jules was in Room 30. Who did she mistake for Jules this time?!” The doctor avoided my gaze, forcing a calm professionalism as he checked the chart. “No mistake, sir. Room 26. The patient is Kinsley Thompson. She apparently developed a sudden illness while traveling in Seattle…” Jules lay on the bed, weak and fading. My heart clenched into a tight, hard fist. Was the previous life’s dark finale truly unavoidable? My rational mind burned away. I flung myself toward Room 26. Inside, the same doctor was present. Mitch had Veronica wrapped in his arms, sighing with practiced difficulty. “You know how sensitive Kinsley is. This illness is aggressive. If we don’t treat her immediately, she’ll lose her ability to sing. You know she’d rather die…” Veronica’s voice was ragged with tears. “But Jules… I can’t bear it. It’s both my hands, Mitch! I can’t choose. I’m so afraid Calvin will hate me.” I distinctly saw a flicker of triumph and malice in Mitch’s eyes as he glanced at the doctor. The doctor cleared his throat, sounding reassuring. “Colonel Shaw, your daughter’s condition is stable. A slight delay in the medication won’t hurt her. But Room 26 cannot wait.” My nails dug deeply into my palms. Just as I suspected. Mitch had already bought the doctor off. Mitch smiled, his usual polished veneer intact. “Exactly. If you don’t trust me, trust the doctor. Besides, Calvin hasn’t contacted you once in two weeks. That proves Jules is fine, right?” “And Calvin loves you too much. You can simply win him back later.” A wave of bitter nausea rose in my throat. Just as I was about to burst through the door, Veronica’s next words stopped me, a heavy lead binding my feet to the floor. “I owe Lydia, and I owe you both. This is my atonement.” “Since Jules can wait, Kinsley gets the first dose. I’ll just claim I had an episode, that I mixed up the two girls again…” My entire body shook with fury. Twice, in two lifetimes, with the exact same excuse, Veronica had willingly chosen to sacrifice Jules. In that critical moment, a hand slammed down on my shoulder.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389654”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Everyone knew it was a sweet deal to be the side piece of Preston Thorne. I, his wife, was the reason. I didn’t just ensure his mistresses received a top-tier benefits package with platinum healthcare and generous trust funds; I even arranged for regular overseas retreats and exclusive medical checkups. People joked that catching Preston Thorne’s eye was like landing a C-suite position in the infidelity market. Naturally, he became the most coveted man among young, ambitious women in our circles. But this time, the girl he fixated on, a young woman named Summer, refused to be bought. She was fiercely devoted to her long-time, penniless boyfriend. The night before Preston planned to use his power to coerce her, I initiated intimacy with him, a desperate attempt to delay him, to buy her time to escape. The next morning, Summer was gone. Preston discovered my sabotage, and in a rage, he had me committed to a private psychiatric facility. He stood over me in that sterile room, his expression terrifyingly calm, as he issued his final warning. “Kin,” he said, using the nickname I loved, “just promise me you’ll stop interfering, and I can have you back home. You’ll resume your life as Mrs. Thorne, with every luxury and privilege that entails.” Finally, I gave a soft nod. I had just learned, before I was taken, that my brother, Jared, had lost everything in a bad investment. He was drowning in debt. Only with Preston’s sudden capital injection had he avoided bankruptcy and disgrace. For my brother, I had to stop fighting. I had to disappear. 1 The driver had just picked me up from the facility when a devastating pile-up occurred on the highway. The car flipped. The driver was instantly unconscious. I was severely injured. As the paramedics rushed to the scene, I surfaced briefly through the agonizing pain. Even in that state, my hand instinctively fumbled for my phone to call Preston. The line rang for a long time before it was answered. I swallowed the coppery blood pooling in my throat and managed to gasp, “Preston, I…” His voice, when it came, was laced with irritation. “Didn’t I send the car for you? I told you I’m busy. Kinsley, be sensible, okay?” The earpiece suddenly burst with chaotic noise. Then, a familiar voice cut through the static. It was Summer’s despairing scream: “Preston Thorne, do what you want with me, but why would you hurt him?” Preston’s reply was low and even, yet it sent a chill colder than any ice through me. “Summer, I warned you. If you dared to accept his proposal, I’d ensure he spends the rest of his life in a wheelchair.” So, the fragile, pure ideal he was so keen to protect was named Summer. I suddenly remembered why her voice was so familiar. It was the same frantic pitch I’d heard that first night I discovered his infidelity, the night I smashed every valuable object in our penthouse. Preston always managed to push people past their breaking point. Over the phone, Summer was weeping, begging him to leave her boyfriend alone. As I finally lost consciousness, her desperate pleas shifted. “Please, be gentle…” Her sobs of rage melted into fragmented, tiny gasps of pleasure. I woke up to find Preston sitting on a lounge chair nearby, casually scrolling on his phone. He noticed my gaze. He hesitated, then reached out a tentative hand, as if to check my temperature. I turned my head away. “I’m fine,” I rasped. Preston scoffed, his expression hardening, and he withdrew his hand instantly. “Kinsley, you’ve just come back, and you pull this stunt? Don’t you think it’s time to rein it in?” My brain seized up. A stunt? “I’ve told you countless times,” he continued, “no one will ever threaten your position. You are, and always will be, my only wife. What benefit is there in fighting with a girl fresh out of college, getting yourself into this state?” He thought the horrific accident was a pathetic attempt to compete with Summer. A move for attention. I opened my mouth, but the truth felt utterly meaningless, stripped of all weight. “I apologize. There won’t be a next time.” I didn’t argue. There was nothing left to say. Preston seemed satisfied by my capitulation. My brother had called that morning to tell me Preston had arranged the funds to pay off his next installment. See? I just had to be invisible, to know my place, and Preston would solve all our problems. “If you’re miserable, Kin, you should go. Get a divorce. I’ll figure out the money.” My arm ached from holding the phone. I knew the truth: the entire Thorne portfolio—cars, property, everything—had been seized and auctioned. The massive debt was still a gaping hole. Jared, who once lived in a two-thousand-square-foot river-view penthouse, had been beaten by debt collectors and was now in a damp, shadowy basement. It had taken three days for his life to collapse. I heard Preston had found him curled up on a tiny cot, pale, with blood on his lips. His blanket didn’t even cover his feet. A container of untouched microwave pasta sat on the floor. We were utterly defeated, completely cornered. Now, Preston offered the car, the house, the money. All he asked was for me to be blind, to be a ghost who enabled his beautiful romance with the ideal girl. Given our situation, how could I refuse? I managed a weak smile. “I’m not miserable. I’m just being blind. I can do that.” After my release from the hospital, I attempted to become the perfect, compliant wife. I stopped asking about Preston’s whereabouts or spending habits. When Preston needed a ride home, drunk after a business dinner, I gave the chauffeur Summer’s number. When he mentioned a craving for the seafood bisque I used to make, I routinely called Summer and asked her to deliver it. When he needed custom cufflinks matched to a new suit, I told Summer to contact his private tailor. … Three months into this routine, Preston did something unusual: he called to say he was coming home for dinner. 2 After the meal, as I mechanically laid out his suit for the next day, he grabbed me and forcefully pushed me against the wall. “Kin,” he murmured, his voice tight, “you’ve been so good lately. Too good. It’s not like you…” As his kisses trailed down my face, the unmistakable scent of Summer’s favorite gardenia perfume quickly saturated my senses. The room’s temperature spiked, making the cloying fragrance even more intense. A sharp, violent wave of nausea surged in my throat. I forced myself to endure it. But then, in the heat of the moment, Preston called out Summer’s name. My mind went blank. I clenched the pillow so hard my knuckles turned bone-white. Then, with a sudden, animalistic burst of strength, I shoved Preston away. I stumbled to the bathroom and collapsed by the toilet, dry-heaving. Preston followed me, his eyes narrowed. Seeing my desperate retching, the desire in his eyes vanished, replaced by irritation. He leaned against the doorframe. “What’s wrong with you?” I couldn’t answer, the sound of my continuous heaving echoing off the marble. He quickly lost patience. He merely threw a dismissive remark over his shoulder: “Go to the doctor tomorrow and get checked out.” The roar of his car engine faded as he drove away, taking my sleep with it. Curled up in the corner of the bed, I fought against the intense physical discomfort, but it was useless. I got up. While rummaging for an over-the-counter remedy, I found it in the back of the cabinet: a tacky, cheaply made pearl necklace whose metal settings had begun to fade. The cold metal suddenly burned in my palm, forcing me almost to drop it. I remembered the toughest year of Preston’s life. We were twenty-two. His father had cut off all his funds to force him to start from the bottom. The millionaire playboy, accustomed to spending six figures a month, was living on a two-thousand-dollar salary, wearing clothes from a strip mall, and sharing a cramped dorm. I’d felt sorry for him and secretly split my allowance with him. Under the moonlight, his voice had choked up. “Kinsley, I’m so lucky to have you.” To buy me a birthday gift, he worked himself to exhaustion, taking on extra shifts until he was dizzy. When he finally presented the pearl necklace, his face was flushed. “The quality is terrible compared to what you have in your closet, Kin. If you don’t like it, you can just tell me…” I didn’t refuse. I took off my latest designer necklace and wore the cheap pearls for a year. For a long time, that necklace had served as Preston’s symbolic ‘get out of jail free’ card. Snapping out of the memory, I walked to the balcony. I wound up and threw the necklace with all my might. It disappeared into the flowerbed below, vanishing without a trace. Two months later. I had an unexpected visitor. Summer. She was wearing the latest couture suit and a heavy, expensive watch. Even her diamond earrings were a pair Preston had spent a fortune on at a recent auction. I knew she had accepted his twisted, possessive love. And like so many women before her, she had come to tell me to leave my marriage. “He doesn’t love you anymore. There’s no point in clinging to this title,” she announced. “And I need that ‘Mrs. Thorne’ title to clear my name from being a home-wrecker.” But I needed that title too. I only had my brother left. I could concede anything else, but not this. Not the protection of the Thorne name. Seeing my lack of response, a flicker of genuine hatred crossed her eyes. She slammed her hand on the table and stood up. “Kinsley, why couldn’t you control Preston?” she shrieked. “Why did you let him ruin me and my boyfriend?” “My life is a mess because of your incompetence! You’re the reason I’m like this!” “If I can’t be happy, you and Preston—the two people responsible for this—won’t be happy either!” She lunged at me. Her full weight hit me, and my waist slammed into the metallic corner of the breakfast table. The agonizing pain stole my breath. I tried to push her away. But before I could exert any pressure, she suddenly collapsed onto the floor, sweeping the dishes and cutlery onto the tile with a crash. I turned back just as Summer cried out, clutching her abdomen. The fabric beneath her quickly turned a horrific crimson. Was she… pregnant? The housekeeper’s sharp scream filled the air, followed by Preston’s frantic shout from the foyer. The next second, a stinging, savage blow landed across my face. My lips immediately tasted of blood. “Kinsley!” Preston’s voice was a roar. “I thought you had learned your lesson these past months, but you’re still doing this? You’re still incorrigible!” An unspeakable bitterness, sharp and metallic, rushed up my throat. I choked out a weak defense. “I didn’t push her…” Preston didn’t even pause to hear me. He scooped Summer into his arms, his movements swift and protective, and rushed out the door. The man who could stay impassive during billion-dollar negotiations was now trembling slightly as he ran. A week later, Jared called. “Kin, could you just ask Preston why he suddenly unlinked the repayment account? If it’s too much trouble, forget it…” 3 I mumbled an acknowledgment, knowing my proud brother would only ask if he were truly desperate. When I called Preston, he answered immediately, as if waiting for my call. “What card? Oh… that one. I thought it was being fraudulently used, so I unlinked it. Is there a problem?” Preston’s tone was dismissive, yet his words landed like a heavy hammer blow to my heart. My hands nervously twisted the hem of my shirt. I forced myself to beg. “But my brother can’t wait, Pres. Can you… can you please be merciful to me just one more time, like you used to be?” Pres. It had been a long time since I’d used the intimate short form of his name. Silence fell on Preston’s end. A moment of rustling, and then Summer’s voice came through. “Kinsley, you know the company is under a lot of financial pressure right now? You and your brother are like a bottomless pit—no matter how much he gives you, it’s never enough. You’re going to drag him down.” Financial pressure… My mind flashed back to the morning headlines: “CEO Preston Thorne Spends Millions for Love! Ten-Million Dollar Villa and Luxury Cars Gifting Titles to Summer!” The financial pressure was caused by that, wasn’t it? An endless bitterness spread across my tongue, a searing, agonizing pain. “Preston put me in charge of this matter,” Summer continued. “If you can placate me, he’ll naturally help your brother with the money.” I agreed without hesitation. “I’ll text you the address. Come see me tomorrow, and I’ll tell you what to do.” I never imagined the address Summer sent would be my house. Standing outside, looking at the familiar stone façade, felt like gazing into a distant, lost life. The peach tree by the gate was blooming. The day Preston and I planted it, he’d asked me, “Do you know the language of the peach blossom?” I shook my head. He leaned in, gently biting my left ear, his hot breath making my head swim. “Kinsley, I want to be a prisoner of your love.” A spring breeze pulled me back to the present. I gave a self-mocking smile and entered the yard. Inside, through the sheer white curtains of the massive glass wall, the sunlight illuminated the furniture. I saw two bodies entwined on the chaise lounge—my mother’s favorite piece of furniture. Preston’s breathing was ragged. His voice was a mix of temptation and threat. “So we agree, you won’t take it too far.” Summer chuckled, playfully pushing his shoulder. “You gave me the house. Why are you suddenly so possessive?” He gave her the house? I lost control and stormed inside. “The house? Did you really give her the house?” Preston detached himself from Summer and slowly wrapped his silk robe around himself. “Yes. The paperwork is being finalized.” The moment those words left his mouth, a ringing filled my ears. I couldn’t hold my emotions in check any longer. I rushed him, beating my fists against his chest like a lunatic. “Why would you give it to her? You promised! You said as long as I behaved, you’d transfer the title back to me! Preston, why her? Why!” He grabbed my flailing hands and violently shoved me onto the sofa. Though the cushions were soft, the impact sent a sharp, dull ache through my abdomen. “She lost a child. This house is her compensation,” he said flatly. “If you had lost a child that day, I would have compensated you too.” “And Kinsley, don’t forget why you’re here.” In that instant, I forgot how to cry, how to scream, and even how to hate. When a sliver of rationality returned, Summer was dressed. “Kinsley, I haven’t quite decided how to punish you yet. How about… you get down on your knees and beg me?” Looking up at Summer’s arrogant, triumphant gaze, a wave of intense humiliation washed over me. But I knew I couldn’t refuse. Silence fell over the room. For a moment, I only heard a soft, muffled thud. It wasn’t my knees hitting the floor. It was my backbone, straight for twenty-six years, finally and completely shattering. Summer smiled. “I don’t have all day to wait. You know this house. You know where the security cameras are. If I check the feed and you’re not kneeling, I’m afraid I won’t be able to help your brother.” She looped her arm through Preston’s, and they walked out. The pain in my stomach intensified. I could barely straighten up. Every time I tried to shift or stand, the camera in the corner gave a little mechanical whir. The person watching seemed to be reminding me that if I ran, if I stood up, my brother would be ruined. As night fell, I suddenly felt a gush of warmth between my legs. In the faint moonlight, I saw my trousers were completely soaked in blood. Terrified, I called Jared. I cried that I was dying, that I was bleeding too much. My brother arrived, still in his restaurant uniform from his part-time job. He lifted me, his arms trembling, and ran to the waiting ambulance. “Kin, stay awake! Look at me!” “Kin! Don’t you dare close your eyes!” Just before the doors of the operating room closed, through the haze, I saw Preston. In all our years of marriage, it was the first time I had ever seen him so completely undone.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389653”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The day after I closed on my condo, it vanished. I’d spent ten years surviving on budget meals and packed lunches, squeezing onto overcrowded public transit every morning, all to save up the sixty thousand dollars for the down payment. Finally, I’d secured a small corner unit, 1801, on the top floor of the Sycamores complex, right near my office. But when I got home from work, the entire building was seventeen stories high. The eighteenth floor was simply gone. My condo was gone. I was completely unmoored. I chased down the seller, Mrs. Fion, and my realtor, Mark Jensen. They both swore they had never met me. I went to the County Recorder’s office, then the police. Everyone looked at me like I was insane. They showed me the building plans: all units in the Sycamores topped out at seventeen floors. The eighteenth floor had never existed. But I knew what I had bought! I had walked the unit! I searched. I argued. I caused a scene. The diagnosis was immediate: “She thinks she bought a house in a dream. What’s next, a house that sprouts legs and runs away?” My escalating public meltdowns resulted in multiple involuntary trips to the psychiatric ward. Each time, I managed to escape and went right back to raising hell. I couldn’t stop. That down payment represented a decade of my life, a decade of self-denial. To control me, the hospital staff started with medication, then moved to electroshock therapy—all to make me forget the condo. The last time they caught me, I was being transported back to the ward. I spotted a brief opening when the guard looked away, flung myself out of the moving van, and hit the pavement. I woke up back in the realtor’s office, the day I signed the contract. 1 I pressed my heel into the wooden floorboards, looking around the familiar space with a sense of confused dread. This was Unit 1801. This was where we had signed the papers in my past life. And yet, who could have foreseen that the entire eighteenth floor would inexplicably disappear the very next day? Mark Jensen, my realtor, started to prompt me. “Jenna, if everything looks good, we should wrap this up. I’ve got a couple of other clients waiting to tour this afternoon.” I tried to sound casual. “Sorry, I just need to check the exterior details and the common areas one last time.” I rushed out to the hallway and saw the large, clear number 18 plastered on the wall. It was here. This was the eighteenth floor. I hit the elevator button. It arrived quickly. The digital display above the doors clearly read 18. Ding. The doors opened. I stepped inside, frantically searching. Last time, after the floor vanished, I had ridden this same elevator repeatedly, and the ‘18’ button had been completely missing. But there it was now, clearly labeled. I pressed 1. I had to figure out what was happening before I lost everything again. As the doors started to slide shut, Mark rushed up, yelling, “Jenna, are you buying this place or not? You know that three-thousand-five-hundred-dollar deposit is non-refundable!” Three thousand, five hundred dollars! That was three months of rent and savings for me. I couldn’t just walk away. I had to find the glitch immediately. I made it to the first floor without incident. Then, I rode back up to 17. I got off at 17, found the emergency exit, and climbed the last flight of stairs to 18. Still nothing. The eighteenth floor was sitting right where it should be. Mark and Mrs. Charlotte Fion, the seller, were waiting for me by the elevator bank. Mrs. Fion smiled warmly when she saw me emerge from the fire escape. “A first-time buyer, you should absolutely check out the safety features and the amenities. But I promise you, dear, this building is top-notch.” I studied Mrs. Fion. She seemed kind. She’d even knocked ten thousand dollars off the price to make her moving deadline. She looked nothing like a fraudster. But when I went looking for her in my past life, she had looked me straight in the eye and said she’d never seen me. And she didn’t seem to be acting then, either. Mark Jensen was one of the firm’s top producers; he didn’t need my measly down payment. He also claimed not to know me after the disappearance. Could this be something supernatural? 2 “Jenna, if you back out, I return the fifty-six thousand five hundred, but the three-thousand-five-hundred-dollar deposit is lost.” Mark’s voice broke through my daze. Maybe the whole thing was a nightmare. A house can’t just up and leave. Mrs. Fion was desperate to move abroad to be with her daughter for the birth of her grandchild, which was why I was getting the deal of the century. The unit, the location, the fixtures—it was all perfect. I couldn’t throw away three thousand five hundred dollars over a bad dream. I bit the bullet, pulling out my phone. “This is a huge milestone for me. Do you mind if we take a quick video, just a couple of seconds, for my social media? For the memory?” If the condo vanished again, I needed ironclad proof that Mrs. Fion and Mark had sold it to me. If they were con artists, they’d panic. Mrs. Fion readily agreed. “Oh, I love that! My daughter is the same way. A pretty young woman like you should absolutely document this!” She smiled at the camera. Mark, too, cooperated patiently, showing no signs of guilt. This made no sense. Still, a video was indisputable evidence. If the condo disappeared, I’d have no problem getting my money back. I signed the contract with a flourish. After seeing Mrs. Fion and Mark off, I spent the next hour filming every inch of the condo. I refused to let history repeat itself. Ring. It was my current landlord. “Hello, Leah? Are you renewing the lease for the next quarter?” “Could I possibly rent for just one more month?” In my past life, I’d immediately given notice. When the condo disappeared, I was left homeless. A month would give me time to ensure the new place was solid. Plus, I only had enough cash left over for one extra month’s rent. “Absolutely not! I have people lined up to view it right now. Take the next quarter or get out!” I sighed. “Okay, then I’m out.” “Then get back here and pack your bags now!” the landlord roared, slamming down the phone. I took one last, lingering look at my dream condo before heading back to my rental to collect my belongings. As I opened the door to leave, I bumped into my next-door neighbor arriving home. Last time, I’d signed the contract and rushed off, so this was technically my first time seeing him. He was an older gentleman, wearing sharp glasses—he looked like a retired professor. I offered a friendly greeting. He nodded politely and opened his door. For a split second, I saw a large Golden Retriever inside. I walked down the stairs, counting the floors again. Eighteen. Definitely eighteen. My life was so sparse, ten years of saving meant I could fit all my possessions into a single suitcase. I pulled it behind me, walking toward my new home, bathed in the glow of the setting sun. Please, please, please, I prayed. Don’t vanish this time. But as I reached the complex, I froze. Every building was visibly shorter. My eighteenth floor was gone. 3 I immediately called Mark. “What? You said the condo you just bought disappeared?” “Ma’am, you’ve got to be joking. This is reinforced concrete and steel, not a pop-up tent! A whole floor ran off? Are you sure you’re at the right complex?” How could I be at the wrong complex? I had walked these grounds hundreds of times in my previous life, desperately searching for the missing floor. I could find this place blindfolded! “Look, I’m with a client right now. I’ll call you back after five.” Mark hung up. I was frantic. I had to confront Mrs. Fion. I stationed myself outside the local grocery store, knowing it was her usual route home. Soon enough, she appeared, carrying a bag of fresh produce. “Mrs. Fion, do you remember me?” She paused, looking closely. Then, a puzzled look crossed her face. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, dear. Are you one of my daughter’s friends?” I felt the blood drain from my face. We had just signed papers this morning! I grabbed her arm. “Stop playing games! Give me back my sixty thousand dollars!” Mrs. Fion’s eyes widened in terror. “Help! Somebody, please! I’m being robbed!” People rushed over from all directions. “Did you see that girl? She’s got some nerve, trying to mug an elderly woman in broad daylight!” “Call the police! Get her arrested!” First the house, then the robbery accusation. I was consumed by a blinding rage. I pulled out my phone and played the video for the crowd. “Look! This morning, she and her realtor sold me Unit 1801! Now the condo is gone, and she says she doesn’t know me!” Mrs. Fion was still shaking her head and denying everything, swearing she didn’t know me, calling me a thief. The crowd was utterly confused. The woman in the video was clearly Mrs. Fion. “Nobody leaves! We’ll wait for the police and let them sort this out!” I insisted. “Yeah, wait for the police!” I had the video. I had the contract. Let them try and dismiss me this time. A patrol car arrived shortly. The crowd explained the bizarre situation to the officers. “A condo bought in the morning that vanishes by afternoon?” The officers were dumbfounded. I handed over my phone: the video, the pictures of the interior. One officer looked back and forth between Mrs. Fion and the video. “Ma’am, this woman certainly looks identical to you. And the unit in the video appears to be real.” Mrs. Fion shook her head wildly. “I was playing Mahjong with friends all morning! They can vouch for me!” Unable to resolve the chaos, the police brought us all back to the station: me, Mrs. Fion, and even Mark Jensen, who was forced to come in for questioning. Seeing Mark, I exploded. “He’s the realtor! He sold me the unit!” Mark stared at me with an expression of shock and bewilderment. “Wait, you’re the crazy lady who called and said her apartment vanished? Who are you? I’ve never seen you before! Get this lunatic away from me!” 4 Two officers had to physically restrain me. “Jenna, please calm down,” the officer said. “You claim you bought a condo from them. Do you have proof?” I nodded, pulling the sales contract and the realtor’s agreement from my suitcase. I jabbed my finger at the unit number. “Here! Unit 1801! We signed this contract right there!” The officer slammed the contract down in front of Mark. “It’s a valid contract with your firm’s seal. Now tell me you don’t know her!” Mark scrutinized the papers. “The contract is legitimate, and that’s our company seal. But I absolutely did not sign this. I had several client meetings this morning, and they can confirm my schedule.” Mrs. Fion added, “The handwriting looks like mine, but I haven’t owned a condo at the Sycamores in years! My Mahjong group can swear I was nowhere near a contract signing today.” The officers who went out to investigate soon returned with their findings. “They’re not lying. Both have multiple alibis.” I felt the panic rise. “How? Then what about my condo? That’s sixty thousand dollars!” The police took my phone, saying they needed to verify the video’s source and reliability. Mark spoke up immediately. “Don’t just look at us! Look at her! What if her video is deepfaked or AI-generated? She’s clearly unstable—a condo running away? Please, Officer, she needs a psychiatric evaluation. The Sycamores only has seventeen floors. I’m telling you, she’s mentally ill!” Just then, the officer who visited the complex returned. “Jenna, we visited the Sycamores. The tallest building is seventeen stories. We pulled the original blueprints—they only show seventeen stories.” I shot up from my seat. “Impossible! I was in 1801 this morning! I climbed the stairs from the seventeenth floor! It was there!” The officer who had been sympathetic suddenly regarded me as a threat. He yelled, “Jenna! Get back in your seat! Calm down!” “We interviewed the residents! Everyone confirms the buildings only have seventeen stories. There is no eighteenth floor! We’ve called for a specialist from the psychiatric center. They’ll be here shortly to assess you.” Tears streamed down my face. My house was gone, and I was going to be locked up again. Had the universe doomed me to the same fate? “That sixty thousand dollars was ten years of my life! Ten years of eating canned soup and scraping by! I finally bought my home, and now I’m homeless again! How am I supposed to be calm?” At that moment, a tech specialist emerged with my phone. “The video and photos are authentic. They were shot on this device today at 10:20 AM. Zero evidence of editing or deepfaking.” I turned to the others. “See? I’m telling the truth! The condo exists, they sold it to me, and we signed the papers in 1801!” Mark frowned. “But the complex doesn’t have an eighteenth floor, and we don’t know you!” I shook my head, utterly confused. Just then, I saw the kind old man from this morning—my neighbor. Mr. Walter Stone was being escorted into the station. I felt a surge of hope. “Look! He was my neighbor! He lived right next door on the eighteenth floor! He’s here because his condo vanished too!” Mrs. Fion’s face lit up. “Oh, I know Walter! He was my daughter’s middle school teacher. Bring him over!” The officer addressed Mr. Stone. “Sir, do you live in Unit 1802 at the Sycamores?” Mr. Stone shook his head. “I do not.” I felt my heart plummet. “No! You’re right next door! I saw you just this morning!” Mr. Stone looked at me curiously. “I’m sorry, I don’t recognize you. Mrs. Fion, however, is my neighbor.” Mrs. Fion smiled knowingly. “That’s right. Walter and I have been neighbors for decades.” I refused to give up. We had seen each other! “Please, look at me! Mrs. Fion sold her condo to me this morning! I saw you when I left, and we exchanged greetings! Have you forgotten?” Mr. Stone looked genuinely terrified. “I have never seen you before in my life.” My peripheral vision caught the sight of a group of people in white coats walking towards me. The pure, visceral terror of electroshock therapy from my past life washed over me. I dropped to my knees. “Please, then why are you here? If you’re not looking for your condo, what are you doing at the police station?” “My dog is missing. I’m filing a missing pet report.” Despair set in. Why didn’t they know me? Why did the eighteenth floor disappear? Why was my home gone? Wait. The dog! I suddenly understood everything.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389652”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I am an only daughter from a seriously wealthy East Coast family, practically an heiress. The first time I brought my boyfriend home for the holidays, my extended family jokingly asked him about moving in and taking our family name. Brendan, my boyfriend, just smiled that warm, guileless smile of his, saying he’d do whatever I wanted. That night, though, I saw the post. LOL, are all these Greenwich girls this entitled? I went home with her for the New Year, and they actually suggested I become a live-in son-in-law. Does she actually think she’s some kind of princess? I froze, then glanced over at Brendan. His thumb moved, and the post updated instantly. She thinks she can demand a live-in husband when she doesn’t even have nine figures? Delusional. I managed a tight smile. Nine figures? Honey, my family passed the billion-dollar mark years ago. The blood rushed out of my head, leaving a cold ringing in my ears. I slowly lifted my gaze to the sofa across the room, where Brendan Keller was sitting. He was scrolling on his phone, a smirk playing on his lips. My palms started sweating. It can’t be him. Not Brendan. We’d been together for three years. He always seemed so mild-mannered, so accommodating. How could he possibly be saying these hateful things behind my back? Clutching the last shred of my faith in him, I switched to an anonymous side account and commented on the post: You’ve got a massive ego. What exactly are your qualifications? I watched as Brendan suddenly looked down at his screen and let out a scoffing laugh, before quickly typing a reply. Seconds later, my burner account got a response from the original poster: I’m a staff doctor at a prestigious downtown hospital and just picked up a new Audi A8. More importantly, my parents are healthy and have solid pensions. I have plenty of women chasing me. She should look at herself—a basic East Coast girl—and ask if she even deserves me to consider it. She’s not an heiress; she’s a gold-digger. Afraid I wouldn’t believe him, he even messaged me a private photo—a selfie taken in his new car, holding up his hospital ID badge. It was definitely him. The “staff doctor” position he boasted about was a temporary contract with a four-figure monthly salary, a detail I’d never brought up, worried about hurting his ego. His parents’ modest pensions barely covered their co-pays and prescriptions for chronic conditions. And the Audi A8? That was my three-year anniversary gift to him. How dare he claim he bought it? I just couldn’t process it. Only half an hour ago, he was publicly declaring his love and willingness to move in whenever I wanted. Now he was online calling me a gold-digger? Seeing I wasn’t replying, he kept harassing me: What, cat got your tongue? Let me tell you, the average man today makes over $200k. You want us to move in? You need to pay us for the 30 years of our youth! That’s $6 million minimum! A gold-digger with a $3k monthly salary expecting me to give up my career? Hilarious. Just you wait. Tomorrow I’m hitting her up with the dowry demand. That’s the only way to humble a gold-digger like her. Once she’s humiliated, she’ll be a good wife. I was shaking with cold fury. He used to ask me about my monthly income. Not thinking much of it, I’d vaguely waved him off and said something like $3k—a total lie to keep him from feeling inferior. He’d actually latched onto that number and built this grotesque fantasy of superiority. I turned off my phone screen. “Brendan,” I said, looking at him. “We’re done. And before you walk out, leave the key to the car I bought you.” “What?” Brendan looked up, completely baffled. “Because I didn’t immediately agree to your family’s absurd request? Besides, the car is legally mine now, you can’t just take it back.” He walked over and tried to sling an arm around my shoulder. “Look, I’ll go talk to your dad tomorrow. We can set a date. How about that?” I violently shook off his hand, my voice glacial. “Marry me? You can’t afford to stand in the same room as me.” “Brendan, I said we’re broken up. Now get out.” “I don’t think so,” he chuckled, sitting back down. “You want me out, but what will your parents say?” He paused, a derisive snort escaping him. “Look at your parents—they spent a fortune renting this old-money estate just to make me think you’re some sort of precious East Coast elite. They did all that so they could snag a ‘quality son’ for free.” “You Reeds,” he sneered, “your schemes are transparent.” He thinks this is a rental? I was genuinely speechless, unable to do anything but laugh at his staggering confidence. A contract worker making barely four thousand dollars a month, calling himself “quality.” Had I not been blind with affection, he wouldn’t have been worthy of shining my shoes. Seeing my silence, he grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “Look, I’m willing to overlook your family’s little deception.” “You’re pretty, and your figure is certainly presentable, despite your dishonesty. Marry me, and as long as you behave yourself, I’ll love you.” Before I could tear into him, my father walked into the room. “Marry whom?” He eyed Brendan with unconcealed suspicion. “You and Skylar?” It was clear my father wasn’t impressed, either. My mother and a few relatives followed him. Aunt Carol, my mother’s sister, looked at me, then at Brendan. “Skylar, you are the Reed heiress. You’ve thought this through?” Before I could respond, Brendan jumped in. “Yes, if Mr. and Mrs. Reed agree, we plan to get our marriage license right after the holidays.” I rushed to my parents’ side. “I have thought it through. I’m breaking up with him.” Brendan’s smile evaporated. “Skylar! You’ve been with me for three years! Who else are you going to marry?!” “My mom says after the wedding, you just have to stay home and make babies. We’ll give you a thousand dollars for every one you pop out. How great is that?” My mother’s face went from pale to blazing. “Are you out of your mind? What do you think my daughter is?!” My father’s face was dark. He shot back with cold sarcasm, “Then go tell your mother you’re moving in. You can be the stay-at-home dad. I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars for every child you look after!” Brendan raised an eyebrow, a triumphant, I knew it look on his face. He shot me a smirk, then turned to my father. “So you do want me to become a live-in husband after all? It’s not impossible, sir.” “But I have my requirements.” He adjusted his collar, oozing a false sense of superiority. “First, the live-in fee. Given my qualifications, I require at least six million dollars.” “Second, the emotional distress this will cause my mother requires an additional one million dollars in compensation.” “Finally, the dowry. My minimum standard is two luxury cars, A-Class or better, and three luxury condos in the city center.” He looked directly at my father, a challenge in his eyes. “Can you meet those demands?” The entire room fell silent. Everyone stared at each other, stunned. My mother tugged at my sleeve, her expression troubled. “Skylar, the things he’s asking for, they’re just… too much…” Before she could finish, Brendan cut her off smugly. “Too much, right? If you can’t meet the demands, then I can’t move in.” He crossed his legs triumphantly and pulled out his phone, starting to play a game. Instinctively, I checked the gossip site. Sure enough, a new update: I laid out my demands. They were scared into silence, LOL. This ‘East Coast Elite’ thing is totally fake. Watch me, bros. I’m not only not going to move in, I’m going to make her beg me to marry her. Someone commented, What if they demand the same amount in bride price? Can you pay it? He replied dismissively: She’s a $3k-a-month woman. Why would she deserve a big bride price? You’re worth what you can command. Honestly, my mom plans to give her $18,000 for the wedding. She should be laughing all the way to the altar. As he was gloating, the rest of us finally burst into laughter. My mother had meant that his requirements were too measly to be taken seriously. The three luxury condos and two luxury cars he demanded were already just a fraction of the standard dowry she’d planned for me. Reed Industries’ wealth extended into the billions across multiple sectors. Seeing us laugh, Brendan frowned. “It’s fine if you can’t afford it. But next time you joke about someone moving in, know your own station, okay?” “Also, I’ll take Skylar to the Justice of the Peace tomorrow. The $18,000 bride price? I’ll wire a third of it now. We’ll wait until the baby is born healthy for the rest. Skylar is getting older, and the kids are more likely to have issues.” The air in the room combusted. My entire family roared at him. “How dare you! Say that again!” “You’re the one with the issues!” “To marry our Skylar, you’ll need at least two million eight hundred thousand dollars in bride price, or forget it!” “$2.8 million?!” Brendan was stunned, then stiffened his neck. “You don’t need to overreact just because you can’t meet my demands! Aren’t you embarrassed to ask for $2.8 million for someone of her caliber?” “Besides, Skylar is about to be a mother. I’m still willing to give $18,000. What more do you want?” “A mother?” I looked up at him sharply. “How do you know that?” He gave me that sickening smirk. “My mother said that if the condom breaks, you’re bound to get pregnant. You were screaming so loudly that time, Skylar. I thought you were enjoying it. Don’t worry, I’m strong—I bet it took on the first try.” My mind short-circuited. Before I could even process the violation, my father and uncles gestured toward the door. “Guards! Get this man out of here!” In seconds, a few large, uniformed men were flanking Brendan. He looked disdainful. “Quite the performance. You even hired actors to play bodyguards…” His words were cut short as the guards grabbed him and started walking him out. He looked back at me, disbelief twisting his face. “Skylar! Tell them to stop! If you don’t, even if you come to me on your knees with a pregnant belly, I will never look at you again!” Within minutes, his voice was muffled by the thick walls of the estate. My mother’s eyes were red with pity. “It’s okay, baby. Thank God you got rid of that disgusting pig.” My relatives rushed to comfort me, vowing to beat Brendan up if they ever saw him again. I nodded, but said nothing. That night, Brendan posted a new update. Fake heiress tried to trick me into becoming a live-in husband, then demanded $2.8 MILLION bride price! But I held the leverage! The condom broke, and now she’s a package deal! No one else will want this ball-and-chain gold-digger. She’ll be crawling back to me tomorrow, mark my words. The comments section exploded. OMG, bro, you’re so woke! Too many gold-diggers out there. They need to be taught a lesson like this! Alpha male confirmed. Never got manipulated. I crown you the King of Anti-Manipulation! I rolled my eyes and blocked his account. Then, I contacted my lawyer to reclaim the Audi A8. The next morning, I went to the hospital for a blood test. I turned down my parents’ offer to come with me. I just wanted to get it over with and let them forget about the whole ordeal. While I was waiting for the results, I heard Brendan’s voice behind me. “Well, look who it is. Said you didn’t care, but you came all the way to my hospital? Stalking me, Skylar?” I froze, ignoring him. He took two steps closer and lowered his voice. “Couldn’t sleep last night? Figured you’d come here to beg for a reunion?” He tilted his head back, beaming with arrogance. “The chief of staff here is my former professor. He’s very influential in the city. Since you’re here, I don’t mind introducing you. It’s an opportunity to meet an important person.” The chief of staff? I knew the man. Dr. Nolan. I often saw him at my family’s social functions, always treating my father with deep respect. He’s Brendan’s professor? “No need,” I said with a cold laugh. “Just leave me alone.” I turned to walk away. He grabbed my wrist. “Skylar Reed, you’re carrying my child, you’re practically my wife! Why the attitude?” “I’m telling you, Dr. Nolan doesn’t meet just anyone. You should be honored to get in via me!” I wrenched my arm free, ready to tear into him, when my phone vibrated. The blood test results were in. I tapped open the report, and when I saw the result, my entire body went numb. Positive. I was pregnant. Brendan, sharp-eyed, snatched my phone and his eyes lit up with excitement. “My mom was right! It worked!” He quickly pulled out his own phone. “I’ll wire you two thousand dollars right now. The rest will come after the baby is born and confirmed healthy.” “Brendan, you are insane!” I grabbed my phone back and headed straight for the family planning office. He realized what I was doing and violently yanked my hair from behind. “What are you doing!” he roared. “Are you going to murder my son! How dare you!” The sudden, brutal pull sent me stumbling to the floor. He stood over me, livid. “Skylar, you fraudulent debutante!” “You failed to trick me into marrying you, so now you’re going to kill my child so you can move on to scamming the next guy?” Bystanders stopped, staring at me with disgusted, judgmental eyes. I struggled to get up. “We’re not married! It’s my choice if I don’t want this baby!” Slap! A loud, stinging sound. His immense force made my ears ring. As I staggered, he roughly hauled me to my feet. “You think a $3k-a-month gold-digger like you could make me move in?” “If you weren’t carrying my kid, do you think I’d still want you?!” I fought him off. “You’re crazy! I’m calling the police!” Slap! He slapped me again. “Since you’re so vicious, you’re not getting the two thousand dollars either! Not until you give birth!” “Now, come home with me! Stop making a scene!” Just then, a man’s angry voice cut through the crowd. “What is going on here! Who is causing a disturbance in my hospital!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389651”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My stomach churned, the nausea a familiar coil, even as I watched the soft swell of Sutton’s belly, growing larger every day after our divorce. My parents—my adoptive parents, the Robert—and Nolan, the golden boy they actually loved, were frantic. They called incessantly, demanding I schedule a D&C. In the life before this one, my temper had been a blade I used on myself. Blindsided by Sutton’s affairs, I’d spat every cruel, cutting word I knew. I had forced her hand, screaming until she agreed to terminate the pregnancy. She’d left me then, her hate a cold, impenetrable fortress. It wasn’t long before Nolan slipped in to claim the space I’d abandoned, marrying her and taking control of the sprawling family empire. When the market turned and the Robert lost everything, I was already a pariah, a scorned ex-husband. I drifted, the lingering sickness from the stress and poverty hollowing out my body until I was nothing but a casualty, dying on a lonely street corner one frozen winter. Nolan and Sutton, meanwhile, were on a permanent European holiday, perfectly tailored and laughing, financed by the Vincent fortune. Everyone had called it karma. Said I was born for a life of suffering. Then I woke up. The first thing I did was call Sutton. This time, I was keeping the baby. And the money—that was mine, too. … “You’re divorced, Kai. Letting her parade around pregnant is a joke, a stain on our name. Listen to your mother, book the procedure.” Patty’s voice was sharp, a perfectly manicured nail digging into my skin. “That’s right, big brother. You barely fit in as it is, growing up where you did. Now people are saying you have no shame at all…” Nolan’s voice chimed in, a perfectly timed double-act designed to wear me down. They were desperate, wanting Sutton to be rushed into the operating room right now. Last time, their goading had worked. I’d walked into that hospital, rage clouding my judgment, and tossed away the only leverage I had left. Nolan had stepped right into my shoes, becoming the heir to the Vincent legacy, and later, he’d even forbidden my body from being buried in the Robert plot. A bitter, metallic taste rose in my throat, but I met Nolan’s feverish, impatient eyes and—I smiled. The front door slammed open a second later. Sutton barreled in, her eyes rimmed red, clearly assuming I’d called her to confirm the appointment for the procedure. “Are you keeping this baby or not?” she demanded, breathlessly. Before I could answer, Nolan cut in, perfectly positioned to play the grieving martyr. “Sutton, don’t blame Kai. He’s made up his mind. None of us can talk him out of it.” He gave me a quick, frantic side-eye, a subtle instruction, before turning to comfort the immediate stiffness in Sutton’s posture. “We’re keeping the baby.” I directly contradicted him. The tension drained from Sutton’s face, her shoulders relaxing instantly. She rushed forward and collapsed against me, her arms tightening around my waist. “Come home with me, Kai. Whatever we need to discuss, we’ll do it there.” In the rearview mirror, Nolan’s face was a mask of cold, distorted fury. I let out a quiet, internal snort. As I turned my attention back, something caught my eye on the passenger seat: a men’s watch. Not mine. Sutton’s brow furrowed slightly as she noticed my gaze, and she opened her mouth to speak, but I simply shifted my eyes away, staring straight ahead. A heavy silence followed, broken only when Sutton turned her scrutinizing gaze on my face. “You seem… different,” she observed, her voice heavy with insinuation. I just gave a noncommittal hum. “Is that a problem?” In my previous life, I was a coiled spring of insecurity. I would have torn the house down if Nolan so much as touched her hand. I’d yell, accuse, slap her, and force her to write endless letters of apology. She indulged me at first, calming me, but eventually, she’d had enough. She had stood in front of a room full of people and sliced me open with the truth: “You’re a foundling we took in. No father loves you, your mother treats you like a chore. What right do you have to be so arrogant in front of me?” I had been shattered, a pathetic clown, my heart ripped to shreds. She knew me too well—she knew exactly where to plunge the knife. Humiliation and rage had drowned me. I didn’t believe then that I needed her. I insisted on the divorce. But eighteen years growing up far from their gilded cage hadn’t prepared me for life among the elite. The Robert brought me back, but they never taught me how to stand on my own. The life that followed was exactly as she predicted: brutal. Sutton studied me silently, clearly trying to read my sudden detachment. Her phone buzzed. Patty’s anxious voice was audible even from the receiver. “Sutton, that wretched Nolan—he drove off like a lunatic. Can you please go find him?” Patty always defaulted to Sutton for anything regarding Nolan, never sparing a thought for me. Of course, they’d been the intended pair, childhood sweethearts until I was dragged back into the Robert’ affluence at eighteen. I stood awkwardly in the grand foyer, wearing clothes that were worn and too short. A circle of privileged kids snickered. My face burned, but I held my stance rigidly. That was the moment Sutton had cut through the crowd, silencing them with a look, and led me to a private room. After that, the chance encounters started. She taught me the rules of their world, bought me proper suits and ties. But I was so insecure then. I thought she pitied me, so I met her kindness with sarcasm and barbs. Yet, she never retaliated. Instead, she fiercely defended me when others called me a “hick” or a “stray dog.” When we announced our wedding, I knew Nolan hated me, but I also knew Patty resented me for snatching her favorite son’s ideal bride. “It’s fine. Go if you need to. Just be careful with the baby.” My voice was level, my reflection in the glass impassive. Sutton’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, her expression darkening. As if to spite me, she sped off the moment she dropped me at the house. I didn’t mind. I walked straight inside. The staff, used to my sudden reappearance, quietly took my coat. “Mr. Robert, your bath is drawn. Would you like to wash up?” I shook my head. “Not yet.” I wandered leisurely through the mansion, savoring the antique, curated mid-century modern furniture and elegant décor. Finally, I stood before the safe, staring at the countless jewels and stacks of crisp cash inside. After the divorce in my first life, Nolan had taken all of it. My brother marrying my wife—a scandalous affair—yet my mother only condemned me. “What’s the point in blaming others when you didn’t appreciate her? It’s all kept in the family anyway.” My father had just shrugged, remaining perpetually absent. I was their only biological child, yet I was less than nothing compared to Nolan. The family I craved had always been a ridiculous joke. Shaking off the memory, I went for a long, hot soak and then collapsed into bed. I slept beautifully. Snap. The sudden click of the overhead chandelier jolted me awake. I squinted, blurry-eyed, at the figure standing over me: Sutton’s face, dark and thunderous. “Is it morning already?” I mumbled, my voice rough with sleep. Sutton let out a bitter, near-hysterical laugh. “We were supposed to talk, Kai. I told you I wanted to talk. And you just… went to sleep?” Before I could reply, she rushed to explain, as if looking for a gold star. “I found Nolan outside the pub. I made sure he got home and then I rushed right back here.” I waited two seconds for the silence to pass, realizing she was waiting for my approval, my frantic thanks. I gave a slow, dry nod. “That’s… good.” “‘Good’?” Sutton repeated, her voice brittle. She gripped my wrist, forcing me to look at her. “Why did you come back, Kai? Was it for the baby? Or…” Her eyes turned instantly watery. “…Was it for me?” A sharp ache radiated from where her fingers dug into my skin. Neither. I wanted neither of you. I only wanted myself. Seeing her desperate need, I delivered the necessary lie. “Both. I’m going to be a father. I guess I finally decided to grow up.” As for her? She was just the delivery service. As long as the money kept flowing, she could do whatever she liked. Just like before, sleeping with me one night and rushing off to comfort Nolan the next. Sutton’s face went rigid, a flicker of profound loss crossing her features. “Kai Robert,” she whispered, “you feel strange. I can’t figure you out.” She glanced at my flat, bored expression, then checked her empty phone. A sudden, fierce burst of anger crossed her face. “Why do you have to be like this? So passive-aggressive, so… dead! I give you whatever you want. What more do you need from me?” I looked at her, genuinely perplexed. “I don’t want anything. You’re overthinking this.” Her face didn’t soften. She stared, then slammed the door on her way out. In the months that followed, I threw myself into learning finance. Sutton threw herself into work. We went nearly three months without a single conversation. I stopped being frugal, spending money without a second thought. I went to a fashion show with friends, and on a whim, I peeled off a wad of cash and handed it to a model. The model took my hand, kissing my palm with a playful, stinging intensity. For a fleeting second, I understood the appeal of infidelity. The sudden ring of my phone broke the spell. I answered it, hearing the muffled background noise. After a few beats, Nolan’s unsteady voice came through. “Bro, Sutton’s trashed. You need to come pick her up.” The model was guiding my hand toward her velvet-soft body. “Have the driver get her,” I replied, distracted. “No! You have to come. Promise me you will.” He hung up abruptly. I sighed, annoyed, but eventually drove to the Robert’ compound. When I pushed open the door, the sight that greeted me was not a surprise. Sutton was lying beneath him, their bodies twisted and slick. Her face was flushed, a look of satisfied release on her features. They were two serpents, entangled until death. Ah. That’s why he insisted I come. “Ah! Bro!” Nolan scrambled up, pulling on his clothes, his voice thick with fake apology. “I’m so sorry. We were drinking, and we just got carried away.” Sutton seemed to snap out of it. She pushed Nolan away wordlessly, lit a cigarette, and took a deep drag. No explanation. Her eyes were flat, almost challenging. The scene yanked me back to the past. Since our wedding, Nolan had been a persistent ghost. My birthday, Valentine’s Day, even our anniversary—he always managed to find a way to wedge himself between us. When I broke down, Sutton would always lecture me: “Be the mature one, Kai. I owe him this. He’ll get over it eventually.” But Nolan never got over it. He called me a “leech” and a “country idiot” behind my back. He circulated old photos of me working as a waiter and handing out flyers. Then, at my own birthday party, he screened a secretly recorded video of my adoptive parents beating me. I became the laughingstock of the city. Yet, I had survived worse. What was this? To their stunned silence, I walked over, picked up Nolan’s crumpled jacket, and placed it over his trembling shoulders. “I don’t blame you,” I said gently, like the compassionate elder brother. Then I turned to Sutton, whose face had gone dark and miserable. I looked her dead in the eye. “I need a new sports car, Sutton. Can you wire me ten million dollars?” “You’re not going to ask why?” Her eyes were blazing red. I kept my gentle smile. “You have your reasons, sweetheart. I understand.” Sutton’s straight posture seemed to falter. Her eyelashes fluttered, and her smile was sickly. “Stop pretending, Kai! I wish you would hit me! Yell at me!” Her voice was getting too loud. I worried about the baby. I quickly urged her to calm down. Her mother had promised me a hundred million in cash and ten percent of the company stock if she delivered the baby safely. Nothing was more important than the child right now. Sutton’s expression changed instantly. She started to chase me as I walked toward the door. Nolan lunged, grabbing her from behind. “Sutton, don’t you see he doesn’t love you? Divorce him! I can be the father to your baby!” Sutton shoved him off, her finger pointing at him in pure rage. “You scumbag! If you hadn’t drugged me, I never would have confused you with Kai!” Nolan stumbled back, hitting the floor. A calculating shadow crossed his eyes, and he instantly launched into his act. “Sutton, your brother brought that drink! I don’t know why he would do something like that!” Sutton’s mind seemed to short-circuit. Her eyes, filled with accusation, landed on me. “Why would you do that, Kai?” Rage and disgust finally washed over me. “I didn’t do that!” “Bro, why would you lie? Do you really think I’d joke about something like this?” Nolan yelled, his voice laced with the deepest humiliation. He then grabbed a discarded fruit knife nearby and lifted it to his throat. “Nolan!” Sutton screamed, snatching the knife from his hand bare-handed. She put an arm around Nolan’s shaking shoulders, then turned her fury on me. “Get out!” I knew talking was pointless. I turned and walked out the door. I didn’t expect what happened the next morning. Nolan burst into the house with my adoptive parents, George and Patty Robert, right behind him. The staff backed away, afraid to intervene. My adoptive parents’ eyes lit up the moment they saw me. “Kai, you look good, you’ve put on a little weight,” Patty cooed, rushing forward to hug me. I froze, paralyzed from head to toe, like an animal playing dead. I hated them. They beat me, starved me, and when I was sixteen, they tried to sell me into a forced marriage with a man twice my age. I’d had to climb over a fence to save my life. They were here for one reason: destruction. The next second, Patty grabbed my arm. “Kai, you need to make Sutton get rid of that baby. Your brother needs her, and we’ll find you another girl. Listen to Mama, give Nolan what he deserves.” George chuckled, his eyes full of contempt. “You two don’t match anyway, Kai. You don’t belong here. Just come back to the village with us.” I snatched my arm away. This was their third attempt to sell me off. My breathing accelerated, a familiar panic tightening my chest. I pointed at the door. “Get out!” Patty planted her hands on her hips, her face twisting. “This is my daughter-in-law’s house! I don’t have to leave! You ruined your brother, what kind of person are you? You stole his place, you stole his woman, and now that they’ve slept together, you must give Sutton back to him!” She was shouting, posturing, believing I was still the beaten, cowering child she used to torment. I didn’t waste another word and called security. Patty spat on the floor and sat down. “I raised you! You owe me! I won’t move until you agree to come back with us!” Nolan had been watching the chaos with a cold, detached expression. Suddenly, he lunged, grabbing my arm and trying to drag me out. “You hick! You don’t deserve this house!” My parents quickly joined in, pulling and tearing at my clothes. The security detail grabbed my parents but hesitated, afraid to touch Nolan. Sharp fingernails dug into my skin, forcing a gasp of pain from me. I shook Nolan off violently and slammed my fist straight into his nose. “You hit me?!” Nolan clutched his bleeding face, his expression pure malice. I laughed, a humorless sound. “Get out. If you ever break into this house again, it won’t just be your nose.” I bent to pick up my phone, which had fallen to the floor. It was in that split second, out of the corner of my eye, that a flash of cold steel caught the light. I couldn’t dodge it. Pfffsch. A blade plunged into my back. “Ah!” The pain was agonizing. I collapsed onto the floor. As my scream echoed through the house, the front door was kicked open. Sutton saw me sitting on the floor, my hands instinctively clawing at my back, my face white with shock and pain. Her entire face went instantly bloodless.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389650”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The day Mom and Dad died, our family empire crumbled, leaving my brother and me buried under a mountain of debt. To chip away at the millions, he took a gig testing out moldy, condemned properties for shady landlords, and I became a background extra—the resident corpse—on low-budget film sets. Five years of relentless hustling, never a day off, and the balance still haunted us. By the end of the year, the debt was down to the last $130,000. Desperate, I signed up for a clinical drug trial. I walked away with the cash, clutching the duffel bag full of bills, euphoric. I couldn’t wait to show Graham. Instead, I found him on the phone, a frown furrowing his brow. “Mom, Dad, Elle is doing really well. You two just enjoy your time overseas.” “She’s not a spender anymore. The punishment can probably end next year.” My parents weren’t dead. Our family hadn’t gone broke. The last five years of crushing hardship—the exhaustion, the hunger, the humiliation—it was all a calculated performance, a punishment for my supposed habit of spending too much money. The smile froze on my face. My stomach twisted into a violent knot, and a mouthful of bright, shocking blood erupted from my lips. … 1 “Just so we’re clear, if you sign this contract, we are not responsible for any adverse reactions.” That was the last thing the Clinical Trial Coordinator had told me. He made me initial the clause several times: the contract was legally binding. After five hours of observation following the dose, I’d be paid, and even if I died the next day, there would be no recourse. Back then, all I could think about was handing the final payment to my brother so we could have one normal New Year. I signed without hesitation. Now… I stared at the heavy duffel bag of cash, the weight suddenly feeling bitterly ironic. I lifted my sleeve and wiped the blood from my mouth. Pushing the apartment door open, I stepped inside. Graham quickly hung up his phone. He turned, and his eyes immediately fixated on the stain on my shirt. “What happened?!” His face went white. He was by my side in two steps, his hands gripping my shoulders, frantically checking me for injury. I pushed his hands away, my voice flat and even. “It’s just prop blood from the set.” “Oh. Right. That’s good. I thought you were hurt.” He let out a shaky breath of relief. Then his gaze fell on the bag of money on the floor, and his eyes narrowed instantly. “Where did this come from?” he demanded. “Elle, you didn’t do something stupid, did you? You didn’t steal it?” My heart plummeted. I didn’t know this man at all. Steal it? Is that what he truly thought of me? I balled my fists, taking a moment before answering softly. “The director distributed bonuses. End of the year, a little holiday welfare.” He frowned, still suspicious. “A cash bonus? That big?” “Do you want it or not?” I snapped, the irritation finally bubbling up. “You said we only had $130,000 left. This is exactly that. If you don’t want it, I can take it back to them.” He was silent for a long moment, but he finally reached for the bag. “I’ll transfer it tomorrow.” He quickly changed the subject. “What do you want for dinner? I’ll cook.” I let my gaze drift around the cramped studio apartment. It was thirty square meters, and you could see everything from the doorway: a wardrobe, a folding bed, and a tiny bathroom. There was no kitchen. He chopped vegetables on the coffee table. The electric skillet, bought for fifty bucks, was five years old, its power cord patched twice with black electrical tape. I suddenly heard myself asking, “Graham. Don’t you ever get tired of this?” He smiled, turning back to me. “Not really. My job is pretty easy, I mostly just lie there. It’s you, Elle. You’re the one who must be exhausted after all these years.” What I really meant was: Aren’t you tired of pretending? Our family had a fortune worth billions. We could have lived in complete freedom. But he was forcing this existence on me, all for a supposed punishment. Didn’t it drain him? Of course, he hadn’t understood. I decided to be more direct. I looked at him intently. “Graham, do you really think I’m a big spender?” 2 I still couldn’t figure out what exactly my crime had been. Yes, my family was ridiculously wealthy, but I was never obsessed with luxury. My clothes and jewelry were all moderately priced. In the high-society circles of Newport Beach, I was practically an anomaly. Graham’s face stiffened. “Why would you ask that? You’re much better now.” “Now? What about before?” I pressed him. He frowned. “When Mom and Dad were still here, you genuinely didn’t understand frugality. They came from nothing, bootstrapped their way up. They, and I, always had to be mindful of money. But you? You’d pester them for an expensive designer bag or a $10,000 birthday gift. What do you call that?” I took two agitated steps forward. “We’re worth billions! Is a $1,500 smartphone really going to bankrupt us? What’s the point of making all that money if we can’t spend it?” His face hardened. “Listen to yourself. It’s a phone, Elle. Any phone works. You were vain, always trying to keep up with those other spoiled debutantes, constantly demanding things. You’ve been fine these last five years with nothing, haven’t you?” I stared at him, my blood running cold. In his mind, these five years had been fine? I spent my days acting dead—begging directors to let me roll around in the mud or a freezing drainage ditch for an extra two hundred dollars. I’d lie motionless for ten hours at a stretch, rain or shine. My old rival, Vivianna—Vivi—used my misfortune to torment me, bullying me at every opportunity, and I couldn’t fight back. I signed away my body for a sketchy clinical trial, and I still didn’t know what was happening to my health. Was that a fine life? The sharp, twisting pain returned to my stomach. I was vaguely reminded of Vivi’s taunt: “You idiot. You brought all this on yourself.” “I’m going to follow you, Elle. Whatever set you’re on, I’ll be there. My parents can buy me a spot. You’ll be miserable for the next five years!” I shuddered, my skin crawling with a sudden realization. Five years. Why specifically five years? Did Vivi know the truth, too? An intuition, cold and sharp, told me that Graham and my parents were hiding something even bigger. I clenched my fists, forcing down the urge to scream the questions at him. I nodded obediently. “You’re right. I’ll change.” Graham set down the knife, relief flooding his face. He reached out and gently stroked my head. “That’s my sister. Good. Now, you eat. I have to go to work.” I nodded again. After a quiet dinner, Graham left for his ‘shift.’ I put on my mask and cap and slipped out to follow him. He walked out of the cramped housing block and waited by the curb, dialing a number. Within five minutes, a black Maybach pulled up. I watched his long legs disappear into the luxury sedan. I quickly flagged a taxi and followed. Thirty minutes later, he entered an exclusive, high-end steakhouse. I gave it five minutes and walked in, seating myself in a secluded booth directly behind his table. My heart was pounding, and I didn’t dare look up. I only knew who he was meeting when I heard her voice. “Graham, I did exactly what you asked. I’ve been giving Elle a hard time, and she’s behaved so well lately!” It was Vivianna. 3 “Good,” Graham replied, his voice flat, completely devoid of the struggling-debtor persona. “Only when Elle suffers on the outside will she realize how difficult it is to earn money.” “I’ll make sure your family’s businesses get some extra attention, as promised. We can’t let Elle know the truth just yet. I’ll tell Mom and Dad everything when they get back after the New Year.” My breath caught in my throat. My heart threatened to stop. A waiter approached, asking for my order, and I couldn’t speak. My hand trembled as I pointed vaguely at the menu, shaking my head to signal him to leave immediately before Graham saw me. Vivi’s voice was sickeningly sweet. “Graham, you told Elle you were testing haunted houses, but you have to drive all the way back to your little studio apartment every night. Aren’t you exhausted?” “Why didn’t you just go overseas with your parents?” A fresh wave of shock hit me. The haunted house lie was a cover. He came home every single night. The suffering of the last five years—was it all mine alone? Graham sighed. “Elle is my sister. I couldn’t leave her completely alone in the country. Besides, the company might have moved overseas for a while, but it’s eventually coming back.” He sounded vaguely wistful. “The five-year punishment we set seems to have flown by, doesn’t it?” Flown by? A bitter laugh caught in my throat. Every single day of those five years had been a grinding torture. Playing dead wasn’t easy, especially when Vivi—at Graham’s subtle instruction, I now realized—made sure I was always scheduled for the dirtiest, most grueling scenes. I was often lying still for hours in the cold, developing chronic chills and a relentless cycle of illness and exhaustion. And to them, it was just a punishment. A cruel, calculated game. “Vivi, I know you’ve been through a lot, too. This is for you.” Their conversation continued. Graham slid a delicate gift box across the table. Vivi opened it and gasped. “A diamond necklace! It’s gorgeous!” My heart plunged into a cold, dark abyss. That necklace. It was the exact one I had begged my parents for five years ago. They had refused, claiming it was too extravagant. I eventually forgot about it. Now I knew. That small, trivial request had been the catalyst for five years of hell. Why? We had billions. Why did asking for one necklace warrant five years of deliberate emotional and physical cruelty? Why was Vivi, whose family wasn’t nearly as wealthy as ours, getting the item I was denied? Was I really that spoiled? That disobedient? I had always been the quiet, compliant child. Why did I have to endure this? My emotions burst. I couldn’t hold it back any longer. BANG! I slammed my hands on the table and stood up. The entire restaurant turned to stare. Graham swiveled around, and his face went instantly, sickeningly white. “Elle? What are you doing here?” 4 “Was it fun, Graham? Was it fun to lie to me for five years?” I tore off my cap and scarf and rushed to his side, grabbing his sleeve. “What was my crime? What did I do that was so wrong you had to torture me like this?” Panic flashed in his eyes. He glanced around at the onlookers and then grabbed my arm, his voice a low, hard hiss. “There are too many people here. We need to go outside.” “You’re the one who can’t be seen!” I yelled, my eyes burning with tears. I wrenched my arm free. “You and Mom and Dad conspired to trick me—to tell me we were bankrupt, in debt, and that you were doing some grim, humiliating job!” “But the truth? They’re on a permanent vacation, and you’re driving home every night in a Maybach! I was the only one suffering!” My voice broke into a raw, hysterical cry. “Tell me, Graham! Why? Just tell me, what’s the big deal about spending a thousand dollars when you have billions in the bank?!” Graham’s face went cold. “I knew you were listening in this afternoon. That’s why you asked those questions.” He seized my wrist again, his grip tight, trying to physically haul me out of the restaurant. A waiter suddenly rushed over, grabbing my other arm. “Ma’am, you haven’t paid the check! That’s five hundred dollars!” Graham froze. His brow furrowed in a familiar, judgmental way. “Did you order the most expensive thing on the menu, Elle? Still haven’t learned the value of a dollar?” He deliberately let the restaurant’s gaze linger on me for a humiliating moment before pulling out a card. Outside, Vivianna followed, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “Elle, your parents and Graham only did this to teach you a lesson! You shouldn’t be ungrateful!” “This has nothing to do with you!” The nameless fire in my chest exploded. I yanked free of Graham’s grasp and slapped Vivi across the face. She shrieked, clutching her cheek in stunned disbelief. Snap! The next second, Graham’s hand connected with my own face, paying back the blow. “Elle, are you serious? Would Mom and Dad and I have gone to all this trouble if you weren’t so relentlessly spoiled and vain?” he spat. “You think these five years were easy for us? And you dare to raise your hand? Maybe the punishment wasn’t long enough!” I stood there, stunned, listening to his icy voice. In that moment, something deep inside me died. After a long silence, I slowly lifted my head, a mocking laugh escaping my throat. “Not enough?” I challenged. “What would satisfy you, Graham? My life? Is that enough of a payment?” “Stop talking nonsense!” His eyes flashed with annoyance. He called the driver and shoved me into the sedan. Tears streamed down my cheeks, but I was laughing. “Which home are we going to? The small one or the real one?” He didn’t even look at me. He pulled out his phone and called my parents. “You need to come back. Yes, she knows. No, I didn’t tell her. She overheard me!” BANG! Graham smashed his phone against the console, his anger radiating through the car. He looked at me, his eyes full of exhaustion and impatience. “And you have the nerve to cry?” he snarled. “I spent five years in that disgusting apartment with you. I’m the one who gets screamed at now! What are you crying about? Stop acting like you’re the only victim here!” I was past speech, letting his insults wash over me until the car pulled up to our old, lavish estate. Five years. I felt like a stranger as he physically pushed me through the front door. The chilling pain in my stomach returned, churning. I couldn’t hold it back: I bent over and coughed up a pool of thick, black blood. I scrambled to wipe it up, but Graham saw it. He sneered. “Nice prop work, Elle. Trying to make me feel guilty? Save the dramatics for Mom and Dad. That cheap little act won’t work on me.” 5 Mom and Dad arrived early the next morning. Graham, still simmering from their inevitable scolding, had forced me to sit on the living room sofa all night. No sleep, combined with the persistent stomach pain, left me clammy, shaky, and emotionally spent. But when they walked in, I shot to my feet. In my mind, they had died five years ago. Seeing them healthy and whole in the house felt like a nightmare made real. “Elle. Do you admit your mistake yet?” my father asked, his voice cold and commanding. I froze. My voice was a croaking whisper. “What mistake?” My father’s expression tightened. “Five years, and you still don’t understand the struggle of earning money? We faked our deaths and went overseas to show you that money doesn’t grow on trees, and that it can run out. It’s a relief that you finally know. Now we can come home.” My heart turned to ice. “So, in the end, I was the one inconveniencing you?” I countered, the emotion rising again. “I genuinely don’t understand. We have generations of wealth! I wasn’t even wasteful! Why was I subjected to this cruel punishment?” “Do you know how much pain you caused me? The last five years, I—” “Elle, just say sorry!” My mother rushed over and grabbed my hand, tears welling in her eyes. “Your father hasn’t been home for five years to visit your grandmother’s grave, all because of this. It wasn’t easy for you, but it wasn’t easy for us either. Just apologize, and the punishment ends right now. We can be a family again…” “I won’t apologize!” I roared, wrenching my hand away. “The mistake is yours! Your thinking is flawed! I did nothing wrong!” CRACK! The moment the words left my mouth, Graham’s hand slammed across my face. “Is that how you speak to your parents?!” he yelled. “What right do you have to be angry? You think I had it easy? If I wasn’t worried about you, I would have gone overseas with them!” My mind went blank. My ears rang. I could barely hear his voice anymore. After what felt like an eternity, I nodded in resignation. “Give me the $130,000 back.” I earned that money with my life. He gave me a disdainful look, made a phone call, and within minutes, an assistant carried the duffel bag of cash back in. I dried my tears, shouldered the heavy bag, and headed for the door. My mother started to protest, but my father stopped her. “Let her go. Let’s see where she runs to.” I closed the door and returned to the housing block. I took out my key to the old studio, but a hand gripped my wrist. “Young lady, this unit has been sold. You can’t go inside.” “Was it sold to a Stanton?” I asked without looking up. “Yes, it was. How did you know?” he asked. I gave a self-mocking laugh, hefted the cash, and walked away. The stabbing pain in my stomach flared up again. I headed to the nearest hospital. I went to the cashier to pay for the consultation. The moment I handed over the money, security guards swarmed me, pinning me down. My head was spinning, and I was too weak to fight. I heard shouts about “Counterfeit” and “Calling the police.” The police arrived shortly after. The officer in charge frowned at me. “Young lady, this is all fake. Where did you get this money?” I was stunned. I fumbled in my pocket and handed him the clinical trial contract. “I don’t know! I earned it in a drug trial! Officer, I had nothing to do with this!” He looked at the contract, his frown deepening. “You’ve been scammed. This company is a criminal operation.” “Did they draw your blood?” My pupils constricted. I nodded mechanically. The officer sighed. “Their drug was fine. But the needle… it was tainted.” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. A cold dread washed over me. Just then, my test results arrived. The doctor handed them to the officer. “It’s a Stage Three hematological disorder. Those criminals are insane.” Ugh— I couldn’t hold on anymore. I threw up a mouthful of black blood and collapsed, everything fading to black. As I lost consciousness, I heard the officer shouting. “Contact the family! Now!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389649”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I married my former best friend’s brother, a man who would become both my decades-long tormentor and my deepest savior. At the wedding reception, Tessa Reed wore a smirk that was razor-sharp. “I can’t believe, after everything that happened at The Haven—you being framed and losing your adoption slot—you still found a way to climb into a Nash bed,” she drawled, her voice loud enough to carry. Then she leaned close, her breath smelling of champagne and something cheaper. “Too bad you were a little late to the party.” “Just a little tip from one woman to another,” she whispered into my ear. “Callum Nash only likes red lingerie.” Before I could process the petty cruelty, someone bumped me, sending me straight into Callum’s arms. As the crowd cheered, I looked up. Callum, already drunk, was looking past me, straight at Tessa. His gaze—ardent, burning, and utterly possessive—was a secret I instantly understood, a silent promise I spent the next fifteen years paying for. Despite my suspicions, I pressed down on every dark thought and we became the perfect warring couple. He ruined our child to protect Tessa; I orchestrated a scheme so he missed his parents’ final moments. He lost the use of his legs saving me from a fire; I single-handedly averted his family’s financial ruin when they were on the brink of collapse. It was a tumultuous, heartbreaking dance that lasted for over a decade. Then, Tessa died in a sudden car crash. Callum, in his wedding tuxedo, took his own life the next day. He left a note saying he would spend his next life making amends to me, yet he willed his entire estate to Tessa’s orphaned son. I ended up broken, destitute, and dying alone on the streets. But I woke up. I was back in The Haven Children’s Home. A handsome, clear-eyed boy strode in with his parents. He pointed right at me, excited. 1 “Mom, Dad, if you’re getting me a sister, pick her! She looks tough and smart. She’ll be the perfect addition to the family legacy.” The moment those words left his mouth, I knew. Callum had come back too. I recalled the words of his suicide note, and a soft, bitter laugh escaped me. He was certainly trying to “keep his promise.” In my previous life, driven by a desperate hunger to escape the poverty and abuse of The Haven, I had been ruthlessly ambitious. I worked tirelessly to catch the eye of the affluent. My calculation had succeeded: Callum’s parents were ready to adopt me. But the day before my rescue, Callum walked in with Tessa. Believing Tessa’s manufactured tears and her accusations—that I had been manipulative, had flirted with a staff member, and was simply a congenital liar—he had ripped my dream apart. That day, as he led Tessa away, he made sure to shout a warning to the entire room: “Amanda Lane is a curse. Stay away from her if you want any luck.” In that instant, I fell from a hellhole into an abyss, and I endured another five years of relentless suffering. Tessa, meanwhile, was adopted by the Nashes and became their cherished heiress. Now, I stood before Mr. and Mrs. Nash. Callum, speaking to me, said, “This time, you’ll be my sister. I’ll take care of you. You won’t have to envy anyone… and you won’t have to suffer another five years alone.” I understood. He was trying to atone for the guilt of his previous life. He knew Tessa had lied. He was tortured by his decades of regret and those five extra years I spent in misery. Mr. and Mrs. Nash nodded, their eyes, just like before, already fond of me. I was about to refuse—I wanted no part of his atonement—when a young Tessa ran in, sobbing. Her clothes were torn. She had a bloody gash on her arm. “Tessa! Are you… are you alright?” She glanced at me, a flicker of warning in her eyes, before collapsing at the Nashes’ feet. “Mr. and Mrs. Nash, please tell me you’re here to save me! I don’t want to die! Please, I’m begging you!” She was imitating me. That desperate act was how I had once saved myself from the director, a true monster. Tessa, always the lucky one, always the darling of fate, had never been targeted by him. In my past life, seeing my self-rescue tactic used against me had sent me into a destructive fit of outrage, leading the Nashes to immediately dislike me. Now, Callum knew she was lying, yet he couldn’t help the flicker of pure, agonizing concern. “Who hurt you? I swear I’ll make them pay.” Tessa didn’t dare risk not being adopted and incurring the director’s wrath. I blinked, stepped forward, and spoke in a cool, rational voice. “It was the director. He preys on the prettiest girls. Tessa is the prettiest one here.” “What? That animal!” Mr. Nash clenched his fist. “Oh, darling, don’t cry,” Mrs. Nash murmured, her compassion immediate. Callum stood beside them, his lips tight, his gaze lowered. I knew him too well. He had changed his mind. “Mom, Dad, let’s adopt Tessa.” “Mr. and Mrs. Nash, you should adopt Tessa.” Callum and I spoke in unison. 2 “Amanda, why?” Callum looked at me, utterly bewildered. He knew that at this exact moment in the previous life, I would have fought like a cornered animal to be saved, desperate to leave this pit. But now I was… giving up the chance. I ignored the complexity and guilt in his eyes, maintaining a cool, detached composure. “Mr. and Mrs. Nash, I want to try being an only child for once. I’d prefer a family without any other children. Thank you for the offer.” The Nashes looked disappointed but accepting. As Tessa was being led away, she deliberately came over to me. She tilted her head up, a look of pampered arrogance and triumph washing over her face. “I told you, Amanda Lane, you can’t beat me. I’m going to be a rich man’s daughter now. As for you? Stay here and suffer. You only have yourself to blame for being too stupid to call out my lie!” Tessa laughed and walked away. After she left, a shaken, slender figure emerged from the shadows. Callum looked utterly lost, his face a portrait of suspicion. He hadn’t expected Tessa to be anything less than a pure, innocent victim; he hadn’t expected her to utter such… despicable words. He looked at me with a desperate, complicated expression, his eyes seeking my help. He was reaching for me, depending on me to offer him solace and perspective. I chose to ignore him. I turned my back and walked away. “Amanda.” I paused. “You came back, too, didn’t you?” I didn’t answer. “Amanda, I’m sorry. You know how it is, Tessa is still young. She’ll change.” “Oh, right.” I smiled. Why should I care? I had no intention of ever being involved with either of them again. “Amanda!” Callum panicked, darted forward, and grabbed my arm. He pulled out the meager cash he had. “Take this for now. I failed you again. I owe you this. Within half a month… no, five days. Three days. I promise I’ll find a way to get you out.” “Don’t bother.” “Amanda, I will save you. Wait for me!” Callum had to rush off, not because I had refused him, but because Tessa had stumbled nearby and cried out. I simply smiled. Of course. Thank goodness I hadn’t let a single ounce of hope latch onto Callum Nash this time. After Tessa was gone, I don’t know what she told the director, but this life’s version of him was crueler, his methods more vicious. The threat of immediate danger became overwhelming. Three days passed. Five days passed. A half a month… a month passed… Callum never came. I, risking the possibility of a broken arm, managed to record video evidence of the director’s crimes, successfully contacting the police and the media. As the police led the director away, the boys who were usually favored by him surrounded me. “Amanda Lane, this was you, wasn’t it, you ungrateful bitch!” “I’ll kill you! The director is gone, what are we supposed to do now? Starve?” “Kill her! Kill Amanda Lane, the lying little tramp!” “Beat her!” I struggled to protect my head and already-injured arm, utterly overwhelmed by the pain. I had expected this. The five boys attacking me were the director’s own biological sons. They were defending their father. Suddenly, the ringleader picked up a rock and aimed it at my head. In a flash, a figure leaped in front of me. The rock struck. “Ah!” A cry of pain. Callum Nash had been hit while shielding me. 3 My pupils contracted. “Callum! Are you okay?” A stream of bright red blood ran down his forehead, obscuring his vision. Callum wiped the blood from his face. He looked frail, yet he laughed, euphoric. “I finally saved you this time! Amanda, I was on time this time!” At his words, the immediate concern and guilt in my heart vanished. In the past life, our baby—so small, so sweet, the one who loved us most—had died. Because of Tessa’s lie, Callum had abandoned me and the child in the freezing wilderness. I was forced to watch our baby die, before wandering the mountains like a zombie for three days. When the rescue team found me, I was insane. My revenge against Tessa was total. And Callum, naturally, had to protect her. We had completely destroyed each other. I attacked his deepest insecurities; he targeted my very soul. The decades of entanglement only ended when he sacrificed his legs to save me, leaving the proud, elegant young man a cripple. At the time, consumed by guilt, I decided to let go of the past and live a life with him. But he used that very sacrifice as leverage. Pale and weak, sitting in his hospital bed, Callum’s eyes were red as he begged me, “Amanda, let go of Tessa. Do it for my legs.” My soul emptied out of me in that instant. I cried silently and agreed. “Fine. I promise.” Now, Callum was hysterical, holding my hand even through his pain. “Amanda, I told you I would protect you.” The next second, I was shoved to the ground. Slap— Tessa appeared and struck my face several times. “You curse! Stay away from my brother! He’s mine!” Tessa carefully helped Callum to his feet. “Tessa, don’t do that. Apologize to Amanda immediately.” Tessa immediately burst into tears, and Callum, unable to stand her distress, began to soothe and mollify her. I ignored the triumphant smile on Tessa’s face, brushed the dirt from my clothes, and prepared to leave. “Stop right there! Who said you, the curse, could leave?” Tessa’s true, spoiled nature emerged. “Stay away from my brother. I won’t allow you to hurt him.” “Tessa!” When Callum saw me turn, he instinctively stepped forward, shielding Tessa with his body. He always assumed I was the aggressor who would hurt Tessa. He always automatically forgot that my situation was invariably worse than hers. I rattled off a few names and several complex account numbers. Tessa was utterly confused; she didn’t understand a word. Her gaze toward me sharpened with malice. Callum, however, understood. That was the exact information detailing the start of his parents’ business decline. It had taken me years of effort, contacts, and painstaking investigation in the previous life to uncover that data, which I had used to save his company. “Amanda, what are you…” “Thank you for saving me this time, but don’t bother again. Callum, I don’t owe you anything. I hope you can keep your distance from now on.” Callum was struck dumb, as if his soul had been pulled from his body. He couldn’t process it. He likely never imagined that the woman who had deeply loved him in the previous life would now only wish to escape him entirely. 4 Soon, the state took over The Haven. They improved the facilities and brought in professional, ethical staff. The former director was already locked up. I and the other children had been spared five years of hardship. The other kids—those who had both bullied me and occasionally protected me—now recognized the positive change I’d engineered. They began to rally around me, seeking my approval and friendship. The director’s five illegitimate sons, however, started to get bullied themselves. I watched, satisfied. I always pay my debts, good or bad. The following month, Callum rushed to find me. He apologized profusely, explaining that Tessa had been sick and he had been tied up caring for her. He hung his head, apologizing. He was always like this: choosing Tessa, then offering me a shred of warmth… like dangling a carrot on a stick for a donkey. “Amanda, I found a new school for you. And I found a family willing to adopt you.” “No need, thank you.” My tone was polite but utterly distant. The government had already arranged schooling for all of us. It was an unfortunate coincidence that Tessa and I were placed in the same class. Within three days, the entire grade knew the rumor: I had “flirted with the forty-year-old director of the orphanage.” Boys pulled at my clothes strap; girls looked at me with disgust and contempt, ostracizing me. Soon, they gave me a vicious nickname, “The Pit Stop,” and hurled every insult they could think of. All of this was Tessa’s work. I calculated the time. My birth parents, whom I’d painstakingly found in my past life, should be returning to the country soon. Feeling confident, during a class break, Tessa threw her pencil case, hitting me in the back of the head. She yelled, “Hey, Pit Stop, new clothes today, huh? Which man did you trade for that outfit?” “Hahaha!” “Right! The total trash!” “She’s disgusting, that Pit Stop…” I stood up instantly and strode toward Tessa. As she watched me, cocky and challenging, I grabbed her hair and slammed her head straight into the mop bucket. “Ah! Ahhh! Let go of me, let me go!” I grinned, a cruel, cold expression. “Your mouth is filthy. You keep giving me disgusting nicknames. Tessa, we both came from The Haven. The Nashes wanted to adopt me. I gave that slot to you. The director initially targeted you. I protected you. Now, you repay my kindness by spreading lies and bullying me? You are a traitorous, ungrateful bitch!” “No! Ah! Stop it…” The dirty mop water spilled into Tessa’s mouth as she screamed. I sped up my accusations, detailing the things Tessa had done: how she’d turned people against each other, the nasty things she said about her own clique, how she’d spread rumors that forced the previous teacher to quit… As I spoke, nobody tried to stop me from punishing Tessa. In fact, some even shouted encouragement. More people were exchanging glances, realizing that everything I was saying about Tessa was true. “Amanda Lane, I won’t let you hurt Tessa!” Someone charged at me from behind. I lost my footing and fell. My left arm, the one I’d injured recording the director, took the brunt of the fall. The pain was excruciating; I was sure I heard the sickening crunch of the bone breaking again. My face went white. Callum, who had rushed over and helped Tessa up, looked at me on the floor, his eyes filled with shock and immediate regret. Tessa, sobbing, clutched his arm. “Brother, make her leave school! Amanda bullied me! Get her expelled!” “Alright, I promise, little sister.” I scoffed. “Of course. Callum, you are as predictable as ever, and just as contemptible.” Callum lowered his head. “Amanda, you were wrong first. But I will make it up to you later.” “You don’t have to, because I…” The teacher suddenly burst excitedly into the room, oblivious to the chaos. She shouted, “Amanda Lane, your birth parents are here to take you home! They said they are taking you abroad for a family reunion!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389648”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My husband was celebrating another woman’s birthday. The despair had hollowed me out, leaving me standing on the edge of the penthouse balcony. Just as I prepared to step over the railing, a torrent of text—a frantic, unsolicited Live Feed—flashed across my vision. [DON’T YOU DARE, SIS! That dog of a man will be on his knees for you soon!] [If you die now, you’ll miss the whole damn show where he regrets everything!] [Don’t believe us? Two minutes. He’s going to text you to run a bath and wait up for him!] I stood there, paralyzed by the sheer audacity of the words. A split-second later, my phone vibrated in my hand. Gavin: On my way home. Run a bath for me, will you? The text was there. Exactly two minutes later. I believed. This wasn’t a hallucination; it was a divine, chaotic intervention sent to teach me how to win my life back. So, following the bizarre instructions of The Feed, I adjusted the subtle, suggestive bruise on my neck—a deliberately ambiguous red mark—and braced myself to greet my late-returning husband. 1 The sound of the lock turning in the door was my cue. I took a deep, steadying breath and opened the door. Gavin Caldwell was standing there, his arms wrapped around a heavily intoxicated Gwen Foster. The air around him was thick with expensive cologne and stale alcohol. His brow was furrowed in his usual, preemptive scowl, ready with his standard excuse. “She had too much, I was just—” “I actually have to go out tonight.” I cut him off before his practiced denial could fully form, my voice as soft and inviting as a spring tide. He froze. I stepped aside, offering him a pleasant smile. “Just get her settled. Take a shower and get some rest when you’re done. Don’t worry about the house; the cleaning crew will handle it tomorrow.” This stream of cooperative, not-a-tear-in-sight, utterly accommodating dialogue stunned him into silence. Gavin’s gaze finally pulled away from his confusion and landed on me. For the first time in months, he looked at me like I was a stranger he was assessing. I was wearing a sleek black silk slip dress, which subtly defined curves I hadn’t let him see in years, and his eyes snagged immediately on the glaring red mark high on my neck. His face darkened instantly. “What is that on your neck?!” Gavin’s voice held a rare, shaky tremor. I instinctively reached up to cover it, feigning a fleeting moment of panic. “It’s nothing, probably… a mosquito bite?” Without waiting to see the full fury on his face, I grabbed my clutch from the sofa, clicked my heels, and walked straight past him. “Where in God’s name are you going?!” His voice, tight with suppressed rage, exploded behind me. I didn’t turn back, leaving him only with the image of my confident, swaying silhouette. Outside, the cool night air sent a shiver down my spine. I leaned against the exterior wall, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm. “Feed,” I whispered to the empty air, “was that… was that right?” Instantly, the dense lines of text swarmed around me again. [YES! Absolutely! You are the QUEEN!] [Did you see the look on that dog’s face? I’m living for this!] [You were too much of a good girl before, Helena! He thought you were his permanent fixture!] [Remember: Good women get a nice headstone; bad women get everything!] I thought of Gavin’s stunned, disbelieving fury—a sign of engagement and attention I hadn’t received from him in ages. I felt a rush of adrenaline. I believed The Feed more than ever. [You need to commit to the bit! Sis, go to a nightclub! Let him spin out trying to find you!] A nightclub? I was naturally reserved; I barely dared to raise my voice. But The Feed was relentless, a hundred invisible hands pushing me forward. The deafening music, the flashing, dizzying lights, the writhing mass of people on the dance floor. I perched awkwardly in a corner, nursing a single drink for ages without taking a sip. [Don’t be shy, Queen! You’re gorgeous! Own it!] [Get up! Feel the rhythm! Release the demon!] Fueled by the chaotic energy of The Feed and the atmosphere, I found myself, almost involuntarily, stepping onto the dance floor. My movements were stiff at first, but slowly, I let the music consume me. For the first time, I realized how exhilarating dancing could be. When I was finally exhausted, I returned to the booth and picked up my phone, which I’d silenced. The screen blazed with: Missed Calls (27) Gavin Caldwell. My husband, who had been emotionally distant for an entire year, had called me twenty-seven times? 2 After a year of me being the one desperately trying to reach him, the sight of those missed calls was deeply satisfying. [Ignore him! Let him stew! He needs to know what it’s like to be cut off!] I dutifully slipped the phone back into my bag, a sly smile creeping onto my face. Honey, I thought, it’s not that I don’t want to call you back. It’s that I need to make you… fall in love with me again. You’ll understand, right? I stayed out all night. I returned to the apartment the next morning, exhausted and faintly nauseous from the lingering scent of alcohol. The living room light was on. Gavin was slumped on the sofa, his eyes bloodshot, an overflowing ashtray at his feet. Seeing me, he bolted toward me, grabbing my wrist with a desperate urgency. His voice was hoarse. “Where were you?!” I caught the cloying, residual scent of Gwen’s perfume on his shirt. When I remained silent, his face contorted in disbelief. “This isn’t like you! You never stay out all night!” I lifted my eyes and blinked innocently. “What’s the big deal about staying out late?” “Gavin, we’re adults. Doesn’t everyone need their own life?” My retort silenced him instantly. The bloodshot eyes, for the first time, held a foreign mix of confusion and a flicker of genuine panic. “Isn’t that what you always used to tell me?” I tilted my head, smiling sweetly. “You said you were busy. You said you had obligations. You said… adults always need their own space.” I tossed his own dismissive, well-worn phrases right back at him. My heart was racing, my palms sweating from the sheer tension of the performance. [Steady, Queen! Don’t break character! You are now the Empress Helena Barrett!] [Yes! Fight fire with fire! So satisfying!] The Feed provided an infinite well of nerve. Just then, the master bedroom door clicked open. Gwen Foster, swathed in an oversized silk robe, rubbed her sleepy eyes and strolled out, radiating a lazy, practiced sensuality. That robe was my favorite one. In the past, this sight would have sent me into a jealous frenzy, ready to claw her eyes out. [The mistress is here! High drama alert! Remember, whoever loses their temper first, loses the game!] I took a deep breath. Calmness was my greatest weapon. Gwen feigned surprise upon seeing me, covering her mouth with a hand, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “Oh, Helena! You’re back! I’m so sorry, I drank too much last night, and Gavin was worried I’d ruin my dress, so he just… he just grabbed one of your robes. You don’t mind, do you?” Gavin’s face was awkward and tight. “Her clothes were stained. I just grabbed the first thing.” “Mind?” I laughed, walking directly up to Gwen. My tone was full of reproach, but directed pointedly at Gavin. “Gavin, how could you give Gwen one of my old, worn-out things? That’s so thoughtless.” I took Gwen’s hand and, with startling affection, led her toward my walk-in closet. Under the astonished gaze of both of them, I pulled a brand-new, never-worn silk slip dress from the closet and pressed it into her hands. “This one’s new; it hasn’t even been worn. The color will look stunning on you. Go put it on, darling. It’s perfect.” [HOLY CRAP! That is next-level queen behavior! Psychological warfare!] [Gwen’s face is GREEN! She tried to provoke you, and you treated her like she was picking up discards!] I ignored their petrified expressions, returned to the bedroom to change into a crisp, business-ready pantsuit, and picked up my bag. Passing through the living room, I stopped at the hallway safe and removed a small velvet box. “Where are you going?! And what is that?!” 3 Gavin finally snapped out of his shock and grabbed my wrist. I gently, but firmly, pulled my hand away and opened the box. Inside, nestled on the satin lining, was a brilliant sapphire jewelry set. “Oh, this?” I picked it up, my tone intimate, laced with playful complaint. “The ‘Azure Heart,’ remember? The one you spent eight million at auction for the year we got married? The same set… you wanted to give Gwen but never did.” Gavin’s pupils contracted sharply. I looked at Gwen with a faux-apologetic expression. “I’m sorry, Gwen, it’s not that I’m stingy. It’s just that Mrs. Sinclair, the wife of the CEO of Sinclair Holdings—the massive account Caldwell Industries is chasing—saw this set a few days ago. I’m meeting Mrs. Sinclair for afternoon tea today. I’m giving her this as a gift to finalize the partnership.” “Are you insane?!” Gavin’s voice trembled with disbelief. “You know how much you cherished this set! You wouldn’t even let me touch it back then!” “I’ve had a change of heart,” I looked at him earnestly, my gaze clear. “It’s just jewelry. It’s been sitting there gathering dust. It should be used to achieve greater value, don’t you think?” I smiled, closed the box, and patted his shoulder. “You two enjoy your time at home. I’m leaving.” I clicked my heels and walked out without looking back. As I got into my car and closed the door, I held the velvet box to my chest, and a sharp, familiar pain pinched my heart. After all, this was once my most treasured proof of his love. Giving it away, no matter the reason, hurt. [Don’t be sad, sis! You have to risk the bait to catch the whale!] [Closing the Sinclair deal means at least fifty million in profit for Caldwell Industries! You’re a shareholder! You’re getting paid!] [Think bigger! You traded his tainted jewelry for money and power! Most importantly, he will see you in a completely new light!] I looked at The Feed, took a deep breath, and nodded firmly. The Feed was right. I needed to think bigger. Sacrificing a material object for a massive business advantage was absolutely worth it. When I presented “The Azure Heart” to Mrs. Sinclair, the look of unbridled delight in her eyes was all the assurance I needed. Predictably, the partnership between Sinclair Holdings and Caldwell Industries was swiftly finalized, and I was personally named the lead project liaison by Mrs. Sinclair herself. The following days were a whirlwind. I plunged back into the corporate world I had abandoned three years ago, absorbing everything like a sponge. Meetings, reports, corporate dinners… my schedule was packed tight. [Go, Queen! Let him see how utterly captivating you are when you focus on your career!] [That’s right! Ignore him! Men only slow down your money flow!] 4 The Live Feed was my unwavering support system. I could feel Gavin’s eyes constantly lingering on me, filled with curiosity and a complex emotion I couldn’t quite decipher. But I had no time to respond. Firstly, The Feed forbade it; secondly, I was genuinely too busy. The night of the massive celebration gala, as the project lead, I was required to attend with Gavin. I changed into a champagne-colored mermaid gown, which perfectly sculpted my slender figure. When I stepped out, Gavin was leaning against the wall, waiting. The moment he saw me, his breath visibly hitched, and his eyes held a look of undisguised admiration. I felt a surge of secret satisfaction but kept my face cool. I merely asked, “Shall we go?” His Adam’s apple bobbed. He silently stepped forward and opened the door for me. Just as we were about to leave, a syrupy voice chirped from the side. “Gavin, darling, Helena! Where are you two off to?” Gwen materialized seemingly out of nowhere, holding a glass of deep violet juice. She took a theatrical stumble and lunged straight toward me! The icy liquid splattered across my champagne dress, instantly spreading a large, glaring stain. “Oh! I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry, Helena!” Gwen shrieked in manufactured distress, tears instantly welling up. “I didn’t mean to… I just slipped… What are we going to do? Tonight’s gala is so important. You can’t go without a dress. We can’t let Gavin go alone, can we?” She was apologizing, but every word carried a clear implication. Gavin’s initial surprise turned into a hesitant look as he saw my ruined dress. After a few seconds of silence, he actually spoke. “Maybe… Helena, you should go home and change. We’re running out of time. I can take Gwen to the venue for now.” [NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT!] [The audacity of this man! Can he really not see through that manipulative witch?!] [If you obey, Queen, all your efforts will be for nothing! He will immediately revert to treating you like the pitiful, disposable wife you used to be!] I looked up at Gavin’s hesitant, yet somehow entitled, expression. Without a moment of hesitation, I swung my hand and delivered a clean, sharp slap across his face. “Snap!” The loud crack echoed through the marble entryway. Gavin’s head jerked to the side. He stared at me in stunned disbelief. “She’s immature, but you, Gavin? You should know better.” My voice was icy. Then I turned to Gwen, who was still mid-act, covering her mouth, a triumphant glint in her eyes. “Snap! Snap!” I backhanded her twice, the force sending her sprawling onto the floor, momentarily stunned.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389647”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The Annual Gala was underway when the CEO suddenly announced an extra segment. “Time for the Department Showdown! The team that lands at the bottom of the rankings gets a little… incentive!” The huge screen lit up, and the year-end performance metrics scrolled down. Sales was first, Operations second, Marketing third… The Administrative Department: Not listed. Because Admin didn’t have a sales quota. Our CEO, Victor Albright, smiled broadly as he looked toward our table. “My Admin team, come on up to claim your prize!” Two guys in tuxedos walked out, hauling a wicker basket filled with old-school straw brooms. The entire room erupted in laughter. “Time to sweep out the cobwebs from last year, folks! Let’s try not to land at the bottom next year, shall we?” Victor personally handed a broom to each of us. The stage lights flashed and dozens of phones were held up. The Sales Director, Brent, laughed the loudest. “The Admin team finally has a spotlight moment! Hilarious!” 1 Back at our table, Devon slammed her broom onto the linen cloth. “Are you kidding me? A public shaming for the entire department?” Patrice, our most senior staffer, hissed, “Keep it down, Devon.” “Why should I?” Devon’s eyes were red. “I’m getting married in the spring, and I was counting on that bonus. Instead, I get a goddamn broom?” Tess, the youngest, kept her head down, her shoulders shaking. Patrice sighed, running a hand over her head. “My husband’s checkup is next month. I was hoping…” She didn’t finish the thought. My phone buzzed. A private message from Victor. [Joss, don’t overthink it. Just trying to lighten the mood. You’re a veteran here, you need to have a little perspective. Manage your team’s mindset, and try not to come in last next year.] Perspective. There were five of us in Admin. We handled everything from high-stakes vendor negotiations and regulatory compliance to booking flights, managing deliveries, and fixing the damn office printer. Who processed the contracts for Sales? Who spent all night coordinating materials for Marketing’s biggest launch? Who managed Victor’s chaotic travel itinerary? We did the dirty work. And for what? “No quota,” and a cheap broom as a reward. Devon glared at me. “Boss, are we going to let this slide?” I placed my broom gently on the table. “No. This is not over.” The gala ended, and I walked straight to Victor’s office. The door was open. It was packed and noisy. The Sales Director, the Marketing Director, the CFO—all of them were gathered around Victor, practically bowing, their faces flushed with success and expensive scotch. “Victor, the performance jump this year is all thanks to your leadership!” “Next year, we’ll double the numbers, I promise!” Victor’s smile froze for a split second when he saw me. “Alright, everyone, wrap it up. We’ll hit the ground running after the holidays.” As the crowd dispersed, Victor gestured for me to sit down, slowly lighting a cigarette. “What’s with the scowl? Did someone forget to pay you?” I fought to keep my voice even. “Victor, the segment tonight—was it necessary?” “Which segment?” “The brooms.” He blew out a plume of smoke and chuckled. “Joss. You’re too sensitive. It was just a harmless gag. Look, everyone else was having fun.” “That’s because the brooms weren’t handed to them.” “Oh, you’re seriously upset about this?” Victor stubbed his cigarette in the ashtray and leaned back. “Fine. I’ll ask you this: Based on what metrics should Admin not be at the bottom? Sales closed three hundred million in deals. Ops cut client acquisition costs by forty percent. Marketing tripled our exposure—what data, Joss, can you present for Admin?” A blinding rage flared up inside me. Data. Data. Always data. In the middle of the year, when the company issued raises, every department got a bump except ours. When I asked why: [Admin salaries are fixed, Joss. Unlike the business departments, you don’t have performance fluctuations. Raises for your team have to be prioritized later.] [You’re a veteran, Joss. Show some perspective.] [Wait until the end of the year. I’ll make it up to you on the annual bonus. I won’t let you down.] Our salaries were fixed, yes—fixed for three years, while the cost of living and rent kept climbing. Year after year, he painted a future that never arrived. But because he’d promised a larger year-end bonus, my team had endured. I spoke through clenched teeth. “We accepted no raise mid-year because you promised to compensate us with the year-end bonus!” BANG! His coffee mug hit the desk hard. “Jocelyn! Watch your tone!” “The company has a clearly defined assessment model. Admin doesn’t generate revenue, so by the contribution metric, you’re at the bottom. What’s the problem?” “But in previous years—” “Previous years are previous years!” Victor cut me off. “For the company to grow, we need to reform. Admin needs to learn to absorb its own costs and stop relying on the company to bail you out!” I stood up. “I understand. You see the Admin Department as completely disposable.” “I didn’t say that.” “You didn’t have to. Your actions speak volumes.” I turned to leave. “Stop right there!” Victor’s voice dropped, cold and dangerous. “Joss Riley, you’ve been an Admin Manager for eight years. How can you be so utterly lacking in perspective? You throw a tantrum because your bonus is smaller? What message does that send to the rest of the company about the Admin function?” I looked back, locking eyes with him. “Victor, I can afford to lack perspective. But my staff are relying on those bonuses to get by. Patrice’s husband needs a medical checkup. Devon is getting married. Tess promised to take her mother to the coast for her arthritis—” “That is their personal business. What does that have to do with the company?” Victor waved his hand dismissively. “This company is not a charity. We can’t overpay employees just because they have family problems. If you’re unhappy, go ahead and sue us. See if the Labor Board will even hear your case!” I froze. He wasn’t going to show me even a shred of respect. “Fine. Then I will go ask them.” Victor smirked. “Be my guest. But a word of caution: if you burn this bridge, you won’t be working in this city again.” I didn’t reply. I slammed the door behind me. 2 Walking out of Victor’s office, I ran right into Tori Bell, the HR Director, in the hallway. She smiled sweetly and took my arm. “Joss, perfect timing. I was just looking for you. Come sit in my office?” I didn’t resist. Tori poured me a glass of water, sat opposite me, and sighed, frowning. “Why the fuss?” I looked up, utterly astonished. “Why the fuss? Tori, my staff—they are all banking on that bonus!” “Patrice’s husband has a tumor on his liver. She needs to take him to a specialist in New York.” “Devon is over thirty and finally getting married. She was counting on that money for the reception.” “Tess’s mother has rheumatism. She promised her she’d take her down to Miami for the winter… She can’t take another Northern winter.” “But the company is not a charity, Joss. We have to follow procedure. We can’t increase compensation just because an employee is struggling.” Tori said it so casually, as if she were talking about the weather. “Fine, I won’t talk about struggle!” I pulled my chair closer, opened my phone, and slapped it on the desk. “Let’s talk about contribution!” “The Admin Department came in last, which means we contributed nothing? Let’s run the numbers and see what Admin actually contributed!” I scrolled through my work emails. “This year, the company signed sixty-three major contracts. Every single one of those contracts—the flow, the signing, the archiving—was managed by Admin. If we outsourced that legal-admin work, the filing fee alone would be about $3,000 per contract. Sixty-three contracts? That’s nearly $190,000 in costs we saved the company.” “The company passed the Environmental Safety audit last year because Admin ran to the regulatory center over twenty times, prepared hundreds of pages of documentation, and spent three months getting it right. Outsourced to a consultant? That’s $150,000, minimum.” “And vendor management—we maintained relationships with forty-seven long-term suppliers. We renegotiated payment terms from Net-30 to Net-60 for twelve of them. Just that one change saved the company hundreds of thousands in cash flow costs!” “Our five-person Admin team averages $6,000 a month. That’s an annual payroll of $360,000. Any one of the things I just listed easily covers that cost! You’re calling that ‘no contribution’?” Tori was momentarily speechless. After a long pause, she said, “We didn’t say no contribution. But Admin is overhead. On the financial statements, it’s a pure expenditure…” I scoffed. “Then let’s talk about the workload.” I pulled up the attendance records. “Last year, the Admin department averaged forty-two hours of overtime per person, per month. When we relocated the office on Labor Day weekend, my entire team worked seventy-two straight hours without sleep. During the Thanksgiving rush, when a major client flew in unexpectedly, we handled everything from airport pickup to lodging to conference room setup—a full-service operation—and didn’t even get a dinner break!” “Did we get overtime pay? No. Comp time? No. Any kind of bonus? No!” “What does that work break down to hourly? Eighteen dollars an hour! The convenience store clerk across the street makes twenty-two dollars an hour!” I leaned in, delivering each word deliberately. “Eighteen dollars an hour, doing all the grunt work, just to be handed a broom at the end of the year and told to sweep away bad luck—Tori, do you honestly think that’s fair?” Tori’s face hardened. “Joss, you can’t just focus on your own small contribution. You have to compare horizontally. Sales and Marketing contributed far more than you.” I stood up, giving her a look of utter contempt. “Contributed what? Delayed expense reports?” “Admin has covered eighty thousand dollars in outstanding expense reports for other departments, which Finance is still refusing to process! They claim the procedures aren’t compliant! What procedures? We used the exact same process last year!” “And what about the Planning Department, Victor’s nephew’s little team? They produced three proposals all year. One of them was flagged for plagiarism and cost us a $50,000 PR settlement, which, by the way, was deducted from the Admin budget!” “That’s the contribution, right?” The more I spoke, the greater my sense of injustice. “And your HR department—all you do is process attendance and issue penalty notices! Fifty dollars for one minute late, a hundred for forgetting to clock in, fifty for a messy desk! You collected over thirty thousand dollars in fines last year! Where did that money go?” I let out a sharp, cold laugh. “You’re all true heroes, aren’t you? The great contributors!” “If the company genuinely believes Admin has no contribution, then don’t expect us to work for free anymore!” “We might be loyal, but we’re not stupid! We’ve eaten enough stale cake to know when the party’s over.” Ignoring Tori’s purple face, I walked out. Behind me, I heard the sound of the glass of water shattering on the floor. Her “good intentions” were nothing more than a sales pitch for Victor. Ultimately, I knew Tori had signed off on that embarrassing gala stunt. 3 When I got back to the Admin department, four pairs of eyes snapped up, staring at me. My throat tightened, and my nose stung. I opened my mouth but couldn’t speak. Devon managed a bitter smile. “From Boss’s expression, I guess we’re out of luck. Fine. I’ll figure out the wedding somehow.” Tess wiped away a tear. “Everyone pooled some cash for me. I can get my mom a general practitioner appointment now. The specialist will have to wait.” Patrice was silent, texting, likely telling her husband the checkup had to be postponed. All of their anger and frustration were swallowed whole, mixed with their tears. I clenched my fists tighter. “Patrice, didn’t you have a good contact in HR?” Patrice nodded. “Young Maya. Why?” “Go ask her if the company has any big moves planned.” Patrice immediately sent a text. A few minutes later, her face drained of color. “Boss, Maya says… Victor has been wanting to replace our entire department for a while. He’s annoyed that our salaries haven’t budged in three years, and he wants to bring in a batch of cheaper, fresh college grads.” “And,” Patrice gritted her teeth, “Tori has asked Legal to prepare materials. She said if we dare to make a fuss, they’ll audit our books—vendor kickbacks, expense report fraud—they’ll find enough to bury us.” “This time,” I said, my voice hoarse, the desperation in my eyes turning to steel, “we are not letting this go.” Patrice looked up. “Boss, remember Graham Hastings at Aegis Group? He called me last week. Said Aegis is expanding, needs staff for their Admin systems, and asked if I was interested.” “What did you tell him?” “I didn’t commit. Just said I’d think about it.” Patrice offered a rueful smile. “If I’d known this was coming, I’d have said yes immediately.” “It’s not too late.” I said. “Go ask him how many people he can take.” “Are you suggesting… we all jump ship together?” “Let’s try. If it doesn’t work, we’ll rethink.” Patrice instantly pulled out her phone. “I’m calling him now.” Devon’s eyes lit up. “Boss, Aegis is one of the biggest names in the industry! If we could land there…” “Don’t celebrate yet,” I cautioned. “This has to be top secret. Victor cannot know where we’re going until we officially resign.” “Why?” “Victor is petty and vindictive. He started his company by poaching talent from Graham’s previous firm, and they have bad blood. If he knows we’re jumping as a unit to Aegis, he will try to sabotage us.” “Understood.” Devon nodded. “Boss, tell us what to do.” Patrice’s call lasted half an hour. When she emerged, a genuine smile was finally on her face. “Graham said Aegis is setting up a new Admin Hub and needs a complete, experienced team. If we’re willing, we can all go.” “What about compensation?” “Base salary is 30% higher than here, year-end bonus paid quarterly, maxed-out 401k and benefits. He can arrange the interviews for next week.” Tess jumped up, excited. “Seriously?” “Graham’s word. It’s solid.” Devon slapped her thigh. “What are we waiting for!” “Hold on.” I raised a hand to calm them. “We have a few things to take care of first.” “First, organize all our documents. Back up everything that needs backing up. Take pictures of everything that matters.” “Second, work as normal. Don’t show any signs of change. Wait until the interviews are done and the offers are confirmed.” “Third, we need to secure a written commitment for severance—N+1 is the legal minimum, and we’re taking every cent.” “Fourth,” I paused, “the company’s books are dirty. And we have the proof.” All four heads turned toward me. “Remember the expense reports last year? Victor was using company funds to cover private dinners. We had to find receipts to match. Remember those business trips where he took his mistress to Aruba? The tickets and hotels were all billed to the company.” Devon inhaled sharply. “Falsifying invoices…” “More than that,” I continued. “Three of the vendors on our approved list are shell companies owned by Victor’s brother-in-law. Millions of dollars processed annually, with zero actual work delivered. That’s a conflict of interest and potential corporate asset misappropriation.” Patrice’s face changed. “Boss, are you suggesting…” “I’m not suggesting anything.” I looked at them pointedly. “I’m reminding you to keep those files safe. Just in case, you know, we ever need to set the record straight.” The team nodded, a silent, grim understanding passing between us. 4 The next week, the job transition proceeded smoothly. Graham at Aegis took the matter seriously. He personally interviewed us, and all five of us passed. The formal offers arrived quickly. Our start date was set for the beginning of next month, perfectly aligned with our projected departure. I thought everything was going to plan. Until Friday afternoon, when Victor suddenly messaged the company-wide chat. [All-Hands Meeting at 3 PM. Admin Team must attend. Important Personnel Announcement.] My heart sank. At 3 PM sharp, the conference room was packed. Victor stood at the front next to a strange young man wearing gold-rimmed glasses and an impeccably tailored suit—a classic, entitled MBA type. “I’ve called you all here today to announce an important change.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389646”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel