The company gala was in full swing when I threw up on the most important guest in the room. Colleagues scattered like roaches when the lights turn on, leaving my boss, Adrian, to step in and apologize for me. But the VIP didn’t get angry. Instead, he calmly dusted off his lapel and looked at Adrian. “She has zero tolerance for alcohol. Keep an eye on her.” Adrian’s jaw practically hit the floor. When the banquet finally ended, my coworkers swarmed me, buzzing with gossip. “That was Carter Sterling! How on earth do you know him?” Carter paused near the exit, turning to look at me. I averted my gaze and let out a dry, hollow laugh. “I don’t. We aren’t close.” After all, when we broke up three years ago, Carter Sterling had only one request: Never tell a soul we were ever together. 1 The noisy room went dead silent. A few seconds later, someone scoffed. “Yeah, right.” “Carter’s suit is worth six figures. If he wasn’t close to you, would he let that slide? And giving the boss instructions on how to handle you?” What instructions? I really had drunk too much. I hadn’t heard a word Carter said. I shook my head, repeating the line like a mantra. “We really aren’t close.” “He probably just let it go out of respect for our boss,” someone reasoned. Everyone knew Adrian Hale had connections everywhere. He ran in the same circles as Carter. “Really?” I met my colleague’s skeptical gaze with a blank stare. After a long staredown, she convinced herself. “Yeah, that makes sense.” “It has to be Adrian. Why would someone like Carter know a corporate drone like you?” “Besides, I heard Carter is getting engaged at the end of the month. Maybe he’s just in a good mood.” Hearing that, the crowd bought it. The only person who didn’t look convinced was Adrian. He leaned against the wall, swirling a glass of scotch, one eyebrow raised. His expression said: I’m just going to watch you lie through your teeth. 2 I calmly looked away. Technically, I wasn’t lying. We broke up three years ago. We were strangers now. Especially considering the brutal words he left me with. He forbade me from even speaking his name. The gala wound down. Carter walked out with Adrian. As they passed me, Carter turned his head, his dark eyes boring into mine. I kept my expression frozen. I didn’t even blink. Only when they disappeared out the door did the tension in the room lift. The gossip immediately shifted to Carter. Mentioning his fiancée, someone sighed enviously. “Vanessa Vanderbilt. A real heiress. The hardest thing that girl has ever had to do is choose a latte flavor.” “Born with a silver spoon, childhood sweethearts with Carter… that diamond on her finger costs more than my life insurance. And did you hear about the car he bought her?” “I heard a rumor,” someone whispered, lowering their voice. “Carter dated some poor girl about three years ago. Two years together. But she made Vanessa cry once, and he dumped her the next day.” “Two years down the drain just like that? That’s cold.” “It gets worse. To vent his anger for Vanessa, he basically ran the girl out of the city. But apparently, she was from a trashy family with a bad reputation. Probably just a gold digger.” The room filled with judgmental sighs. I lowered my eyes, catching bits and pieces of the conversation. It was half true, half false. It was true that Carter dumped me because of Vanessa. But he didn’t run me out of town. He just thought I was too shameful to be seen with. He flew out of the country the day we broke up without even saying goodbye. Two years of love, ending in humiliation. I didn’t want to hear anymore. I grabbed my bag to leave, but someone asked: “Two years? And he didn’t feel bad at all?” 3 No. Carter was ruthless. He was so cruel that for a long time after, I questioned if the gentle, polite man I first met was even the same person. I realized later, he started changing the moment Vanessa came back from Europe. He took me to meet his inner circle. The private lounge was filled with people he’d known since kindergarten. Old money. They greeted me politely enough. Except for Vanessa. She scanned me from head to toe like I was a bad investment. That was the first time I met her. Beautiful, but icy. We didn’t speak the entire night. Until the end, when she finally acknowledged my existence. “What a coincidence.” “I heard you and Carter haven’t been dating long, but your mother suddenly got sick, and you needed money urgently?” I froze. Carter had helped me with medical bills. But I had already paid him back. The night I accepted Carter’s confession, I had actually regretted it. Carter Sterling, the heir to the Sterling empire, and “poverty” didn’t belong in the same sentence. But he had buried his face in my neck, his voice thick with emotion, asking, “Are you sure? Do you really want to leave me?” The speech I prepared died in my throat. My heart hammered against my ribs. I was powerless against the chemistry. Later, I refused his expensive gifts. I couldn’t afford to owe him anything else. But how did Vanessa know about the medical bills? Before I could speak, Vanessa laughed lightly. “It doesn’t matter. It’s pocket change to us.” “I’m just making conversation. Don’t take it to heart.” I stood there, stunned. Carter glanced at her, his expression unreadable. Vanessa looked up at him, smiling with her eyes. They didn’t speak, but a silent communication passed between them. That was the first time I felt it. The wall. Later, while shopping, I stared at a pair of earrings. They would have looked perfect on my mom. “They’re beautiful,” Vanessa said, appearing beside me. “You like them?” “Carter should just buy them for you.” The group of friends chuckled. They stood in the light. I stood in their shadow. I looked at Carter. I couldn’t articulate the humiliation I felt, but I desperately hoped he would stand up for me. Just one word. Say, Elena never asked me for anything. Say, Elena isn’t who you think she is. I watched him. Vanessa watched him. It felt like a century passed. Finally, Carter spoke. He glanced indifferently at the earrings. “If you want something, just ask next time.” “Pick whatever else you like.” The world spun. I gripped the counter, trying to see the real man behind that mask of indifference. But all I saw in those beautiful eyes was the same look Vanessa had. Arrogance. They were exactly the same. 4 After that day, we entered a cold war. I didn’t contact Carter. But Vanessa came to find me. “You forgot the earrings you were staring at. Carter told me to bring them to you.” She looked at my mother and laughed. “This is your mom?” “You used her illness as an excuse to borrow money from Carter, didn’t you?” “What’s the excuse next time?” “Sickness gets old. Maybe you two should brainstorm a new scam. Your mother looks like she has more experience…” Every word was a dagger into my mother’s heart. Her face went pale. I didn’t let her finish. I shoved Vanessa hard. “Shut your mouth!” Vanessa fell. Her wrist scraped the floor, and she teared up instantly. Her friends arrived that night. They blocked my doorway, demanding an apology. “Vanessa was the one insulting us! Why should I apologize?” “Fine. Don’t apologize. Pay up.” A man leaned against the wall, laughing. “Though I doubt you can afford the medical bill for her wrist.” They were merciless. “Face it. You’re just in it for Carter’s money. Was Vanessa wrong?” “Stop pretending.” “Name your price. We’ll pay you to leave Carter alone.” I was shaking with rage. Just as I was about to scream, Carter arrived. The crowd dispersed immediately. When the footsteps faded, the hallway was quiet. Vanessa must have cried to him already. I assumed he was here to make me apologize too. Or mock me. I clenched my fists, staring at him. But Carter didn’t mention Vanessa. He spoke calmly. “I heard your mother isn’t feeling well?” “Do you need money?” His tone was gentle, but the implication was cruel. He believed them. I realized then: either I never knew Carter, or he had changed completely. When I didn’t answer, he shoved something into my hand. A black card. Cold against my skin. “If you need anything else, just ask.” My mother was sitting on the sofa, listening. Her fingers dug deep into the cushions. I couldn’t look at her. “Get out,” I choked out. I threw the card and the man out the door. We broke up. Carter didn’t give me the card again. Instead, he kept sending gifts. One evening, I came home to find my door open. A neighbor was walking out. “Your daughter is something else. She’s got the looks to make it pay, huh? Those things look expensive.” “Finally letting you live the good life.” I froze. The living room table was piled high with luxury bags and jewelry. The silence was deafening. My mother sat on the sofa, staring at the pile. She didn’t ask. She didn’t speak. After a long time, she closed her eyes. “Elena… sometimes I wish I hadn’t survived that accident.” My eyes turned red instantly.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389275”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

He carried her into the guest room, disappearing for the entire night. He didn’t come out once to check on me. When I finally stormed in, grabbing a heavy vase to smash against them, Carter acted fast. He pulled the woman into his arms, shielding her, his eyes cold and detached. “Harper, that’s enough. Stop making a scene. You’re embarrassing yourself.” 1. “What did you just say?” I asked, my voice trembling. “Did you drug her?” I froze. “I drugged her? Is that what she said?” Carter’s mouth twisted into a cynical smirk. “You don’t need to frame her; she didn’t say anything. But it’s not hard to guess, is it? Who else but you would do something this low?” I hadn’t attended the gala last night. A brutal migraine had kept me home. Before he left, Carter had kissed my forehead, telling me to get some rest. Now, he stood there, self-righteous and accusing. It was just like he used to tell me: If a person has no shame, they can accuse you of anything, and you’ll never clear your name. After a long silence, I suddenly laughed. Carter frowned, staring at me. I turned on my heel and walked out. Riley rushed over, catching me just as I stumbled on the stairs. “Harper? What happened? Are you okay?” I gripped her arm. My head was splitting open. “Call 911.” “What?” “Call the police!” My voice was raspy, my body shaking uncontrollably. I fumbled for my migraine meds and dry-swallowed a pill. Riley realized I wasn’t joking. She pulled out her phone immediately. “Hello? I need to report a crime…” I took the phone from her. “Someone has illegally used a controlled substance and is framing me for it…” “Harper Vance! What are you doing?” Carter stormed out, wearing only a bathrobe, his face like thunder. “Who told you to call the cops?” I looked him dead in the eye. Into the phone, I said, “Yes, this is the address. I’ll be waiting outside.” “Harper!!” Carter lunged, trying to snatch the phone. Riley stepped in front of me. She saw the bathrobe, saw the rage, and understood everything. She shoved Carter back hard. “Back off, Carter!” Carter pushed Riley aside effortlessly. She hit the wall with a painful thud. My heart clenched. I grabbed the vase from the hallway console and hurled it at him. “Stay the hell away from me!” “Harper!” I pulled a taser from my purse, helping Riley up. “I said, stay away.” 2. Layla Moore chose that moment to stumble out of the room. Her steps were weak and floaty. She collapsed right into Carter’s arms. Carter looked panicked, holding her tight. My nerves were already fried. Seeing them like that, I couldn’t stop a choked sob from escaping. I bit my lip so hard I tasted iron, trying to keep quiet. Riley heard it, though. She rubbed my back, tears streaming down her own face. She was crying for me. I wanted to tell her I was fine, but I couldn’t make a sound. Layla grabbed Carter’s robe, looking terrified. “I heard sirens? Why call the police? Carter… I don’t want people to know what happened last night. I’ll leave. Let’s just pretend nothing happened. I won’t ruin your marriage. I’m sorry, this is all my fault!” Her tears fell on cue—beautiful, fragile, pitiful. Carter gritted his teeth, his glare fixing on me. “Harper, cancel the call. I’m not asking.” I bit down on the inside of my cheek until the pain grounded me. I took a deep breath and stood up straight. “You’re sorry? You’re apologizing? So, you drugged yourself?” Layla paused for two seconds, then shook her head frantically. “No, no! Why would I… why would I do that to myself?” She looked at me with mournful eyes. “Harper, I know you hate me. I accept that. But… but you shouldn’t assume I’d do something like this…” I nodded. “So, did I do it?” She went silent, biting her lip, tears flowing—the picture of a martyr swallowing her pain. I looked at Carter. His eyes were strangers to me. “So, Carter. Did I do it?” “You know the answer.” “I know? You mean, you’ve decided I did it.” “Who else is there?” I nodded again and let out a light laugh. “Great. Remember you said that. I recorded it. Make sure you tell the police the exact same story. Otherwise, I might sue you for defamation.” 3. As soon as the words left my mouth, Layla’s face went pale. She broke free from Carter and dropped to her knees in front of me. Thud. Thud. She slammed her head against the floor. “Harper, I’m sorry! It’s all my fault. It has nothing to do with Carter. I know you hate me. You’ve hated me for years. I was wrong back then. I shouldn’t have said you smelled like…” “Shut up!” “Layla!” Riley screamed and lunged at her, but I held her back. Carter pulled Layla up, his voice warning. “Enough.” I was the calmest person in the hallway. “Smelled like what? Dead fish? You’re still the same Layla. But do you think I’m still the same Harper?” Carter’s breath hitched. He stepped forward. I stepped back, raising the taser. “Last warning. Back off.” “What is going on here?” A sharp, authoritative voice rang out. It was Vivian Caldwell, the owner of the estate and the host of last night’s gala. Seeing her, Carter stiffened, plastering on a fake smile. “Mrs. Caldwell, it’s nothing. Just a misunderstanding. We’ll handle it. Sorry to disturb you.” “Is that so?” Her red lips curved, her gaze sweeping over the trembling Layla before landing on me. “You sent me the message?” “Harper, you…” Carter looked furious but didn’t dare explode in front of the matriarch. I nodded. “Yes, Mrs. Caldwell. Sorry to intrude.” She nodded. “It is intrusive.” “Mrs. Caldwell, I apologize. Harper isn’t thinking clearly…” Carter tried to grab my arm to pull me away. I yanked my hand back and kicked him hard in the shin. “Are you deaf?” Carter froze. He finally realized I wasn’t saving him any face today. Vivian laughed, amused. “Now I’m curious. The text mentioned drugs and framing. Explain.” She dropped the smile. The air pressure in the room seemed to drop with it. I met her gaze without flinching. “Last night, someone was drugged at your party. Likely hallucinogens or aphrodisiacs. Controlled substances. First, someone committed a felony in your home. Second, I don’t know if anyone else accidentally ingested it.” Vivian looked at me, understanding perfectly. She knew I was using her. She didn’t care. Carter took a deep breath. “Mrs. Caldwell, I’m sorry we disrupted your event. I’ll handle it. I won’t let anyone…” Vivian didn’t even look at him. She turned around. “Investigate it. Thoroughly.” I exhaled, leaning my weight against Riley. I’d won the gamble. A businesswoman like Vivian Caldwell wouldn’t tolerate dirty scandals under her roof. The police arrived quickly. Layla “fainted.” Carter scooped her up to take her to the hospital. “We are victims here, not criminals. You can’t restrict our freedom,” he told the officers. He walked away with such determination. “Carter,” I called out. He stopped. “Remember to sign the divorce papers.” 4. Layla had re-entered my life last year. She applied for a job at my firm. I recognized her instantly. “You can leave. We won’t be hiring you.” She hadn’t recognized me at first. Her eyes went wide. “Why? I passed the interview.” “Because I have the final say.” “You… you can’t do this. You have to hire me.” She was so entitled. My assistant whispered, “Carter Sterling referred her. He called personally.” Layla had rear-ended Carter’s Tesla. The repairs were ten grand. She didn’t have insurance or money, so she cried. Carter, not wanting the hassle, said, “Forget it.” Layla insisted. “It’s my responsibility. I can’t pay it all now, can I pay in installments?” Month one: $50. Month two: $25. Carter laughed about it. “Is she planning to pay me off until my funeral?” Layla claimed she lost her job. She needed to pay rent and eat, but she still squeezed out pennies for him. It made Carter’s heart soften. So he said, “I’ll get you a job.” “You need an assistant anyway. Put her under your nose so you don’t misunderstand anything,” he’d told me. He explained it so logically. He thought he was being transparent. He looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to praise his thoughtfulness. I shook my head. “No.” “Why?” Because she was my middle school bully. In eighth grade, we sat next to each other. She was popular, loud. She constantly “accidentally” hit me. I endured it until she leaned her entire weight on me, driving a pen tip under my fingernail. I shoved her off. “You’re hurting me.” She smirked. “Oh, did I bump you? Do you want an apology?” She didn’t apologize. She just turned back to her friends. I thought that was it. Three days later, she leaned in and sniffed me, then dramatically covered her nose. “Harper, why do you smell like fish? Were you rolling around in a dumpster?” “What are you talking about?” “Nothing, nothing. Don’t be so aggressive. I’m just telling you. Guys, do you smell that? A really strong fishy smell.” People started sniffing. Some looked confused, others played along.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389274”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

At this very moment, he was prepared to die for the woman he loved. I couldn’t stop him physically. So, I lay on a hotel bed and painted a fake hickey on my neck with makeup. Then, holding my phone at a deceptive angle, I snapped a photo of myself “sleeping.” I switched to a burner account, adopted the persona of a deadbeat skater-boy, and texted the photo to my brother: “Yo, your sister smells amazing. I think I’m gonna keep her. I know I’m just a broke skater with a record, but I’ll make her happy. You can stop controlling her now, right?” “Also, she’s so obedient. My little kitten. Since she’s pregnant with my baby, I’ll make sure to give her lots of kisses every day.” My brother, Sterling, had a gun to his temple. He was seconds away from pulling the trigger. Then his phone buzzed. He saw the messages. His vision went black. His teeth ground together so hard they nearly cracked. In his left hand, he crushed his phone. In his right, he bent the barrel of the gun. Suicide postponed! Who is this punk? How dare some trashy delinquent touch his sister? He’s going to kill him! 1 I was a stray. An orphan. When I was six years old, a group of men in black suits grabbed me, drove me to a massive estate in the Hamptons, and threw me in front of a teenage billionaire named Sterling Vance. That’s when I heard the “System” speaking to him. The System’s voice was cold and robotic: [Sterling Vance. This girl is the Villainess. She will bring endless suffering to the Heroine. You must kill her now to protect the Heroine.] I froze. I was a Villainess? What did that mean? Were they going to kill me? Sterling lazily acknowledged the voice, spinning around in his leather executive chair, a gun in his hand. He looked at me. He paused, then let out a scoff of disbelief. He pointed the gun at me and asked the System: “Are you serious, bro? You’re telling me this six-year-old dirtball is a Villainess? How is she going to be vicious? Is she going to spray the Heroine with a Barbie water gun?” The System explained: [She is small now. But when she grows up, she will destroy the Heroine’s happiness.] They talked so much. I was dizzy with hunger. I didn’t care about anything else. I grabbed the hem of Sterling’s expensive suit jacket and looked up at him. “Big Brother… I want a Happy Meal.” The System gasped. [Gasp! As expected of the beautiful and manipulative Villainess! Her tactics are advanced! Terrifying! Sterling, cover your eyes! Do not be swayed by her cuteness! Kill her!] Sterling paused. “Tsk. But she called me Big Brother.” The System sounded serious: [Think of the Heroine you love. Can you bear to see her sad?] At the mention of the Heroine, Sterling’s expression hardened. He raised the gun. A second later, his gaze fell on my skinny, malnourished arms. He lowered the gun and said to the System: “No rush. Even death row inmates get a last meal. Let her eat first, then I’ll kill her.” After eating, I fell into a carb coma. “Big Brother, I’m sleepy.” The System frowned. [Although she is indeed cute, pitiful, and tiny… Sterling! We cannot be soft-hearted! Even if she calls us Big Brother!] Sterling snapped. “Hey, what’s this ‘we’? She only called me Big Brother! You’re just a broken piece of software, stop giving yourself credit!” The System and Sterling got into an argument. By the time they finished, I was already curled up on the rug, fast asleep. The System sighed. [Let’s get back to business. Kill her now.] Sterling looked down at me and said: “No rush. Let’s wait until she wakes up. Sneak-attacking someone while they sleep is bad etiquette. It’s ungentlemanly.” The System pondered. [True. Maybe when she wakes up, she’ll call us Big Brother again… Er, I mean, it will be easier to kill her when she’s awake.] 2 Three months flashed by. During those three months, Sterling and the System planned my execution every day. But every day, Sterling said, “No rush, no rush.” Eventually, Sterling decided that killing me would interrupt my education. So, he and the System named me “Harper Vance.” They got me into a prestigious private school on the Upper East Side. From that day on, Sterling stopped orbiting around the Heroine, Bianca. Instead, he orbited around the teachers. “Ms. Johnson, why is Harper missing two eyelashes today? If anything happens to her, I will buy this school and turn it into a parking lot!” “Mr. Principal, look at this class photo. Why isn’t Harper in the center?! My sister is objectively the cutest kid here! Do you think my millions in donations are just for charity?” Sterling’s overbearing CEO energy was starting to show. And my true nature as a little demon began to show, too. The Principal started calling Sterling: “Mr. Vance, hello. It’s about Harper. Today she… well, she was twisting a boy’s nipples and made him cry.” Sterling: “Men’s nipples are useless anyway. Tell the boy to stand still and let Harper twist them if it makes her happy.” Principal: “?” Of course, when I caused too much trouble, Sterling would try to discipline me. Like the time the librarian called him: “Mr. Vance, Harper was reading a book in class. I thought it was The Great Gatsby, which would be impressive for a first grader. But upon closer inspection, she had hidden American Psycho inside the dust jacket.” Sterling was going to punish me. But the System couldn’t help but sigh: [You know, she has no parents. She’s been with you since she was little. Sigh. Go ahead, Sterling. Scold her. Look at how she’s staring at you. She’s not pitiful at all. Not one bit.] That was my cue. I would look up at Sterling, grab his large hand with my two tiny hands, and blink my big doe eyes. Sterling couldn’t do it. The apology essay he originally wanted me to write went from 500 words to 300 words, then 100. Finally, he just asked me to write five words. He thought I would write, “I am sorry, Big Brother.” But when he opened the note, it said: “☆ I LOVE U BRO ☆” He and the System gasped in unison! Both of them teared up, unable to scold me another word. Heh. This Villainess-in-training just used a little tactical cuteness. 3 However, I have seen Sterling truly angry. That day, Sterling was on a date with the Heroine, Bianca. It was a crucial plot point. According to the script, this was the date where he would fall completely, irrevocably in love with her. But the moment he arrived at the restaurant, he got a call from the Principal. “Mr. Vance! Disaster! It was the school bake sale today. Harper brought brownies, but she used peanut oil! Half the class went into anaphylactic shock! We have ambulances everywhere!” Sterling had to abandon his date with Bianca. He rushed over to clean up my mess. I remember it clearly. It was the first time Sterling yelled at me. “You idiot! Did they not know Harper was baking? Why didn’t they take antihistamines beforehand?! Did they stop to think that fainting after eating would give Harper a complex? What if she’s too scared to bake again? Harper is already so skinny! And you people scared her!” The Principal was sweating buckets, nodding furiously. “You’re right, Mr. Vance! Kids these days are so sensitive! They should have checked the ingredients! I’ll talk to them! I hope Harper isn’t traumatized. Please don’t be angry…” However, Sterling was afraid the other kids wouldn’t play with me because of the Peanut Incident. So, he sent every kid who went to the hospital a deed to a Manhattan penthouse and a brand new Tesla (for when they turned 16). Thirty classmates. When they woke up from their allergic reactions, they found property deeds and car keys on their bedside tables. The kids were thrilled. They asked if they had died and gone to heaven. In short, nobody hated me for the brownies. In fact, many classmates begged me to poison them again. Since I got a Big Brother, life has been so happy. I thought this as I dodged three kids begging me to cook for them. 4 Time flowed like water. When I turned 16, Sterling was 27. That day, I was sitting in class when I suddenly saw text floating on the ceiling. It was the “Comment Section” from the readers of our world. [So sad. The affectionate second male lead, Sterling, is finally going offline.] [Yeah. The Heroine just got engaged to the Male Lead. She invited Sterling to the wedding and compared him to the poor Male Lead. She told him, “Sterling, your Rolex might shine, but it can’t outshine the dreams in his eyes! I want to marry him. Please give us your blessing.” Sterling’s hand was shaking.] [The funny thing is, the poor Male Lead’s “dream” is to make enough money to buy a Rolex. I don’t know why she’s acting so high and mighty.] [Whatever. In twenty minutes, Sterling is going to shoot himself. Ugh, I liked him. After he dies, his rivals will bankrupt his family. His sister, Harper, will go from an heiress to a beggar. So tragic.] My brother is going to kill himself?! I bolted up and ran out of the school. I would absolutely not let my brother die. I had to find him! But where was he? I called his phone. No answer. In a flash of inspiration, I came up with a plan. I couldn’t reach him physically in time. I had to use… dark magic. I rushed into a costume shop, bought a blonde “skater boy” wig, and checked into a cheap motel. I stuffed towels into the wig to shape it like a head. I lay on the bed, pinched my own neck until a red mark appeared, ripped open my school uniform collar, and buried the wig in my chest. I took a photo. In the picture, a girl slept exhaustedly, a glaring hickey on her neck, her white uniform shirt disheveled, a blonde-haired guy buried in her chest. I sent the photo to my brother anonymously: “Yo, your sister smells amazing. I think I’m gonna keep her. I know I’m just a broke skater with a record, but I’ll make her happy. You can stop controlling her now, right?” “Also, she’s so obedient. My little kitten. Since she’s pregnant with my baby, I’ll make sure to give her lots of kisses every day.” Less than half a second later, I got a reply. “ANIMAL. WHO ARE YOU?” “TOUCH HER AGAIN AND I WILL END YOU.” The floating comments scrolled frantically: [Huh? Why isn’t the second male lead dead?] [I don’t know! He just screamed something about ‘Yellow Hair’ and ‘Die’ and ran out.] I let out a deep breath and collapsed on the bed. My tense nerves finally relaxed.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389273”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

To show off to the boys, Brody started calling his “girlfriends” one by one. I was number thirteen. When the call connected, I turned on the sickly-sweet charm, giving him plenty of face in front of his crew. Just as I was about to hang up, a low, unfamiliar chuckle came from the background. Someone asked him, “What’s so funny, Declan?” “I’m laughing because all thirteen girlfriends are the same person.” The air went dead silent. Then, the other end of the line exploded into chaos. “I was just thinking they all sounded similar! It turns out it’s one person doing different voices!” “Brody, that girl is playing you like a fiddle!” Later, when I cornered Declan—the guy who exposed my hustle—I gritted my teeth and held out my hand. “You owe me…” Before I could finish saying money, the man placed his own hand into my palm. “Deal.” Deal, my ass! I wanted him to compensate me for the cash I lost, not compensate me with a boyfriend! 1 When Brody called again, I spit out the cough drop I was using to soothe my throat. “Heyyy Brody~ Why are you calling me so late?” A roar of hooting and hollering erupted on his end. “Whoa! This one is even more high-pitched! Brody, you better comfort her!” I kept my face completely blank while listening to the noise. Brody cleared his throat, clearly pleased with himself. “Just having dinner with the boys. Missed you. Do you miss me?” My throat was practically smoking from doing this “baby voice” all night. This guy was a total piece of work—calling twelve times in one night with the exact same pickup line. He didn’t change his script, so I had to change mine. I racked my brain, thinking of something different from the previous twelve flatteries. “I miss you to death! My heart literally trembles when I think of you.” More cheering. Brody clearly felt like the man. Ding. My phone buzzed with a Venmo notification. “Sorry I woke you up. Go buy yourself a bag. Go back to sleep.” My eyes lit up. I accepted the payment immediately, but didn’t forget to stay in character. “Don’t drink too much, okay? I’ll be worried sick…” Suddenly, a cold, sharp laugh cut through the noise. I heard it clearly through the phone, and the noisy VIP room instantly went quiet. “Declan? …What are you laughing at?” Brody asked. Clearly, this “Declan” guy had a higher status than Brody. Everyone was walking on eggshells around him. And anyone who could make a group of trust fund babies act this humble definitely had serious money. Brody didn’t hang up, and as the perfect girlfriend, I couldn’t hang up first. I took a sip of water, bored out of my mind. Being rich must be nice. If my thirteen accounts were dating him, I’d probably be making way more than I was skimming off Brody. While thinking this, I pulled out my ledger and started tallying up what Brody sent me tonight. Account Crystal: $520. Account Tiffany: $520. … Account Amber: $1,340. I was calculating the total when I finally heard the man on the other end answer. “I’m laughing because all thirteen girlfriends are the same person.” Whether on his side or mine, the silence was deafening. The pen tip bled ink onto my paper. My pupils constricted. Holy sht???* Chaos erupted on the other end. Brody’s voice came first. “Declan, what are you saying? How could…” Someone cut him off. “If Declan says it, it must be true! Brody, I was just thinking that! Why are their vocal tones so similar? It’s just one girl pinching her throat tighter each time!” “Yeah, I definitely heard a motorcycle revving in the background for both girlfriend number three and number seven.” “Brody, you let one girl play you like a fool?” The more I heard, the more panicked I got. I hung up without a word. I should have taken voice acting classes! Rookie mistake! I forgot that not everyone in this world is as dumb as Brody. 2 I looked down at my cat, Luna, who was purring loudly. “You little motorcycle,” I whispered. “Do you know you just blew my cover?” Brody’s texts started bombing my phone. [?] [I’ve been dating you this whole time? All of them are you?] [Speak! Crystal! Jessica! Tiffany! Sarah! Amber?!!! Which one is your real name!] [F*ck!] It seemed he really liked Amber, considering he used three exclamation points for her. So, I switched to the Amber account to reply. “Listen to my excuse… I mean, listen to my explanation.” Brody called immediately. I cleared my throat and answered. “Brody~” He snapped instantly. “Don’t call me that! Stop with the baby voice! Speak to me in your normal voice!” I coughed lightly. If I used my real voice, he’d recognize me instantly as his errand girl at school. No way. So, I started lying through my teeth. “It’s not like that, Brody. I didn’t lie to you. I actually have Dissociative Identity Disorder. But all thirteen of my personalities fell in love with you.” Brody hesitated. “Really…?” I kept buttering him up. “Of course. Didn’t you notice their personalities were different? Tiffany is bubbly, Sarah is shy… but I, Amber, am the most gentle and understanding.” Before I could finish, the room on his end erupted in laughter. I didn’t realize he still had me on speaker. Clearly, Brody’s brain, which I had just confused, was snapped back to reality by his friends’ mockery. “You’re still lying to me! You were just after my money?!” Since I couldn’t trick him anymore, I made up a random excuse and hung up. “Believe what you want. I’m using this money to treat my illness. Once I successfully summon the thirteen souls into one body, I’ll come back for you.” I collapsed on the bed and rolled my eyes. These past three months had exhausted me. I had been planning to break up with a few personas to lighten the workload, but this worked out—a mass layoff. I’d made a decent amount in three months. Enough to last a while. I wasn’t worried about Brody calling the cops. Nobody knew him better than I did. Brody cares about his reputation more than life itself. He’s been collecting “followers” since high school. Four years later, only I—the invisible nobody—remained by his side as his gofer. Not because of loyalty, but because I have a high tolerance for nonsense. His friends already knew he got catfished. If he called the police, the whole school would know. So, I slept soundly. The next day, I saw Brody looking like he was constipated. His face was a mess. “What kind of bagel is this?! It tastes terrible!” He tossed the bagel into the trash, taking out yesterday’s anger on me. I lowered my head, looking submissive. “Sorry, Brody.” Internally, I was rolling my eyes so hard I saw my brain. “Whatever. You haven’t eaten either, right? Go buy yourself something.” Brody couldn’t stay mad at someone as pathetic-looking as me. He annoyedly Venmoed me fifty bucks and went back to sulking. I accepted it happily. This was my main job. The side hustle had high returns but high risks. My main job was stable. “Come on, it’s not a big deal. You got scammed, so what? Drinks tonight?” One of Brody’s friends draped an arm around him. “No mood. Not going.” “Declan is going to be there. You’re not going to buy him a round? Doesn’t your family have a project pending with his family? If you miss this chance, good luck getting close to Declan again.” My ears perked up. Declan. That must be the guy with the big mouth from yesterday. Brody looked conflicted, but eventually kicked a pebble at his feet. “Fine.” After classes, I continued to trail Brody, but he stopped me before he got into his car. “Don’t follow me tonight. Go have fun.” He casually transferred me two hundred bucks and drove off. Looking at the nice sum on my phone, I hailed a cab and followed him. 3 I had to see what this guy who ruined my business looked like. I needed to memorize his face! And then… when I went to the temple to pray for wealth, I’d ask the universe to transfer all his financial luck to me. I watched Brody get out of his car, adjusting his jacket and trying to look cool. Seeing the golden facade of the club and the intense security, my curiosity suddenly waned. But just as I turned to leave, I saw Brody coming back out. At the same time, a sleek black car pulled up slowly beside me. “Declan, thanks for…” Brody’s suck-up expression froze on his face. His eyes met mine. I spun around, startled. When did someone stand behind me? The man was tall, wearing a black trench coat. He looked about the same age as Brody and me, but he carried an invisible aura of authority. I looked up at him. When our eyes met, my liver quivered. He was devastatingly handsome. “Riley? What are you doing here?” Brody interrupted my thoughts, looking at me weirdly. I was about to make up a lie about passing by, but then I felt a burning gaze on the back of my neck. I shut my mouth immediately. No. My voice was recognized yesterday. If I spoke now, in front of him, Brody would tear me apart right here. I pressed my lips together tight, pointed in a random direction, and bolted. “Does your family live around here?” Brody shouted after me. I nodded vigorously while sprinting away as if a pack of wolves were chasing me. Luckily, Brody is dense. He’ll make up an excuse for me. I ran three blocks before stopping. When I turned back, they were gone. I had seen his face clearly. It was the kind of face you don’t forget. His gaze was sharp—he was obviously miles smarter than Brody. Hopefully, we’d never meet again. But the moment I got home, Brody called. I hung up. He started spamming texts. “Blah blah Riley blah blah, I’m drunk blah blah.” I frowned and held the phone away. “Don’t you live nearby? Come pick me up.” He was drunk out of his mind, but he remembered to transfer money. $1,200. He probably added an extra zero by mistake. I wanted to pretend I didn’t see it, but my fingers had already claimed the cash before my brain could stop them. Well, can’t pretend now. When I arrived, Brody was the only one left in the private room. I let out a huge sigh of relief. “Brody?” Brody looked up, dazed, his cheeks flushed red from alcohol. “Waaaaah! Why did she leave me! Why did she lie to a pure-hearted boy like me?!” He wailed like a ghost, twisting around on the couch. I twitched my lip, ruthlessly exposing him. “A pure-hearted boy who dates thirteen girls at once?” Brody didn’t understand. He just kept mooing like a cow. “Amber!” See? He really liked Amber the best. I sat on the sofa, planning to call an Uber to haul him back. But Brody, snot running down his face, tried to snuggle into my leg. “Demon! Do not desecrate me!” I slapped him away, stepped on his head to keep him down, and continued operating my phone. He wouldn’t remember this tomorrow anyway. Stepping on a capitalist dog felt pretty good. 4 However, I was too naive. The door opened. I turned my head and locked eyes with a man whose expression was cool as ice. He raised an eyebrow, looking at Brody, who was crying under my foot. Forgive my ignorance, but why is there a secret door in a restaurant VIP room? Who puts a restroom inside the suite?! My vision went black. I quickly retracted my foot and tried to pull Brody up. But Brody hugged my leg and wouldn’t let go. “Amber! Tiffany! You don’t leave until you give me an explanation!” My scalp went numb. Do I speak? Do I not speak? Declan didn’t help. He pulled out a wet wipe, cleaned his hands, sat opposite us, and watched the drama with amusement. If I didn’t speak… oh god, Brody was about to wipe his nose on my jeans! I crouched down and whispered into Brody’s ear like a demon. “Brody, it’s me, Riley.” Brody had a moment of clarity. He looked up, studied my face seriously, and then looked horrified. “Riley! Why does your voice sound like Darth Vader?!” Me: “…” Too low. “Are you taking him home?” The spectator finally spoke. Declan looked at me lazily. I don’t know why, but under that half-smiling gaze, I felt completely exposed. I nodded. But looking at the notification that my fourth Uber driver had canceled, I wasn’t so sure. “Unless you want to take him?” I hated hearing my own artificially lowered voice. It didn’t sound like Darth Vader; it sounded like a lonely cow mooing at midnight. “My driver is out front,” he said, sending a text. Relieved, I turned to flee, but a hand clamped onto my arm. Brody was crying like a 200-pound toddler. “Amber! Don’t leave!” Helpless, I had to get into the luxury car with them. It was my first time in a Rolls Royce, but I couldn’t enjoy it because Brody kept trying to bury his face in my chest. I had to use both hands to hold his head back. “Scammer! Waaah! Thirteen girlfriends and they all lied to me! Why is my life so hard! I lost love thirteen times in one second!” Brody cried louder and louder. Declan, in the passenger seat, rubbed his temples and opened the window. Fresh air rushed in. Finally, I didn’t have to smell Brody’s booze breath in the cramped back seat. I took a deep breath, but when I looked up, I saw those cold eyes watching me in the rearview mirror. My heart skipped a beat. Why was he staring at me? Before I could overthink it, Declan spoke. “Thirteen girlfriends. Brody really got played hard.” I didn’t reply. But he seemed determined to make me speak. “Is your voice always like that?” I let out another low moo, speaking with the speed of a sloth. “Huh? What… did… you… say?” He seemed amused, covering half his face with his knuckles and looking away. Suddenly, Brody sat bolt upright. “No! I still miss that evil woman! I need to ask her if she ever loved me!” I turned around in shock. What is this idiot doing? The next second, he pulled out his phone and dialed Amber. My phone, in my pocket, started ringing loudly. The air froze.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389272”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

It was 1:00 AM when I scrolled past a frantic post on the local city subreddit, r/MetroCity. u/Caleb_In_Transit: [Help. I’ve been on the Blue Line for an hour and it hasn’t stopped.] u/NightOwl: [? Fun fact: The train has to actually arrive at a station for you to get off.] u/TrollPatrol: [OP is probably dreaming. Go back to sleep.] u/Caleb_In_Transit: [I’m not sleeping! I know how subways work! The next stop is usually four minutes away. It’s been twenty minutes since the last stop!] u/SubwaySurfer: [Maybe a signal malfunction? Stay put. Which train are you on? I’ll call transit authority.] u/Caleb_In_Transit: [I’m on the southbound Blue Line, heading downtown.] I stared at the latest reply and froze. I was on the southbound Blue Line, heading downtown. 1 I checked the time on my phone. 1:11 AM. It had been eleven minutes since I boarded. The Blue Line is the busiest, most reliable artery in the city. Trains run frequently, and the stops are close together. Going this long without slowing down wasn’t just odd—it was impossible. If I hadn’t seen that Reddit post, buried in my phone, I might not have even noticed. I typed a reply with trembling fingers: u/RileyWorkz: [OP, which car are you in? I think I’m on the same train.] The reply came instantly. u/Caleb_In_Transit: [Last car. Rear of the train. I like the privacy.] u/RileyWorkz: [Don’t move. I’m coming to you.] 2 Three minutes later, I met the OP in the rear car. His name was Caleb. He looked like a typical college sophomore—varsity jacket, messy hair, looking scared out of his mind. “Thank God, thank God. I thought I was the only living person left.” Caleb clutched his chest, exhaling sharply. “You have no idea. When I realized the train wasn’t stopping, especially at 1 AM… I thought I was losing it. I thought I clipped into the Backrooms or something.” “Okay, let’s not panic,” I said, trying to sound calmer than I felt. I looked at Caleb’s clear, terrified eyes. Definitely a student. He posted on Reddit instead of calling 911 because that’s just how Gen Z handles crises. “Let’s call 911.” Another few minutes passed. No deceleration. No station lights blurring past the windows. Just black. It had to be a malfunction. I dialed 911. “We’re sorry, the number you have reached is not in service.” The automated voice made my blood run cold. Not “call failed.” Not “no signal.” Not in service? 911 is always in service. I hung up, checked the number, and dialed again. “We’re sorry, the number you have reached is not in service.” “We’re sorry, the number you have reached is not in service.” I tried five times. Same result. Caleb swallowed hard. “Riley… did you… did you dial the wrong number?” “You think I messed up three digits five times in a row?” My voice cracked. I wasn’t sure of anything anymore. “Maybe it’s your carrier. Verizon sucks in tunnels,” Caleb said, slapping his forehead. He pulled out his iPhone. “I’ll try.” He put it on speaker. “We’re sorry, the number you have reached is not in service…” “NOT IN SERVICE NOT IN SERVICE NOT IN—!!!!!!” A piercing, electronic shriek erupted from the speaker. Caleb dropped his phone as if it were burning hot. “Riley… my… did my phone just scream at me?” I gripped the metal handrail. I’m only three years older than him, just a corporate drone who’s been grinding at a marketing firm for a year. I am not equipped for this. “Maybe,” I stammered. “Check the Reddit thread. See what people are saying.” Caleb scrambled to pick up his phone. u/UnluckyDuck: [Another victim? Seriously?] u/TransitNerd: [Wait, the Blue Line shuts down for maintenance at 12:30 AM tonight. There shouldn’t be any trains running.] u/HorrorFan99: [OP hasn’t posted in a while. RIP.] u/ConspiracyKev: [I’ve read about this on creepypasta forums. They’ve entered a slip-space. Probably dodging zombies or ghosts right now.] “…Your priority right now is to delete every horror app on your phone,” I deadpanned. Caleb pointed at the conspiracy comment, eyes wide. “You don’t think he’s right, do you?” I pointed to comment #87. “Probably not. Look, this guy says he called for help for us.” u/StubbornTurnip: [Don’t panic guys. I called the transit authority. They said they’re troubleshooting a system error.] u/Caleb_In_Transit: [Sorry to ask, but what number did you call? We tried 911 and the emergency line on the wall, both dead.] u/StubbornTurnip: [555-0199] “What the hell?” Caleb cursed. “The emergency sticker right there says 555-0188.” “No wonder we couldn’t get through.” “This whole city is held together by duct tape and prayers,” I muttered. Just like my boss, asking me to rewrite a pitch deck at midnight, leading me to be on this godforsaken train. Thinking we were about to be rescued, the tension broke. We ignored the screeching noise from earlier. We ignored the fact that physics didn’t make sense. 3 Bzzt… Bzzt… The intercom crackled to life. “Are there two passengers currently trapped on board?” Caleb, who had been slumping against the door, jumped up like a golden retriever. “Yes! Yes! Oh my god, you’re finally here!” The voice on the intercom was calm, almost mechanical. “We apologize for the terrible experience.” “We are initiating an emergency stop sequence. Once you disembark, walk forward 550 yards along the track. You will see the platform.” I frowned. “Can’t you just pull into the station?” The voice replied instantly. “Apologies. The train’s braking system has failed. We cannot align with the platform.” “Whatever, just open the doors!” Caleb yelled. “I just want to go home and sleep.” “Understood. Initiating emergency stop. Please brace yourselves.” The train shuddered violently. The lights died. “Holy—!” When the emergency lights flickered on, Caleb and I were sprawled on the floor. “Ouch.” I stood up, dusting off my blazer. The train had stopped. Ding. The doors slid open. “You may exit. Remember, walk forward to the platform.” That was the last thing the voice said. “Let’s go,” Caleb said, hopping down onto the tracks. I looked out. The tunnel was pitch black. Endless. And there was no wind. Subway tunnels always have a draft. Something was wrong, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. “Caleb, check the thread. Any new updates?” “Now? We’re saved. Let’s just walk.” “Just check. Tell them we’re safe.” “Fine.” Caleb pulled out his phone. “Hey… wait.” “Don’t just stand there, walk and type.” I stepped one foot out of the train. The moment my foot hit the gravel, a sensation like an electric shock zipped through my spine. “I know what’s wrong!” “Oh sh*t, no!” 4 We shouted at the same time. We both scrambled back inside the car before the doors could close. “What did you realize?” I asked, breathless. “You go first,” Caleb said. “I just realized something we ignored,” I said rapidly. “This train has been moving for forty minutes. It hasn’t passed a single station.” “We haven’t even seen a service light.” Forty minutes at high speed. We should be in the next state by now. Are we even in the city anymore? My gut told me that stepping into that darkness was a one-way ticket to something worse than being trapped. Caleb was shivering now. He shoved his phone in my face. “That user, StubbornTurnip, DM’d me three minutes ago.” “He said the Blue Line is closed for maintenance tonight. It shut down at 11:00 PM.” “This train… it shouldn’t exist.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389271”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My husband died on the operating table. When I went to claim the body, the doctor handed me a surgical consent form. It read: [Donor acts voluntarily. All risks accepted.] In the relationship column, he had written: [Father]. Mark’s ghost hovered beside me, waiting to see me break down and cry. Instead, I calmly took the clipboard and asked the doctor: “I want him cremated immediately. Is there an extra fee for express service?” 1 The doctor had probably never seen a wife so eager to turn her husband into dust. His expression was a mix of shock and confusion. “Mrs. Vance, regarding the accident during the procedure… would you like to know the details?” I glanced at the Patek Philippe on my wrist. “Save it. Just speed up the paperwork. I have to pick up my daughter from school.” “Elena, are you doing this out of spite?” Mark floated in mid-air, his eyes wide with disbelief. I stared right through him for a few seconds, quickly accepting the reality that he was now a ghost. “Top priority, private furnace. I want the ashes in an hour.” I pulled out my Black Card and handed it to the assistant standing nearby. The doctor was stunned into silence. But he nodded professionally, gesturing for us to sign so they could proceed. The assistant asked tentatively, “Does… the rest of the family need to be notified for a viewing?” “No need.” I folded the surgical consent form. Then I stuffed it into my Birkin bag. “Elena! What is this attitude?” Mark’s voice rose an octave. “Yes, I lied to you. Leo is indeed my biological son. But he has leukemia! I’m his father. Was I supposed to just watch him die?” “If it were you, would you have stood by? You’re a mother too. How can you be so ununderstanding?” The more he spoke, the more self-righteous he felt. “Besides, I’ve already paid with my life! Doesn’t death wipe the slate clean?” He roared impatiently. “Why are you in such a rush to burn me? What will Chloe think? What will Leo think? They didn’t even get to see me one last time! Elena, you are vicious!” I smirked, the corner of my mouth lifting slightly. So what if I am? “The law states that I am your next of kin. I am the only person authorized to sign off on your remains.” “The moment you felt smug about marrying me for my money, you handed over all your post-mortem rights to me.” “As for your true love and your illegitimate son? Sorry. Even their right to see your dead face requires my approval.” “Not happy about it? Deal with it.” 2 By the time Chloe Miller and Mark’s mother stormed into the funeral home lounge, Mark had already been reduced to a pile of warm ash. He was packed into a cheap, nondescript wooden box. “Mark! Oh, my Mark!” My mother-in-law, Barbara, couldn’t accept reality. She hugged the box, rolling on the floor, wailing uncontrollably. Chloe was dressed in her usual “fragile flower” outfit—white dress, slightly messy hair, pale face. She grabbed my arm. “You are so cruel! Even if the surgery had an accident halfway through, the marrow extraction could have continued! They could have used a machine to get it out!” “You burned him so fast… you didn’t just burn him, you burned my son’s life!” Mark floated behind Chloe. He had been ready to comfort her broken heart. He even opened his arms to hug her. But hearing those words, his hands froze in mid-air. A crack appeared on his facade of noble sacrifice. I shook off Chloe’s hand with disgust and pulled out a wet wipe to sanitize the spot she touched. I pointed to the box in Barbara’s arms. “You wanted Mark so badly? He’s all yours.” “Burned at 1800 degrees. Very clean. The bone marrow you wanted is just carbon now. Do you want to grab a handful and mix it into a protein shake for Leo?” “AHHHH—!!!” Chloe finally snapped, letting out a piercing shriek. She grabbed my shoulders, cursing: “You knew Leo was waiting for this to save his life! How could you cremate him so fast! You probably didn’t know, right? That was Mark’s biological son! His own flesh and blood!” I opened my mouth to say, I knew. SLAP! A crisp sound echoed in the room. Barbara slapped Chloe across the face. “You garbage! How dare you talk to Elena like that!” 3 Chloe’s head snapped to the side. She covered her face, looking at the small, elderly woman in disbelief. Barbara’s hand was still trembling. “It’s all because of you, you homewrecker! It’s you! You killed my Mark!” Barbara seemed to age ten years in an instant. She sat on the floor, hugging Mark’s ashes, crying bitterly. “My son! How could you be so stupid! You studied hard for ten years to get out of that small town. You had a bright future, you had a good wife like Elena… how did you… how did you let the devil blind you!” “For a mistress? For a bastard child? You lost your life! How is your mother supposed to live now?” Mark, floating above, turned red-eyed. “Mom, I did it voluntarily. Leo isn’t a bastard, he carries the Vance bloodline…” Unfortunately, the dead cannot speak to the living. Barbara couldn’t hear him. She poured all her hatred onto Chloe. She scrambled up and grabbed Chloe by the hair. “Give me back my son! You bring nothing but bad luck! As long as I’m alive, I will never let you have peace!” Chloe was shoved around, unable to say a word. When security finally dragged her out, she looked back at Barbara with shock, like she was looking at an ally who had suddenly betrayed her. I felt a blockage in my chest. Even an uneducated woman like Barbara knew that Mark’s good life was hard-earned. Only Mark himself didn’t cherish it. After Chloe left, Barbara gingerly tugged at my sleeve. “Elena… my heart hurts.” “Mark was foolish, but he’s gone now. Shouldn’t we… hold a proper funeral for him?” I replied coldly. “You handle it. Mark died a sudden death. Superstition says big funerals for bad deaths bring bad luck.” “Besides, the company is busy. I don’t have time to entertain relatives I’ve never met.” Barbara froze, looking at my icy profile. She seemed to realize something. Without Mark, she was nothing in this house. She stammered for a moment, then finally sighed. “I’ll… I’ll listen to you.” “Mom will listen to whatever you say now.” 4 Over the next few days, Mark’s ghost grew increasingly agitated. I didn’t need my assistant’s report to know why. I could see it in his anxious face. Leo’s vitals were dropping. Chloe had spent her savings trying to keep her son alive, but it was a drop in the bucket. Mark screamed impotently at me while I was in a Zoom meeting. “Elena! Could you at least lend Chloe some money? Loan it! She’ll pay you back!” “How can you be so cold-blooded? If Leo dies, his blood is on your hands too!” I took a slow sip of my coffee. “My money is hard-earned. Why should I give it to a woman who makes a living sleeping with married men?” “What does that child’s life or death have to do with me? Why should I be responsible for the product of your dirty affair?” Mark couldn’t answer either question. He floated there, mouth opening and closing, turning purple with rage like a semi-transparent balloon. I rubbed my temples, wondering when I could hire an exorcist to send him away for good. In the afternoon, I went to pick up Mia from school. At the school gate, Chloe rushed out again. Her son must really be dying. She radiated the desperation of a cornered animal. “Elena! Elena, stop!” My bodyguards immediately stepped forward to block her. Chloe dropped to her knees with a thud. “Elena, I beg you! Save Leo!” It was dismissal time. Surrounded by parents and students. Her kneeling instantly drew a crowd. She looked up, blood on her forehead, looking pitiful. “You’re a mother too! How can you watch a six-year-old boy die?” “Leo is fading fast! Mark is dead, but there’s still Mia!” “Mia and Leo are half-siblings! The match probability is high!” “It’s only right for a sister to save her brother! Mark would have wanted Leo to live. Why can’t your daughter donate some bone marrow?” The crowd went into an uproar. Countless eyes turned on me like spotlights. Mia was terrified and shivered behind me. Chloe cried even more miserably. “Mia is seven! She’s healthy! Taking a little marrow won’t hurt her! Leo is Mark’s only son. I beg you, please save him!” The setting sun hit Chloe’s bloodied face, giving her a halo of tragic martyrdom. And I, standing there in high-end black couture, looked cold and heartless. The bystanders’ cheap sympathy began to overflow. “That mom looks so pitiful.” “Yeah, the kid is innocent. Only six years old. A life is a life.” “A sister won’t save her brother? That’s too cold. Rich people really have hearts of stone.” A random middle-aged woman stepped forward, looking righteous, to lecture me. “Ma’am, you need to be bigger than this. If you can save him, let your daughter help. It’s good karma.” I let out a cold laugh. Absurd. I signaled the bodyguards to put Mia in the car first. Then I looked at the woman. “Ma’am, your grandson is about six, right? Why don’t you let him donate bone marrow?” “Since you’re so big on karma.” The woman’s face changed, and she backed away awkwardly. “I… I’m not related to her…” I smiled, then spoke clearly to the crowd, enunciating every word. “This woman is my husband’s first love. Knowing he was married, she willingly became a mistress and gave birth to an illegitimate child.” “My husband died on the operating table a few days ago trying to donate bone marrow to this illegitimate child. She caused me to lose a husband, and my daughter to lose a father.” “Now, to save her son, she wants to harvest my daughter.” I looked around, my voice icy. “A mistress demanding the wife’s daughter donate bone marrow? Is this what you people call ‘being the bigger person’?” Dead silence. The people who were pointing fingers shut their mouths instantly. Looks of disdain and disgust shifted from me to Chloe.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389270”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I spent ten years painstakingly nurturing my best friend’s career. Finally, she debuted and became an A-list star. After earning her first paycheck, she transferred me $100,000. Her message: A wise friend lifted me to the clouds; now I repay her with gold. I was moved to tears: “From today on, I’ll handle all your dirty work!” My best friend got excited and transferred me another $100,000. Staring at the $200,072 in my bank account, I was so thrilled I didn’t know what to do with myself. I immediately canceled my Uber Eats coupon order and re-ordered a venti Starbucks latte at full price. Heh, I have coupons, but I won’t use them. That’s how rich I am. 1 I was sipping my Starbucks when I suddenly saw a gossip account post. [Shocking! New It Girl Chloe Evans had a teenage pregnancy!] Damn it. I knew this account. It was run by bots hired by another actress, Tiffany Rose. They spent all day smearing other rising stars. Their credibility was about as solid as a wet paper towel. I clicked on it. The account was doing a livestream. Saying my best friend dated early? Fine. She did. Saying she dated the school bad boy? Sure. Her ex was indeed the hottest guy in school. But saying she got pregnant in high school and had a second child for him? I was furious. You had a second child! You had octuplets! In a fit of rage, I started my own livestream. The stream title: [Chloe Evans’ 10-Year Classmate Spills the Tea!] 2 Ten minutes into the stream, 20,000 people flooded in. See? No wonder Tiffany wanted to sabotage my best friend. Chloe’s popularity with the general public was insane! Facing the camera, I cleared my throat. “Yeah, I’ve been classmates with Chloe Evans since we were kids. I know everything about her.” “In our high school class, someone did have a second child. There’s nothing to hide.” “Knowing Chloe’s taste in men…” I paused deliberately, putting on a disdainful smirk. The audience was hooked. Another 20,000 people poured in. An account named “TiffanyForever” kept rushing me. [Chloe has terrible taste in men, right?!] [Chloe Evans, mother of two, get out of Hollywood!] [Cancel problematic celebrities!] 3 Psychos. I moved my money-making fingers and blocked her. Seeing the viewer count hit 100,000, I smiled slightly. “Chloe’s taste in men… is just like her taste in scripts. Excellent!” “Someone in our class did date early. That person was me.” “Second child? What second child? Oh, you mean the two ‘babies’ I carried in League of Legends?” “Yeah, I definitely carried a second child in high school. Not just a second child; I was basically the daddy of the whole Rift.” The comments called me crazy. Some called me boy-crazy. What’s going on? Even the Baron Nashor has fangirls now? Zeus mains, speak up! The comments section was chaos. My DMs exploded like a war zone. Tiffany’s fans spammed me with hate, saying I was covering for Chloe and had no proof. Proof… I pulled out an old photo album and picked a random picture. In the photo, a boy in a school uniform was pulling a girl forward. The boy was extremely handsome, looking at the girl with deep affection. The comments exploded. [Holy crap, the streamer really did date early.] [So the ‘second child’ was really a game rank? Say it!] [Is this AI? How could a streamer like this date such a hot guy?] I expressionlessly kicked the haters out. “So what? There’s no law against dating hot guys!” 4 The livestream was a success. The trending topic changed from “Chloe Evans Second Child” to “Chloe Evans’ Best Friend.” Then it changed to “Chloe Evans’ Best Friend’s Ex.” My best friend gained 200,000 followers. Many people left comments: [Ask Holly to release a tutorial on how to date hot guys.] My best friend got excited and transferred me another $50,000. “Tired from taking the blame? Here’s some medical fees for your back.” I happily accepted it. And sincerely wished: “May your new show be a hit and crush Tiffany Rose.” Chloe transferred me another $8,888. She said she was too busy promoting the show and asked me to pray for her success. I hesitated: “But I’m an atheist…” Chloe didn’t say anything; she just transferred three more $8,888s. Tears of atheism flowed from my mouth. At 3 AM the next day, I rushed to the temple. Pushing past grandmas and grandpas, shoving aside hot guys and girls, relying on my agile body and a heart begging for my best friend to keep me as her sugar baby… I successfully grabbed the first incense stick. I embraced superstition wholeheartedly. I knelt in the Temple of Wealth and refused to get up. God bless, make my best friend rich, and make me rich too! 5 My best friend’s new show was indeed a huge hit. Many random viewers became fans. TikTok and Instagram were full of people recommending my best friend. [Chloe Evans is too beautiful!!!] [Petition for the director to release a Chloe-only cut!] [Seconded! Change the ending! I want the male lead to end up with the second female lead!] This infuriated the female lead, Tiffany Rose. In a dark corner, her bot farm started working secretly. Not long after, a paparazzi video shot up the trending list. In the video, a stylish woman with short hair and a mask got out of a van. Immediately after, a middle-aged man also got out, and they walked into an apartment complex together. The leaker narrated passionately: “Rising star Chloe Evans meets her sugar daddy at night! Spending the night together!” Soon, the gossip accounts followed suit. [Chloe has always relied on sleeping her way to the top. The only truly clean star in Hollywood is our Princess Tiffany!] I reported the account. Reason: Spreading misinformation. After reporting, I enlarged the video and looked closely. Sugar daddy? Isn’t that Chloe’s dad? I went to his house to play when I was a kid; he even bought me spicy strips. Such open-minded parents are rare these days. Gossip accounts, do you even know what Spicy Gluten is?! 6 In a fit of rage, I started another livestream. Going head-to-head with the gossip accounts. This time, the stream title was— [Neighbor Spills the Tea! Chloe Evans’ Sugar Daddy Revealed!] As soon as I started, the viewer count hit 100,000. Bestie, you really are famous now. In the comments, someone recognized my ID. [Run! This is Chloe’s best friend, not her neighbor!] I retorted: “Did you finish compulsory education? Do you know what an intersection is? I’m both her best friend and her neighbor. So what?” Tiffany’s fans were speechless. I blocked them instantly. Facing the camera, I smiled kindly. “Everyone saw the paparazzi video, right?” “I’ve known the man in the video for many years.” I blinked, smiling shyly. “—Actually, he’s my boyfriend.” The revelation sent the audience into a frenzy. The comments flew by like snow. [What! Chloe stole your boyfriend?] [Wait, what about your high school hottie? Did you break up?] [Chloe is a homewrecker!] [Tiffany is the homewrecker! Tiffany is a b*tch!]

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389269”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I used my status and wealth to force the housekeeper’s son, Caleb Vance, to marry me. We’ve been married for two years. I control his life. I boss him around. I treat him like he’s still the help. Today, he annoyed me again. Just as I raised my hand, ready to slap that stoic look off his face, a stream of floating text boxes scrolled across my vision: [Ugh, I hate this bratty villainess! She has such ‘Princess Syndrome.’ Why hasn’t the Male Lead divorced her yet?] [Let her throw a tantrum. This slap is the final straw. It’s what makes him go cold. When her family goes bankrupt next week, he’s going to steal their last project.] [Does the villainess know? Her daddy is broke!] [Total ruin. She ends up jumping into the ocean.] [Meanwhile, our Male Lead’s tech startup goes IPO. He’s not the poor boy she bullied anymore. He’s going to live happily ever after with the Heroine!] I froze. My hand hovered inches from Caleb’s cheek. He looked down at me, confused. “Why did you stop?” 1 When Caleb walked in with the groceries, I smashed a glass on the floor. He paused, set the bags down, and walked over to me in three long strides. His voice was low, gentle. “What’s wrong?” I crossed my arms, glaring. “Why did you hire that girl I hate at your company?” Caleb looked genuinely baffled. “Who?” My anger spiked. He didn’t even know who I hated! I had definitely mentioned her. I raised my hand, ready to slap him like I used to. That’s when the weird text appeared. I froze. Me? The villainess? My family is going to go bankrupt? My dad and brother in jail? My mom dying of depression? Me… jumping into the ocean? And Caleb, my husband, living happily ever after with her—Emily Clarke—the “Heroine” the text mentioned? I stared into space for too long. Caleb gently took my wrist. “Why didn’t you hit me?” I let out a dry, awkward laugh and pulled my hand back. “It’s your company. Obviously, you can hire whoever you want.” The floating text popped up again: [Why did she stop?] [Doesn’t matter. He’s already sick of her. Wait until he meets our gentle, sweet Heroine.] Caleb frowned. He pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Send me the list of all new hires from the past month.” I sat on the sofa, panic rising in my chest. Bankruptcy? Jail? I couldn’t afford to annoy Caleb anymore. I watched him crouch down to pick up the glass shards. Then he went to the utility closet for the mop. “The salesman said this glass was shatterproof,” I muttered, feeling guilty. Caleb paused. I thought I heard a small chuckle. “It’s better to let your temper out than keep it in.” After cleaning the living room, he sat next to me. “HR is compiling the list. Want to tell me who it is?” “I don’t manage your hiring,” I deflected. But under his patient gaze, I finally cracked. “Emily Clarke.” The comments flooded my vision: [LMAO. Does the villainess think he’s going to fire the Heroine?] [They have similar backgrounds! They are soulmates!] [The Heroine isn’t bratty. She would never make the Male Lead cook instant noodles at midnight or wash her feet.] 2 My temper, which I’d just suppressed, flared up again. I was furious. Caleb did those things because he wanted to! I never forced him to wash my feet! “Emily Clarke? Your college roommate?” Caleb’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t hire her. I didn’t even know she was there.” “I’ll check tomorrow. I’ll give you an answer after work, okay?” I pouted. “Okay. But you’re not allowed to see her.” Caleb nodded. “I have no intention of seeing her.” He took the groceries to the kitchen. [Wow. The villainess is trying to stop fate?] [Don’t worry, the official couple always meets. She can’t stop it.] I tried to ignore the floating text. At noon, I had texted him a menu of what I wanted for dinner. I peeked into the bags—he had bought exactly what I asked for. “Wait,” I called out to his back. “You worked all day. Let the housekeeper cook.” Caleb’s eyes flashed with amusement. “Are you worried about me?” “I just… I’ll cook. You like my cooking.” He walked into the kitchen anyway. I stared at his back. Does Caleb really hate me? Is all this kindness just him biding his time? The next day, I went to my parents’ estate. Mom, Dad, and my brother seemed normal. “Bro,” I asked tentatively. “Is the company okay? Any financial trouble?” My brother’s face changed for a split second before he scoffed. “We’re flourishing. Don’t jinx us.” “We had a small cash flow issue a while back, but it’s resolved,” my mom added. “Just focus on your life with Caleb.” My heart sank. They were hiding it. They’ve always spoiled me. They told me I was born to enjoy life, not worry about money. At noon, Caleb texted. Caleb: No menu today? What do you want for dinner? I replied: I’ll eat out. That evening, Caleb came home and handed me a file. It was Emily Clarke’s termination paperwork. “I really didn’t know. Since you’re unhappy, I fired her. I gave her three months’ severance.” [No way! Did he actually fire the Heroine?] [The villainess doesn’t know, but the leads met at the coffee shop downstairs today! Fate is unstoppable!] [Whatever. He’s just tolerating her for now. He’ll realize Emily’s worth soon.] Reading the comments, I felt defeated. I shook my head. “It’s fine.” “I overreacted yesterday. Sorry.” Caleb didn’t look happy. He studied me closely. “Really? No tantrum?” “Sloane, is something going on?” “Nothing,” I lied. 3 Since I couldn’t stop Caleb and Emily from falling in love, I decided to minimize the damage. Maybe if I wasn’t such a witch, Caleb would help my family when we went broke. I started liquidating my assets. I returned all the bags, dresses, and jewelry I had just ordered. It hurt. That limited-edition blue mermaid dress took months to secure. After college, I opened a high-end piano studio. I barely managed it, letting hired staff run the show while I shopped and went to concerts. Now, I sat in the studio, staring at the ledgers. Headache. I didn’t understand any of it. Caleb messaged again about dinner. I replied: I sent the menu to the housekeeper. She’ll cook. The “typing” bubble appeared for a long time. Caleb: Is my cooking bad lately? Caleb: Tell me what to fix. My head throbbed harder. Me: No. You work hard. You should rest. Another long pause. Caleb: I told you, I’m not tired. I didn’t reply. When I got home, there were three cookbooks on the coffee table. Me: ? Before bed, Caleb gave me a goodnight kiss. This was a rule I made on our wedding night. He had followed it religiously for two years. The annoying text floated by: [Ew, gross. When does the villainess die?] [Stop kissing her, Caleb!] I turned my head away. Caleb paused. He gripped my chin gently but firmly, turning my face back, and kissed me anyway. He wasn’t as gentle as usual. I cursed at him. He kissed my forehead softly. “Sorry.” But he didn’t stop. 4 On Caleb’s mother’s birthday, I tactfully didn’t mention going. I just had my assistant send a gift. The comments were buzzing. [This is it! The birthday scene! This is where he falls for the Heroine!] [Emily lives next door to Caleb’s mom. She’s going over to celebrate!] I squeezed my eyes shut. Caleb called me. I had just drifted off to sleep. “Are you busy this afternoon?” I suppressed my usual wake-up rage. “Mmhmm.” Silence. “Okay.” By late afternoon, I couldn’t help it. I drove to his mom’s modest apartment complex. At 6 PM, I saw Caleb and Emily walking out of the gate together. Just like the comments said. Emily was holding a birthday cake box. Tears pricked my eyes. I don’t get it. Why am I the villain? Aside from forcing him to marry me when he was vulnerable… I haven’t done anything evil. Okay, I’m bossy. I have a bad temper. I’m spoiled. But Caleb never complained. Was his patience all an act? Was he just enduring the humiliation until he could destroy my family? If I ask for a divorce now, will he still crush us? 5 Caleb’s mom, Mrs. Vance, was our housekeeper for as long as I can remember. She was a single mom. My parents let her bring Caleb to live in the carriage house on our estate. The first time I saw him, he was skinny and tan. On my eighth birthday, I had a huge party. I was wearing a princess dress, surrounded by friends. I went to the bathroom and heard Mrs. Vance in the utility room. “I’m sorry, baby. I was too busy. I didn’t bake your cake.” “It’s okay, Mom. I know you work hard.” After using the bathroom, I cut a huge slice of my tiered cake and brought it to the utility room. Caleb looked at the cake, then at me. “I don’t need your pity.” I blinked. “I’m not pitying you. I’m wishing you a happy birthday.” He froze. “Thanks.” “We have the same birthday,” I beamed. “We’re fated.” He smiled then—a rare, genuine smile. “Happy birthday.” I don’t remember when I started liking him. We didn’t interact much. Just exchanged birthday wishes once a year. Maybe it was when he hit puberty and suddenly got hot. I am shallow, after all. Or maybe it was when we were twelve. An earthquake hit while we were in the basement wine cellar. We were trapped for hours. He kept talking to me, keeping me awake. He gave me a single piece of chocolate from his pocket. “I can’t take it,” I said. “Take it,” he insisted. “You gave me this chocolate originally.” My brother had brought it back from Europe. I had given a box to Caleb. “Because I gave it to you, you’re giving it back?” “No,” he said in the dark. “Even if someone else gave it to me, I’d give it to you.” “Why?” “I… don’t want you to die.” “Idiot,” I whispered weakly. “We can split it.” It was a tiny piece of chocolate, but we survived. 6 Caleb grew up to be brilliant. Even in faded jeans, he stood out. He was always top of the class. In junior year, I confessed to him. He rejected me. “I need to focus on my studies.” I cried my eyes out. I was rich, beautiful, and kind(ish). We were perfect! After high school graduation, I tried again. “Exams are over. Will you date me now?” He looked at me with a complex, deep gaze. “No. I don’t like you.” I was furious. I swore I’d move on. For four years of college, I tried dating other guys. But none of them were Caleb. My friends called me pathetic. When I was twenty-two, my mom told me Mrs. Vance quit. Trouble at home. Caleb’s deadbeat dad had returned after fifteen years, bringing a massive gambling debt. The loan sharks had taken Mrs. Vance. I found Caleb. I put on my haughtiest pose. “I’ll pay the debt. But you have to marry me.” I would have paid it anyway. But to my shock, he nodded. So we got married. After the wedding, Caleb treated me like a queen. He was patient with my jealousy and my tantrums. I thought we’d grow old together. Until the floating text appeared.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389268”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Three years into our arranged marriage, my aloof, CEO husband started acting strange. He became even colder. He refused my advances. And his lawyer was frequenting his home office. I thought I understood: Carter had finally reconnected with his “White Moonlight”—his high school crush—and was preparing to divorce me. Being the sensible wife, I drafted the divorce papers myself. The next day, just as I was about to board a plane for my “Eat, Pray, Love” world tour, I received a video. It was Carter. He was standing on the edge of a rooftop, eyes red and swollen, hugging my beagle and sobbing uncontrollably. “She wasn’t supposed to leave us until next year! Why did the timeline change?!” “Buddy, you have to promise me… you have to bite that other man to death for Daddy, okay?!” 1 Carter got into a car accident. By the time I rushed to the hospital, he had already been awake for a while. He lay on the hospital bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, looking exhausted. The nurse whispered to me, “Mrs. Sterling, since he woke up, he hasn’t eaten or drunk anything. He seems… troubled.” I sat by the bed and opened the thermos. “Carter.” As I brought the spoon to his lips, he frowned almost imperceptibly and pulled back. I could tell something was off. So, I put on my sweetest voice. “Honey, try it. It’s still warm. I made it myself.” This time, his eyes were cold and distant. “I don’t want it.” He rejected me again. There was zero warmth in his gaze. He was a completely different person from the man who had cuddled me to sleep the night before. I tried one more time, patiently. “Really? I simmered this chicken soup for hours. Just one sip?” Carter remained silent. He studied me, as if analyzing my next move. I mentally rolled my eyes. I turned the spoon around and swallowed the soup myself. Fine. Starve then. 2 Carter Sterling and I are in an arranged marriage. Our families—the Sterlings and the Yorks—merged assets, and we merged lives. We were high school classmates, but we ran in different circles. He was the stoic loner; I was the social butterfly. After the wedding, we were polite roommates. Things changed in the second year. One day, I came home and bumped into Carter walking out of his room wearing only a towel. I froze. Who knew my buttoned-up husband was hiding that kind of body under his suits? Carter slammed his door shut, clearly annoyed by my ogling. But that image stuck in my brain. After a week of… interesting dreams, I realized something. He is my legal husband. Sleeping with him is literally my right. 3 From then on, I made it my mission to seduce Carter. But he was tough. He didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, had no hobbies. His life was a scheduled loop: home, office, weekly dinners with parents. He was an NPC. I couldn’t find a crack in his armor. Until one day, I wandered into his bedroom and saw our high school graduation photo on his nightstand. In the photo, Carter stood tall, slightly smiling. Next to him, a girl with a cute bob was leaning toward him. Her name was Zoey. The “White Moonlight.” The one that got away. I remembered the rumors. Carter’s mom had paid Zoey off to leave the country so Carter would focus on the family business. Suddenly, I felt bad for him. He was the classic tragic hero—forced apart from his true love, emotionally shutdown. But that was fine. Before I unbuckled his belt, I would listen to his trauma. Eventually, I succeeded. We slept together. In the heat of the moment, I whispered magnanimously, “Carter, I saw the photo. It’s okay. I understand.” He froze. Then he kissed me with a sudden, fierce intensity. 4 After leaving the hospital, Carter was still icy. He was avoiding me. Tonight, it was almost midnight, and he was still in his study. I put on my new silk nightgown and decided to take the initiative. I knocked and walked in, circling his desk to sit on his lap. “Honey, I had a nightmare. I’m scared.” Usually, he would hug me and carry me to bed. I straddled his lap, ready for action. But Carter just looked at my neckline. Then, his long fingers reached out… and buttoned my top button. “Go to sleep, Harper.” What?! I stared at him. “But we agreed to try that new thing this week!” “I have work.” “You said that yesterday.” Carter looked up. “Harper… is sex that important to you?” He stumped me. But I thought about it. We had no emotional foundation. Physical intimacy was the only thing holding this marriage together. So, yes. I nodded. Carter closed his eyes, looking pained. “I understand. Leave me alone.” 5 Over the next few days, I barely saw him. His lawyer, Mr. Shen, was always there. One day, I was bringing fruit to the study when I heard them talking. “Miss Zoey’s funds and apartment are arranged.” “Good.” “And this agreement… are you sure? It’s very unfair.” “Not a penny left for her?” I froze. Carter replied coldly, “Do your job, Shen.” Mr. Shen sighed. “I know you said you ‘saw the future’ and that you’re dying, but… this seems extreme. Harper was just cutting fruit for you…” “So everyone knows we have a bad marriage,” Carter laughed bitterly. I backed away silently. I understood. Carter thinks he’s dying. He’s probably having premonitions about reuniting with Zoey in the afterlife or something. And now, he wants to divorce me. And leave me with nothing. 6 I was done. I moved into the guest room immediately. I called my lawyer to draft divorce papers and booked a full-body health checkup (just in case). Late that night, I was lying on the rug in the living room, venting to my best friend on the phone. “…If anyone says Carter is a good guy, I’ll scream. It’s a moral issue!” “I knew arranged marriages were a scam!” I started crying. “You don’t know how hard my life is! Carter is so mean! I miss you so much, babe!” Click. The living room light turned on. I froze and looked back. Carter was standing there like a ghost. He stared at my phone, his face pale. “Harper.” “Is it him?” 7 “Who I talk to is none of your business,” I snapped, hanging up. “And eavesdropping is rude.” Carter looked like he was in physical pain. “Is calling another man ‘babe’ privacy?” “I’m your husband. You’ve never called me that.” I laughed. He wants me to call him babe? Go ask Zoey! I smelled alcohol on him. “Babe,” I said, my voice flat and dead. “Happy now?” Carter lowered his head, hiding his red eyes. “Can I go to sleep now?” I asked, walking past him and slamming the guest room door. 8 I didn’t know that after I left, Carter stood in the dark living room for hours. He covered his face in despair. It was happening again. The cold look. The annoyance. The slam of the door. It matched the visions he saw while in his coma. In his visions, Harper falls in love with another man. She smiles at him, kisses him, and then ruthlessly divorces Carter. In the vision, Harper mocks him: “Carter, you are boring. Sex was the only interesting thing about you, and now even that’s boring.” “I hate you. My kindness was all an act.” “You loved me for ten years? Wow, you’re such a ninja. Want a medal?” “Your love makes me sick.” So, that was her truth. When Carter woke up from the coma, he wrote down a list of every potential male rival. It was ten pages long. He felt like he was going crazy. Has the man already appeared? No. Harper wouldn’t do this. She must have been manipulated by that “Other Man”! Who is he?! Carter took a deep breath. He had one year until the divorce timeline. He had to change fate. This time, the man Harper lives happily ever after with… must be him.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389267”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Five years into our secret relationship, I couldn’t help but test Christian Thorne. “My mom keeps pushing me to go on blind dates. I told her I have a boyfriend, but she…” He leaned back against the headboard, a lazy smile playing on his lips. “Stella, I like you best when you’re obedient.” “I told you, if you want to leave, our relationship can end at any time.” After saying that, he thoughtfully buttoned my sleeve and wiped away my tears. He knew that as soon as he brought up those words—relationship end—I would compromise, retreat, and shut up, just like I had in the past. I didn’t tell him that this time was different. I made a bet with someone. I bet on whether he would be willing to marry me. And the price of losing the bet was leaving him forever. 1 On the third day of my business trip to Paris, my mom called me from across the ocean. I didn’t remind her about the international roaming charges. She rambled on for a while before changing the subject. “Mom doesn’t mean anything by it, but you always say how great this boyfriend of yours is. You’re turning thirty in two years. If he really likes you that much, why hasn’t he shown any intention of marrying you…” I always thought Paris was a romantic place. It was suitable for drinking, flirting, and talking about love. The only thing it wasn’t suitable for was parting ways. Christian walked out of the bathroom, his forehead slightly damp. His bathrobe was loosely draped over his body, revealing a few red marks on his chest—remnants of our recent intimacy. He sat down beside me, the sofa sinking slightly under his weight. Seeing me staring blankly ahead, he brushed the back of his fingers against my cheek. “What did your mom say? Any trouble you can’t handle?” I turned to look at him. Christian’s mother was a famous beauty in Hong Kong with a quarter Portuguese blood. I had seen his father in newspapers; he was also a rare talent. So Christian had a naturally handsome face, with exquisite Western bone structure paired with perfect Eastern features, making it hard to look away. I grabbed his fingers, placed them in my palm, and tried to sound casual. “Mom wants me to go on blind dates as soon as possible. She says she knows a very nice guy.” “She doesn’t believe I have a boyfriend. She always says I’m fooling her. I told her it’s because I’m too busy with work and haven’t had time to bring you back to meet her.” I wanted to find more excuses for him, but after thinking about it, I just said, “After the New Year, come back to the States with me. We…” “Stella,” Christian interrupted me with a smile, getting straight to the point. “No need to test me. When have you ever seen me fall for that?” He crossed his long legs, looking at me in the dim light, his tone indifferent. “I told you, if you want to leave, our relationship can end at any time.” I stared at him for a long time, surprisingly calm inside. The first time I heard this sentence, I was unwilling to accept it and would cause a huge scene. I didn’t spoil him; I argued with him. “Our relationship? What relationship? Christian, have you forgotten? I accepted your pursuit fair and square. I am your girlfriend.” “Don’t use that tone of charity when you speak to me!” At first, he admitted his mistakes quickly and would coax me with apologies. I was so angry back then, but in the end, I would only tearfully tell him not to say such things in the future. But now, hearing this sentence, I felt no fear, no anger. Christian suddenly leaned in and pitifully wiped away my tears. “Look at you. You clearly can’t bear to leave, yet you always want to test me. Crying like this… it hurts me to see it.” I touched the tears that had fallen without my noticing. It turned out I was only left with sadness now. “But you once said we would get married.” My tears gathered in his palm, eliciting sigh after sigh from him. I couldn’t tell if these tears were a weapon to use against him or if they were genuinely flowing due to the situation. He was very direct, and also very hurtful. “Aren’t we good like this now? We don’t have to compromise freedom or boundaries for love. Haven’t you been happy these past years?” “Since you’re happy, why fuss over so much? The position beside me has never been reserved for anyone else.” His words carried enough weight. He couldn’t think of any reason for me to make a scene again. So, after I slowly calmed down, he returned to his lazy demeanor. “Hungry yet? You haven’t had much appetite for French food these past few days. Chinese food in Paris is excellent—hot pot, Sichuan, Yunnan cuisine. What do you want?” “Don’t want any of it? I’ll make you some noodles. Sit tight.” He stood up with a cigar in his mouth and ruffled my hair. I don’t know when Christian mastered the technique of dealing with me. It was just like this—breezy, lightly ignoring everything, ignoring all my pain and sorrow. Because he knew that as long as he said those four words—relationship can end—I would panic, I would be reluctant to leave, and in the end, I would swallow all my grievances. This wasn’t the first time I had tested Christian like this. But the result of every attempt was similar, yet not entirely the same. 2 The evening wind began to feel damp. It was going to rain in Paris again tonight. My relationship with Christian was exactly like the weather at this moment—damp, cold, and never seeing the light of day. In the beginning, I wanted him to go public, even at the cost of my career. I thought Christian didn’t want to go public because of workplace taboos, so I didn’t hesitate. “I can resign. I’ll leave Kaisheng Group. That way, we won’t have a superior-subordinate relationship. Can we be open and honest then?” I was too naive and crazy back then. I didn’t care about anything; I just wanted to be by his side legitimately. I had studied for over twenty years, fought through countless obstacles, and bled to get into Kaisheng. My academic background was excellent, my abilities outstanding. Given time, I would surely achieve something great. Anyone whose brain wasn’t broken would grit their teeth and refuse to leave Kaisheng. So when I said those words, even Christian, who was used to big scenes, couldn’t help but be surprised. He comforted me and calmly advised, “Stella, your career is important. You can’t be rash.” Back then, I was much younger. With him, I was always a bit cautious, afraid of losing him. One sentence from him, and I backed down. “I didn’t think it through. Your career is more important than mine.” Christian was the heir to the Thorne family. He came to Kaisheng for experience. Hearing my words, he was stunned at first, then smiled and shook his head. “Not my career. Yours.” He tried to reason with me, striving to save an ignorant girl about to lose her way. “I just think it’s not easy for a girl to build a career. You shouldn’t compromise your future at any time, not even for your lover.” “I hope that one day when you make a name for yourself at Kaisheng, it’s because of your successful career, not because of gossip with your boss.” I rarely thought about how much of what he said back then was true and how much was false. In the many years that followed, whenever I secured project after project and achieved dazzling results, I was incredibly grateful that Christian had stopped the impulsive me back then. Later, my tests became secretive, like those “suitors” who appeared abruptly. I tried to see a hint of jealousy and possessiveness on Christian’s face. But his wealthy background and outstanding talent gave him the right to be overly picky and critical. No matter how excellent my suitors were, he would only dismiss them lightly as fools. He wouldn’t stoop to compete with fools, nor did he think I would be stupid enough to give up champagne and caviar for bread and water. From the beginning to the end of this relationship, he always stood on a high pedestal, fearless. 3 I stood on the balcony, looking down as the servants locked up and left. Actually, putting feelings aside, whether as a boyfriend or a lover, Christian wasn’t stingy. I merely mentioned that I was traveling a lot for business and staying in hotels was troublesome. He casually bought this apartment in the 16th arrondissement and gave it to me, saying it was a place for me to stay during business trips. Of course, I could hesitate and refuse to let go, wandering between his good and bad points. Letting reason slowly swallow my feelings, asking no questions about the future with him. But I knew better than anyone that this was an impossible thing. My phone rang and stopped, stopped and rang again. I picked up on the third ring. The person on the other end was silent for a while before speaking: “I told you, he won’t marry you.” “Some walls won’t make you turn back just by hitting them once. You have to hit them a few more times to give up completely.” The voice on the phone continued, but I still didn’t speak. I turned around and looked through the glass door. Christian was standing at the table looking at me. He had just put down the phone after taking a call from someone unknown. Seeing me looking over, he tapped the table with his finger, signaling me to come back. I gazed at him deeply for a long time, until my eyes soured. Then I whispered into the phone, “I accept the bet. I won’t go back on my word. Once the procedures are done, I’ll come find you.” Was this bet expensive? Did it have to be fulfilled? It didn’t seem entirely so. It was just… time to leave. 4 Christian stood inside the room and never crossed that threshold. He just watched that figure. He knew he didn’t need to walk out; she would come back on her own. Just now, his mother had rarely called from Switzerland, chatting a bit and asking about his girl. “Are you going to have a wedding? When will you let me meet her? You’re always so unreliable.” He smiled noncommittally. “What wedding? When did I ever say I was getting married?” The beauty complained a bit on the other end: “Don’t blame Mommy for not warning you. Playing with a girl’s feelings will bring karma.” “When I lost to a competitor before, you warned me the same way,” Christian said, garnishing the noodles with great patience. “But what happened later? My career is still booming, reaching new heights.” “How can that be the same? I always tell your father, you… everything goes too smoothly for you. Even when you meet a girl who likes you so much, you should suffer a bit.” Christian raised an eyebrow, not taking it to heart. “Who’s going to make me suffer? Her? She wouldn’t bear to.” After answering casually and hanging up, he looked outside. He happened to meet her gaze as she turned back. Through such a dark night, he could see the emotions welling up in her eyes. How could she bear to leave him? 5 For the next few days, neither Christian nor I mentioned the interlude from that night. Working people don’t even have the freedom to be heartbroken. Even while crying, you have to prepare materials for clients. After the business trip, I rushed back to the company without stopping. Walking all the way to the office, I gave instructions as I went. “Kelly, help me check Mr. Wen’s schedule. If he’s available, book a meeting with him for 3 PM tomorrow. Just say I want to sync up on the progress of the European project.” “Also, ask Alex to come to my office in ten minutes.” Deciding to leave was one thing, but I liked to finish what I started. Kaisheng was the first milestone in my career. The longer I stayed, the more things I had to hand over. A few days later, there was a new smart factory project in the company, and the person in charge was undecided. When the news spread like wildfire, Mr. Wen called me to the conference room. Besides me, there was another person in the room. I nodded at her. Marlene was a proud person, especially towards me. She didn’t even look at me and spoke directly. “Whether it’s the technical proposal or past cooperation experience, my team is undoubtedly the most suitable. It’s clearly a project I’ve been following up on. Why should unrelated personnel be involved?” Mr. Wen looked at me. “Stella, what are your thoughts?” If it were in the past, I would have fought for it, but this time I didn’t speak immediately. After a while, I stood up. Marlene pressed the document onto the table and mocked, “You really have to fight me for everything. We did a massive amount of research in the early stages of this project. You can’t win against me.” I looked at her, momentarily lost in thought. Actually, in the beginning, we weren’t so incompatible. We were new employees hired in the same batch, the first generation of workplace colleagues. We had mutual appreciation. It was just that later, I won several key projects in a row and got promoted faster than her. When she looked at me, appreciation was replaced by vigilance and rivalry. She had to compare herself to me in everything and go against me everywhere. Just as I was about to speak, someone pushed the door open and entered the conference room. Marlene’s eyes lit up, and she pushed the materials in front of him. “Mr. Thorne, for this smart factory upgrade project, our team has done detailed calculations. I am confident that my team and I can successfully secure this cooperation.” Using work as an excuse, I hadn’t been to Christian’s place for several days. He scanned the people present in a business-like manner, looked down, opened Marlene’s proposal, read a few pages, and made a decision. “Send it to my office.” “Thank you, Mr. Thorne!” Christian didn’t give me a second look. Actually, even if he looked at me a few more times, no one would care. Who would guess that the noble Mr. Thorne by day would be entangled with an ordinary employee like me by night? Marlene gave me a triumphant look and followed Christian out. Mr. Wen patted my shoulder, and I signaled that I was OK. Christian had always been like this. In work, he treated everyone equally. He never showed me any favoritism because of our secret relationship. He only considered the company’s core interests. If I didn’t do well, he would scold me just the same. At first, I was very resentful. Later I learned that he just equally looked down on everyone. Later, during the day at work, I would accept his scolding without talking back. But at night, seeing me depressed, he would patiently analyze the pros and cons for me. Even now, I couldn’t see any extra cherishing in his eyes. But I had to admit, Christian back then wasn’t stingy with me. Over the years, being crushed and rebuilt in his hands, I improved faster than anyone else. Before getting off work, I sat in the office for a long time until the last light went out. Only then did I click the submit button on the computer. Watching the screen display “Resignation Application Submitted,” I closed the laptop. Just then, my phone rang. A message from Christian came in. “There’s a banquet tomorrow night. I had someone send a dress over.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “389266”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel