Right before finals week, my childhood sweetheart paid someone to smash the scholarship student’s hearing aid. I immediately custom-ordered a new one and gave it to him. When my childhood friend found out, he cornered me in the stairwell, his voice dripping with venom. “Why help that trash? Wouldn’t it be better to watch him rot in the mud?” He leaned in to kiss me, trying to manipulate me with the face I used to love. I looked him in the eye and lied. “Fine. Let’s ruin him.” From that day on, I dragged the poor scholar into my world, distracting him day and night. When college acceptance letters arrived, my childhood friend got into his dream Ivy League school. Everyone thought he would finally confess his love to me. Instead, he pointed at my mediocre state school acceptance and sneered, “Love can’t be forced, Blaire. Besides, we aren’t on the same level anymore.” I wasn’t sad. Because that same day, the scholar I had supposedly “corrupted” came to find me. He held an acceptance letter from MIT in one hand, and he pulled me close with the other, kissing me with a devotion that bordered on worship. “Stay with me, okay?” “My future, and my life… they all belong to you.” 1 When Carter walked into the classroom to find me, a group of students was gathered around Serena, the school’s golden girl. “Only the Valedictorian is good enough for our Serena. Carter crushed the mock exams; he’s definitely taking the top spot.” “I knew Carter would lock in for Serena. Too bad about Wes, though. Hearing his hearing aid ‘accidentally’ broke right before the English listening portion? Tragic.” “Serena, I’m so jealous. Both of them are obsessed with you. Who are you gonna pick?” “Obviously Carter. He’s rich, he’s connected… he and Serena are the power couple.” Serena looked up from her perfectly organized notes. She tried to hide her smile, feigning modesty. “Stop it, guys. We’re all just friends.” “Just friends? That Patek Philippe watch on your wrist says otherwise. Didn’t Carter buy that for you?” “This old thing? He told me it was just a trinket. If I knew it was expensive, I wouldn’t have taken it!” “See? Carter spoils you. Look at Blaire over there. She buys Carter everything, basically pays him to hang out with her, and now she’s buying hearing aids for the charity case, Wes. And for what? Carter still won’t look at her.” I sat at my desk, unbothered. Out in the hallway, Carter grabbed my arm. “Blaire, what the hell? You know how much I hate Wes. Why did you help him?” He was here to interrogate me. I knew exactly why he hated Wes. Since Wes transferred here on a full academic scholarship, Carter hadn’t touched the number one spot in the class rankings. And conveniently, Serena—the girl Carter was obsessed with—had publicly stated she’d only date the Valedictorian. Carter glanced back into the classroom, his eyes darkening as he landed on a justification. “Are you doing this because of Serena? Blaire, you know she’s just a fling. I’m just having fun.” We both came from old money. We had an unspoken engagement. In our circle, people like Serena—upper middle class but not elite—were temporary distractions. He took a deep breath, trying to regain control. “Blaire, we’ve known each other forever. Don’t let an outsider ruin us.” I looked at him calmly. “The hearing aid was custom-made. I already gave it to him. I can’t ask for it back.” “Unless,” I stepped closer, “you want me to smash the Rolex I bought you, too?” 2 Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him. Wes was standing by the classroom door. He had been waiting. He was wearing the new hearing aid I gave him. It was silver, sleek, and glittered under the fluorescent lights. On him, it didn’t look like a disability. It looked like jewelry. “It looks good,” I said. I smiled and walked toward him. “Wes, were you looking for me?” “Yeah.” Wes reached up, took the device off, and held it out to me. His voice was cold, flat. “Take it back.” My fingertips brushed his palm. It was warm. Looking at his face—thin, handsome, but still boyish—my vision blurred. “Wes,” I whispered. “I’m so happy to see you again.” In my past life, if he hadn’t sought revenge for me, his life wouldn’t have ended at twenty-eight. Even in death, he had been calm. He had wiped the tears from my face in that cold, dark room. “Blaire, don’t feel guilty. I didn’t want to live anyway. I just couldn’t leave you behind. Promise me you’ll live well, okay?” He loved me simply because, years ago, I had held an umbrella over him in the rain. Even when our marriage was purely transactional, born of my desperation and his kindness, he treated me like his most precious treasure. Twenty-eight-year-old Wes had reached the end of his road. Eighteen-year-old Wes still had a chance to change everything. Husband, I thought. This time, let me protect you. 3 Wes was stubborn. He insisted on returning it. I quickly composed myself, acting as if nothing unusual had happened. I took the device and gently placed it back over his ear. “I gave it to you. It’s yours. Does it fit okay?” Subconsciously, my fingers lingered on his earlobe. In our past life, I couldn’t sleep unless I was touching his ear. It was soft. Grounding. Wes flinched, clearly shocked by the intimacy. A faint blush crept up his neck. He took a step back. “Thank you.” Carter’s posse, noticing their leader’s foul mood, immediately started jeering. “Wes, look in a mirror. You think you’re worthy of Blaire? You aren’t fit to tie her shoes.” “If Carter and Blaire weren’t fighting, do you think you’d get a scrap like that? Know your place, charity case.” “Ugh, he smells like hospital disinfectant. Bad luck.” Wes’s mother was chronically ill. He spent every moment outside of school at the hospital. At the mention of the hospital, Wes’s hands clenched into fists. His eyes turned icy. “I’ll find a way to pay you back for the device. I don’t want to be involved in anything else.” He turned and walked away fast. I wanted to chase him, but Carter grabbed my wrist. “Blaire, we need to talk.” He dragged me to the emergency stairwell. As soon as he let go, he leaned down to kiss me. He was good at this. Whenever he upset me, he used physical affection as a weapon. He knew I was weak for his face. When I was fifteen, I fell for that face. Back then, he ignored me. I was the chubby rich girl, invisible next to the slender, talented girls in our prep school. Until the day the Bentley picked me up, and the driver called me “Miss Blaire.” That’s when Carter sat next to me. “What’s your name?” From then on, we were inseparable. I thought it was love. In my past life, I engaged myself to him, ignoring the fact that he only loved my trust fund. But when my family went bankrupt—sabotaged by his family—he showed his true colors. “Every day with you was disgusting, Blaire. Look at yourself. Who could love you?” He set me up, forced me to break the engagement, and publicly dated Serena. I became the laughingstock of high society, eventually marrying Wes, who had also been ruined by Carter’s schemes. “Blaire, why are you looking at me like that?” Carter held my face, his voice trembling. “Do you hate me because of him?” His eyes filled with a familiar, terrifying rage. “I’ll have him expelled tomorrow. I’ll ruin him.” Slap. I hit him. Hard. It felt incredibly satisfying to bite the hand that starved me. “Carter, are you insane?” He didn’t seem to feel the pain. Instead, he grabbed my hand, rubbing it against his cheek. “Blaire, you know how important being Valedictorian is to me. If I don’t get into the Ivy of my choice, your dad won’t let us marry. Wes trusts you now. For our future… help me knock him into the mud, okay? He belongs in the dirt.” Carter was possessive. Over my money, over Serena, over his status. Looking at the malice in his eyes, I formulated a plan. “Okay,” I said softly. “Let’s do it.” 4 News of my gift to Wes spread through the school like wildfire. For a week, everyone speculated about our relationship. “Wes hit the jackpot. Being handsome really pays the bills.” “If the Princess took a liking to him, he doesn’t even need to take the SATs. He can just be a trophy husband.” “Hey Wes, have you kissed her yet? Is the bedding in a mansion softer? Bet it feels great.” “Blaire isn’t exactly a supermodel, but for that kind of money, I’d close my eyes and kiss her too.” There are no secrets in prep school. These nasty comments found their way to me. I thought Wes would come to me—to demand an explanation, to clear his name. He didn’t. After school, I waited by his classroom. It was empty, except for him sweeping the floor. It wasn’t his turn for duty. “They’re bullying you again?” Wes didn’t answer. He kept sweeping. I sat on a desk. “I heard what they’re saying. Why don’t you deny it? Or tell me. I can make them stop.” He set down the broom and looked at me. His uniform was old, washed too many times, but he smelled clean, like soap. “Would denying it help?” “If it doesn’t help, there’s no point in wasting breath.” He walked past me to grab a rag. As he reached up to erase the chalkboard, his shirt lifted, revealing a sliver of toned abs. I was surprised. He was so thin, I didn’t expect muscle. “Wes, you know Carter is targeting you. But if you stick with me, no one will touch you.” I walked up to him. “Let me help you. Please?” Suddenly, he turned. We were inches apart. I could feel his warm breath on my face. My heart skipped a beat. I stumbled backward off the dais. Wes caught my arm, steadying me. Once I was safe, he let go immediately. His voice was cold. “I told you. I’m not interested in whatever game you and Carter are playing.” Eighteen-year-old Wes. Still so stubborn. But if he were easy to sway, he wouldn’t be the man I loved. “It’s not for Carter,” I said, stepping closer so he couldn’t miss the sincerity in my eyes. “It’s for you.” He held my gaze for half a second, then looked away, flustered. “Walk carefully next time.” 5 A week later, we met again. This time, at the hospital. I skipped last period and found the ward where his mother was staying. I paid off her outstanding bills, moved her to a private VIP room, and hired the best caretakers. When Wes arrived, I was peeling an orange for his mom, listening to her stories about his childhood. “Your classmate is an angel, Wes,” she said, holding my hand. “She’s been keeping me company. She says the teachers love you.” I winked at Wes. “Wes, I just saved you about four hours of caretaking work today. Shouldn’t you repay me for that time?” Wes, who was slicing an apple, paused. “Okay.” His voice was so quiet I almost missed it. “Huh?” He looked at me, his gaze intense. “You’re right. That time belongs to you now.” I smirked, leaning toward his ear. “In that case, go pack a bag. Starting tomorrow, you’re moving into my house.” “My parents are in Europe. It’s just me and the housekeeper. It gets lonely. Come keep me company.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388429”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Three years into seducing the “Prince of Beijing” as a strategy game, I lost my memory. My memory reset to the time I was in a cold war with my ex-boyfriend. Right in front of the Prince, I dialed my ex’s number. “Babe, don’t be mad. I’ll wear that new dress for you, okay?” The next second, the arrogant young CEO crushed a glass in his bare hand. Gritting his teeth, he hissed, “Say that again, Stella. I dare you.” “Do you think I’m dead?” 1 “Stella, how long are you going to keep this up?” “I told you, there’s nothing going on between us.” “We grew up together. We haven’t seen each other in forever. What’s wrong with a little kiss?” I woke up in a hospital room. A strange man in a sharp suit was pacing, pulling at his hair in frustration. When he saw I wasn’t speaking, he unclasped his watch and tossed it onto the bed in front of me. “Besides this, I’ll give you an apartment. Is that enough?” I shook my head, picking up the diamond-encrusted watch and trying to focus my eyes. The man chuckled, sitting beside me and patting my head like I was a pet. “That’s right. Running into traffic… look at yourself. Was it worth it?” “Pack your things. I’ll take you back.” Honestly, he was handsome—sharp brows, starry eyes, a very aggressive kind of good looks. But his temper was terrible. Not my type at all. I pushed his hand away and handed the watch back. “It’s five-thirty. My boyfriend gets off work soon. I don’t want to trouble you.” I thought I was being polite, but the man’s face instantly darkened. He narrowed his eyes, his voice dropping dangerously low. “Say that again, Stella.” “Which boyfriend is getting off work?” I had been with Liam for three years. Who else would it be? Before I could answer, the man shoved my phone into my hand. “Call him! Call him right now. I want to see which man has the guts to pick you up!” I looked at him, aggrieved. Hitting my head in a car accident was bad enough; waking up to this lunatic was worse. The lunatic sat on the sofa opposite me, legs spread wide. Under his glare, I pulled Liam off my blocklist. Thinking back, Liam and I rarely fought. But sometimes he was too conservative. Last time, I bought a dress that was a little short, and he lectured me for days. The phone rang twice in the quiet room before someone picked up. Liam’s voice was hesitant, but pleasant. “Stella, is that you?” I hummed a “Mhm.” He sounded incredibly relieved and fired off a string of questions. “I heard you were in an accident. Is it serious?” “Which hospital are you at? I’m coming right now.” With every sentence Liam spoke, the man’s face grew darker. I quickly gave my location, and before hanging up, I couldn’t resist a little coquettish apology. “Babe, I’ll wear that new dress for you tomorrow, okay?” As soon as the words left my mouth, CRASH. I turned around. The man had crushed the glass in his hand. Blood and shards of glass dripped onto his expensive shoes. He didn’t seem to feel the pain. He just stared at me, teeth clenched. “Stella, say that again. I dare you!” “Do you think I’m dead?” A nurse burst in, terrified by the scene. “Mr. Carter, please calm down! The patient needs rest.” His hand looked gruesome. The nurse spent a long time bandaging it. Midway through, his phone rang. He took a deep breath, his eyelid twitching with rage. His tone was nasty. “I said I’m busy.” A lazy, teasing voice came through the speaker: “Chloe is waiting for you. What could be more important than that?” Ethan Carter stared at me unblinkingly and said slowly: “Catching a cheater. Is that important enough?” 2 The nurse’s ears perked up like satellite dishes. I felt awkward under his gaze, staring at the ceiling. The hospital ceiling was very… ceiling-y. “Don’t get the wound wet.” “Come back in three days to change the dressing.” Ethan waved her away dismissively. Before the nurse could close the door, a frantic figure rushed in. His coat was half-on, the belt of his black trench coat dangling. Liam is five years older than me. He’s usually calm and steady. When we lived together, he’d squeeze toothpaste onto my brush every morning. The towels were always folded perfectly. I had never seen him this disheveled. I looked up, grabbed his belt, and nuzzled into his waist. “Take me home. I already did the discharge paperwork.” Liam froze. His Adam’s apple bobbed. His cool hand hovered over my head. “Stella, I…” Before he could finish, slow, mocking applause came from the sofa. Ethan sat in the shadows, eyes narrowed. “Truly touching.” “Stella followed me around like a dog for three years. And in the end, this guy named Liam is the boyfriend?” I found his words bizarre. Before I could stand up, Liam pushed my hand away and punched Ethan right in the face. “Ethan Carter, watch your mouth.” Forget Ethan, I was stunned. Liam never raised his voice, let alone his fists. I quickly hugged Liam’s waist, dragging him out of the room before Ethan could retaliate. Ethan was furious. He kicked the metal door. “Stella, you’re siding with him?” “Fuck! Stella, get back here!” “…” We left his shouting behind. In the passenger seat, I rubbed Liam’s hand. “Does it hurt? Why were you so impulsive?” “What if you hurt your hand?” In the dim car, Liam didn’t answer. He just leaned over and kissed me. Unlike his usual kisses, today he was urgent. Almost… aggrieved. I was breathless, face flushed. Liam wasn’t much better. He cupped the back of my neck. “Sleep. We’re almost home.” I was exhausted. I didn’t have the energy to question his strange behavior. My brain felt like tofu pudding. Just as we arrived, a cheerful, electronic voice exploded in my head. [Master! Master! You’re finally awake!] [Capture progress for Ethan Carter is at 60%!] [Victory is in sight!] Wait, what? Me? Capturing Ethan Carter? The voice, calling itself a “System,” chattered away. I was confused and couldn’t get a word in. I was about to bang my head against the wall to wake up when a damp hand pressed against my forehead. I opened my eyes to eight-pack abs. 3 Liam usually wrapped himself up tight. Today, he was wearing only a towel. Water droplets traced the lines of his muscles. “Headache? Let me massage it.” I looked up, tracing his throat down to his chest. System? Strategy? Forgotten. My knees went weak, and I collapsed into his arms. I fell for Liam at first sight. When we went public, my friend Mia said I was crazy. “Stella, you wild child. Can Professor Liam satisfy you?” Turns out, Professor Liam can. Very much so. The only downside was his self-control. I always had to initiate. Liam tilted his head, exposing his neck. His Adam’s apple bobbed, a droplet of water hanging precariously. The atmosphere was perfect. Not doing it would be a crime. But just as my hand found the belt, a jarring ringtone sounded from behind me. It wasn’t anyone else. It was Ethan Carter. Why did I have his number? Was the System telling the truth? Suppressing my doubts, I hung up. But Ethan was like a ghost, calling again and again. Liam stared at the screen for a second, pressed his lips together, and walked out of the room without looking back. Seeing my meal walk away, I angrily answered the phone. “Ethan Carter, this better be life or death.” He scoffed. He was talking to someone else. “Looks like your dare is a bust, Little Carter.” It was the voice from the hospital. The phone switched hands. Ethan and the System spoke simultaneously. “Utopia Bar. Pick me up.” [Master, you are Ethan’s pinned contact!] [Whenever he gets drunk, he calls you first. His favorability went from negative to zero because you picked him up in the rain on Dragon Boat Festival.] The System helpfully jogged my memory. A scene flashed in my mind. Heavy rain. I saw Liam standing behind me. He held a black umbrella, looking lonely and thin in the headlights. If I remembered correctly, Liam’s birthday was on Dragon Boat Festival. Did I really break up with Liam three years ago to chase this guy, like the System said? The voice in my ear urged me on, as if picking Ethan up at 3 AM was my duty. Rage surged. I yelled into the phone. “Pick yourself up! I quit!” I hung up before he could react. The System shrieked in my head. I covered my ears and burrowed into Liam’s arms like a kitten. In the dark, he was burning up. His eyes were wet. “If you want to go… I’ll drive you.” 4 That ignited a fire in me. Specifically, in my lower abdomen. I nuzzled into Liam’s chest, my voice soft. “You’re here. Where would I go?” [Master! Your priority is picking him up, not ogling abs and biceps! Gasp~] I ignored it. My fingers traced the corner of Liam’s eye. In three years, he was always calm. Only when I pushed him to the edge would he let out a groan. His voice was hoarse. “Really? Not going?” I threw my phone on the carpet and kissed his Adam’s apple messily. “Not going. Never leaving again.” … I silenced the System for the night. Liam wore me out. When I woke up, he was gone. On the nightstand was warm milk, breakfast, and a note in elegant handwriting. Remember to eat. There’s medicine in the drawer if you’re sore. Sorry. I couldn’t suppress my smile. The System chimed in. [Tsk tsk. You locked me in a dark room all night!] [ALL NIGHT!!!] I rubbed my ear. Now that Liam was gone, time to figure this out. “So, you say I need to capture Ethan Carter?” The System sounded smug. [Hmph. Finally focused? Do you know Ethan waited for you until 4 AM? His favorability dropped to…] [Wait. It went up to 68%? WTF?] I picked up my phone. Eight missed calls from Ethan. Ten texts. The System peeked. [He’s never texted you first before! Breaking the passing grade makes a difference.] I scrolled up. For three years, it was just me asking if he was okay. When he was annoyed, he’d call. The calls lasted less than 30 seconds, and his tone was always awful. I got angrier as I scrolled. The System fanned the flames. [Master, you used to be so diligent. You were his driver. No matter how late, you were always the first face he saw.] [Remember anything? We need to get back to work.] I reached the top of the chat. I was shocked. I didn’t understand. Even for Liam, my patience capped at three months. “What’s the reward?” I asked. “A dozen top-tier male models.” Heh. I knew it. Definitely something I said during my cold war with Liam. “And the punishment?” “No punishment. If you fail, I stay with you. Forever.” My mouth twitched. I felt suffocated. I texted Liam. “Babe, when do you get off work?” “I’ll pick you up.” Liam had classes all day. I didn’t expect a quick reply. When I came back from brushing my teeth, I had a string of messages. “Stella, I’ll overlook yesterday.” “5:10 PM. Material Tower. Be there or you’re dead.” I stared at the screen for ten seconds. Shit. Wrong person.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388428”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On the surface, I’m the school’s resident pretty girl with a hollow head—a total academic failure. But behind closed doors, I’m terrifyingly disciplined, grinding through practice exams until 2 AM every night. To boost my GPA, I’m simultaneously juggling three “tutors.” They happen to be the three top students at Oakwood Academy: the STEM genius, the Literature prodigy, and the Debate champion. I thought I was managing my schedule perfectly. I thought my secret was safe. That is, until I accidentally saw a group chat on one of their phones. Caleb (STEM God): [Harper is studying Physics with me tonight. Don’t overload her with other homework.] Sebastian (Lit Genius): [Don’t keep her too late. I need to go over the reading list with her afterwards.] Adrian (Debate King): [So, serious question… after graduation, which one of us do you think she’s going to pick?] I panicked. I dropped the phone and turned to flee, only to find the three of them blocking the doorway, arms crossed, staring right at me. 1 I am famous at Oakwood Academy. Famous for having top-tier looks and bottom-tier grades. I sit comfortably at the very bottom of the class rankings. In the latest Calculus exam, I achieved a spectacular score of 8%. Mr. Harrison, usually the mildest teacher in the school, was chasing me down the hall with my test paper. “Harper Sterling! If I threw a scantron sheet on the floor and stepped on it, I’d score higher than an eight! How did you manage to dodge every single correct answer?” “We are a prep school! This is an Honors class! How did you even get in here?” I picked up the crumpled test he’d thrown at me and offered a sheepish smile. “Mr. Harrison, don’t be mad. I promise I won’t get an eight next time.” The whole class roared with laughter. Mr. Harrison looked like he might have a stroke. “Right, next time you’ll aim for a nine? Take this home, get your parents to sign it, and bring it back tomorrow!” Just then, a crisp voice came from the doorway. “Mr. Harrison? The principal sent me to return your flash drive.” Mr. Harrison turned around, his face instantly transforming from rage to delight. “Hailey! Thank you so much. I heard you got a 98% on this test. Fantastic work, truly.” The girl at the door smiled humbly. “You’re too kind, sir. I still made silly mistakes. Caleb got a perfect score, after all.” “This test was brutal,” Mr. Harrison reassured her. “A 98 is incredible. Caleb has been doing college-level math since he was six; he’s an outlier.” He turned back to me, his eyes filled with disappointment. “Hailey is your sister, Harper. How can you be related and be so… different? Graduation is around the corner. You need to wake up.” I nodded enthusiastically like a bobblehead, but my eyes were locked on Hailey. She smirked slightly, turned on her heel, and walked away. I let out a silent sigh of relief. 2 Back at my desk, my friend Chloe whispered, “Was that your sister? I heard she’s ranked fifth in the whole grade. Why don’t you ask her to tutor you?” I stuffed the shameful test paper into my bag. “Studying is boring. Gaming is better. Want to hop on Discord tonight?” Chloe looked like she was about to cry. “I got a 30%, Harper. If I touch my Xbox, my mom will kill me. Thank god I have you, or I’d be the only one failing this class.” I glanced at her test paper, covered in red ink. I couldn’t help myself. “Chloe, question five is just the quadratic formula. How did you miss that?” Chloe blinked, flipped open her textbook, and scribbled for three minutes. Then she looked up at me, wide-eyed. “Oh my god, you’re right! Harper, how did you know that?” Panic spiked in my chest. “I… I guessed! It was the only one I got right on the whole test! Total luck.” Bianca, the girl sitting in front of us, turned around with a sneer. “You two are hopeless. Dumb and Dumber. You should just drop out and go to public school.” “Hey!” Chloe snapped. “We got into this school fair and square! And if I remember correctly, Harper’s entrance exam score was higher than yours!” Bianca laughed coldly. “That was years ago. Look at her now. She’s rotting at the bottom of the barrel.” Chloe opened her mouth to argue, but I grabbed her arm. “Chloe, stop. The teacher is looking.” 3 After school, Chloe tried again. “Harper, seriously, skip the games tonight. Let’s go to the library and fix our math grades.” Just then, Hailey walked by. She paused, looking at me with that perfect, practiced smile. “Heading to the library, Harper? I’m going too. Want to come?” I shook my head vigorously. “Nope. Going home to rank up in League. My grades are a lost cause anyway.” I walked away under Chloe’s disappointed gaze. It was a shame. I really wanted to explain those math concepts to Chloe. As soon as I stepped off campus, my phone buzzed. Contact: STEM God (Caleb) [You missed one question on the practice set yesterday. I’ll explain it tonight.] [Also, I heard you got an 8% on the school exam. What are you doing?] [Score control is an art, Harper, but single digits is just insulting.] I frowned, mentally replaying yesterday’s problem set. I couldn’t believe I missed one. I typed back quickly: [Meet at the usual spot.] Then, a follow-up: [I got an 8 because… don’t you think the number 8 looks cute? Like a little snowman?] Caleb: […] 4 At 6:00 PM, I arrived at a quiet café downtown. Caleb was already there, tucked in a corner booth. He looked up the second I walked in. “Do we have telepathy?” I teased, sliding into the seat opposite him. Caleb shook his head, his face serious. “No. I just didn’t know when you’d arrive, so I looked up every time the door opened.” I paused. Caleb was usually cold and aloof. It took me months of strategic flirting to get him to agree to tutor me. Hearing him say something so… human… was weird. He seemed to realize what he said and looked down at his books, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Let’s look at the problem,” he muttered. “This geometry proof. Your initial logic was sound, but your auxiliary line was wrong…” After reviewing the mistake, he pulled out a fresh practice test. “What did you actually get on that school exam?” he asked. “100%. Same as you,” I whispered. The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Good. Your logic is solid. But the SATs are different from our school’s specific curriculum. Try this set. It’s modeled after the AP exams.” I took the paper and started working. Ninety minutes later, I handed it back. Caleb nodded. “You’re getting faster.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388427”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My adoptive father is a supervillain. My adoptive mother is the evil queen bee. To ensure I never got bullied, they taught me every dirty trick in the book. I took the best of their teachings, discarded the rest, and smoothly villain-ed my way through life until college. Then, my biological parents showed up to claim me. They found me with rainbow-dyed hair, pinning a delinquent to the ground and slapping him silly. “Do you want to be a eunuch or my boyfriend?” I demanded. My biological mother almost fainted. “Where is my sweet, soft, fragrant daughter?!” 1 My parents raised me with one core belief: There are two people in this world I must destroy. So, while other kids were being cuddled and watching Peppa Pig, I was in the basement learning how to snap a neck. My childhood had no Barbie dolls. Only Krav Maga, Muay Thai, archery, and tactical espionage. “Mercy to the enemy,” my dad would say, “is cruelty to yourself.” I was three years old when my mom found me in the trunk of a car. That day, her Maserati got rear-ended. The other driver was a thug. Even though he caused the accident, he jumped out and started screaming, demanding ten grand in cash. My mom laughed. She called my dad. He arrived and dismantled the man’s joints like he was taking apart a Lego set. The thug collapsed like a sack of mud, passing out from the pain. Dad wiped the blood off his hands and turned to leave, but then he heard a whimper from the trunk. Inside, curled up in a ball, was a chubby little girl. That was me. Dad stared at me, his brow furrowed in annoyance. He wanted to leave me there. But Mom scooped me up. “My friends on Instagram post their daughters every day,” she mused. “If I had a daughter, she’d be prettier than all of theirs.” So, she took me home. She was right. Her socialite friends fawned over me. Until one day, a blind rich lady brought her bratty son over. The kid sneaked up and kissed me on the cheek. Mom’s smile vanished. That night, she taught me my first lesson. “Next time someone touches you without permission, use a fork to stab their eye.” Dad added, “Go for the throat, too.” The next day, that family disappeared from our social circle. Mom blocked every “momfluencer” on her feed. I was a difficult child. Picky eater, cried a lot, got sick easily. A total princess. Mom would yell, “Eat or starve!” and “Stop crying or I’ll throw you out!” Then she’d immediately call five-star chefs. “Candied apples? What is that? Will it kill a child? No? Fine, get me one too.” “Cotton candy? Ugh, childish… wait, actually, buy a machine.” Dad was even more ridiculous. If I cried, he’d pull out a knife and growl, “Stop or I’ll chop you up!” But if I didn’t stop, he’d panic and throw the knife out the window. Eventually, all sharp objects were banned from the house. Every corner was padded with foam. One day, he discovered that riding on his shoulders made me stop crying. So, every night, this cold-faced CEO would come home, change, and gallop around the living room with a three-year-old on his neck, shouting, “Giddy up! Giddy up!” Mom rolled her eyes from the sofa. “Psychos.” Two weeks later, she joined in. 2 When I was five, I had a fever of 104. I was delirious, too weak to cry, just whimpering in Mom’s arms. The doctor pulled out a needle. Mom exploded. “That needle is huge! Are you trying to kill her?! Will it leave a scar?! She has to wear a bikini someday!” Dad grabbed the doctor by the collar, his voice like liquid nitrogen. “If she dies, you die.” The doctor’s hand shook so hard he almost missed my vein. That night, I woke up to see Dad sitting by my bed, eyes red. He held my tiny hand and whispered, “If you die, Mom and I… we don’t want to live either.” I later learned he almost demolished the hospital. On my sixth birthday, I was kidnapped. The ransom was ten million. Dad listened to the call in silence, then went to the bank and withdrew ten million in cash. The kidnappers kept their word and released me. But during the exchange, a man in a skull mask slapped me. My cheek burned. Tears streamed down my face. In a split second, Dad’s hand was around the man’s throat. “Which hand?” he asked, his tone conversational. Before the kidnapper could answer, Dad pulled out a dagger and started filleting his palm like sashimi. Mom stood nearby applying lipstick. “Too loud,” she complained, glancing at the screaming man. She snapped her fingers. Four men in suits emerged from the shadows. A week later, that kidnapper was found in a pink tutu, dumped in a slum in Mumbai. After that, my bedtime stories changed. Peppa Pig was replaced by Gray’s Anatomy. Sailor Moon became The Anarchist Cookbook. Dad would sit by my bed and coo, “Annie, do you know where to hit someone so it hurts the most but leaves no mark?” He guided my finger to his ribs. “Here. The liver. A sharp punch causes shock, but only leaves a tiny red dot.” Mom was more direct. She gave me a chemistry set. “Red is cyanide, blue causes paralysis, white causes amnesia…” She pinched my cheek. “Girls need to know how to protect themselves.” When I started elementary school, they remembered their old nemesis. They decided to poison his prize-winning bonsai tree and steal his pets. Before I arrived, they lost every battle against this rival. Their win rate was zero. But after I came along, they became undefeated. Mom called me their lucky charm. Their nemesis was a couple named Henry and Sarah. They were Mom’s ex-fiancé and the woman he left her for. Before they got married, Henry fell for Sarah, a bartender. Mom, scorned, pushed them together out of spite. “Why do you hate them, Dad?” I asked. He sighed. “Sarah spilled a drink on me once. Henry thought I was trying to steal his girl and tried to bankrupt me.” I nodded, sharpening my knife. Sworn enemies it is. In school, a fat kid sat behind me and pulled my braids. Mom spent thirty minutes every morning braiding my hair with pearls, and he ruined it. I warned him three times. The fourth time, I grabbed my stainless steel thermos. WHACK. His front tooth flew across the room. He wailed, blood leaking through his fingers. I stood over him, clutching a handful of his hair. The teacher’s voice trembled when she called my parents. “Annie… she knocked his tooth out… and slammed his head…” Thirty minutes later, Dad’s helicopter landed on the playground. He jumped out in a suit, ignoring his assistant chasing him with contracts. “Scram! My daughter committed murder! I need to bury the body!” Mom burst into the office with a sheet mask still on her face. “Who bullied my baby?!” The teacher cowered. “Actually, it was your daughter who…” Dad inspected my knuckles. “Does your hand hurt?” Mom checked my palm. “Ugh, his hair is so greasy. It made your hand red!” The fat kid’s parents tried to yell, but Dad threw a Black Card on the desk. “Dentist, hair plugs, therapy. Put it on the card.” Then he narrowed his eyes. “But if I hear your son touched a single hair on her head again… next time he loses more than a tooth.” The next day, my desk was an island. The fat kid transferred. Mom hummed as she braided my hair. “If anyone messes this up again, we’ll use their bones as hairpins, okay?” I sipped my strawberry milk and nodded vigorously. In high school, I suddenly became a genius. I got first place in every subject. My parents stared at the report card like it was a bomb. Dad: “Is this a misprint?” Mom: “Did she cheat? Should we hire a hacker to check?” 3 That night, a Taoist priest danced around my bed with a wooden sword for an hour. “Strange! Her soul is intact! She hasn’t been possessed!” I ate a popsicle and listened to them argue in the study. Dad: “I failed every subject!” Mom: “I bought my degree!” Dad: “The teacher says she can get into Ivy League!” Mom: “Ivy League? Sounds like a gardening club.” To stop me from “going astray,” they tried to distract me. Mom: “Annie, have you seen that idol show? You’re way prettier than them…” Dad left a book on my desk: How to Use Paparazzi for Fame. They offered to fund a movie for me to star in. I responded by showing them my Gold Medal from the Physics Olympiad. Mom dropped her fork. When my acceptance letter from Stanford arrived, Dad’s hand shook. “My daughter… a scientist?” They threw a banquet at a five-star hotel. Mom toasted everyone, “Oh, we just let her play around, who knew she was smart…” then hid in the bathroom to kiss my acceptance letter until it was covered in lipstick marks. Near the end of the party, Dad pulled me aside. “Bad news. Henry’s adopted son… also got into Stanford.” Mom snapped a nail. “That brat Liam? The math prodigy?” I spun the butterfly knife Dad gave me as a graduation gift. “So?” Dad sighed. “Annie, stay away from him.” Mom agreed. “Yeah, that family is bad luck.” I smiled sweetly. “Okay.” Psych. Sins of the father, punishment of the son. I was going to make Liam kneel and apologize for his dad’s existence. 4 First day of college. My parents were supposed to drop me off. But at dawn, Dad’s phone exploded. “Boss! Henry intercepted our arms shipment in Southeast Asia!” Dad smashed a vase. “That dog!” Mom wasn’t doing better. She was buying my shoes when Sarah walked in and said, “I’ll take these.” Then she smiled at Mom. “Sorry, if you like them, I can buy them for you?” Mom sent me a voice note, screaming. “I need her charity?! That bitch! Annie, go to school yourself! Mama needs to go rip her mouth off!” I sighed. “Don’t break a nail.” I dragged my suitcase to the dorms alone. On a tree-lined path, I bumped into a tall, lean guy. White shirt, black pants, cold profile. Handsome as a painting. I narrowed my eyes. Liam. He looked up. Our eyes met. He nodded politely and walked away. Liam became the campus god on day one. The confession wall was flooded with his photos. Reading in the library, playing basketball, drinking water. Comments: [Three minutes, I need his info!] [Back off, he’s mine!] I scoffed and checked the basketball schedule. The next day, I showed up at the court with a bottle of ice water. The girls screamed as Liam scored a three-pointer. I walked up to him, smiling like an angel. “Water?” The water was spiked with double-dose laxatives. Liam wiped sweat from his forehead, revealing abs. He looked at the water, then at me, and smiled. “Thanks.” Then, he unscrewed the cap… And poured it over his head. The water cascaded down his face, neck, and chest, soaking his white shirt. The crowd gasped. The girls went wild. “Scheming bitch! Trying to seduce him!” I turned to them, smiling. “Yeah, I am. Are you here for charity?” I grabbed a Gatorade from a random girl and dumped it in the trash. “We’re all foxes here, stop acting like bunnies.” I winked at Liam, and while he stared, I poured a second bottle of laxative water onto his limited-edition sneakers. “Oops. Slippery hands.” I walked away.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388426”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

There was a rumor in school that I, the “campus belle,” was dating Liam, the school heartthrob. After denying it countless times with no success, I finally snapped at the gossipers: “Stop making things up! I hate him, okay?” From that day on, Liam never spoke to me again. Years later, he became the new tech king of the city, basking in success. Meanwhile, my family was drowning in debt, on the brink of bankruptcy. At our most desperate moment, Liam showed up at our door. He said he could save us. I asked him if there were any conditions. He refused to answer. He only said one thing: “Marry me.” After the wedding, we lived separate lives under the same roof. Our relationship was frozen at zero. I always thought Liam didn’t like me. Until the car accident. A split second before impact, he threw himself over me, shielding my body with his own. His voice choked with tears as he whispered in my ear: “Please… don’t hate me so much, okay?” 1 Liam died. He died in the fourth year of our marriage. He died in that sudden, horrific car crash. Before the car spun out of control, Liam wrenched the steering wheel to the left, using his own body as a shield for mine. That was the only reason I survived. A second before the collision, Liam covered my eyes. “Stella… please…” “Please don’t hate me so much, okay?” I didn’t have time to answer before my vision was washed in red. The violent impact knocked me unconscious. This memory replayed in my dreams countless times. I never thought a careless sentence I used to brush off a high school rumor would stay with him, haunting him for so many years. I wanted to tell Liam personally that I didn’t hate him. I had never hated him. But there were no more chances. He appeared in my dreams again and again. And died in my dreams again and again. It was a torture called regret, slicing me into pieces, driving me insane. 2 After I was discharged, the lawyer came to see me. I learned that Liam had made a will right after we got married. His billions in assets all went to me. I laughed at his stupidity. It was a business marriage. How did he dare? What if I was a gold digger plotting for his money? What then? This fool. He left himself no way out. Liam’s parents died early. But he had a nest of black-hearted relatives. When Liam was young, they kicked him around like a soccer ball, afraid he’d eat an extra grain of their rice. When he became successful, they swarmed like flies, claiming kinship every other day. Now, at the funeral, they were all wailing as if their hearts were broken. But not one of them was truly sad for Liam. They were all acting, using the title of “family” to try and grab a piece of his massive estate. I sat quietly, staring at the black coffin in the center of the hall. I couldn’t cry anymore. Rumors had long circulated in our circle that Liam and I had a bad relationship, living separate lives after marriage. Seeing my calm demeanor now, the mourners whispered among themselves. They said I was heartless. That I wouldn’t even put on a show. Liam’s photo still hung in the hall. In the photo, his eyes were gentle, a slight smile on his lips. Liam actually didn’t like to smile. It seemed like nothing in this world could make him truly happy. The last time I saw him smile like that was recently, on our wedding anniversary. I insisted on drinking with him. After three rounds, my face was flushed. I deliberately leaned into his arms, looking up to brush my lips against his chin. Actually, I wasn’t drunk at all. I was acting. I had to rely on alcohol to break down the barriers in my heart and test him in the most direct way possible. Liam was drunk too, his steps unsteady. After I kissed him, he turned red from his ears to his neck. But on the surface, he pretended to be calm. “Stella, you’re drunk. I’ll take you back to your room…” I took the opportunity to act wild. Like an octopus, I wrapped myself around him. Burning skin against burning skin. We were so close I could feel his breath. No one could resist that kind of tension. That night, it rained heavily. Inside and out, everything was wet. Our first time actually waited until the fourth year of our marriage. I didn’t expect a drunk Liam to be like that. Almost crazy. His large hands held me, imprisoning me tightly in his arms, as if I would disappear the moment he let go. “Stella… Stella…” “Don’t leave me…” “Don’t throw me away…” He kept calling my name. Hot tears fell on my shoulder. I bit my lip, unable to speak. I could only respond with a flurry of kisses. After that night, we both acted like we had amnesia. Neither of us dared to bring it up. All the madness seemed to be attributed to a drunken accident. Until a few days ago, when I found out I was pregnant. I wanted to tell him on his birthday. But Liam called me first, saying he wanted to take me out to celebrate. “Liam, I have something important to tell you.” In the car, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. For so long, we had carefully tested each other’s feelings, pretending not to understand, neither daring to cross the chasm between us first. I thought the arrival of this child would be the turning point in our relationship. “What is it?” Before I could say it, a truck lost control and flew out from the side road. In just a few seconds, I lost Liam and our child. I lived in pain and regret every moment. They were gone. Why was I still alive? 3 I left our marital home and moved into a small apartment under my name. Partly because Liam’s cheap relatives kept coming over, demanding money. I was tired of dealing with them and handed everything over to the lawyers. Partly because that villa was full of Liam’s traces. His slippers, his towel, his unfinished wine, his favorite magnolia tree… I was suffocating from the pervasive grief. The day after I moved out, Ethan knocked on my door. I knew my parents gave him the new address. Since the Tan family survived the crisis and business started booming again, Ethan began hovering around me. He was good at sucking up to my parents. He often brought expensive wine and rare calligraphy, making my parents beam with joy. They even said not having him as a son-in-law was the biggest regret of their lives. Whenever Liam and I visited home, we almost always saw Ethan. With my parents’ indulgence, Ethan dared to use his own chopsticks to put food in my bowl at the dinner table. And Liam sat right next to me. Lips pressed tight, not saying a word. Later, I often regretted not considering Liam’s feelings. Watching another man openly court his wife while his in-laws cheered him on. How painful that must have been for him. Liam was busy with work, often traveling all over the country. We lived apart for the first two years of our marriage. Later, I tried many times to find a chance to talk to him properly. Specifically to clarify my relationship with Ethan. But Liam always avoided me. Whenever I asked to talk, he had a business trip. Until the end, that paper window between us was never fully pierced. Right now, Ethan stood at my door. He even brought pastries from my favorite bakery. Cheap flattery. “Stella, just look back at me, okay? “I truly love you! I’ve loved you for years!” Listen to that. How sincere. Not long after I was discharged, my parents urged me to remarry. “Luckily you and Liam didn’t have much affection. Now that he’s gone, you won’t be stuck in grief. “We can see Ethan truly loves you. Don’t hang yourself on one tree.” How funny. When our family was on the verge of bankruptcy, my parents wanted me to marry into money to save them. They even suggested I be a mistress to an old man. When people are desperate, family affection goes out the window. I was just a chip for their comeback. Where was Ethan then? He watched from the sidelines, dodging us. He was afraid I’d drag him down with our misfortune because of our past friendship. The only one who extended a hand was Liam. I admit, when we first got married, I had no feelings for Liam. Although we were old classmates, we hadn’t been in touch for years. His sudden proposal seemed like a transaction to me. He helped the Tan family survive. I became his trophy wife, managing his household and social obligations. Mutual benefit. Naturally, it wasn’t worth pouring emotions into. But time proves everything. Liam never calculated or schemed against me. He gave me full access to his company’s most confidential information, trusting me completely. Once you’ve seen the ocean, no other water compares. How could I look at Ethan’s “sincerity,” mixed with endless calculations and weigh-ins? 4 I refused Ethan. My parents came over to scold me for being stupid, wasting my youth on a short-lived man. In their anger, they cursed Liam too. Calling him bad luck, delaying my life even after death. My suppressed emotions exploded. I smashed everything in the apartment. Then I went to the kitchen and grabbed a cleaver. I warned them: anyone who dared speak ill of Liam again, I’d take them down with me. Disheveled, hysterical. Like a madwoman. All these years, I had been gentle and rational in front of Liam. That was the me he liked. If he saw me like this now. He would despise me… My parents were scared to tears. “Is it necessary? “Didn’t you say you had no feelings for the boy? Are you abandoning your parents to defend him?!” They seemed to have forgotten how Liam sacrificed his own company’s vitality to save the Tan family. Forgotten that without Liam shielding me, I wouldn’t be alive. A few days ago, when Liam’s relatives caused a scene at the company, they wore the same faces. Throwing tantrums, cursing Liam for being heartless, giving money to outsiders while mistreating his own blood, spreading rumors about him online. They also forgot how much Liam helped them regardless of their past cruelty after he succeeded. Liam, do you see? When the tea cools, people leave. People in this world have no conscience. You really had a hard life.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388425”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I transmigrated into a horror survival game set in a high school. Unfortunately, I landed head-first and promptly lost my memory. Thinking I was still a struggling student in the real world, I threw myself into my studies. When I got stuck on a difficult problem, I poked my pale, gloomy desk mate and humbly asked: “This question is killer. Do you know how to solve it?” “How do you pronounce this obscure word?” “I’m screwed. If the teacher calls on me later, whisper the answer, okay?” My desk mate went from cold indifference to confusion, and finally, to obedient nodding. “Mhm.” “Okay.” “Whatever you say.” From that day on, the dungeon mission changed from [Find the Origin Heart] to [Rank in the Top 10 of the Class]. The other players, completely in the dark, had a mental breakdown: “Senior year! Top 10?! Just kill me now!” 1 [Congratulations! You have successfully entered the dungeon instance.] [Dungeon Name: Inferno High] [Description: Players must explore on their own.] [Player Count: 15] [Difficulty Warning! Energy instability detected. Current Difficulty: A-Rank.] [Identity: You are an ordinary Senior student. (Shhh… don’t let them find out you don’t belong.)] [Objective: Find the ‘Origin Heart’ of Inferno High.] [Penalty for Failure: Vitality -50. (Manifests as terminal illness in the real world.)] [BEEP! User consciousness not detected. System link malfunctioning…] “You’re awake? Any discomfort?” My head was buzzing like a broken radio. I thought I heard a weird robotic voice, but it was cut off by a gentle, concerned female voice. I opened my eyes. White coat. Blue curtains. The smell of antiseptic. Hospital? Wait, when did I get sick? My head felt heavy and swollen. I looked up, confused. “Where am I…” The doctor leaned in. She was stunningly beautiful, but she stared at me with a tilted head for a few seconds too long. Suddenly, her bright red lips stretched into an exaggerated, almost unnatural smile. “The nurse’s office. You fell down the stairs and landed on the back of your head.” “Luckily, another student broke your fall, so you didn’t crack your skull open. Do you feel dizzy or nauseous?” I fell? I touched the back of my head. “Ow!” A sharp pain shot through my skull. I looked down at the school uniform I was wearing. “Not dizzy, just hurts. But… Nurse? Am I…” Why does this feel wrong? I have a vague memory of wearing a waitress uniform and working a shift… Was I working part-time after school? “What is it?” The nurse shoved her hands into her pockets, her smile widening just a fraction more. It looked… predatory. I stared at her pretty face, swallowed my doubts, and shook my head. “Nothing. Do I need to go back to class?” Let’s not ask stupid questions. Maybe I’m just dreaming. She seemed almost disappointed she didn’t get to say more. “Yes. Your homeroom teacher will be here shortly to pick you up.” “Be careful on the stairs next time. You might not be so lucky.” I tugged awkwardly at my uniform and gave a shy smile. “Okay. Thanks.” 2 A few minutes later, just as the nurse said, a middle-aged woman in a severe black skirt suit walked in. She wore thick black-rimmed glasses, her expression stern, her eyes flashing with a cold, sharp light. She didn’t ask how I was. She just dropped a cold command: “If you’re not dead, come back to class.” She turned and marched out without waiting for a reply. I scrambled off the bed, waved goodbye to the nurse, and trotted after her. She walked with a terrifying speed. She looked exactly like the type of teacher students would nickname “The Terminator.” Wait. Student days? Why am I thinking like that? I am a student. I rubbed my temple. My brain must really be scrambled from the fall. “We’re here. Go in.” Standing at the classroom door, the teacher stepped aside. Inside, thirty pairs of eyes swiveled toward me in unison. Their gazes were intense, burning. I froze in the doorway. Uh oh. My social anxiety is flaring up. Afraid of being stared at for too long, I quickly scanned the room. There was an empty desk in the back left corner. That must be mine. I rushed over, sat down, and saw English vocabulary words on the blackboard. Instinctively, I pulled an English textbook from under the desk and grabbed a pen. The atmosphere in the class was weirdly tense. The teacher kept firing questions, and the students who couldn’t answer stammered and shook like leaves. Finally, the bell rang. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I hadn’t been called on. But there was a grammar point I still didn’t get. The teacher had already stormed out. What if she quizzes me on it next period? I looked around. The other students were chattering loudly now, but none of them looked approachable. I slowly turned my head to look at my desk mate. He was pale, almost sickly so. He hadn’t made a sound the entire class. He sat there, quiet, introverted, serious. He looked smart. “Hi… Silas?” I read the name written neatly on his notebook. Hearing my voice, Silas tilted his head slightly. Black bangs covered his eyes. His skin was a translucent white with hints of blue veins. Even with his eyes hidden, I could tell from his high nose bridge and sharp jawline that he was handsome. “Um, the teacher was talking about non-finite verbs as modifiers earlier. I didn’t quite catch it.” “Did you get it? Could you explain it to me?” “Sorry to bother you. It’s not that I wasn’t listening, it’s just… my head is still spinning.” I put on my best pleading face. Silas stared at me for a long time. Just when I thought he was going to ignore me, his bangs shifted. He gave a barely perceptible nod. “Mhm.” I happily shoved my textbook toward him. “Thanks! You’re a lifesaver!” “Non-finite verbs…” His voice was clear and cold, like water running over stones in a dark cave. It had a raspy quality, like he hadn’t used it in years. Wow. Even his voice is handsome. I shook off the thought and focused on his explanation. 3 Riiiiiing— Just as I was getting lost in Silas’s nice voice and English grammar, the bell rang again. “Welcome our 15 transfer students,” the homeroom teacher announced from the podium. “Everyone, take care of the new classmates.” Shadows filed in through the front door, squeezing onto the platform. Strange. She said 15, but I only counted 14. And they looked… old. Some of the guys had five o’clock shadows. One woman looked exhausted, another had heavy makeup. They looked old enough to be my parents. Held back a few years? Or expelled from other schools for being delinquents? Curious, I poked Silas’s hand and whispered, “They look really mature, don’t they?” “Is our class’s average GPA really bad? Is that why they sent them here?” Silas didn’t answer my question. He just dropped a cold, emotionless reminder: “This is Math class.” Those four words hit me like a bucket of ice water. Math! I’m doomed. I suck at Math! And Silas said earlier that Math is taught by “The Terminator” herself! I immediately buried my head in my book, mimicking Silas’s strategy of becoming invisible. Please, please don’t call on me! Just in case, I grabbed my pen and started frantically reviewing formulas, completely oblivious to the terror spreading through the room. 4 The 14 players who had successfully entered “Inferno High” dragged their desks into the classroom. They were more cautious than ever. The penalty for failure was -50 Vitality. You only start with 100. Failing meant losing half your life force. Plus, the system warned of unstable energy. The difficulty could spike to S-Rank at any moment. And worst of all, the system said 15 players. Only 14 stood here. The veterans exchanged glances. The 15th player was likely already dead. Spawn-killed. Mark, a veteran player, sat down and observed. Usually, players were split among classes. This time, everyone was in Class 3. This meant the Boss or the Key Item was right here. And the mission said “Roleplay.” If they broke character, they might be devoured by the NPCs. “John Smith. You answer. What is the value range for the volume of this rectangular pyramid?” The teacher—a ghoul disguised as a human—slapped a ruler against the board. John, a new player, stood up, his legs shaking violently. “I… I… the v-value is… is…” Smack! The ruler hit the podium. The teacher’s eyes bled red. “Can’t calculate?” “Then your brain is useless.” She didn’t bother hiding it. Her hair shot out like black arrows, piercing John’s skull. Blood sprayed. His headless body slumped into the chair. It took less than five seconds. Mark didn’t even have time to pull out a defensive item. The NPC students acted like nothing happened. The class monitor—another ghoul—dragged the body out with the help of two others. The room fell deathly silent. The teacher scanned the room. The players held their breath. “Lina. You answer. What is the value range?” In the back corner, a girl with a ponytail stood up slowly. She looked obedient, maybe a little dazed. “Mumble… mumble…” Her voice was too quiet. The teacher frowned, pushing up her glasses. “How much?” The girl straightened up, suddenly confident. “Twenty-seven over four to sixty-four over three.” Mark’s eyes widened. Damn, sister. You actually solved it? Is she a player? An NPC? She wasn’t at the gathering point. Just as he was wondering, the teacher’s face turned pale. She smiled weakly. “Correct. Sit down.” The suffocating pressure in the room vanished. The math class continued as normal, minus one head.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388424”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

At 2:00 AM, our Student Rep, Brad, tagged me in the class GroupMe. [Student ID ending in 0089 must report for the 800-meter fitness assessment. Absence will result in an automatic failure.] I woke up instantly. Yesterday, the lottery had picked my roommate, Tiffany. How did the number suddenly change to mine overnight? I told Brad I had just been discharged from the hospital and couldn’t run half a mile. He accused me of slacking off. “The lottery picked you. If you don’t show up, enjoy the disciplinary mark on your permanent record.” So, on the day of the test, I showed up. I ran ten seconds, foamed at the mouth, and collapsed with a deafening thud right in front of the State Senator who was visiting campus. The next day, Brad, the Dean, and the entire administration were in a total panic. 1 At 2:00 AM, the vibration of my phone jolted me awake. It was a notification from the class GroupMe. Brad, our Student Rep, had tagged me. I rubbed my eyes, reading the message twice in disbelief. [Student ID ending in 0089, report to the track at 2 PM sharp for the mandatory physical assessment. Attendance is non-negotiable.] I stared at the screen. 0089. That was me. But I vividly remembered the lottery results from yesterday. The ID selected was 0088. That belonged to Tiffany, my roommate and the class Social Chair. How did the number shift by one digit overnight? I scrolled up to check yesterday’s logs. Conveniently, all messages regarding the lottery had been deleted by an admin. Only the new notification remained. Run an 800-meter dash? Absolutely not. Two days ago, I had an emergency appendectomy. The doctor explicitly told me: No strenuous exercise. Asking me to run 800 meters wasn’t a test; it was a beautifully orchestrated attempt at manslaughter. I didn’t want Brad to go to jail for murder, so I messaged him privately. [Brad, I literally just got out of surgery for my appendix. I can’t run. Please redraw the name.] Seconds later, Brad posted a new announcement in the main chat, using a pinned message so everyone would see. [The list has already been submitted to the Dean’s office. No substitutions. No exceptions.] Then, he replied to my DM: [The lottery picked you. Stop making excuses. If you aren’t there, I’m reporting you for truancy.] My grip on the phone tightened. I turned to the other bed in my dorm. Tiffany was awake, scrolling on her phone. “Tiffany,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “Yesterday, you were the one picked for the run. Did Brad make a mistake?” 2 Tiffany didn’t even look up from applying her lip gloss. “There’s no mistake. It was always you. Just run fast and don’t embarrass our class, okay?” I looked at my other two roommates. They avoided my eyes. “Yeah, Sarah, it was you yesterday. Just suck it up.” “If you skip, you’ll get a disciplinary strike. You know how hard those are to expunge. Just jog it.” I almost laughed out loud. Asking a girl with fresh stitches in her abdomen to run half a mile? This wasn’t a mistake. This was a setup. Brad and Tiffany were dating. He was obviously swapping the numbers to save his girlfriend from sweating, expecting me to just eat the loss. Well, I wasn’t going to play nice. 3 Early the next morning, I went straight to our Academic Advisor, Ms. Perkins. I explained that I was post-op and couldn’t run. Ms. Perkins didn’t even look at my paperwork. She just sighed, annoyed. “Sarah, Brad already briefed me. The lottery is fair and random. You refusing to participate shows a lack of school spirit.” “If our class fails the participation metric because of you, it affects the whole department’s funding. Do not be selfish.” “And don’t try to fake sick. Do you know how many students claim they have ‘appendicitis’ before the fitness test? It’s a cliché.” I slammed my hospital discharge papers and the bill onto her desk. “Is a bill for $15,000 a cliché, Ms. Perkins?” She glanced at it and waved her hand dismissively. “I’ve seen Photoshop before. The school takes this test seriously. Unless you have a note from the Surgeon General himself, you are running.” My blood pressure skyrocketed. Normally, getting a medical exemption requires a bureaucratic nightmare of paperwork that takes weeks. I had gone to the ER off-campus. She was walling me off. Since the official route was blocked, I went to the battlefield: the GroupMe chat. [ @Brad : There is no record of the drawing in the chat. Did you perform this ‘lottery’ in your dreams?] Two minutes later, Brad posted a photo. It was a wrinkled piece of paper with “0089” scribbled on it in sharpie. It proved nothing. He could have written it five seconds ago. [Random selection. Fair and square. If anyone has a problem, DM me.] Tiffany immediately chimed in: [This is a chance to show our class pride! Everyone needs to cooperate with the Student Reps.] “Cooperate?” I laughed. At the start of the semester, Brad and Tiffany skipped a mandatory lecture to go on a date, forgetting to submit our class’s group project. The professor failed the whole class on that assignment. Brad had given a tearful apology then, promising to “do better.” I guess “better” meant forging documents. I opened the Google Sheet where the class roster was stored. It was shared with everyone. I checked the “Version History.” I took a screenshot of the edit made at 2:03 AM and posted it to the group. [Brad, yesterday the selected ID was 0088—Tiffany. Why did the spreadsheet get edited at 2 AM to change it to 0089?] [Does Excel have a mind of its own now?] Brad didn’t panic. He replied instantly: [Tiffany has been working tirelessly organizing the Fall Formal. As Student Rep, I used my discretion to rotate the duty to the next person on the list to prevent burnout.] Working tirelessly? Yesterday, Tiffany posted twenty Instagram stories of herself kayaking at the lake. I screenshotted her Instagram and dropped it in the chat. [Kayaking all day looks exhausting. Glad she has the energy to type in the chat, though.] The group went silent. Tiffany, humiliated, finally snapped in the chat: [The list is finalized! It cannot be changed! If you don’t show up, it’s on you!] 4 At 1:00 PM, Ms. Perkins called me into her office again. She adjusted her glasses, looking at me with pure disdain. “You students are so fragile. ‘Snowflakes,’ as they say. This test is critical. If you had an issue, you should have said something before the list was submitted to the Dean.” “I tried,” I said. “Brad changed it overnight.” She rolled her eyes. “You need to learn to support your leaders. Go get ready.” She grabbed her purse and trotted out. Everyone knows the 800-meter run is the worst. Nobody wants to do it. If I managed to get out of it now, someone else would have to be picked last minute. Brad had set me up so that if I quit, the class would hate me. I walked back to my dorm. I turned off the lights and climbed into bed. Who cares about the 800 meters? Let the class score a zero. If I fail, I’m the only one in trouble. If the class fails, the Advisor loses her bonus. Let them burn.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388423”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was reborn on the day my fiancée embezzled company funds to buy a lavish gift for her “first love.” In my past life, I bankrupted myself to fill the hole she dug. This time, I didn’t. Instead, I quietly handed the evidence over to the police. During the week she was held for investigation, I broke off our engagement and vanished from her world completely. In my previous life, I spent thirty years giving her everything. In return, she never smiled at me once. She accused me of trapping her into motherhood and tried to hurt our innocent daughter multiple times. When the earthquake hit, I held up a slab of concrete to save them, crushing myself in the process. After they were rescued, she stopped the emergency team from searching for me. My daughter, whom I cherished like a pearl for twenty years, called him “Dad.” “If you hadn’t used money to force Mom to marry you, our family would have been together years ago!” And my wife, Clara, threw herself into his arms, weeping tears of joy. “Finally. We can be together openly.” So, given a second chance, I decided to grant their wish. 1 “Caleb, do you have any cash right now? Can you transfer me $500,000? Consider it an advance on the wedding costs!” The familiar, frantic voice on the phone snapped me awake. In my last life, when I hesitated, Clara stole the money from her company accounts. When she got caught, she cried and begged me to save her. I couldn’t bear to see her go to prison so young. I emptied my savings, sold my assets, and even borrowed from loan sharks to pay it back. Only later did I find out she hadn’t taken the money for a family emergency. She took it to buy a luxury watch for her high school sweetheart, Travis, just to show off. This time, I wasn’t going to be the fool. I hung up the phone. Then, I called her company’s HR department and tipped them off about the missing funds. Sure enough, the next day, Clara was taken away by the police for embezzlement. A colleague at my office looked at me cautiously. “Caleb, I heard from the boss that if Clara pays back the money, they won’t press charges. She’s your fiancée… are you going to help her? If not, she’s looking at prison time.” I shook my head, my face a mask of regret. “I want to, but I’m powerless. Half a million isn’t a small amount. Even if I sold both my kidneys, I couldn’t come up with that much cash.” My colleague nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, that’s true.” After he left, memories of my past life flooded back. I had destroyed my financial future to save her. Her parents were so grateful they pushed up the wedding date. But Clara? She believed I had orchestrated the whole thing to force her into marriage. To get revenge, she carried on an affair with Travis behind my back for decades. She even had a daughter with him—a daughter I raised as my own, loved with all my heart. And that same daughter was the one who told the rescue workers to stop looking for me. She stood there and said, “He used money to separate my mom and dad. He’s the reason we couldn’t be a family. He deserves to die.” My beloved wife didn’t correct her. Instead, she joined in. “Caleb, if you hadn’t emotionally blackmailed me, I never would have married you. The only man I ever loved was Travis.” “I never forced you to help me back then. Even without you, Travis would have saved me.” “Do you know why I hated being close to you? Every touch made me sick. You stole thirty years of my life. Now, my daughter and I just want to be with Travis.” Then they walked away, arm in arm with him, a perfect, happy family. I lay under the rubble, filled with rage, despair, and grief, until my heart gave out before help arrived. Thank god fate gave me a do-over. This time, I absolutely would not lift a finger. I wasn’t going to be the doormat. I wanted to see if Travis would actually save her, like she claimed. 2 During the few days Clara was in detention, she tried to call me constantly. I ignored every call. So, she shamelessly contacted my parents. “Clara said she just made a mistake in judgment. She invested the money hoping to make a profit for your future together.” “Caleb, you’re going to be husband and wife. You need to share the burdens. If you can help, help her. Your dad and I have some savings…” I cut my mother off. “Mom, Clara is lying to you. She stole that money for another man.” I told her everything. My mother was silent for a long time. “But… we watched Clara grow up. Could there be a misunderstanding?” “No misunderstanding, Mom. Don’t worry about it.” After hanging up, I booked a month-long cruise for my parents. If they weren’t here, they wouldn’t be caught in the middle of this mess. I didn’t expect to see Clara again so soon. Apparently, she signed an agreement with her company promising to repay the funds within two weeks, so they temporarily dropped the charges. I ran into her at a mutual friend’s gathering. Everyone avoided the topic, but the looks they gave us were awkward. I didn’t care. But when I met Clara’s gaze, filled with pure hatred, a chill went down my spine. My gut told me: She was reborn, too. Just as the conversation picked up, the door to the private room was kicked open. Travis stormed in, glaring at me. “Caleb! Are you even a man? Your fiancée was locked up, and you didn’t even visit her!” “It’s a good thing you aren’t married yet, or you would have ruined her life!” I glanced at the furious man, then at Clara. Her eyes lit up when she saw him. The tenderness in her gaze was undeniable. In thirty years of marriage, she never looked at me like that. Sure, she would pretend when she needed something. Like when she begged me to let Travis stay in my rental property for free. Or when she asked for our savings to fund his “startup.” Or when she asked me to donate part of my liver to him. Her love for him was never hidden. I just chose not to see it. I thought if I was good enough to her, she would eventually love me back. I forgot that you can’t warm a heart made of stone. My silence infuriated Travis. He grabbed my collar. “Did you hear me?!” “Clara is your fiancée! Are you really going to watch her go to jail? Are you human?” The room started whispering. “Caleb usually seems so devoted. I can’t believe he vanished the second she got in trouble.” “Husband and wife are birds of a feather, but they fly apart when disaster strikes.” I finally understood why Travis was here. He and Clara were using public pressure to force me to pay. Unfortunately for them, the reborn Caleb didn’t give a damn about public opinion. I shoved Travis away. My voice was ice cold. “You seem a lot more worried than I am. Which makes sense, considering my fiancée embezzled that money to buy you a gift.” 3 The room went dead silent. Every eye turned to Clara and Travis. Clara’s face cycled through several colors. She looked at me with open disgust. “You knew.” I looked at her calmly. “If I didn’t know, were you planning to trick me into paying it back?” In my past life, I didn’t find out the truth until after the wedding. Travis had shown up at our new house, slipping a diamond ring onto Clara’s finger right in front of me. “Caleb, you don’t mind, do you? Since you technically paid for it.” That was when I learned her “investment” story was a lie. My parents and I had sold everything to pay for a ring for another man. When I confronted her, she said it was the price I had to pay for separating them. Fine. This time, I wish them a lifetime of togetherness. I thought exposing the truth would shut them up. Instead, Travis pointed a finger in my face. “Caleb, you’re scum!” “Clara only bought that stuff because you said you liked it! She wanted it for your wedding bands!” “Now that she’s in trouble, you’re trying to pin it on us to save yourself?” Clara looked at me with teary, accusatory eyes. I knew I never said I liked any ring. But our friends didn’t know that. Their gazes shifted. “Caleb always seemed like a nice guy… I can’t believe he’s this shady.” “Poor Clara. Stuck with a guy like that.” “Clara, we’ve known you for years. We believe you.” “Break up with him, girl. He’s trash.” Everyone was comforting her. Clara thanked them, sobbing. In that moment, I was the villain. The betrayer. The scumbag. But in my last life, I cherished her for thirty years. What did I do wrong? Why did I deserve that ending? I collected myself. I ignored their performance. Real friends wouldn’t doubt me based on a few lies. The ones who did weren’t worth keeping. Seeing I wasn’t cracking, Travis got desperate. As I lifted my glass of juice, he slapped it out of my hand. It shattered on the floor. “Caleb! You ruined Clara’s life, and you’re sitting here drinking juice?!” I was tired. I looked up at him. “Clara stole money for you. The auction items went to you. How did I ruin her?” Travis sneered. “If you didn’t want the rings, we never would have gone to the auction!” “And those items are in your house, not mine!” “You claim you love her, but you’re throwing her to the wolves. Aren’t you afraid of karma?” Clara stood up and slapped me. Hard. “Caleb, I am so disappointed in you. The engagement is off!” Her friends jumped in. “Breaking up isn’t enough, Caleb. You caused this mess, you have to fix it.” “Yeah, if the items are yours, how can you let a woman pay for them? Don’t be a leech.” “If she goes to jail, how will you live with yourself?” I ran my tongue over my stinging cheek. I looked up and met Clara’s triumphant gaze. She thought having a crowd meant she won? I turned on the TV in the room and connected my phone. A video started playing. It was security footage from the auction house parking lot. Clara and Travis walking out, arm in arm. “Travis, are you happy tonight?” “Happy. But Clara… how are you going to pay back the company?” “Don’t worry. I have Caleb. He’s an idiot. I’ll cry a little, beg a little, and he’ll find a way to get the money.” “Clara, you’re so good to me…” They kissed. Passionately. Clara’s face went white. I smirked. “I accept your proposal to break off the engagement. After all, I don’t want to be an idiot.” I turned and walked out. 4 The first thing I did after waking up in this timeline was secure that footage. It cost me a favor, but it was worth it. I left the silent room behind. The video was damning. The friends who had defended her looked sick. Someone laughed bitterly. “So we aren’t friends, we’re just tools?” “Looks like Caleb wasn’t the only idiot.” “Clara, maybe spend less time plotting and more time figuring out how to stay out of prison.” They left, one by one. Only Clara and Travis remained. Clara’s eyes were red with hate. Travis looked panicked. I texted both our parents, informing them the engagement was off. I didn’t do it in person because I knew Clara’s parents would never approve of Travis. Travis was an orphan with no job, living off Clara. Now Clara was half a million in debt. Even if she sold the items—which had been bought at a huge markup—she’d only recoup half. The rest would bankrupt her parents. Without money, their “true love” would crumble. In my past life, she resented me because she thought they could live on love alone. So this time, I stepped aside. Let them try. Clara was frantically trying to sell the luxury goods, but lowball offers were making her and Travis fight constantly. She didn’t come to me. But her parents did. “Caleb, we know Clara made a mistake. We apologize on her behalf.” “She was just confused. Can you forgive her this once?” They looked ten years older. To be fair, her parents had always treated me like a son. “Uncle, Auntie, I can’t accept your apology. Clara didn’t make a mistake; she just doesn’t love me.” “Forcing us together will only make us miserable.” Clara’s mom wept, grabbing my hand. “But Caleb, you’ve always loved her! And she likes you too, she just doesn’t realize it yet!” I gently pulled my hand away. “Auntie, I did love her. But once I knew her heart belonged to someone else, I let go.” “I grew up with her. I just want her to be happy.” Her father sighed. “Forget it. They aren’t meant to be. Let’s go.” I drove them home. Just as I was leaving, Clara and Travis arrived, holding hands. Seeing me, Clara’s face froze. She rushed over and shoved me away from her door. “What are you doing here? Here to laugh at me?” “Or did you regret it and come to suck up to my parents?” Looking at her, I felt nothing. No anger, no love. Just… pity.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388422”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I saw a post online that stopped me in my tracks. “My wife is obsessed with me and she hasn’t done anything wrong, but she’s useless to me now. How can I make her leave the marriage with absolutely nothing? Advice needed!” Someone in the comments called him heartless. The original poster replied: “Marriage is a business transaction. I didn’t make her disappear. That’s already my greatest kindness!” I froze. The wife in the post sounded exactly like me. While he was in the shower, I secretly checked his phone. The post was his. I wiped his leather shoes meticulously, not shedding a single tear. But when I thought of my daughter, I coughed up a mouthful of blood. 1 I dated Ethan for four years and have been married to him for sixteen. Looking in the mirror, my hair is thinning, my figure is bloated. I look sixty, not forty. All these years, I supported my husband and raised our child, managing every detail of the household. My black hair turned gray; my smooth face became haggard. Our child is still in high school, yet he wants me to leave with nothing. I quietly wiped the blood from my hand and continued polishing his shoes. Ethan’s voice echoed from the bathroom: “Hey, get me some underwear!” I don’t know when it started, but he stopped calling me by my name or even “honey.” I quickly grabbed a pair of silk boxers for him. Ethan is extremely picky about what touches his skin. Most of his underwear is made of expensive silk. Meanwhile, I wear the cheapest clearance rack clothes I can find. Ethan dried his hair as he gave me orders: “Clean up the bathroom!” The bathroom was a disaster, as always. His dirty clothes were balled up in the sink. A sock and his old underwear were on the floor. The toilet wasn’t flushed, and the stench of urine hung in the air, with droplets on the seat. I have a sensitive nose and I’m a neat freak. “Can you flush the toilet next time?” “What’s the big deal? I give you so much money every month, you can’t do this one thing?” He gives me $500 a month. Just enough for groceries and basic utilities. Yet he acts like a king at home, throwing things everywhere, expecting me to clean up after him. I developed frozen shoulder, mastitis, and chronic stomach pain. Whenever I felt sick and wanted to see a doctor, he frowned: “You’re so dramatic. You do nothing at home but still manage to get sick!” So I endured the pain. No doctors, no medicine. This time, the pain was unbearable. I secretly went to the hospital for a checkup. It was breast cancer. Ethan didn’t know any of this. Right now, he was lying on the sofa playing on his phone, smiling ear to ear. “Ethan, do you remember the promise you made me years ago?” Ethan’s smile vanished, his voice icy: “You’re old enough to stop dreaming. Are you annoying or what?” I glanced at his screen. He had just tipped a pretty livestreamer $1,000. I lowered my eyes. “You said when our daughter started high school, you’d buy me health insurance. Can I have some money for that?” He looked disgusted. “Back payments for insurance would cost at least $20,000. I need money for stocks right now. Where would I get extra cash?” “Then… can we buy a cochlear implant? So our daughter can do speech therapy…” Our daughter lost her hearing as a child. If she gets speech therapy soon, she might have a chance to speak again. I didn’t expect him to buy me insurance. But I thought since he rejected me once, he wouldn’t have the heart to do it twice. But he rejected me again: “Enough! Stop bothering me! Go cook!” I clenched my fists. Ethan, you are so cruel. How can I trust you with our daughter? With a hardened heart and trembling hands, I crushed the sleeping pills I had prepared and mixed them into his takeout dinner. He scolded me for wasting money on takeout. I whispered an excuse about looking for a job and not having time to cook. He scoffed, burying his face in the food. “You haven’t worked in sixteen years, and you think you can do accounting? Keep dreaming! Cleaner, nanny, security guard—if you find one of the ‘Three Lows,’ you should thank God!” “And if you do find a job, I’m cutting the household allowance! I’ve supported you for years…” He kept rambling, grease on his lips, rice spraying onto the table. After eating, he sprawled on the sofa, rubbing his belly, leaving the mess for me. Suddenly, I felt sick. “The $500 you give me is barely enough for food! For a highly educated nanny who works 24/7 with no holidays, do you think $500 is enough? Why do you take it for granted that I clean up your mess?” “Jade, did you take the wrong meds today? Believe it or not, I’ll stop giving you a cent starting now!” I rolled my eyes and pretended to be distracted. Soon, the smell of burning fabric filled the room. I burned a huge hole in his silk shirt. He jumped up in anger: “Dammit! Can you do anything right? I needed that for the company annual meeting tomorrow!” I quickly apologized. He cursed, calling me a “useless woman,” and stormed back to the bedroom. 2 Thanks to the sleeping pills, Ethan slept like the dead that night. I used his fingerprint to unlock his phone. He was cheating, of course. With his secretary, sixteen years his junior. They said goodnight every evening. He called her “Baby,” she called him “Darling.” His monthly business trips were actually vacations with her, paid for by the company. He bought her expensive jewelry, Hermès bags, Chanel cosmetics… Every item was worth a fortune. And me, his wife? Besides my wedding ring, I didn’t own a single piece of jewelry. Whenever I envied other women for looking nice, he always said: “You stay at home all day. Who are you dressing up for?” I’m not afraid of hardship, but to be deceived and looked down on like this for years… Even worse, that woman was pregnant with his child. The day he took her for an ultrasound, I went to the hospital alone for my checkup. He cheered because she was carrying a boy. I walked ten miles home, crying in terror after my cancer diagnosis. But there was more. Ethan had been transferring assets for years. He moved money to third-party accounts—tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands. It added up to over a million dollars. How could he cry poverty and refuse to buy a $30,000 cochlear implant for his daughter? I couldn’t stand living with him anymore. That night, I pretended I found a job that required travel and moved out. In reality, I rented a cheap room in a rundown part of town. Before leaving, I secretly installed cameras in the house. Ethan probably thought I wouldn’t leave because I had no savings. But he didn’t know I had a mother who loved me with all her heart. Before she passed, she left me a nest egg: “Jade, this is my life savings. Don’t tell anyone. Unless you have no other choice, don’t touch this money!” In 2004, my mother passed away, leaving me $20,000. That money was my lifeline now. In college, I was a top student in Financial Management and a certified CPA. If I hadn’t quit to become a full-time mom, I would be a senior partner by now. No use dwelling on the past! Getting back into finance now would be incredibly hard. My daughter is deaf and mute. I need to leave her enough money so she never has to worry. I delivered food and worked odd manual labor jobs while waiting for an opportunity. It took a month to finally get an interview at an accounting firm. 3 To seize this chance, I spent my days reviewing accounting principles. During lunch, I watched the home security feed while I ate. Since I moved out, Ethan brought that woman home constantly. Sometimes their passion ignited right in the living room. What infuriated me most was that my daughter, home for the weekend, walked in on them. Ethan only yelled at her, not even noticing her bruised face. Or maybe he noticed and just didn’t care. My daughter left the house in anger. The two continued their intimate chat. “You’re reluctant to divorce your wife because she treats you well?” “She’s sick all the time. She’s useless to me now. Don’t worry, I can get rid of her with a few thousand bucks!” “What about your daughter? Is she still going to college?” Ethan frowned. “She’s deaf and mute. What future does she have in school? Getting her married off early is the real priority!” The woman sat up straight. “I have a nephew. His family is quite wealthy, though he’s a bit… slow. He’d be a good match for your daughter. Should we set them up?” Your idiot nephew is a good match for you, why don’t you try him? I was shaking with rage. I thought Ethan would be angry, but he said, “Once we’re married, you can arrange her marriage however you see fit.” They laughed and rolled around on the sofa. I went cold all over. My hands shook so hard I dropped my book. Panic drowned me. If I die, will my daughter’s fate be left in the hands of this adulterous couple? I rushed to my daughter’s school. The teacher said she hadn’t been in class for two days. Her grandmother picked her up. That meant the day after she caught Ethan cheating, my mother-in-law took her. My heart was on fire. I immediately took leave and headed to Ethan’s hometown. When I arrived at the village, the sun was setting, casting a blood-red glow over everything. Before I even reached the door, I heard my mother-in-law bragging loudly: “My granddaughter is deaf and mute, but she’s pretty! Don’t look at her mom now, she used to be the school beauty! Very pretty!” Surrounded by compliments, she got even smugger: “My son is even more impressive now. He’s about to marry the Chairman’s daughter! That girl introduced a suitor for my granddaughter. The boy is a bit slow, but his family owns a big factory! Once Lily marries him, our family will really be moving up…” Blood rushed to my head. I slammed the door open. My mother-in-law was playing mahjong with three other old women. Seeing me, her eyes went wide, mouth agape. “Why are you back?” “Where is Lily? Where is my daughter?” From an inner room came frantic banging and muffled cries. It was Lily! I rushed forward, but my mother-in-law blocked me. “What are you doing? You can’t just barge into my house!” I shoved her aside and opened the door. In the woodshed, Lily was handcuffed and shackled. Her hair was matted, eyes swollen. She looked at me, crying for help. My mother-in-law hurriedly explained: “Ethan found her such a good husband, but she wouldn’t listen! She insisted on going back to school. I had to lock her up so she would agree to the match…” Slap! I hit her across the face. “You old witch! This is kidnapping!” She clutched her red cheek. “What kidnapping? Watch your mouth! Do you know how rich that family is? Does a deaf-mute girl deserve such a good family?” Slap! I hit her again. “Old witch! Who caused Lily to be deaf and mute? You have the nerve to despise her?” When Lily was two, she had a high fever. My mother-in-law, favoring boys over girls, refused to take her to a doctor and fed her “holy water” instead. By the time I found out, the fever had burned out her eardrums. She was deaf. That was the pain and regret of my life. That year, to take better care of Lily, I quit my high-paying job to become a stay-at-home mom. After all these years, this old witch didn’t feel guilty. Instead, she despised Lily for her disability. My mother-in-law had tears in her eyes, wailing: “Help! Help! My unfilial daughter-in-law is beating me!” “Who is your daughter-in-law? Didn’t you just brag that Ethan is marrying the Chairman’s daughter? Old witch, I’ve already called the police. You kidnapped Lily. Get ready for prison!” She kept babbling: “You can’t lay eggs, you can’t make money, and you dare hit me! When Ethan divorces you, go beg on the streets!” I finally understood why the Goddess of Mercy has a thousand hands. Two hands weren’t enough to slap her. Suppressing my rage, I pulled Lily out of that hellhole. At that moment, I was almost glad she couldn’t hear. She didn’t have to listen to the filth. It took a week for Lily to recover. During that time, I thought a lot. Ethan, I planned to wait until Lily finished high school to divorce you. But I can’t wait anymore. I won’t let my daughter be hurt again. 4 The next day, I filed for divorce, submitting evidence of Ethan’s infidelity and asset transfers. After his assets were frozen, Ethan found me. “Jade, who gave you the guts to divorce me? Withdraw the suit immediately! Or I won’t pay a cent for our daughter’s tuition or living expenses!” If I were truly a penniless housewife, he would have me cornered. But the money my mom left me gave me the courage to say no. “Ethan, withdrawing is impossible! You aren’t fit to be a father. You have no right to fight me for custody!” “Your daughter is deaf and mute. Only you treat her like a treasure. Jade, you don’t even have a real job. Do you think the court will give you custody? Don’t blame me for not warning you—if I get custody, I won’t let her go to college!” “Of course, if you agree to leave with nothing, I might consider letting you have her!” Lily is a girl. Since birth, she was despised by him and his mother. Especially now that his mistress is pregnant with a boy, Ethan is desperate to divorce me. With bloodshot eyes, I pointed at his nose: “Ethan, was our daughter born deaf? What right do you have to look down on her?” If his mother hadn’t neglected her, Lily wouldn’t be deaf! Years later, instead of blaming his mother, he despised his daughter! He thought I would submit. But the next day, I paid Lily’s tuition and living expenses and brought her to live with me on weekends. The partner at the firm I joined was my old classmate, Kim. With her help, once I re-passed the CPA exam, I could become a full-time employee. Lily used to be bullied at school because she didn’t have a cochlear implant. This time, I advanced my salary, added it to my mom’s legacy, and bought one for her. Receiving the gift, my daughter bounced around the cramped apartment like a little rabbit. “Mom, if I can talk normally one day… I will make lots of money, buy you a big house, make you beautiful…” I wiped my eyes. “Okay, I’ll wait for Lily to grow up…” My daughter is my untouchable scale. No one touches her! Ethan, especially not you!

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388421”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

During a live broadcast for our new reality show, the strap of my top suddenly snapped. The live chat instantly exploded with hate. “Who is this nobody? She definitely did that on purpose to seduce my Caleb.” “Thirst trap.” “Pick-me girl behavior.” “Shameless! Stripping on camera to get attention.” I turned my head to look at the A-list superstar standing next to me. I decided to show his fans what actual seduction looks like. Chapter 1 As a D-list actress hovering on the edge of obscurity, I somehow landed a spot on a high-profile outdoor reality show. Rumor had it that Caleb Sterling, the top-tier, Oscar-winning heartthrob, was going to be on it. My agent, Maxine, pulled every string she had to shove me into the cast. The official lineup had four people: Tiffany, the current “It Girl” traffic magnet. Leo, a handsome idol-turned-actor. Greg, a veteran comedian and variety show staple. And me, the “who is she?” of the group. Maxine gave me a serious pep talk: “Harper, this is a once-in-a-lifetime shot. You could go viral overnight and become a star.” I looked at the show’s itinerary, nodding along, but privately, I doubted Caleb would actually show up. He never did reality TV. It was probably just the producers using his name for clout. But Maxine really must have sold her soul, because when the official livestream announcement happened, Caleb Sterling actually walked in. As soon as he appeared, the viewer count skyrocketed. After the introductions, the host started cueing the segments. Right at the start, they shuffled the standing order, placing me right next to Caleb. I felt stiff. Caleb’s fanbase was massive and terrifying. One wrong move, and I’d be canceled before I even started. To Caleb’s right stood Tiffany, the darling of the industry. The production obviously wanted to push a “shipping” narrative between them. Suddenly, I felt a slackening sensation on my chest. Then, I watched in horror as the strap of my camisole snapped and slid down my arm. Are you kidding me? Is the wardrobe budget non-existent? I, who had zero screen time until now, suddenly became the focus of the camera. My shirt was half-undone, looking precariously revealing. Caleb, who had been looking at the lens, must have heard the snap. He turned his head and looked right at me. I seriously suspected the production crew sabotaged me. Since I was the nobody, generating some scandalous heat off me wouldn’t hurt their precious stars. My top was barely hanging on. It looked bad. It looked like a “wardrobe malfunction” meant to grab headlines. As expected, the live comments went feral. They were calling me shameless. Accusing me of throwing myself at Caleb. The insults were getting creative. If you didn’t know better, you’d think I had assaulted him. I didn’t do anything! The strap broke on its own! The producers saw what was happening and didn’t cut away. They loved the drama. Screw this. I couldn’t take the disrespect. I curled my lips into a smile, turned fully toward Caleb, and pitched my voice into a sickly sweet, flirtatious register. “Caleb, honey, could I borrow that for a second?” I pointed a manicured finger at his chest. Caleb stood there in a perfectly tailored black suit, looking dapper as hell. On his lapel was a gold feather brooch. He looked at me, then calmly unpinned the brooch. His fingers were long, pale, and elegant. I took it from him with both hands, batting my eyelashes, and whispered in that same breathy voice: “Thank you.” I gave myself goosebumps. Caleb paused. “…You’re welcome.” The stream was lagging, but I glanced at the monitor. The chat was unified: Kill that pick-me girl! Chapter 2 I used the gold brooch to pin my strap back in place. Then, I lightly tugged on Caleb’s sleeve, bringing back my fake, syrupy voice. “Caleb, your pin is just so beautiful.” I just wanted to annoy the haters. I didn’t expect Caleb to turn his entire body toward me, glance at the pin on my chest, and smirk. “Keep it. It’s yours.” I have a weakness for handsome men. Especially men as unreasonably handsome as Caleb Sterling. The tone. The line. The eye contact. Crap. I think I just played myself. The stream was glitching from the traffic overload, but once it smoothed out, one comment spamming the screen caught my eye: [Mrs. Caleb Sterling]: Give my husband’s pin back, you witch! You vixen! Surprisingly high praise. “Vixen” implies I’m hot enough to ruin a life. I’ll take it. Everyone around us was throwing subtle side-eyes, but I didn’t care. I was being annoying on purpose. Caleb, however, cleared his throat and spoke into his mic, his tone calm but firm. “Let’s keep the comments civil, please.” His voice was like velvet. His rational fans immediately stepped in to control the chat. It made me feel a little guilty for trolling, so I behaved myself for the rest of the stream. I faded into the background while the stars talked. Leo, the idol guy, and Greg, the comedian, were super nice. Zero ego. Tiffany, on the other hand, was icy. She only seemed interested in talking to Caleb. Whatever. After the stream, I trended. I didn’t look, but I assumed it was bad. When I got home to pack for the actual filming, Maxine called me, sounding ecstatic. “Harper! You made it! Bad press is still press! Do you know how many followers you gained?” I had about 100k followers on Instagram before this. Mostly bots. “How many?” I asked, throwing toiletries into my bag. “Fifty thousand!” Maxine screamed. Damn. The power of Caleb. I checked my phone. Fifty thousand new followers, and my DMs were filled with red notifications. All hate mail, no doubt. I tossed the phone aside. Internet people are so dramatic. … The next morning, Maxine drove me to the meeting point. I was early; the others were still wrapping up other gigs. That afternoon, the Director, Lee, knocked on my hotel room door holding a file. I invited him in. I’m a nobody; no paparazzi care about who enters my room. “Director Lee, what’s up?” He handed me the file. It was a script. A villain script. It was a tailored “Black Road to Fame” route. He wanted me to be the designated antagonist to generate buzz. “Harper, it’s a win-win.” I looked at the script. Sure, it was a win for the show. But I didn’t want to do it. Every bullet point on the page was designed to make the internet hate me. I’ve stayed invisible in this industry specifically because I hate doing things against my conscience. “Director, let me think about it.” He nodded and left. … Right after Lee left, the Assistant Director, Miller, showed up. He had a slimy smile on his face. “Harper, aren’t you going to invite me in?” I stepped back to let him in, leaving the door wide open. “Harper, you’re so pretty. Why haven’t you blown up yet?” I thought about it seriously. “Maybe the casting directors are blind?” Miller paused, clearly not expecting that answer. He walked past me and shut the door. “I have something to show you. Better to keep the door closed.” He handed me his phone. It was a video of Director Lee entering my room and leaving twenty minutes later. The angle made it look… suggestive. I handed the phone back. “What’s your point, Miller?” “Nothing,” he smirked. “But if I leaked this, what do you think would happen?” “I’d get cyberbullied to hell,” I said flatly. Miller grinned, a predatory look in his eyes. He started unzipping his jacket. “Exactly. You don’t want people to get the wrong idea, right? Maybe we can work something out…” I watched him cold-eyed. This script was too cliché. As he tried to shrug his jacket off, I grabbed the fabric and yanked it back up, choking him slightly. Then, I gathered a mouthful of saliva and spit right in his face. “You sick pervert. Get the hell out.” I might be a D-lister, but I’m not scared of this garbage. The show hasn’t even aired. If he leaks that, he destroys the show’s reputation. The investors would eat him alive. I grabbed a heavy tripod from the corner of the room and started jabbing him toward the door. “Did a pig eat your brain?” I yelled, poking him hard in the spine. Miller yelped and scrambled into the hallway. Just as I jabbed him out the door, Caleb and his personal assistant were walking by. awkward silence. “What’s… happening?” Caleb’s assistant asked. I retracted the tripod and gave a stiff smile. “Director Miller had a stiff back. I was helping him with some… percussive therapy.” The assistant looked skeptical. “Is that so?” “Would you two like to try?” I brandished the tripod. The assistant waved his hands frantically and hustled Caleb away. Caleb didn’t say a word. He just looked at me with those unreadable eyes. That night, Maxine called me in a panic. Miller was known for holding grudges. She said he’d make my life on set a living hell. I told her to relax. I’ve been bullied for two years in this business. What’s a few more days? Chapter 3 After the drama, the show finally started filming. The title was The Journey. The gimmick was that the itinerary was decided by live viewer votes. The director said “anything goes.” The first stop was the Great Smoky Mountains. I expected scenic views. Instead, the van drove us deeper and deeper into the sticks until I thought I was back in my grandma’s village. I sat with Leo. He was bouncing off the walls, excited about the “countryside.” “Aren’t you curious, Harper? Have you ever seen mountains like this?” I looked at the winding dirt road. “Curious? It feels like I’m visiting my relatives.” The live chat scrolled on the monitor in the van. “Leo is so cute!” “Harper is actually kinda funny lol.” We arrived at a farmhouse. Cameras were everywhere. We split into teams based on shirt color. Pink team: Me, Leo, Greg. Blue team: Caleb, Tiffany, and a new guest singer. The Director shouted through a megaphone. “Welcome to Gold River Village! The theme voted by the netizens is ‘Agriculture’!” “Since it’s not harvest season, your task is… catching crawfish in the mud.” The team with the most crawfish gets a feast. The losers get nothing and have to do the dishes. Leo was thrilled. He jumped straight into the mud pit. Tiffany looked horrified. “Harper, you’re so brave. I’m scared of the mud.” I reached down, grabbed a squirming crawfish, and shoved it toward her face. “Don’t be scared, Tiff. Here, a gift.” She screamed. I decided to stay away from her. I wandered over to Caleb’s section. He was surprisingly good at this. His bucket was half full. Mine was empty. I followed him around, trying to learn his technique. Suddenly, I saw a hand reach into my bucket. “Hey! What are you doing?” Caleb dumped my meager catch into his bucket, grabbed the handle, and sprinted away. “Stealing your crawfish!” he yelled back. I stood there, frozen. I thought Caleb Sterling was the cool, mysterious type. Who is this bandit? “Caleb! You brat!” I roared and took off after him. The cameras swiveled. Caleb was surprisingly fast in the mud. The chat went wild. “Wait, is this the real Caleb?” “I’ve been a fan for 10 years and I’ve never seen him run like a thief.” “I take back what I said about Harper, this is hilarious.” I was wheezing. Leo, covered head to toe in mud, watched us run laps. “What’s happening?” “He robbed me!” I shouted. The game ended. Caleb won. I lost. Winners ate inside. Losers stood outside watching. I was starving. My stomach growled audibly. Caleb walked out with a bowl of savory stew. The smell was heavenly. I closed my eyes. Out of sight, out of mind. “Want some?” I opened my eyes. Caleb was holding the bowl right under my nose. I hesitated, then nodded shamefully. He immediately pulled the bowl back. “But you lost. We have to respect the rules.” I mentally cursed him in five languages. Caleb Sterling. What a jerk. Chapter 4 The livestream ended for the night. We were staying in local farmhouses. It was past midnight. I was tossing and turning. I was angry and hungry. Why didn’t I pack snacks? I couldn’t take it. I got up to scavenge. The cameras were off. I crept out to the courtyard and bumped into a dark figure. “Caleb? Are you haunting the place?” After the mud incident, I dropped all formalities. He was half a head taller than me. He turned, his beautiful eyes catching the moonlight. “What are you doing?” “Admiring the moon,” I lied. “It’s beautiful tonight.” “I thought maybe someone was hungry.” “Mind your business.” He walked a few steps, then turned back. “Come on.” “Where?” “To find food. I’m hungry.” My jaw dropped. I watched him eat that whole bowl of stew! But hunger won. I followed him. “Where are we going in the pitch dark?” “Follow me.” He used his phone light. We hopped a fence and ended up in a cornfield. “Go ahead,” he said, snapping a cob off a stalk and handing it to me. “Stealing? Again?” Caleb gently bonked me on the head with the corn. “You want to run without paying?” “I mean…” “If you run, I’ll bring a roast chicken to visit you in prison.” I rolled my eyes. Who started the rumor that he was high-maintenance? We grabbed a few ears of corn. He left some cash under a rock near the farmer’s porch on the way back. “My assistant will come explain tomorrow,” he muttered. Next up: Top Celebrity Roasts Corn for Me. We sat by a small fire in a clearing. I ate two whole ears. Caleb ate half of one. “I thought you were starving?” He just smiled. … We snuck back just before dawn. The next morning, the director announced a change of plans. “Wilderness Survival.” We had to hike up a mountain to visit a famous temple, then head into the woods. Halfway up the mountain, I was dying. We took a break. Miller immediately ran over to Tiffany with a folding chair and a parasol. “Tiff, careful of the sun. Can’t have our star getting a tan.” I sat in the dirt under a tree and rolled my eyes. Caleb walked over, sat next to me, and opened his umbrella. I shamelessly scooted into the shade. He handed me a portable fan. “I owe you one,” I said, fanning myself. “Just be my servant for life,” he deadpanned. His assistant, Ben, handed him another fan. Tiffany’s assistant piped up loudly: “Director Miller is so sweet. Harper, didn’t he bring you an umbrella?” I hadn’t even responded when Caleb muttered, “Dramatic.” I gave him a thumbs up. Then I pitched my voice up to match the assistant’s tone. “Maybe the Director just prefers the other girls. Besides, my skin isn’t as delicate as theirs. I can handle the light.” The cameraman looked like he didn’t know whether to film or run. Later, Ben sat next to me. “Harper, are you married?” “Nope. I’m 24.” “Boyfriend?” “Nope. Why are you so nosy?” “What a coincidence,” Ben grinned. “Caleb isn’t married and has no girlfriend.” I blinked. “Wow. What a coincidence.” … I looked at Caleb. Pale skin, refined features, great body. Rich. Not totally terrible personality… Why am I listing his pros? Scary. “Why are you staring?” Caleb asked. “Don’t get any funny ideas.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388420”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel