1 Ten years together, and for the third time, my lawyer girlfriend Aria canceled our city hall appointment for a “critical case.” Minutes later, I saw her childhood friend Leo post a photo of their marriage certificate, captioned: “After all this time, it was always you.” As confused messages poured in, I replied publicly: “Don’t forget to invite me to the baby shower. I’ll chip in five grand.” Instantly, his post disappeared. Aria called, furious: “Leo posted that by mistake. He’s never been married before—I was just helping him as his lawyer. It’s just a piece of paper, Alex. You’re blowing this up for no reason.” She demanded I apologize, promising we’d get our license once Leo “healed from his divorce.” She didn’t realize this was her 67th empty promise to me—and the last. I hung up, resigned from my job, and decided to disappear from the life we were supposed to build. … She called back. A dozen times. I ignored every one. Finally, a text message buzzed through, dripping with fury: “Alex, have you lost your mind? How dare you hang up on me? You’re the one who screwed up, and you’re acting like you have the moral high ground?” “You have five minutes to post that apology, or we’re through.” Ten years together. I’d heard that threat a hundred times. And every time, I was the one to cave, to smooth things over, to beg for forgiveness. This was the first time I’d ever just hung up. When I didn’t respond, she went to her social media and started her usual countdown. It was a rule she’d made years ago: three days of silence meant we were officially over. My devotion had made her fearless. Every argument, every disagreement, ended with her posting that countdown, a public clock ticking down on my anxiety, pressuring me to fold. For ten years, it had been her perfect weapon. And every time, just before the clock ran out, I’d break. But not this time. I was exhausted. I was done being her fool. Shortly after her countdown post went up, Leo posted something too, tagging me specifically. “Just a little prank with Aria that accidentally went public. I didn’t realize Alex would take it so hard. I guess I’ll have to be more careful what I say around him from now on. Wouldn’t want him to get upset again.” Aria, who rarely ever glanced at her feed, was the first to like it. She even commented: “That’s his problem, Leo, don’t you dare blame yourself. And why should it be private? If you want to post something, you post it.” “His problem” was me, obviously. Our so-called friends, the ones who relied on Aria for legal work, all chimed in with likes and supportive comments. “Wow, Alex is being so petty. Leo, don’t let a guy like that get you down.” “No wonder Aria won’t marry him. I’d hesitate too if he were that insecure.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. She would bend over backward to protect Leo from the slightest discomfort, to defend his name. But for me, her boyfriend of a decade, there was only neglect and indifference. Leo could sneeze, and she would drop everything, including our plans to get married. If I dared to complain, she’d explode, accusing me of disrespecting her freedom, of being small-minded. And now, when I finally chose to let go and congratulate them, she was the one hurling accusations, using her countdown to force me into an apology. The truth was, it was never about right or wrong. The scales of her love had tipped long ago. “Sir,” the clerk said, her voice soft with pity, “the woman whose ID you’ve provided is already legally married. Would you… like to submit a different application?” I took the ID from her and managed a weak smile. “Maybe I should.” The young couple behind me cheered quietly at my withdrawal. Of course, it was the most popular wedding date of the year, and getting an appointment at City Hall was nearly impossible. I had shown up at dawn just to get a spot in line. Now, I looked at the application form in my hands—the 67th one I’d filled out, for the 67th chance I’d given her—and without a second thought, I ripped it to shreds and dropped it in the trash. Every time, it was the same. I’d arrive early, filled with hope, watching the happy couples go in and out, waiting for her. And every time, just minutes before our appointment, she would call. An emergency at the firm. When I’d question it, she’d use her clients as a shield. “Alex, my clients’ lives are on the line! Are you seriously asking me to abandon them for a piece of paper? How can you be so selfish?” She always said it with such righteous indignation, as if I were the villain. What she didn’t know was that every time she ditched me for Leo, he’d send me a little text, a little jab to twist the knife. “Aria’s cooking is amazing. Bet you’ve never had it, have you?” “I mentioned I was tired of walking today, so Aria just bought me a brand new luxury car. You’re still taking the subway, right?” And now, she’d gone and gotten a marriage license with him. It was time for our relationship to finally end. 2 As I stepped out of City Hall, I saw the notification on my phone. My resignation request had been rejected. HR informed me that Aria hadn’t been in the office for days and couldn’t approve it. They gave me an address and told me to find her myself. Gritting my teeth, I went. I just wanted this to be over. The address was a high-end pool hall. A place Leo loved. Aria, the woman who lived and breathed for her work, had apparently been skipping the office for days to hang out with him. I found them at a table in the back. Leo was leaning over her, his body pressed against hers, “teaching” her how to shoot. The moment he saw me, a smirk played on his lips. A few of our colleagues from the firm, Leo’s little sycophants, sauntered over, nudging each other. “Well, well, look who’s here for our dear Ms. Aria.” “Told you. That three-day countdown wouldn’t even last one. He’s already back to groveling.” “Damn, Aria’s got him wrapped around her finger. One word and he comes running.” “Alright, alright, pay up. You all lost the bet.” I felt a familiar tightening in my jaw. I’d heard their jeers a thousand times before. But today, it grated on me like never before. “I’m not here to make up.” My words were met with a burst of laughter. “Sure, Alex. We all know you’re Aria’s ultimate lapdog. You couldn’t leave if you tried.” Ignoring them, I walked straight to her and held out the papers. “Aria. Sign these.” She reached for the file, but Leo nudged her knee with his own. “Focus on the game,” he murmured. Instantly, she dropped the file. She reached into Leo’s pocket, pulled out her personal seal—a custom stamp she used for official documents—and tossed it to me. “Just stamp it yourself. And in the future, don’t come here and interrupt my lessons with Leo.” Aria was fiercely private. Her safe was off-limits. She’d shield her phone’s PIN from my view. And her personal seal? She guarded it like a state secret. Yet here she was, letting Leo carry it in his pocket. She was so wrapped up in her “date” that she couldn’t even be bothered to look at a company document. I clutched the stamped resignation form, my knuckles white. My heart felt like a cavern, hollow and cold. I turned to leave, but her voice stopped me. “Leo’s a bit busy these days. You can handle his caseload for him.” She tossed a thick stack of files onto a nearby table. Each one had nothing but a title scrawled on the cover. I couldn’t even count how many times she’d made me do Leo’s work. Every time I completed a case, he took the credit. But if I made a single mistake under the crushing workload, the blame was all mine. There were times I’d lost my temper, refused to do it. She’d accuse me of letting her down, of not caring about her or the firm. She’d threaten to do it all herself, and my concern for her, my desire to ease her burden, always led me back to compromise. All that sacrifice had earned me was her contempt, her casual dismissal, her entitlement to my labor. But I was free now. The firm was no longer my problem. “No. I’ve already resi—” “Aria,” Leo’s voice cut in, thick with feigned hurt. “It’s okay. If Alex doesn’t want to do it, I can manage.” Aria’s expression immediately softened with pity for him. “You just went through a divorce. How can you be expected to work when you’re feeling down? Don’t be silly. Go have fun.” She turned back to me, her voice turning to ice. “Don’t you get it? Your little stunt on social media already upset Leo. This is your chance to make up for it, and you’re refusing? Keep this up, and in three days, you could be on your knees begging, and I still wouldn’t take you back.” I almost laughed. My mother had died unexpectedly. I was so wracked with grief I’d fainted multiple times. All Aria had said then was, “When you’re done crying, be at the office on time. There’s work to be done.” But Leo? His divorce was two years ago, and he was still using it as an excuse to skip work. “Fine by me. We don’t have to get back together.” I spun on my heel and walked away. The shock on Aria’s face was unmistakable. Our colleagues were stunned. “Is he… actually leaving?” Leo just chuckled. “Come on, Alex. No need to play hard to get. If you don’t want to do the work, just say so.” At his words, the tension in Aria’s face melted away, replaced by her usual confident smirk. Her tone softened. “Alright, Alex. I know I’ve been neglecting you lately. Be a good boy and finish Leo’s work, and in three days, I promise, we’ll go get our license. How does that sound?” The same empty promises. The same carrot dangled in front of my face. But this time, I had no appetite for it. I didn’t answer. I just kept walking. Behind me, the taunts started up again. “What a show. Just you wait. By tomorrow, he’ll be back, begging for another chance.” A wicked thought sparked in my mind. I wanted to see the looks on their faces when they lost their little bet for good. I let out a short, sharp laugh and glanced back at them over my shoulder. “Yeah? Don’t hold your breath.” 3 With my resignation finalized, I went straight to my best friend’s firm. In the legal world, a lawyer’s reputation follows them, not the firm they work for. As a top-tier litigator, my friend Mark was so thrilled to have me that he practically offered to shine my shoes. He gave me a salary ten times what Aria had paid me and threw in a villa as a signing bonus. Finally, I could move out of that dilapidated apartment. I’d lost track of how many clients had looked surprised when they found out where I lived. A “star lawyer” in a place like that. I always brushed it off, saying I was a simple guy who didn’t care about material things. The truth was, I’d willingly accepted a junior-level salary so Aria’s firm could grow. In the beginning, she was grateful. Over time, it became an expectation. One winter, the heating broke. When I asked Aria for some money to replace it, she called me extravagant, accused me of changing, of only being after her money. Yet for Leo, she’d buy a mansion on a whim. Even his dog’s house had central heating. On moving day, I ran into Aria and Leo. They were with her parents, the four of them enjoying a cozy family dinner at a fancy restaurant. I froze. A memory flashed in my mind: the first time I met her parents. I had arrived with armfuls of expensive gifts. They served me a table full of leftovers. I awkwardly suggested we all go out to eat, my treat. They scoffed, saying I didn’t earn much but had already picked up wasteful habits. In the end, I cooked a full meal for everyone. As soon as I set the food down, Aria’s mother slammed her chopsticks on the table, complaining my food was too salty. “Only peasants who do manual labor eat this salty,” she’d sneered. “I guess that makes sense, coming from a peasant’s son.” The gifts I brought them? I later saw the building’s janitor carrying them all home. Compared to this happy little family scene, I felt like a complete clown. Aria’s parents were fawning over Leo, piling food onto his plate. “Leo, you and our Aria are just perfect for each other,” her mother cooed. “If that other woman hadn’t tricked you back then, you two would never have missed your chance. I think the timing is perfect now. You two should just get together.” Her father chimed in, “Exactly! Leo landed several huge clients for Aria the moment he joined the firm. His future is limitless. Not like that useless Alex. All he’s good for is cooking and cleaning. Completely worthless.” Rage trembled through my body. I was the one who landed those clients. Aria had just credited them to Leo’s name. The money I brought in single-handedly kept that firm afloat. But Aria had never once praised me. Instead, she constantly belittled me, saying it was only because of the platform her firm gave me that I had any work at all. And now, faced with her parents’ slander, she said nothing to defend me. She just sighed. “Well, we’ve been together for so long. I guess I’ll just make do.” My heart plummeted into an icy abyss. All these years, to her, I was just someone to “make do” with. Her mother, however, was not satisfied. “Aria, let me tell you, that Alex is bad luck. Cursed. Just look at how his parents died so young. Marrying him will bring you nothing but misery.” Aria didn’t respond, but tears were already streaming down my face. My parents died because of hers. Years ago, Aria’s parents were in a car crash and needed massive blood transfusions. My parents were a match. They gave and gave, but it wasn’t enough. Aria was a wreck, sobbing uncontrollably. Knowing how much I loved her, my parents went back, behind my back, and gave more, pushing their bodies past the absolute limit. Aria’s parents were saved. Mine were gone. For a while, her family felt a sliver of guilt. They promised to make it up to me, to take care of me. That compensation never came. Instead, I became the “cursed” one they spoke of with disdain. I couldn’t stand to listen to another word. I turned to leave. 4 But Leo spotted me. “Well, look who it is. If it isn’t Alex.” The three of them turned to look. The moment she saw me, Aria instinctively pulled her hand away from Leo’s grasp. “Alex? What are you doing here?” Leo spoke, his tone deceptively casual. “Wow, Aria, he’s really dedicated. Everywhere you go, he just happens to show up. You don’t think he put a tracker on you, do you?” He then turned to me, a picture of innocence. “Oh, hey Alex, don’t get the wrong idea. Aria and I are just like family. Her parents are like my own. We get together like this all the time. If it bothers you, I can leave right now.” “Don’t you dare,” Aria snapped, grabbing his arm. She glared at me, her eyes spitting fire. “Alex, there’s a mountain of work at the office, and you’re here stalking me? Have you lost your mind?” “Are you ever going to stop being so paranoid? Get back to the firm right now. And on your way, stop by HR and accept your penalty. You’re forfeiting your pay for today and your bonus for the month.” Her parents jumped in to support her. “Aria, why do you even keep a parasite like him around? Just fire him. You’re too soft. How do you expect a star employee like Leo to feel valued when you tolerate this kind of behavior?” Leo, playing the part of the magnanimous hero, added, “It’s really no big deal. I don’t mind cleaning up Alex’s messes. But Alex, you’re not getting any younger. What will you do if you lose this job? Just apologize to Aria. Stop being so stubborn.” Her parents praised him for his kindness and maturity. Aria’s gaze on me grew colder, more disgusted. “What are you still standing there for? Get back to work. And let me tell you, if I don’t see you at your desk by the end of the day, then when the countdown ends tonight, don’t even bother trying to make up. We’ll be over for good.” With that, she and her “family” paid the bill and left. Later that evening, just before closing time, Aria made a point of swinging by the office. She saw my desk was empty. I really hadn’t come back. Furious, she stormed out and went straight to a bar, deliberately having a colleague “casually” leak her location to me. I saw the messages. I ignored them all. Eleven o’clock. The day was almost over. Aria had downed a stomachful of booze, but the agitation in her heart refused to settle. She kept glancing at the door to their private room, her body tensing every time it opened. Many people came and went. None of them were me. Her phone was silent, as if it were broken. She even had her assistant check it. When confirmed it was working perfectly, her mood sank to a new low. She was so used to me catering to her every whim. This sudden drop-off was a shock to her system. She looked at her phone’s lock screen—a photo of us. It was a candid shot she’d taken right after our first kiss. A faint smile touched her lips. In the end, she couldn’t resist. She sent me a text. “Alex, don’t say I didn’t warn you. The three days are almost up.” The message was met with deafening silence. Aria’s brow furrowed. The noisy room seemed to quiet down around her, chilled by the cold aura she was emitting. The air grew thick, and everyone’s breathing became shallow, careful. Suddenly, the door to the room swung open. The sound made everyone look up. A colleague burst in, breathless and beaming. “He’s here, Ms. Aria! He’s downstairs!” “And he’s all dressed up! He looks incredible. You have to go see!” The tension in Aria’s face instantly dissolved. She leaned back against the sofa, a triumphant, arrogant smile spreading across her face. “Go tell him he’s late,” she said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “It’s one minute past midnight. Getting back together won’t be that easy.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388399”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 Everyone said Caleb Stone loved me to the bone. To marry me, he defied his parents, even enduring his family’s brutal “discipline”—ninety-nine lashes with a cane. But on the day of our wedding, for the sake of a young housekeeper, he was willing to give up his inheritance just to marry her instead. His grandfather, the patriarch of the Stone family, finally relented. When I confronted him, my heart shattering, he could only look at me with reddened eyes and say, “Kelly, you have to believe me. You’re the one I love.” “As for Jenna,” he continued, his voice choked with a twisted sense of duty, “when my enemies drugged me, she saved me by giving me her body. I have to be responsible for her.” From that day on, I became his secret lover, hidden away in the shadows. Until the day Jenna had a miscarriage. Without any investigation, Caleb decided I was to blame. He ordered his men to beat the six-month-old child from my womb. “Kelly Hope,” he spat, his voice laced with venom, “I never knew you were so malicious. You killed Jenna’s baby, so don’t even think about keeping yours!” I was beaten with a wooden rod until I vomited blood and died. One body, two graves. … This time, I woke up on my wedding day. “Kelly, I’m only marrying Jenna to repay a debt.” “She’s just a small-town girl. If people found out she wasn’t a virgin before marriage, the gossip would destroy her.” “You’re different,” he pleaded, his voice a familiar poison in my ear. “You grew up in the city. You’re worldly, open-minded. Even if you’re with me, no one will dare say a word.” “Marriage is just a formality. The one I love will always be you.” The voice… I was back. I had been reborn. In my last life, Caleb had knelt before me just like this, begging. He had deliberately shown me the vicious welts on his back to soften my heart. The thought that he had endured ninety-nine lashes for me made me agree to anything. And so, my nightmare began. When Jenna got pregnant, he forced me to wait on her hand and foot. When her deadbeat brother came demanding money, he sent me to deal with him. If I hadn’t sensed danger and called the police beforehand, I would have been assaulted. The terror of that encounter left me unable to leave my apartment for a month. Caleb’s only response was a cold accusation: “Why were you dressed like that? You were asking for it.” He grabbed my hand and forced me to sign a settlement agreement, absolving the man. “She’s my wife,” he said flatly. “Shouldn’t I help my wife instead of my mistress?” I endured it all. I kept enduring until the very end, until I watched him murder me and our child. “Kelly?” Caleb’s voice, soft and cautious, pulled me from the horrifying memories. I yanked my hand from his grasp. “By your logic, every high-society woman in the city should be content to be a mistress,” I said, my voice dripping with ice. “You may have no shame, Caleb, but I do.” I snatched a pair of scissors from a nearby table and plunged them into the pristine white fabric of my wedding dress. With a savage rip, I sliced through the layers of silk and tulle. The heavy skirt fell to the floor in a heap. The color drained from Caleb’s face. “Since you’ve chosen Jenna, then stay the hell away from me. This wedding is off.” I shoved him aside, gathered the butchered remains of my dress, and stormed out. Caleb tried to follow, but Jenna appeared as if from nowhere, grabbing his arm. “Caleb, if you leave today, what will people think of me?” she whispered, her eyes wide and innocent. “Once the ceremony is over, I’ll go with you to apologize to Kelly, okay?” Bound by the pretense of honor, Caleb went through with the wedding. The bride was just a different woman. My parents, who had rushed to attend the ceremony, found me standing outside the hotel, stunned. I gave them the short version of the story. My father’s face contorted with rage, ready to storm in, but I stopped him. “Dad,” I said, my voice eerily calm, “could you call the Croft family? They made an offer before… if I married their son, they’d invest three hundred million. Is that deal still on the table?” My mother’s eyes filled with tears. “He was the one who wronged you, darling. You don’t have to do this, to marry a…” She trailed off, but we all knew what she meant. Sebastian Croft, the heir to the Croft empire, was rumored to be gay. “I’m not doing this out of spite,” I said, my voice flat. “I’ve just realized that even the deepest love can fade. Compared to something as fleeting as affection, money and status are far more real.” “Isn’t marriage just a transaction, anyway? Sebastian Croft likes men. He won’t bother me. I’d prefer the peace and quiet.” My father was silent for a long time before he finally made the call. The answer came back quickly. “The agreement stands, but the terms have changed. Marry within a month, and the investment is yours. Otherwise, the deal is off.” “I accept,” I said without a moment’s hesitation. In this new life, I would never make the same mistake again. 2 The Croft family sent their lawyers. We negotiated for the entire afternoon, finally setting the wedding for two weeks from now. By the end of the day, I was so exhausted I didn’t even glance at my phone. I went home and fell into a dead sleep. In the middle of the night, a faint noise woke me. My eyes snapped open. A dark figure was standing by my bed. A scream caught in my throat. “Kelly, it’s me.” “Caleb?” I couldn’t believe it. I had changed the passcode to my apartment the moment I got home. How did he get in? He draped his jacket over a nearby chair. “A man should spend his wedding night with the woman he loves. As for you… blocking me on social media, changing the locks… are you really that angry?” My eyes fell on a dark, unmistakable mark on his neck—a love bite. I sneered. “The woman he loves?” After sleeping with Jenna, you come here and talk about love? Your love is cheap, Caleb. He took a step closer, his gaze burning. “You can fool everyone else, Kelly, but you can’t fool me. You changed the passcode, but you left my fingerprint access… you were waiting for me.” Crack. The sound of my hand connecting with his cheek echoed in the silent room. He stumbled back, stunned. “Are you awake now?” I hissed. “Good. Now get out. You’re filthy, and I don’t want you here.” “I forgot to delete your fingerprint. That’s all. Don’t flatter yourself.” I grabbed my phone and, right in front of him, deleted his access from the system. Caleb’s face hardened, his eyes locking onto me. After a long moment, he let out a bitter laugh. “So this is still about Jenna. It’s just a title, Kelly. Why do you care so much?” “Besides,” he added, his voice dripping with condescension, “Jenna is being very gracious about this. She was even generous enough to give you her wedding night. What more could you possibly want?” I’d lost count of how many times he’d accused me of being petty about Jenna. In my last life, she had “accidentally” shattered my mother’s heirloom necklace. She had stood there, crying, insisting it wasn’t her fault. Caleb hadn’t even looked at me. He just berated me for being “aggressive” and forced me to apologize to her. In front of everyone, he had physically pushed my shoulders down, making me bow to a housekeeper. He had personally crushed my dignity into the dirt. Later, when I was pregnant, he made me kneel for an hour as punishment because I didn’t share the special prenatal tonics my mother had sourced from specialists with Jenna. “We have money for supplements, Kelly. What’s the big deal if you prepare a portion for her? She tolerates you being my mistress, can’t you show her a little consideration?” But my mother had pulled countless strings to get them. There was only one course. And I had watched him, spoon by spoon, feed what was meant for me and our child to another woman. That was the moment I understood. His so-called love was just poison coated in honey. And I was the fool who had wasted a lifetime drinking it. His voice pulled me back to the present. I looked up at the man who had been my ruin. “Want to make a bet? I guarantee that within thirty minutes, Jenna will call you back with some excuse.” He looked at me as if I’d told a ridiculous joke, his eyes filled with scorn. “Fine. Jenna’s not that kind of—” Before he could finish, his phone rang. The name “Jenna” glowed on the screen. His expression was a mixture of confusion and frustration. After a long pause, he turned and left the bedroom to take the call. When he returned, he had his excuse ready. “Jenna said she cut her hand while making a late-night snack. The house staff isn’t there, so I’m just going to go check on her.” He stood to leave, his concern for her written all over his face. “Wait.” Caleb thought I was trying to stop him, and his voice became impatient. “Yes, Jenna called. But it’s because she was hurt and needed my help. Don’t project your own cynical worldview onto her, Kelly.” I just stared at him, my heart a placid, frozen lake. This wasn’t the first time he’d abandoned me for her. On my birthday, while everyone was celebrating with me, my own boyfriend was hiding on the balcony, cooing sweet nothings to another woman. When I caught him, he was indignant. “You have plenty of people here with you. It’s not like you need me. Besides, Jenna’s had headaches for days. I was just telling her a story to help her sleep. Are you going to control that, too?” “Don’t you forget who saved me when I was drugged, Kelly! I am repaying a debt!” I had tried to tell him there was more to that story, but he always cut me off. “Whatever excuse you have, it doesn’t change the fact that Jenna was the one who saved me!” Watching him choose her, again and again, I had suppressed my unease, telling myself he was just repaying a debt. After all, our love had once been so passionate. He had defied his entire family to invest in my father’s failing company, had taken a beating just to marry me, all to prove to the world that he would give up everything for me. And in the end, on our wedding day, he gave it all up for Jenna. I walked over to the chair, picked up his jacket, and shoved it into his chest. “I’m getting married, Caleb. I’d appreciate it if you, a married man, would stop harassing me.” “Otherwise, I’ll call the police.” “I’m sure you wouldn’t want a headline like ‘Heir to Stone Industries Forces Fiancée of Rival into Mistress Role’ to start trending, would you?” His eyes widened in shock. I slammed the door shut. But his hand shot out, jamming the door before it could latch. “Kelly,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Are you threatening me?” Before I could answer, he pushed the door open again. Our eyes met, and a slow, cruel smile spread across his face. “If you have the guts, Kelly, look me in the eye and say that again.” It was a rule we’d made when we were dating: when you say you love someone, you look them in the eye. The same goes for when you don’t. He was certain I was just bluffing, trying to force me to back down. I simply took a step back and met his gaze without flinching. “I said, I’m getting married.” He let out a short, sharp laugh. “Everyone in our circle knows you’re obsessed with me, Kelly. Do you really have it in you to leave me?” His smile vanished. “Alright, that’s enough. I don’t like these games. Don’t let me hear you say that again.” “Jenna’s waiting for me. I’m leaving.” As his figure disappeared down the hall, I whispered to the empty air, “I’m serious this time, Caleb. I don’t want you anymore.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388398”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I died under a stamping press at the factory. My entire right arm was pulp. My coworkers screamed. An ambulance came and went. At the wake, my mother-in-law’s wails were gut-wrenching. “My dear daughter-in-law!” My husband knelt before my coffin, bowing his head once, twice, three times. The compensation was $800,000. My mother-in-law took $500,000 to buy a house for my brother-in-law. My four-year-old daughter, Lily, was sent to an orphanage. That winter, the heating broke. No one fixed it. Lily huddled in a corner, clutching a photo of me, and never woke up again. When I opened my eyes, the calendar read: March 15, 2024. Three days before the accident. This time, I wasn’t the one who was going to die. 1 I sat up in bed, drenched in sweat. The image of Lily’s face from the dream still haunted me. Her lips were purple, her small hand clutching my photo, her fingernails cracked from the cold. “Mommy, I’m cold.” I squeezed my eyes shut. The door opened, and my mother-in-law, Brenda, came in with a bowl of chicken soup. “Sarah, you’re awake? Here, drink this. You must be exhausted from all those night shifts.” Her smile was warm and kind. I stared at that face. In my previous life, three days after I died, she had worn that same expression as she sat in the living room, counting stacks of cash. She finished counting, looked up at my brother-in-law, and said, “It’s enough. Enough for the down payment.” “Just put the soup there, Mom,” I said. “Alright, drink it while it’s hot.” Brenda placed the bowl on the nightstand. “Oh, and get to bed early tonight. You have the night shift tomorrow.” She turned and left. I picked up the bowl and took a sip. The soup was genuinely delicious. Brenda was a good cook. In my five years with the family, I had eaten her food every day. Of course, “good food” wasn’t free. My entire monthly paycheck of $4,500 went straight to her, every single cent. “Sarah, why don’t you just let me hold onto your paychecks? I’ll save it all up for Lily’s college fund.” She’d been saying that for five years. I’d believed her for five years. I put the bowl down and walked to the window. Lily was playing in the yard, drawing circles in the dirt with a stick. She was so small and thin for a four-year-old. She wore a faded pink coat, the only one she owned. Brenda always said kids grow too fast and buying new clothes was a waste of money. My eyes stung as I looked at my daughter. In my last life, she died alone on a cold floor. This time, I wouldn’t let that happen. A phone buzzed in the living room. Brenda’s phone. I tiptoed over and glanced at the screen. The message was from “Jason.” It was just three words: “Is it set?” Brenda came out of the kitchen and saw me, freezing for a second. “Oh, Sarah, you’re up. Did you drink the soup?” “I did,” I said, taking a step back. “Mom, I think Jason is trying to reach you. Your phone just went off.” A flicker of unease crossed her face, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. “Oh, it’s nothing. He’s just asking what’s for dinner tomorrow.” She picked up the phone, typed a quick reply, and shoved it into her pocket. I said nothing. That evening, while Brenda was out grocery shopping, I slipped into her room. There was a small gap behind her wardrobe, just big enough for a recording pen. I’d bought it last year online, intending to use it to learn a new language. It was still in its packaging. Now, it had a purpose. I tucked the pen into the gap, set it to voice-activated mode, and left the room. Lily was watching cartoons in the living room. She looked over at me. “Mommy, what are you doing?” “Mommy’s looking for something.” “Did you find it?” “I did.” I walked over, knelt down, and pulled her into my arms. She felt so fragile, so thin I could feel her bones. “Mommy, I’m hungry.” “Hungry? I’ll get you some crackers.” “Not crackers. I want meat.” I paused. Lily rarely asked for anything. “What kind of meat?” “The braised ribs. The kind Grandma makes for Uncle Jason.” My heart clenched. Brenda’s braised ribs were reserved exclusively for her younger son, Jason. The most Lily ever got was a tiny scrap. “Okay,” I said, my voice thick. “Mommy will buy you some tomorrow.” “Really?” Lily’s eyes lit up. “Really.” The front door opened. Brenda was back. She was carrying a bag of groceries and frowned when she saw me holding Lily. “Sarah, don’t spoil her like that. Always carrying her around. What’s she going to do when she starts school?” “I know, Mom.” I gently put Lily down and stood up. Brenda went into the kitchen. Lily tugged on my shirt and whispered, “Mommy, Grandma doesn’t like me.” I knelt and squeezed her cheek gently. “That’s not true. Grandma loves you.” Lily shook her head. “Grandma washes apples for Uncle Jason. She doesn’t wash them for me.” I didn’t know what to say. In this house, Lily ranked lower than Jason. In Brenda’s eyes, her younger son was everything. Her older son, my husband Mark, was a tool. I, the daughter-in-law, was an ATM. And her granddaughter, Lily, was a burden. Only Jason was the apple of her eye. At ten o’clock that night, I was lying in bed when I heard voices from Brenda’s room. It was my husband, Mark, and Brenda. I held my breath, straining to hear. The words were muffled, but I caught a few fragments. “Tomorrow… night shift… that machine…” My heart skipped a beat. In my previous life, the accident happened during my night shift. Stamping Press No. 3. The safety lock was broken. No one had fixed it. When I walked past, the machine suddenly activated. My entire arm was gone. I thought it was an accident. Now I knew it wasn’t. 2 The next morning, my brother-in-law, Jason, brought his fiancée, Jessica, over for lunch. Brenda was ecstatic, waking up at dawn to braise a rack of ribs. Lily stood at the kitchen doorway, staring longingly at the pot. “Grandma, can I have a piece?” Brenda didn’t even look up. “Go on, shoo. This is for your aunt and uncle. What’s a little kid like you doing eating ribs? You’ll choke.” Lily’s lip trembled, and she ran off. I saw the whole thing from the living room. When Jason and Jessica arrived, Brenda’s face was split with a grin. “Jessica, you’re here! Come in, sit down!” Jessica was dressed head-to-toe in designer brands. The handbag she carried, I’d seen it in a department store. Over eight thousand dollars. She glanced at me, a faint smirk on her lips. “Oh, Sarah’s here too.” “I am.” “Haven’t you had that outfit for a few years, Sarah? I’m pretty sure you were wearing it the first time I came over.” I looked down at my clothes. A gray cotton jacket, the collar worn and faded. “It’s been a while.” Jessica covered her mouth with her hand, stifling a laugh. “Jason told me your factory isn’t doing so well, that they can barely make payroll. It must be tough.” Brenda jumped in. “It really is. Sarah gives me her entire paycheck every month, doesn’t keep a penny for herself. She’s a very dutiful daughter.” “So where does all of Sarah’s money go?” Jessica asked, raising an eyebrow. “It’s not…” “It’s all being saved!” Brenda interrupted. “For Lily’s college fund!” Mark came out of the bedroom just in time to add, “That’s right. We trust my mom to handle the money.” I watched their performance, a cold smile hidden inside me. I’d believed them in my last life. My monthly paychecks, five years of my youth, all of it gone. All for an “accident” and an $800,000 settlement. At the dinner table, Jessica casually remarked, “Brenda, Jason and I saw a new condo development. A three-bedroom, close to the subway. The down payment is five hundred thousand.” Brenda placed a large rib in her bowl. “Yes, yes. I’ve got it covered.” Jason grinned. “Sarah, your factory’s doing so poorly, isn’t it about to go under?” “It’s fine,” I said. “That’s good.” He glanced at Brenda. “Sarah, do you have worker’s comp?” “I do.” “Oh,” he said, focusing on his food. “That’s good. You’ll be covered if anything happens.” My grip on my chopsticks tightened. He was probing. Jessica shot me a sideways glance. “What do you do at the factory, Sarah?” “Assembly line.” “Ah, the assembly line. That must be exhausting.” She took a bite of a rib. “I hear there are a lot of accidents on assembly lines. You should be careful.” Brenda tapped the table. “Alright, that’s enough. Why talk about such unlucky things at the dinner table?” “You’re right, Mom,” Jessica said with a smile. “I’m just concerned about Sarah.” I stayed silent. Beside me, Lily tugged my sleeve. “Mommy,” she whispered, “I want a rib.” “Lily, be good,” Brenda said sternly. “The ribs are for your aunt and uncle. You eat your vegetables.” Lily’s eyes welled up. I picked up a rib and placed it in Lily’s bowl. Brenda’s face darkened. “Sarah, you—” “Lily is part of this family too,” I said, looking Brenda straight in the eye. “What’s wrong with her having one rib?” The table fell silent. Mark tugged my sleeve. “Sarah, Mom didn’t mean it like that…” “I know.” I looked down and continued eating. Brenda’s face was livid, but she didn’t say anything else. Lily held the rib in her small hands, nibbling on it carefully. After dinner, Jessica and Jason were in the living room, looking at floor plans. Brenda joined them, the three of them whispering with their heads together. I was washing dishes in the kitchen when I heard Jessica’s voice. “Mom, the down payment is five hundred thousand. How much can you put together?” Brenda lowered her voice. “Don’t worry. The money will be ready before the end of the month.” “Where are you going to get that kind of money?” “You don’t need to worry about that.” Brenda paused. “I have my ways.” My knuckles turned white as I gripped the bowl. Five hundred thousand. Before the end of the month. In my last life, my accident was on March 18th. The worker’s comp settlement was $800,000. The timing was perfect. That night, my husband Mark came into our bedroom. “Sarah, don’t you think you were a little out of line at dinner today?” “How was I out of line?” “Mom’s face changed the second you gave that rib to Lily.” “Lily is your daughter. What’s wrong with her wanting a piece of meat?” Mark sighed. “Can’t you just let things go with Mom? She’s old, she’s short-tempered.” I looked at him. “And Lily? She’s only four. Should she have to let things go with her grandmother?” “Why are you being so difficult?” Mark frowned. “Mom treats you like her own daughter, and you still argue with her over every little thing?” I didn’t answer. He sat on the edge of the bed, his tone softening. “Sarah, Jason’s wedding is a big deal. Mom’s been under a lot of stress. Try to be more understanding.” “Understanding about what?” “Jason’s short on the down payment for the house. Mom was thinking…” “Thinking what?” “If you could lend Jason the money from Lily’s education fund.” I looked up and stared at him. “That’s five years of my wages.” “I know, it’s just a loan. He’ll pay you back after the wedding.” “No.” Mark’s face fell. “Sarah, why are you being so selfish? Jason is your brother-in-law! His wedding is a family affair!” “That is my daughter’s money.” “Lily is only four! It’ll be years before she needs it for school!” He stood up, his voice rising. “You’re just so petty!” He slammed the door on his way out. I sat on the bed and heard him talking to Brenda in the living room. “Mom, she won’t lend it.” “Hmph. I knew it,” Brenda’s voice was cold as ice. “It’s fine. There’s another way.” “What way?” “Don’t you worry about it. Just make sure she’s on the night shift tomorrow.” “The night shift?” “Yes. Over by Machine No. 3. The safety lock is broken, and no one’s fixed it yet…” Their voices grew quieter, and I couldn’t hear the rest. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Stamping Press No. 3. A broken safety lock. The night shift. The scenes from my past life flashed before my eyes. This time, I wouldn’t be so foolish. 3 On the third day, Brenda’s kindness was almost suffocating. She brought me breakfast in bed. “Sarah, time to eat. I made you sweet poached eggs.” I stared at the bowl. In the five years I’d been married into this family, she had never once made this for me. “Mom, what’s the occasion?” “What do you mean?” she said with a smile. “I just think you’ve been working too hard lately. You need to build up your strength.” I took the bowl. “Thanks, Mom.” “Don’t thank me. We’re family.” She sat on the edge of my bed. “Sarah, I know I haven’t been good to you all these years.” I looked up. She sighed. “I’m old, and I get grumpy. Sometimes I say harsh things. Don’t take it to heart.” “What things are you talking about, Mom?” “Oh, you know.” She took my hand. “It was wrong of me to take your paychecks. As soon as Jason is married, I’ll give it all back to you.” I looked into her sincere eyes and laughed inwardly. I’d fallen for this in my last life. I was so moved I almost cried. “It’s okay, Mom.” “Are you sure?” She leaned closer. “Then, about Lily’s education fund…” I looked down. “Mom, I really can’t touch that money. It’s for Lily’s future.” A flash of irritation crossed her face before being replaced by her warm smile. “Alright, alright. I won’t pressure you.” She stood up. “You get some rest. You’ve got the night shift tonight.” She left. I finished the eggs and got dressed. Lily was watching TV in the living room. Brenda was busy in the kitchen, and Mark had already left for work. “Lily, where do you want to go today?” She looked up, her eyes shining. “Are you taking me out to play, Mommy?” “Mmm-hmm. Mommy’s off today. Let’s go to the amusement park.” “Really?!” Lily jumped off the sofa. “I want to ride the merry-go-round!” Brenda poked her head out of the kitchen. “The amusement park? What a waste of money.” I took Lily’s hand. “Mom, Lily hasn’t been out in a long time. Just for today.” Brenda pursed her lips but said nothing. I took Lily to the park. It was just a short bus ride away. She sat on a painted horse on the merry-go-round, smiling so wide her two little front teeth showed. “Mommy, I’m so happy!” I stood nearby, watching her. In my past life, she had never been to an amusement park. I was always thinking, I’ll take her later. Later. And then there was no later. “Mommy, I want to ride that!” Lily pointed to the Ferris wheel. “Okay, let’s go.” As the Ferris wheel climbed higher, Lily pressed her face against the glass, looking down at the world below. “Mommy, the houses are so tiny!” “They are.” “Mommy, is that our house?” “No, our house is on the other side.” “Oh.” She tilted her head. “Mommy, can we live in a big house someday?” I stroked her hair. “We can. Mommy will buy you a big house.” “Really?” “Really.” Lily beamed. My heart ached watching her. In my last life, I couldn’t give her a big house. I died, and she was sent to an orphanage. That winter was especially cold. The heating broke, and no one cared. She huddled in a corner, clutching my photo. She froze to death. I blinked hard, forcing the tears back. Not this time. I would not let that happen again. When we got home that evening, Brenda met us at the door. “Sarah, you’re back! Did you have fun?” “We did.” “That’s good,” she said, smiling. “I made your favorite, braised ribs. Go on, eat.” Lily cheered. “Ribs!” Brenda patted her head. “There’s some for you too, Lily.” At the table, Brenda kept piling food onto my plate. “Eat more, Sarah, you’re too thin.” “Have this. It’s good for you.” “You’ve got the night shift, so get to bed early tonight.” I nodded as I ate. Mark chimed in, “See, Sarah? Mom’s good to you, right?” “She is.” “Good.” Mark looked relieved. “From now on, let’s just be a happy, peaceful family.” I didn’t reply. After dinner, I was giving Lily a bath. Brenda was on the phone in the living room, her voice a low whisper. “…everything’s arranged… tomorrow night… don’t worry…” I strained to hear more, but couldn’t. Lily splashed water in the tub, getting my face wet. “Mommy, what are you listening to?” “Nothing.” I started drying her off. “Lily, Mommy’s on the night shift tomorrow. You be a good girl for Grandma, okay?” “Okay,” Lily nodded. “When will you be back, Mommy?” “In the morning.” “I’ll wait for you.” I lifted her out of the tub and wrapped her in a towel. “Lily, listen to me. No matter what happens, Mommy will always come back for you.” Lily blinked. “What are you talking about, Mommy?” “Nothing,” I said, kissing her forehead. “Time for bed.” At ten o’clock, I slipped into Brenda’s room and retrieved the recording pen. I found a quiet corner, put on my headphones, and pressed play. Brenda’s voice filled my ears. “Mark, is that machine ready?” “It’s ready. I had someone remove the safety lock.” “She’s on the night shift tomorrow. It’s quiet over by Machine No. 3…” “I know, Mom.” “If something happens, how much will the compensation be?” “I asked. For a workplace death, it’s at least eight hundred thousand.” “Eight hundred thousand is enough. Five hundred for the down payment, and the rest for Jason’s wedding.” “What about Lily?” “Send her to an orphanage. We can’t afford her.” “Okay. Whatever you say, Mom.” The recording ended. I took off the headphones, my hands shaking. Eight hundred thousand. Workplace death. Send her to an orphanage. So this was the endgame after five years in their family. I clenched the recording pen and walked to the window. The moonlight was cold and stark. Fine. Just fine. Tomorrow night, we’ll see who dies.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388397”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

“Sophie, can you fix Tiffany’s proposal?” Mr. Davis didn’t even look up from his desk. “It’s not like you have anything important to do anyway.” My fingers froze over the keyboard. At the desk next to mine, Tiffany Lee shot me a brilliant smile. “Thanks, Soph, you’re a lifesaver. I have a nail appointment I just can’t miss.” She grabbed her purse and clicked away in her high heels. I watched her go, a slow smile spreading across my face. Five years. My salary was $4,000 a month. It hadn’t gone up once in five years. Tiffany had been here for three years. Her salary was $7,500 a month. And I had revised her proposals thirty-seven times. I glanced up at Mr. Davis. He was scrolling through his phone. “Okay,” I said. “This is the last time.” 1 It was 9:30 PM by the time I finally shut down my computer. The office was empty, save for me. Tiffany’s proposal was done. She’d said it was for a crucial client presentation. Crucial. But she had a nail appointment. I stood up, rubbing the ache in my neck, my eyes landing on the photo frame on my desk. It was from my first day, five years ago. I was standing by the company entrance, grinning like an idiot. I was twenty-three then, fresh out of college, thinking I’d won the lottery by landing a job here. Five years had passed. I was still here. Same desk. Same position. Same salary. $4,000 a month. It was $4,000 five years ago, and it was still $4,000 today. I had asked for a raise three times. The first time, Mr. Davis said, “Sophie, the company isn’t doing too well this year. Let’s wait until next year.” The second time, he said, “You’re still young. Focus on learning. The salary can wait.” The third time, he said, “Look at Tiffany. Her performance is outstanding. You should learn from her.” Tiffany’s performance. I opened my computer and pulled up this year’s project records. The department had completed twenty-three projects. Eighteen of them were led by me. The five with Tiffany’s name on them? I wrote the proposals. I made the slide decks. Her only job was to present them to the client. Because she was pretty and charming. “You see, Sophie,” Mr. Davis had explained, “you’re great with the technical stuff, but you’re not a people person. Tiffany is a better fit for presentations.” A better fit. I closed the file, grabbed my bag, and walked out of the office. In the elevator, I stared at my reflection. Twenty-eight years old. Faint dark circles under my eyes, hair thrown into a messy ponytail, no makeup. Tiffany was twenty-six, and she looked like she’d stepped off a magazine cover every single day. “You should really put in some effort, Soph,” she’d told me once. “A woman can’t let herself go.” I didn’t say anything. I worked until nine or ten every night. By the time I got home, all I wanted to do was sleep. Who had time for makeup? My phone buzzed. A text message. “Sophie, the client wants to adjust some of the data in the proposal. Have it revised by tomorrow morning.” It was from Mr. Davis. I stared at the message, my thumb hovering over the screen. Revise. Again. I saved a draft and didn’t reply. Outside the building, a bitter wind whipped through the streets. I pulled my coat tighter and headed for the subway. The mall next door was ablaze with light, bustling with people. I glanced at a coat in a window display. The price tag read $799. My monthly salary was $4,000. Rent was $1,200. Food was $800. Commuting was $250. I sent $500 home to my parents. That left me with $1,250. I couldn’t afford that coat. The subway was packed. I found a corner to stand in and scrolled through the news on my phone. An article popped up. “Career Advice: How to Know if You’re Valued at Your Company.” I clicked on it. The article said: “If the company can function perfectly without you, you’re not important. If the company would fall apart if you left, you are indispensable.” I stared at that sentence for a long time. If I left, what would happen to the company? I was responsible for three major systems. The order processing system, the client management system, and the data analytics platform. Those three systems were the operational core of the company. Over two thousand data points ran through them every single day. And I was the only one who knew how to maintain them. Tiffany didn’t. She could barely use Excel. Mr. Davis didn’t. All he knew how to do was hold meetings and scroll through his phone. The other colleagues didn’t. They only handled their own small parts. I was the only person who understood all three systems inside and out. Because every time something broke, I was the one who fixed it. Every time there was a new requirement, I was the one who implemented it. Every time a new feature was needed, I was the one who developed it. For five years, I had carried these three systems on my own. No one helped me. And no one thought it was a big deal. “It’s your job,” Mr. Davis would say. My job. I earned $4,000 a month doing the work of three people. Tiffany earned $7,500 a month doing the work of half a person. The train arrived at my stop. I got off and walked out of the station. The wind was even stronger here. I stood at the intersection, watching the endless stream of cars, and suddenly felt a weariness that went bone-deep. It wasn’t physical. It was a sickness of the soul. Five years. I was a sticky note. Anyone could grab me, use me, and toss me aside when they were done. No one ever asked if I was tired. No one ever asked if I wanted a break. No one ever asked if I wanted to leave. I stood there for a long, long time. Then I took out my phone and opened a chat. “Jessica, is your company still hiring?” Jessica was my college roommate. She was now an operations director at a major tech firm. She replied instantly. “Always! You finally see the light?” I typed, “Can you refer me?” “Done! I’ll submit your resume first thing tomorrow!” I put my phone away and continued walking home. The wind on my face was cold. But for the first time in a long time, I felt a flicker of warmth inside. 2 The next morning, I finished revising the proposal and sent it to Mr. Davis. Without even opening it, he forwarded it to Tiffany. “Tiffany, the proposal is ready. Take a look.” Tiffany replied with a thumbs-up emoji. I stared at the screen and said nothing. During lunch, Chloe, a new hire from last year, slid into the seat next to me. She was three years younger than me and the only person in the department who ever said “thank you.” “Sophie, you worked late again last night, didn’t you?” She handed me a yogurt. “Got this downstairs. It’s for you.” “Thanks,” I said, taking it. “Don’t mention it.” She lowered her voice. “You’re too nice to them, you know.” I paused. “What do you mean?” She glanced around to make sure no one was listening. “That proposal was clearly your work. How can Tiffany ask you to revise it? Can’t she do it herself?” “She…” “She can’t,” Chloe scoffed. “Hey, did you know? During last Friday’s presentation, the client asked a technical question, and Tiffany was completely clueless.” “And then what?” “And then she called you, and you walked her through the answer remotely. The client praised her for being so professional, and she just stood there smiling and taking all the credit.” I remembered now. I was at the hospital with my mom for a check-up when Tiffany called, saying a client had an urgent question. I stood in the hospital corridor and explained it to her for twenty minutes. When I hung up, my mom asked, “Work?” “Yeah.” “Why didn’t you take the day off?” “I did, but it was an emergency.” My mom just looked at me, her silence saying everything. Thinking back, the question was about one of the most basic functions of the system. Anyone who had bothered to read the user manual could have answered it. But Tiffany never read the manual. Because she knew she had me. After lunch, I returned to my desk and noticed a new file on the desktop: “Q3 2024 Departmental Employee of the Quarter.” I clicked it open. First place: Tiffany Lee. Bonus: $5,000. Reason: Led the successful completion of Project X, Project Y, and Project Z, generating significant revenue for the company. I stared at the names of those three projects, stunned. Those three projects were entirely my work. I wrote the proposals, I ran the data, I compiled the reports. Tiffany just did the presentation. Her name was on the list of top performers. Mine wasn’t. I scrolled down. Second place, third place… My name was nowhere. I hadn’t made the list. I opened the company’s email server and found the original files for those three projects. They were all sent from my account. The time, the content, the attachments—it was all there, clear as day. But on the final project summary reports, the “Project Lead” field read: Tiffany Lee. I stared, my eyes burning a hole in the screen. From the next desk, I heard Tiffany’s voice. She was bragging to a colleague. “I got a $5,000 bonus! I’m thinking of treating myself to a new bag.” “Wow! Which one?” “That new Louis Vuitton. I’ve had my eye on it for ages.” “So lucky! I only got $800…” $800. My bonus was also $800. I completed eighteen projects and got $800. She put her name on five and got $5,000. I pulled out my phone and opened my chat with Jessica. “Did you submit my resume?” “I did! HR is reviewing it. They’re looking for someone with a technical background, so you’re a perfect fit.” “Great.” I put my phone away and opened a new document on my computer. Title: My Work Log. From this day forward, I would document everything. Every project, every proposal, every revision, every system maintenance task. Everything. At 3 PM, Mr. Davis called me into his office. “Sophie, I need to talk to you about something.” I stood before him. “What is it?” “We have a new project next month, a partnership with a major client. It’s very important.” He shuffled some papers. “Tiffany will be the client-facing lead. You’ll handle the back-end support.” Back-end support. Always back-end support. “What’s the budget for this project?” I asked. Mr. Davis looked up, surprised. “Why are you asking that?” “I’d like to know.” He frowned, displeased. “The budget is confidential company information. You don’t need to know.” “Okay,” I said. “Then what are my responsibilities?” “The usual. System integration, data processing, report generation, and daily maintenance.” “And what will Tiffany be responsible for?” “She’ll handle client communication and business development.” “Understood.” I turned to leave. “Sophie,” Mr. Davis called out. “Yes?” “This project is critical. I need you to give it your all.” He looked at me, his gaze pointed. “Do a good job, and I’ll give you a raise next year.” A raise. Always “next year.” I nodded. “Okay.” I returned to my desk, opened my work log, and typed a new entry: October 15, 2024, 3:00 PM. Mr. Davis assigned new project. My responsibilities: system integration, data processing, report generation, daily maintenance. Tiffany’s responsibilities: client communication and business development. Mr. Davis promised a raise next year upon successful completion. I saved the document. As I stared at the text, a strange calm settled over me. It wasn’t numbness. It was clarity. 3 That weekend, I met Jessica for dinner. She looked sharp and energetic in a tailored blazer. “You finally saw the light!” she said, pouring me a cup of tea. “I couldn’t stand watching you waste away in that dead-end company for five years.” I gave her a wry smile. “I was just being foolish.” “Not foolish. Too decent,” she sighed. “Sophie, don’t you know? In the corporate world, decent people get screwed over the most.” “I know.” “Then why didn’t you leave sooner?” “I used to think…” I hesitated. “I thought if I just worked hard enough, someone would eventually notice.” “Did they?” I fell silent. Jessica shook her head. “Listen to me. No one in the workplace cares how much work you do. They only care about your value.” “What do you mean?” “The work you do, can anyone else do it? If the answer is no, you have value. If the answer is yes, you are replaceable.” I thought for a moment. “The three systems I manage… no one else knows how.” Jessica’s eyes lit up. “Then you have value. So why are you letting them treat you like a sticky note?” “Because…” “Because they don’t know your value,” Jessica cut in. “Or rather, they pretend not to know.” I froze. Pretend not to know. She was right. Mr. Davis knew I was the only one who could handle those systems. But he never acknowledged it. In meetings, he’d just say, “Sophie is in charge of system maintenance.” System maintenance. It sounded like a janitorial task. He would never say, “Sophie is responsible for our three core systems. Without her, this entire department would grind to a halt.” Because if he said that, he would have to give me a raise. He would have to give me a promotion. He would have to admit that I was more important than Tiffany. And he would never do that. “Jessica,” I said, looking her straight in the eye. “What’s the compensation for that position at your company?” “Starts at $9,000 a month, three-month annual bonus, full benefits.” $9,000 a month. More than double my current salary. “When’s the interview?” “Next week,” she grinned. “I told HR to expedite it. Get ready.” “I will.” When I got home, I opened my work log. A week had passed, and it was already a dozen pages long. Every day, every task, every detail was recorded. Looking at it, I felt a new sense of confidence. I finally knew what my five years of work were worth. Monday at the office. I had just sat down when Mr. Davis walked over. “Sophie, we have a meeting this afternoon. Prepare a performance report for all three systems.” “Okay.” “Also, Tiffany is meeting a client. There’s a data question she needs your help with.” “Okay.” I opened my laptop and started working on the report. At the next desk, Tiffany was applying makeup. “Hey, Soph, can you just walk me through that data question now? I’m afraid I’ll forget.” I turned to her. “What’s the question?” She glanced at her phone and read off a string of technical terms. “The client wants to know how this metric is calculated.” I listened, then paused for a second. “That question is explained in detail on page 32 of the user manual.” “Oh, come on, I don’t have time to read the manual,” she said with a little pout. “Just tell me, Soph. Please?” I looked at her. Her makeup was flawless, her lipstick was a vibrant red, and her nails sparkled. “Tiffany,” I said. “Yeah?” “This is your job. You should be the one to understand it.” She froze. The air in our little corner of the office went still. “Sophie, what’s that supposed to mean?” “It means,” I said, turning back to my computer, “that my job is system maintenance. Not training you.” Her face changed. “Sophie.” Mr. Davis’s voice came from behind me. “What was that?” I turned. He was standing there, a thunderous look on his face. “Helping a colleague is part of being a team player. How could you say that?” I looked at him. “Mr. Davis, my job is system maintenance. Tiffany is in a client-facing role. Understanding the product is her job.” “You…” “Furthermore,” I cut him off, “over the past three years, I’ve answered 437 questions for her. I counted.” He was stunned into silence. So was Tiffany. The office was dead quiet. “Four hundred and thirty-seven,” I repeated. “That’s an average of 1.7 per week. All unpaid.” Mr. Davis’s mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. I turned back to my computer. “I’ll have the report for the afternoon meeting ready by 3 PM.” Then I put on my headphones, blocking them out. Behind me, I heard Tiffany whisper, “Mr. Davis, what’s gotten into her?” He didn’t answer. I heard his footsteps retreat. Chloe shot me a look from her desk and gave me a discreet thumbs-up. I didn’t react. But the corner of my mouth twitched into a smile. 4 On Wednesday, I took a half-day off. For the interview. Jessica’s company was in a sleek high-rise in the CBD. The lobby was impressive. The receptionist led me to a conference room to wait. The hiring manager was a woman in her late thirties with a warm smile. “Sophie, I’ve reviewed your resume. Five years of experience managing the development and maintenance of multiple systems. It’s very impressive.” “Thank you.” “But I have to ask, why are you looking to leave your current company?” I thought for a moment. “I feel that my value isn’t being recognized there.” She nodded, not pressing further. The interview lasted over an hour. I answered the technical questions fluently and presented my case studies with clear, logical thinking. Finally, she said, “Sophie, your professional skills are excellent. We’ll be in touch within three business days.” “Great, thank you.” As I stepped out of the building, I stood on the sidewalk and took a deep breath. The sun was shining, and the wind no longer felt cold. My phone rang. It was Mr. Davis. “Sophie, Tiffany said she still doesn’t understand that data issue. I need you to come back and walk her through it.” I looked at the screen, letting it ring. Five minutes later, I texted back: “Running errands. Will deal with it when I get back.” It was already 4 PM when I returned to the office. Tiffany was out, supposedly meeting with the client. Chloe secretly filled me in. “She was in the conference room for half an hour and couldn’t answer a single question. Mr. Davis had to jump in and save her.” “And then?” “He was furious, but he couldn’t show it.” Chloe covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. “Soph, I think he’s starting to panic.” “Panic about what?” “That you’re not going to bail Tiffany out anymore,” she whispered. “I’m telling you, you’re the one who solves more than half of the technical issues for his clients. Tiffany is just a pretty face.” I said nothing. At 7 PM, just as I was packing up, Mr. Davis called me into his office. “Sophie, have a seat.” I sat. He looked at me, his expression unreadable. “Have you had any… thoughts about your work recently?” “Thoughts?” “For example,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “is there anything you’re dissatisfied with?” I looked at him and almost laughed. Five years, and this was the first time he’d ever asked if I was “dissatisfied.” “Mr. Davis,” I said, “do you want the truth, or do you want me to be polite?” He blinked. “The truth, of course.” “The truth is,” I said, looking him directly in the eye, “I feel that my compensation is not proportional to my contribution.” His expression shifted slightly. “Sophie, you have to understand, the company has its challenges…” “I do understand,” I cut him off. “That’s why I don’t complain. I simply consider my own options.” “What options?” “My career development options.” He stared at me for a few seconds. “Sophie, are you looking for another job?” I didn’t deny it. The color drained from his face. “Sophie, listen to me, the company is considering a promotion and a raise for you…” “Since when?” I asked. “Just… just recently,” he stammered, his eyes darting away. “Just wait a little longer, you’ll hear something soon.” I stood up. “Mr. Davis, I’m heading home. Let me know when you have news.” I walked out of his office, returned to my desk, and opened my work log. I wrote: October 23, 7:00 PM. Mr. Davis asked if I was job searching. Claimed the company is considering a promotion and raise for me. No specific timeline or offer was provided. I hit save. On Friday afternoon, a message from Jessica came through. “Congratulations! You got the offer! $9,000 a month, 3-month bonus. Can you start next Monday?” My heart hammered against my ribs as I read the message. $9,000. More than double my current salary. I replied: “I can. But I need to give notice. It will be at least a month.” “No problem! Just let us know when you resign. We can be flexible with your start date.” “Okay.” I put down my phone, opened my computer, and created a new document. Title: Resignation Letter.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388396”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 When I got the call that my wife was in surgery, I battled a hurricane and torrential rain for four hours, driving back to the city. When I arrived at the hospital, my wife, Stella, was lying in her hospital bed, deliriously calling out, “I want my husband! Get my husband in here, now!” Her circle of friends chuckled, teasing her for being so obsessed with her husband. Everyone said she was madly in love with me. Their playful jabs made my cheeks flush, but my heart swelled with happiness. I walked over and took Stella’s hand. “I’m here.” But she recoiled, yanking her hand away with a frown of disgust. “Get lost! You’re not my husband! My husband is Julian!” … The once-lively hospital room fell into a strange, suffocating silence. One by one, her so-called best friends wore masks of awkwardness, their eyes darting anywhere but at me. I scanned their faces, and the cold truth settled in my stomach: they all knew who Julian was. Suddenly, I felt like a clown. That look of blissful love I’d worn just moments ago must have seemed both pathetic and amusing to them. Someone stammered, trying to break the tension. “Uh… Leo, don’t mind her. Stella’s just loopy from the anesthesia. She’s talking nonsense.” The others quickly jumped in. “Yeah, everyone knows how much Stella adores you. She’s crazy about you. This is definitely just the drugs talking.” “Right, right! Julian is just her assistant. He could never compare to you in her heart, Leo.” One of them nudged the speaker, a silent warning to shut up. I said nothing. I could only feel the numbness in my feet, which had been soaked in cold rainwater for over four hours. Stella was still rambling. “Where’s my husband? Where is he? Faye, call my husband, quickly!” Her voice started to crack with a childish pout. “He promised he’d always be with me, so why isn’t he here? I can’t sleep without his abs…” My hand, still holding hers, began to tremble. “Stella,” I asked, my voice tight, “who am I?” She looked at me through a hazy fog, and after a long moment, three words slurred from her lips: “Pathetic… loser.” A sharp pain lanced through my heart, and my eyes stung. We had been high school sweethearts, together from seventeen to thirty. All these years, I had catered to her every whim, given her everything she asked for. And in her eyes, all of it just made me a “pathetic loser.” How laughable… how tragic… Finally, I picked up Stella’s phone and called her assistant, Julian. When Julian arrived, he walked past me as if I were invisible. He cupped Stella’s face, his voice dripping with concern. “Stella, my love, I’m so sorry I’m late. You’ve suffered so much.” Stella’s eyes crinkled into a blissful smile as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “My love, you’re finally here. Someone was pretending to be you just now, but I’m not stupid. How could I not recognize my own husband? I told him to get lost!” Julian shot me a triumphant glance before cooing at Stella like she was a child. “My girl is so smart.” Stella pointed to her lips. “Don’t I get a reward?” And just like that, they began to kiss, deeply and passionately, as if I wasn’t even there. Watching them, my throat felt raw, and a bitter rage surged through me. I dug my nails into my thighs, trying to ground myself, but I couldn’t stop the cold tremors wracking my body. Her friend, Faye, took pity on me, whispering, “Leo, maybe… maybe you should go home for now? I’m sure Stella will explain everything when she’s fully awake.” Explain? They were one step away from consummating their affair right in front of me. What was there left to explain? The irony was crushing. Half an hour ago, I saw Stella as the perfect wife, a woman who doted on me, a source of pride I would boast about to anyone who would listen. Thirteen years of love and companionship, and we had never even raised our voices at each other. I cherished her, and she adored me—or so I thought. We were two perfectly matched souls. So when that illusion shattered, it triggered a violent earthquake in my world. And I was destined to be buried in the rubble. I silently stood up and left the room. The moment the door closed behind me, I heard a collective sigh of relief from her friends, as if they’d finally gotten rid of a suffocating curse. I realized then that at some point, not just Stella, but her entire circle of friends had silently “removed” me from their world. I didn’t sleep that night. My dreams were a torturous slideshow of our thirteen years together, each memory a fresh stab of pain that left me breathless. A fever took hold, and I tossed and turned, burning up, struggling to wake from the nightmare but unable to open my eyes. Just as I thought I might be dying, I felt a hand on my forehead and heard someone anxiously calling my name. “Leo… my love.” I had no strength to respond. Tears streamed freely down my face. Only in the darkness of my subconscious did I dare to cry so openly, without fear of being mocked for my weakness. When I finally regained consciousness, I saw Stella sitting by my bed, her face etched with exhaustion. I hadn’t expected to see her. For a moment, I thought last night had been a fever dream, and I could only stare at her, disoriented. Seeing me awake, she grabbed my hand, her voice filled with relief. “Honey, how are you feeling?” I pulled my hand from her grasp, my voice cold. “Am I your honey? Or the pathetic loser?” The color drained from Stella’s face. Her eyes reddened as she slapped herself hard across the cheek. “I’m so sorry,” she choked out. “It was the anesthesia, I swear. My mind was a total mess. I… I don’t know why I would do something so horrible. When I finally came to my senses, I was filled with so much regret and fear.” “I was terrified you would leave me. The doctor wouldn’t discharge me, but I left anyway.” With a pained grunt, she struggled to her feet and lifted the hem of her shirt. She’d had an appendectomy, and fresh blood was already seeping through the gauze dressing. The thought that she had watched over me all night softened the edges of my anger. Looking into her pleading eyes, I allowed a sliver of doubt to creep in. What if she’s telling the truth? Maybe… maybe she wasn’t a lost cause. Maybe she had developed a simple crush on a younger, more vivacious man, a fleeting attraction that paled in comparison to her love for me. If she could just snuff out that flame, perhaps we could go back to the way things were. But the image of them kissing in front of everyone was a fishbone lodged in my throat. As if reading my mind, Stella leaned in, peppering my face with kisses, her voice thick with tears. “My love, are you disgusted with me? I’ll go wash my mouth out. I’ll have a doctor peel a layer of skin off my lips, okay? Just please, don’t despise me. I love you so much.” “I don’t want anyone but you! I don’t know why the anesthesia made me act like that. I already fired Julian this morning. No matter what, his actions last night prove he has improper intentions toward me. A man like that, a homewrecker with no morals, is someone I would never, ever be interested in!” She paused, her expression turning earnest. “You know how much I hate cheaters. How could I ever do something like that?” I looked at Stella, her face a mask of sincerity, and thought of her past. Her mother had committed suicide after her father’s affair, leaving Stella with a deep-seated hatred for infidelity. She was known to refuse business deals with people of questionable character. Besides, if she truly had someone else in her heart, why would she have always been so good to me? Right then, I decided to give her one more chance. She hugged me tightly, her tears soaking into my shirt, hot against my skin. They felt like a tranquilizer, calming the storm inside me. I wrapped my arms around her. “My moon,” I whispered, “don’t lie to me. Or you’ll lose your star.” Star. It was my childhood nickname, the name she used to love calling me. Her body stiffened for a fraction of a second, but then she pulled back, her gaze unwavering. “My star, don’t you worry. Your moon will never betray you.” And just like that, we reconciled. Stella became even more attentive than before. She started turning down social events to wait for me outside my office. We’d go to the market together, then cook side-by-side in our kitchen. She sent afternoon tea to my colleagues, asking them to take good care of me. My coworkers praised my “wife-taming skills” and asked for my secrets. But unlike the pride and confidence I once felt, now I could only offer a hollow smile. What happened that night had become a permanent knot in my heart. A month later, Stella told me she was pregnant. Overjoyed, I lifted her into my arms and spun her around. In that moment, I was profoundly grateful that I hadn’t let one bizarre incident destroy our lives. I immediately started researching birthing centers and devouring parenting books, determined to become the best father I could be. Until the day I saw Julian with her at a prenatal check-up. He was gently stroking her belly, his smile full of hopeful anticipation. “Stella, my love,” Julian said softly. “Do you really have the heart to let our child call another man ‘Daddy’?” Stella chuckled, pinching his cheek. “Jealous, are we? I already told you, with my current net worth, a divorce would be a financial disaster. Don’t worry. When the baby is a little older, I’ll tell him you’re his real father. Our child will still call you ‘Daddy’.” For the first time, I understood that being disgusted with someone could make you physically sick. I stumbled to a nearby trash can and retched violently. I heard their footsteps approaching and frantically ducked behind the bin. I was the victim, the one who should be storming out and confronting them, but… I was paralyzed by fear. It felt as if stepping out from my hiding place would finalize my status as a pathetic, abandoned fool. I heard Julian’s dreamy voice. “I really hope it’s a girl. She’ll be gentle and strong, beautiful and poised, just like you. The thought of having two of you in my life makes me bubble with happiness.” Stella giggled. “You’re such a sweet talker. By the way, how are the moving arrangements coming along?” Julian’s tone turned serious. “Stella, I don’t want to move to another city. I want to stay here, with you and our baby.” “No,” Stella said firmly. “It’s too risky. You’ll be discovered sooner or later.” Her voice softened. “Besides, I’ll use ‘business trips’ as an excuse to come see you for half of every month. You won’t have to worry about not seeing me.” Julian pulled her into a fierce kiss. “That’s wonderful! Stella, I love you so much. Please don’t ever leave me.” “Of course not,” Stella said earnestly. “I love you too. I’m just sorry you have to make this sacrifice.” “It’s no sacrifice,” Julian replied. “Being your man is the greatest happiness of my life.” They walked away, laughing and chatting, and got into a car. I staggered to my feet, my vision blurred by tears. I couldn’t believe it. Stella had been lying to me all along. If I hadn’t come to the hospital for my own stomach issues, I never would have known. I would have continued to be her fool, dancing on her strings. I didn’t go home until late that night. Stella had called me dozens of times, but I ignored every call. The moment I walked through the door, she rushed to me, her eyes wide with worry. “Honey, where have you been? Do you have any idea how frantic I was?” “I was at the hospital,” I said. Her body went rigid. She stared at me, her voice cautious. “When did you go? Which hospital? Why… why didn’t you ask me to come with you?” “City General,” I answered. “My stomach was bothering me.” Stella visibly relaxed. They had been at the women’s and children’s hospital. “What’s wrong with your stomach?” she asked with renewed concern. “Nothing serious. Just some indigestion,” I lied. “Oh, good,” she said with a sweet smile. I looked at that smile, the smile I had loved for thirteen years, and after a long silence, I spoke. “You know, I’ve been thinking. Now isn’t the right time for us to have a baby. Maybe… we shouldn’t keep it.” Stella’s expression froze. Her face hardened, and she instinctively shielded her stomach with her hands. “Are you even human?” she demanded, her voice sharp with anger. “We’ve been together for thirteen years! I’ve wished for this child for so long! How can you just say we should get rid of it? How can you be so cruel? Are you… are you seeing someone else?” I stared at the face I had adored for over a decade, now twisted with rage, looking at me as if I were her mortal enemy. A bitter laugh escaped me. What was I even hoping for? That she would choose me over this child? This was the child of the man she truly loved. What did that make me? The pain was all-consuming. I had given her her last chance, and she had made her choice. It was time for this to end. But not yet. Now was not the time to show my hand. “Forget I said anything,” I said flatly. “I’m just talking nonsense. I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” I started to walk past her, but she grabbed me from behind, her arms tight around my waist. “Honey, what’s wrong?” she whispered. “Is it because you still haven’t forgiven me?” “No,” I lied again. “I’m just scared I won’t be a good father.” She let out a breath of relief, her smile returning. “Of course you will. You’ve been studying so hard. You’re going to be the best father in the world. This baby is so lucky to have you. I’m sure he can’t wait to meet you.” Her words were like acid in my ears. I nearly choked on my disgust. “Is that so?” I said through gritted teeth. “I’m looking forward to it, too.” I pushed her hands away and retreated to the bedroom, feigning exhaustion. Later that night, Stella called me for dinner, but I pretended to be fast asleep. She sat by the bed for a long time before quietly leaving. A few minutes later, I heard her phone ring, and then the sound of the front door closing. I immediately got up and followed her. I watched as Stella picked up Julian from the side of the road. They drove to our very first apartment—our marital home. My hands trembled on the steering wheel. The tightness in my chest, the nausea, it all came rushing back, more intense than ever. I couldn’t believe it. She was letting Julian live in our first home. I had bought that apartment by selling the old house my parents left me, supplemented by money I’d earned from endless all-nighters writing proposals. It was my wedding gift to her, the first home that was truly ours. It wasn’t big, and the neighborhood was average, but it was filled with meaning. Even after her business took off and we owned multiple properties, we never sold it. It wasn’t just a house, Stella had said. It was a testament to my pure, unwavering love for her. And now, she had turned it into a love nest for her and her lover, shamelessly trampling on the memory of the man who had given her everything. In that moment, my heart finally turned to ash. I sat in my car all night, a self-inflicted punishment for my own naivety. I needed to see it, to watch her settle into that home with another man, to witness them wrapped up in each other. Only then could I finally break free. The next morning, a refreshed and glowing Stella came downstairs, Julian at her side. As she turned to leave, he pulled her into a passionate, lingering kiss. The woman I knew was once so shy was now locking lips with another man in broad daylight, in full view of the neighbors, a look of pure bliss on her face. The sight of her wantonness made me sick. After the kiss, Julian knelt down to tie her shoelaces while she pulled out her phone. My own phone buzzed. It was a text from her: “Emergency at the office, a big contract has issues. I was up all night. Probably won’t be home until this evening. Take care of yourself and eat on time. Love, your wife.” The wave of nausea returned. I fought it down, but a dry heave escaped my lips, followed by a searing pain in my stomach. I doubled over, trembling, a dark premonition washing over me. Stella drove off. Julian, humming a cheerful tune, went back upstairs. I waited until the sharpest cramps subsided before getting out of the car. I knocked on the door. Julian opened it with a smile, murmuring, “Did you forget something again, my…” His voice trailed off as he saw me. The smile on his face curdled into a malicious sneer. I had expected fear, or at least guilt. Instead, he looked me up and down with open contempt. “Well, well, look what we have here,” he drawled. “If it isn’t my girlfriend’s pathetic loser of a husband. The one she finds tasteless but too much trouble to throw away.” “Since you’re here, why don’t you come in and have a look?” He stepped aside, gesturing me in with the air of a homeowner welcoming an unwanted guest. It was as if I were the shameful secret, the one who didn’t belong. My chest heaved, but my heart felt dead. Numbly, I walked into what I had once considered the sanctuary of our love, and saw a home built for two. His and hers slippers by the door, matching pajamas on the couch, even toothbrushes that fit together to form a heart. Julian didn’t follow me. He didn’t need to. He simply lounged on the sofa, lit a cigarette, and said lazily, “You know, I should thank you. I used to have to work. Now, Stella’s so worried you’ll find out about me that she’s set me up in this ‘golden cage,’ paying for everything. All I have to do is keep her happy, and the money rolls in. Life is good.” I glared at him, my fists clenched. He met my gaze with a defiant smirk. “Don’t look at me like that. What are you going to do? Run crying to her? Let me tell you something. Even if you did, she wouldn’t be scared. The moment you chose to forgive her last time, she knew you could never leave her. Even with her cheating, even with her carrying my child, you’ll swallow it all. Because at your age, where else are you going to find a wife who makes as much money as she does? A rich woman like her wouldn’t look twice at a washed-up old man like you.” Washed-up old man? I was thirty. How was I a washed-up old man? He ignored my fury. “I know you look down on me,” he continued, “but you and I, we’re the same.” The same? I felt like I was choking on blood. I wanted to leap across the room and beat him to a pulp. We met when we were just kids. I worked myself to the bone to fund her dream of starting a business. Yes, she built it from the ground up, but how many bottles of liquor did I have to drink, how many deals did I have to close to get her that seed money? How dare he say we were the same? But his confidence was absolute. So absolute that I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Stella herself had fed him these ideas. Maybe I had been wrong from the very beginning. I forgave Stella because I loved her. But in her eyes, I forgave her because I was dependent on her. This man, this thirteen-year relationship, had long ago been corrupted by her rising social status, turning into a toxic swamp. Foul-smelling and deadly. I walked past him, my shoes clicking on the floor, and stopped dead in the living room. On the wall hung a massive wedding photograph. In it, Stella wore a gown encrusted with diamonds, leaning demurely against Julian. Behind them stretched the sparkling Aegean Sea. It screamed luxury and opulence. I thought my heart was already dead, but seeing that photo sent a fresh spasm of agony through me. It felt as if a hand were squeezing my throat, the lack of air making my head spin. Our wedding photo used to hang in that spot. Unlike theirs, ours was far from lavish. We were broke, saving every penny for her startup, so we couldn’t even afford the cheapest photography package. We just found a random beach, wore simple white clothes, and used a single camera and a veil. That was our wedding photo. I forced myself to calm down, took out my phone, and with a shaking hand, snapped a picture of their portrait. In that instant, something inside me clicked into place. Rotten things belong in the trash. Stella and Julian had been living together for a long time. They were, for all intents and purposes, in a common-law marriage. I would take this evidence to a lawyer and make sure this disgusting pair got nothing. Seeing me take the picture, Julian finally panicked. He lunged at me, trying to snatch my phone. I dodged, but he kicked me, hard. He was right about one thing—he was stronger than me, especially when my stomach was cramping in agony. I fell backwards, my head cracking against the corner of the coffee table. My vision exploded with stars, and warm blood streamed down my forehead, blurring my sight. I saw a flicker of raw hatred in Julian’s eyes. I could feel it. He wanted me dead. Suddenly, the smart lock beeped. I looked up to see the door swinging open. It was Stella, back from her “emergency.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388395”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

“Stella, you’ll be sitting out the company retreat.” Mona’s voice drifted from the conference room, light and airy, as if she were commenting on the weather. I put down the file in my hand and turned my head. “Excuse me?” “The Maldives trip. Spots are limited, and someone has to stay behind to hold down the fort.” She offered a thin, plastic smile. “Besides, your husband’s the VP. You’re not really going to make a fuss about this, are you?” The twenty-odd people in the room fell silent. Every eye was on me. I just stared at her. Five years. For five years, my sales numbers had been number one, every single year. And for five years, my name had never appeared on any recognition list. I knew why. But I never said a word. “Fine,” I said, nodding slowly. “I’ll stay.” Mona blinked, clearly taken aback. She hadn’t expected me to agree so easily. I let a small, knowing smile touch my lips. “But are you sure about this, Mona?” 1 The conference room was dead silent for three long seconds. Mona’s smile faltered. “What’s that supposed to mean, Stella?” “Nothing at all,” I said, pushing my chair back and rising to my feet. “I’ll go cover the office.” I turned and walked out without a backward glance, the sound of hushed whispers following me down the hall. The elevator doors at the end of the corridor slid open, and I stepped inside. Just as they were closing, I caught a glimpse of Mona standing in the doorway of the conference room, her face a mask of thunder. I pressed the button for the ground floor. My phone vibrated. A text from Kevin. Honey, don’t be mad. Mona is just thinking about what’s best for the company. I stared at the words, my thumb hovering over the screen, but I didn’t reply. Another message popped up. I’ll make it up to you when we get back. How about a trip to Miami? Miami. They were all going to the Maldives, a five-thousand-dollar-a-head luxury trip. His way of making it up to me was Miami. I slipped the phone back into my pocket. The elevator doors opened, and I walked into the lobby. The young woman at the front desk looked at me, her expression hesitant. “Stella? Are you really not going?” “I’m not going.” “But…” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “you’re the only one from the whole company who’s staying behind.” I forced a smile. “Someone’s got to keep the lights on.” She looked like she wanted to say more, but she held her tongue. I knew what she was thinking. Out of thirty-two employees, twenty-eight were going to the Maldives. The only ones left behind were me and the three new interns. Three interns. I was in my fifth year with the company. A sales manager who brought in over four million dollars in annual sales. And I was staying behind with the interns. I went to the breakroom and poured myself a glass of water. My phone buzzed again. This time it was Linda. Are you an idiot, Stella? Your husband is the VP, why didn’t you just have him say something? I ignored it. A second text followed. Then again, what does it matter how good your sales are? Everyone knows you only got the job because your husband pulled strings for you. I stared at the screen for five seconds, the words burning into my eyes. Because of my husband. My four and a half million in sales were because of my husband? I set the phone down and picked up my water. Outside, the sky was a grim, overcast gray. At three o’clock, the official trip announcement went out in the company-wide group chat. “Hi team, a reminder that our Maldives retreat is from December 20th to the 26th. All flights (first-class) and accommodations (five-star resort) have been arranged by the company. Please be ready for an amazing seven days!” A flood of “Got it!” and “Can’t wait!” messages followed. I didn’t respond. Another message appeared. “Personnel staying behind for office coverage: Stella Ross, Mike (Intern), Wendy (Intern), Alex (Intern).” The chat went quiet for a moment. Then, a single laughing emoji popped up. I knew exactly who sent it. Linda. Mona’s little lapdog. I closed the app and opened my work files. The Apex Corporation contract was up for renewal next week. A 1.5-million-dollar deal. I had landed that client three years ago. Their CEO, Mr. Peterson, was a university alum. For three years, the renewal had been a seamless formality. Never a single issue. I glanced at the calendar. The renewal date fell squarely in the middle of the company retreat. A humorless smile touched my lips. Mona really knew how to pick her moments. At five-thirty, people started packing up and leaving, a current of excited energy filling the office. I remained at my desk. Kevin emerged from his office and walked over. “Hey, honey. Ready to head home?” I looked up at him. “You knew about the retreat.” It wasn’t a question. He hesitated for a second. “I did.” “And you didn’t say anything for me?” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Stella, Mona’s the Director of Sales. I might be the VP, but that department is her territory. It’s not my place to interfere.” I just looked at him. “For three years, I’ve been the top performer.” “I know that.” “Half of Mona’s reported sales come from my clients.” “I… I know.” “You know?” I stood up, my voice rising slightly. “You know she steals my credit, and you say nothing. You know she’s pushing me out, and you say nothing. Now she’s making me the sole employee left behind, and you still say nothing?” “Stella…” “I’m your wife, Kevin.” He opened his mouth, but no words came out. I grabbed my bag. “I’m going home by myself.” “Stella, wait!” I didn’t stop. Just as the elevator doors closed, I saw him standing there, his face a portrait of conflicted helplessness. Helpless. Right. I pressed the button for the parking garage. It was quiet, the air cool and still. I got into my car and started the engine. My phone lit up. Kevin. Honey, please don’t be angry. I’ll explain everything when I get home. I didn’t answer. The car emerged from the garage into a sea of red taillights. Rush hour traffic was at a standstill. A red light. I stared out the window. I’d been married to Kevin for three years. He was the VP; I was a junior manager. Everyone thought I’d married up. Including Mona. The first day she met me, she’d said, “Oh, so you’re the VP’s wife. Well, you better work hard for me. Don’t embarrass your husband.” Back then, I was a new hire with zero sales to my name. Now, I brought in over four million dollars a year, and she still looked at me with that same dismissive gaze. The light turned green. I pressed the accelerator. When I got home, Kevin wasn’t there yet. I changed my clothes and sat on the sofa, my mind a blank. The doorbell rang. I opened it. It was my mother-in-law. “Carol? What are you doing here?” She swept past me into the living room, wearing that familiar, condescending smile. “Kevin told me you were in a bit of a mood.” “I’m fine.” “What’s all this fuss about some company trip? You just do odd jobs at the office anyway, what difference does it make if you go or not?” I stared at her. “Carol, I’m a sales manager, I don’t do ‘odd jobs’.” “Manager, assistant, it’s all the same. You work for someone else,” she said with a wave of her hand. “You should stop worrying about these silly things and focus on what’s important. Taking care of Kevin, and giving me a grandchild.” I took a deep breath. “I’m going to start dinner.” “Yes, you do that.” I turned and walked into the kitchen. I opened the refrigerator. It was completely empty. I froze. It was full of groceries yesterday. “Carol, where did all the food go?” “Oh, I took it,” her voice called out from the living room. “Your sister-in-law is pregnant, you know. She needs the nutrition.” My hand tightened on the refrigerator door. Three years. For three years, she had never once looked at me as an equal. I was just the girl who got lucky, the one who wasn’t good enough for her perfect son. I closed the fridge. My phone rang. An unknown number. I answered. “Hello?” “May I speak with Stella Ross?” “This is she.” “Hello, my name is Laura, I’m a recruiter with Edge Talent. I have a Sales Director position I’d like to discuss with you. The base salary is one hundred and fifty thousand. Would you be interested in hearing more?” I was stunned into silence for a moment. “Would it be alright if I sent you the details?” “…Yes,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “That would be fine.” I saved her number. After hanging up, I stared out the window into the darkening sky. And I made a decision. 2 The next day, I went to work as usual. The atmosphere in the office was thick with unspoken tension. As I passed the breakroom, I heard voices. “Did you hear? Stella isn’t going on the retreat.” “It’s not that she isn’t going. Mona isn’t letting her go.” “Why?” “What do you think? Her husband’s the VP. Mona’s probably worried she’ll steal the spotlight.” “Please. With her numbers? What spotlight is there to steal?” “You don’t know? Her numbers are actually…” The voices cut off abruptly. I pushed the door open and walked in. The two women exchanged a panicked look, grabbed their mugs, and scurried out. I poured myself a coffee. My phone buzzed. A text from Mona. Stella, my office. Now. I set my mug down and walked over. Mona was sitting behind her large desk, a triumphant smile playing on her lips. “Sit.” I sat. “About the retreat. No hard feelings, I hope?” “None at all.” She nodded, satisfied. “Good. Now, about the Apex Corporation contract. It’s up for renewal next week. Get all the materials ready for me. I’ll be handling the negotiation personally.” I looked at her, my expression unreadable. “Apex is my client.” “They’re the company’s client,” she corrected me smoothly. “You’re just the point of contact.” “Mr. Peterson only deals with me.” “Mr. Peterson deals with whoever brings him the best deal,” she countered with a dismissive laugh. “Stella, you’ve been here for five years. You should understand by now: the clients belong to the company, not to you.” I said nothing. “You just focus on holding down the fort,” she continued. “I’ll take care of Apex.” I stood up. “Are you sure, Mona?” She raised an eyebrow. “Is there a problem?” “Not at all.” I turned to leave, pausing at the door. “You know, Mona, the Apex account is worth one and a half million dollars annually. That’s thirty-five percent of this company’s total revenue.” “I’m aware.” “Just making sure.” I opened the door and walked out. Behind me, I heard her call out, “Don’t you dare try to pull anything, Stella.” I didn’t look back. Back at my desk, I opened my laptop. I had already backed up every file related to Apex Corporation. Three years of email correspondence, order histories, and negotiation notes. All of it was sitting safely in my personal cloud drive. I checked the time. The retreat started in five days. I picked up my phone and sent a quick text to Mr. Peterson. Mr. Peterson, regarding the renewal next week, there’s a possibility the company may assign a new representative to your account. A few minutes later, he replied. A new rep? Who? Our Director of Sales, Mona Vance. Never heard of her. A small smile played on my lips. Mr. Peterson, would you have time for a quick call about the contract? Sure. I’ll call you tonight at seven. I put my phone down. From the next desk over, Linda leaned in. “Stella, you were just in Mona’s office?” “I was.” “What did she want?” “Nothing important.” She scoffed. “Don’t be ungrateful. Mona’s giving you a big responsibility by letting you watch the office.” I turned to face her. “Linda, what were your sales numbers last year?” She froze. “What’s it to you?” “If I recall, it was around three hundred and eighty thousand, right?” Her face flushed. “My sales were four and a half million,” I said, turning back to my computer. “That’s nearly twelve times yours.” Her face turned beet red. “You… You think you’re so great! You only have those numbers because of your husband!” I ignored her. She huffed and spun back around in her chair. At lunchtime, Kevin appeared at my desk. “Honey, want to grab a bite?” “Can’t. I’m busy.” “With what?” “Work,” I said, grabbing my purse. “You go ahead.” “Stella…” I didn’t stop, stepping straight into the elevator. Downstairs, I found a quiet café and sat down. I opened my phone and pulled up the recruiter’s information. Her name was Laura, and the job description she’d sent was detailed: Company: Sterling Enterprises Position: Regional Sales Director, East Coast Compensation: $150,000 base + commission Benefits: Full medical, dental, vision, 401k match, annual company trip. Sterling Enterprises. I knew the name. They were Apex Corporation’s biggest competitor. I thought for a moment, then typed out a reply. Laura, I’d be interested in learning more. Are you available to chat? Of course. When works for you? How about tomorrow evening? Perfect. I’ll send you the address. I put down my phone and took a sip of my latte. Outside the window, the city bustled with life. Five years. I’d given five years to this company. I’d climbed from an associate to a manager, my sales growing from zero to over four million dollars. But in Mona’s eyes, I would always be “Kevin’s wife.” In my mother-in-law’s eyes, I was “that girl who married up.” And in my colleagues’ eyes, I was “the one who got her job through connections.” I let out a soft, humorless laugh. Maybe it was time to show them who I really was. When I got back to the office, Mona summoned me to a meeting room. “All of the Apex files. I want them transferred to me.” I just looked at her. “By the end of the day,” she added. “Mona, the contract isn’t up for renewal until next week.” “I need to prepare.” “Prepare what, exactly?” Her expression hardened. “Stella, I am your superior. When I tell you to do something, you do it.” I nodded slowly. “Alright.” I walked out and went back to my desk. Linda shot me a look dripping with schadenfreude. “What’s wrong? Did you get chewed out?” I ignored her. I opened my computer, compiled all of Apex Corporation’s publicly available information into a single document, and emailed it to Mona. Then, I opened another folder. The one with three years of critical intelligence. Client preferences, decision-making hierarchies, key contacts, detailed notes from every negotiation we’d ever had. I didn’t send her a single word of it. My phone vibrated. It was Mr. Peterson. Stella, don’t forget. Seven o’clock tonight. I’ll be ready, sir. I checked the time. Four o’clock. Three more hours. At five-thirty, I packed up and left on the dot. Kevin was still in his office. I didn’t bother stopping by. When I got home, I changed and started cooking. At precisely seven o’clock, my phone rang. “Stella,” Mr. Peterson’s voice was calm and measured. “I’ve been thinking about what you said, about your company switching my point of contact.” “Yes, sir?” “You and I have worked together for three years, and it’s always been a smooth process. A new person…” he paused. “I’m not comfortable with that.” “What are you suggesting, sir?” “If you were to leave your current company, then we can talk about renewing the contract.” I gripped the phone, my heart pounding in my chest. I was silent for a few seconds. “I understand, Mr. Peterson.” “You’re a talented woman, Stella. Don’t let them undervalue you.” “Thank you, sir.” I hung up and stood by the window, the city lights blurring before my eyes. A one-and-a-half-million-dollar account. And it was mine. Not because I was “Kevin’s wife.” But because I was Stella Ross. The doorbell rang. I opened it. It was Kevin. “Why didn’t you wait for me?” “I had things to do.” He walked in, and the tension seemed to leave his shoulders when he saw the food on the table. “Good, you cooked. I’m starving.” He sat down and started eating. I sat across from him, watching him. “Kevin.” “Hmm?” “If I left the company, would you support me?” His chopsticks froze mid-air. “What do you mean, leave the company?” “Find a new job.” He put his chopsticks down. “Stella, what are you talking about? Why would you do that?” “I have another offer. A hundred and fifty thousand a year.” He stared at me, stunned. “$150,000?” “Yes.” “With who?” “Sterling Enterprises.” The color drained from his face. “Sterling? They’re Apex’s biggest rival! If you go there, what happens to the Apex contract?” I met his gaze. “Kevin, this is my career.” “This is the company’s biggest account!” he shot back, standing up. “Stella, do you have any idea how important that deal is?” “I do.” “And you’d still leave?” “Yes.” He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “Can you please not be so impulsive? I’ll talk to Mona for you, I’ll sort out this whole retreat thing…” “Don’t bother,” I cut him off. “I’ve already made my decision.” “Stella!” I stood up and walked into the bedroom. Just as the door clicked shut, I heard the clatter of chopsticks hitting the floor in the living room. I didn’t care anymore. 3 The third day, I arrived at the office right on time. As soon as I sat down, Mona called me into her office. “Stella, I just got off the phone with Mr. Peterson from Apex.” “Oh?” “He said he’ll only discuss the contract with you. Not with me.” Her face was a storm cloud. “What did you say to him?” “I didn’t say anything.” “You better not have.” She glared at me. “Stella, I’m telling you for the last time. The clients belong to the company, not to you.” “I know.” “Good.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Get out.” I turned and walked out. Back at my desk, Linda sidled over. “Did you piss Mona off? She looks like she’s about to kill someone.” “Nope.” “You better watch your back,” she whispered conspiratorially. “She’s not someone you want to cross.” I ignored her and got back to work. At noon, I skipped the cafeteria and went out for lunch by myself. As I was walking out of the building, my phone rang. It was my mother-in-law. “Hello?” “Stella, come to the house for dinner tonight. Your father-in-law wants to talk to you.” “About what?” “You’ll find out when you get here.” She hung up. I stared at my phone and sighed. At six o’clock, I arrived at my in-laws’ house. Kevin was already there. “You’re here. Have a seat,” my father-in-law said, his tone polite but firm. I sat. My mother-in-law, Carol, brought a dish out from the kitchen, shooting me a cold look as she passed. “Stella, I hear you’re thinking of leaving your job,” my father-in-law began. I glanced at Kevin. He avoided my eyes. “I’ve been considering it,” I said. “Why?” “A better opportunity came up.” “What opportunity could possibly be better than staying where you are?” Carol interjected. “Your husband is the VP. It’s not like you have it hard there.” I looked directly at her. “My career has nothing to do with my husband.” “What career?” she sneered. “If it wasn’t for Kevin, you never would have gotten your foot in the door at that company.” I didn’t say a word. The truth was, I was hired two years before I even met Kevin. But I was done explaining myself. “Stella, let me be frank,” my father-in-law said, his voice taking on a serious tone. “This idea of you leaving… can you put it on hold?” “Why?” “The Apex Corporation contract is critical. If you leave now, it could put the whole deal in jeopardy. It would be a huge blow to the company.” I looked from him to Kevin, then back again. “Dad, I’m the one who brought Apex in as a client.” “They are the company’s client,” he corrected me, echoing Mona’s words. I couldn’t help but laugh. A short, bitter sound. “Is that so?” “Stella!” Carol slammed her hand on the table. “What kind of attitude is that?” “I’m just stating a fact.” “You—” “Alright, that’s enough,” my father-in-law cut in. “Stella, I need to talk to you about something else.” “Go ahead.” “This company retreat. You’ll stay home. Just let it go.” I blinked. “Dad, it was Mona who told me I couldn’t go.” “I know,” he nodded. “And she was right to do so.” I stared at him, speechless. “Think about it,” he continued, his voice calm and patronizing. “Twenty-eight people go on a trip, and you’re the only one left behind. It looks bad. It’s much better for everyone if you just pretend you chose not to go. It saves face.” Saves face. Whose face? “I understand,” I said, standing up. “I should get going.” “You haven’t even eaten!” Carol called after me. “I’m not hungry.” I grabbed my bag and walked out the door. Kevin ran out after me. “Stella!” I kept walking. “Stella! Can you stop being so difficult? My parents are just trying to help you!” I spun around to face him. “Help me? When have they ever tried to help me, Kevin?” He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. “Your mother says my job is worthless, and your father says being publicly humiliated is for my own good.” I stared at him, my voice dangerously calm. “Is that what you call helping?” “They… that’s just how they talk. You can’t take it personally.” “Not take it personally?” I laughed again, but there was no humor in it. “Kevin, I have been a part of your family for three years. In all that time, when have you ever, not once, stood up for me?” He fell silent. “Forget it,” I said, turning to leave again. “Stella! What do you want from me?” he yelled, his voice cracking with frustration. I stopped and looked back at him over my shoulder. “What do I want?” “I want to be treated fairly.” “I want to be respected.” “And I want every single one of you to understand that I am Stella Ross. Not just someone’s wife, not just someone’s daughter-in-law, and certainly not just someone’s subordinate.” He stared at me, completely stunned. “You can’t give me that, Kevin. So I’m going to get it for myself.” I walked away. This time, he didn’t follow. Back home, I opened my laptop. The recruiter, Laura, had sent me a message. Stella, just confirming our meeting for tomorrow evening? I stared at it for a long moment, then typed my reply. Yes. I’ll be there. Great. I’ve sent you the address. I closed the laptop and looked out the window. The night was dark and deep. I had made my decision. No matter what, I was leaving.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388394”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When Amy came storming into my life, I was in the middle of rocking my baby to sleep. She was pregnant, her belly round and full, and she was demanding that I divorce my husband, Jason. Truth be told, I already knew about Jason’s affair. I just hadn’t made a scene. I let her in, gently placed my sleeping baby in her bassinet, and poured Amy a glass of water. Then, I called Jason. “You need to come home. We’re talking about a divorce.” Jason’s voice was laced with irritation. “Jenna, how many times do I have to tell you? I’m not getting a divorce.” “Your other child is standing in our living room. Should I throw her out?” 1. Jason got home fast. He’d been out getting me crab rangoon from my favorite place, a forty-minute round trip he made in twenty. He walked in empty-handed, his eyes darting between Amy and me. We were both on the sofa. I was calm; she was a sobbing mess. I promise you, I hadn’t laid a hand on her. Jason rushed in, breathless, and scowled at Amy. “What are you doing here? I thought you were getting rid of it.” She flinched, wiping at her tear-streaked face. “I’m six months along. It’s too late.” “I told you to take care of it weeks ago. Why didn’t you listen to me?” Jason collapsed onto the sofa next to her, a wave of defeated resignation washing over him. “So, what now?” he asked, his voice flat. Amy’s voice rose in a wail. “You’re the father! If you don’t know what to do, what am I supposed to do? My dad already kicked me out for getting pregnant out of wedlock. You have to make an honest woman of me! How is our child supposed to go to school without a father?” Silence fell between them. Amy’s sobs softened into whimpers. I thoughtfully passed her a box of tissues. Looking at Jason, slumped and pathetic, a bitter sting filled my eyes, but then, a strange, hollow laugh escaped my lips. The man I had once loved so deeply had become selfish, irresponsible, a stranger. I took a deep, steadying breath, forcing my voice to remain even. “Jason, let’s get a divorce.” I looked at Amy. She was hunched over slightly, but her face was still full of youthful collagen, her skin smooth and perfect, without a single line around her eyes. We’d talked before Jason arrived. She was only twenty-two, in the prime of her life. She hadn’t had much education. Her family was traditional, favoring sons over daughters. Her older sister supported their parents and younger brother, and Amy had become the family’s cash cow. She worked as a hostess at a bar, pushing expensive liquor. Getting groped by customers was just part of the job. She told me about one night, a customer had her pinned, his greasy face buried in her chest, one hand kneading her backside while he tried to force a kiss on her. She struggled, but he only tightened his grip, his voice a slimy threat. “You don’t play along, I don’t buy the drinks.” Her income was based on commission. The sale was huge—enough to pay for her little brother’s private school tuition for a year. At his words, she went still, helpless tears streaming down her face. That’s when Jason appeared. He grabbed the man’s hand, landed a solid punch, and bought all the liquor himself. He told Amy she should find a respectable job, but by then, she had already set her sights on him. Telling the story, Amy couldn’t stop the tears, her eyes overflowing with a love that was almost painful to watch. “My knight in shining armor,” she whispered. “I always knew he would come for me.” She pursued him relentlessly, wearing him down until she finally ended up in his bed, and then, with his child in her belly. She said her baby deserved a complete family. So she was here, begging me to give Jason to her. Pathetic, and yet, detestable. 2. Jason and I stared at each other for a long time. My eyes burned with unshed tears, and I could see the glint of moisture in his, too. A lifetime of history. You don’t just throw that away. After a moment, Jason turned to Amy. “This is my fault. I’ll pay for the child’s support, but I can’t get a divorce.” “Why not?” Amy shrieked, her eyes wide. “What’s stopping you? Is she younger than me? Prettier than me?” Each question was a blunt knife, carving into my heart. “They’re both your children! Doesn’t my baby deserve a father? Are you going to let him end up like me, with no future, bled dry by his family? Your other baby is from IVF! Is she even as healthy as mine? Weren’t you the one in bed telling me you wanted a real child of your own? Are you taking it all back now?” CRACK. Jason’s hand moved so fast I barely saw it. A livid red handprint bloomed on Amy’s cheek. He was shaking with rage, his chest heaving. “What the hell are you talking about!” Amy cradled her face, her sobs growing louder. A thousand tiny needles of pain pricked at my skin, converging on my heart. He had even told her about the IVF. This baby had been so hard-won. I was thirty-five, a high-risk pregnancy. It took two rounds of IVF to finally be successful. The physical pain, the mental anguish… and now this. I had wanted my baby to come into a world filled with love and anticipation, not to have her father casually dismiss her as an “IVF baby” to his mistress. A sharp, piercing pain lanced through my chest. Jason started to move toward me, but Amy clung to him, weeping. He couldn’t push a pregnant woman away, so he was trapped beside her. I forced myself to take several deep breaths until my heart rate began to steady. “You need to move out,” I said, my voice trembling. “I’ll have a lawyer draft the divorce papers. I’ll see you at the courthouse.” I glanced at Amy’s swollen belly, a lump forming in my throat. “We’ll split the assets as the law dictates. And since you don’t want this child,” I gestured to my own, still-flat stomach, “she will stay with me. You can just send the child support checks.” “Now get out,” I said, my voice cracking. “I don’t want either of you in my home.” I made a shooing gesture and turned my head away, unable to look at them any longer. Jason gave me one last worried glance before Amy practically shoved him out the door. “Thank you so much,” Amy said as she left, a simpering, yet genuinely grateful smile on her face. “You’re a really good person.” I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. The moment the door clicked shut, the tears I had been holding back finally fell. 3. I hated Amy. She had destroyed my life. I hated Jason. He had shattered it with his own hands. I was still recovering from childbirth, and this was the chaos he brought to my door. The neighbors would talk. I would become a joke, and one day, so would my child. I truly hated him. He had forced me into this humiliating divorce, turning my marriage into a colossal failure. 4. The maternity nurse I’d hired was supposed to arrive today, but it’s been three days. I called the agency, urging them to find someone. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Ross,” the agent replied. “Experienced maternity nurses are in high demand right now. We don’t have anyone who meets your requirements.” “I’ll pay more,” I sobbed, my face buried in my hands. 5. An extra two thousand dollars did the trick. A new nurse arrived quickly. Her name was Mrs. Rosa. Mrs. Rosa moved in, and she was a godsend. She soothed my frayed nerves, prepared the baby’s bottles, and rocked her to sleep through the night. I knew how hard she was working, but I was in no state to help. Jason came by once. He said I was in no condition to be alone, that he wanted to take care of me. I threw him out. He called, but I didn’t answer. He texted, and I blocked his number. The day the divorce papers were ready, I unblocked him. He brought his lawyer. We signed everything quickly, with almost no disagreement over the assets. We were both reasonable people; what was fair was fair. He had some basic decency left, even if the years had allowed some rotten part of him to fester and grow. Looking at him, I noticed that in just one week, streaks of gray had appeared in his hair. There were dark circles under his eyes, and a rough stubble covered his jaw. I used to hate the scratchy feeling of his beard against my cheek, so he had always been meticulous about shaving, about his appearance. He was a man who took pride in being clean and put-together. “The dividends from my company shares… I’ll set a portion aside for Joy when she turns eighteen. You won’t have to worry about her future,” he said, his eyes fixed on the floor. “Jenna, I’m so sorry.” “There’s nothing to be sorry for. This is just how people are.” I blinked back tears, my voice thick. “Greedy. So damn greedy. When you have no money, you want money. When you have no love, you want love. When life is calm, you crave excitement, and when it’s exciting, you long for peace.” Jason’s voice broke. “I’m sorry. I destroyed our family. If you and Joy ever need anything, you can always call me.” I tilted my head back, wiping a tear from my cheek. “No, we won’t. I’ll raise her myself. And I’ll tell her that her father is dead.” Jason left. His back, once so straight and strong, was now stooped, carrying the weight of a man worn down by life. In one week, a family had been shattered. But at least I still had my baby. She was a girl. I named her Joy. Joy, because I wanted her to be happy. Joy, because it sounded like “January,” the start of a new year, a new beginning. I wanted her to know that no matter what setbacks she faced, she could always start over. And Joy, because it held the echo of a full moon, a symbol of completeness and reunion. I wanted her life to be whole, without the regrets that haunted mine. Everything I never had, everything I yearned for, my baby would have it all. 6. Jason didn’t bother me again, but his parents heard what happened. They flew across the country to see me. My mother-in-law, Carol, was a kind woman. When I opened the door, she just stood there, and before a word was spoken, tears were streaming down her face. She took my hands in hers, her voice choked with emotion. “You’re so thin, Jenna. How did you get so thin?” I held her cool hands and shook my head. “I don’t know.” In one week, I had lost fifteen pounds. Mrs. Rosa was a wonderful cook, and I was eating, but the weight just melted away. All those years of trying to diet, and this is what it took. “It’s all Jason’s fault. Our family has failed you. If you need anything, anything at all, you just have to ask,” she said. “I’m not strong enough to help with the baby myself now.” Her voice broke as she mentioned my own mother. “If your mom were still here, she never would have let you suffer like this. When she passed, I promised her I would take care of you, and now look what’s happened. When I see her on the other side, she’s going to blame me for not looking after you properly. I’ve failed her, and I’ve failed you.” As Carol cried, my father-in-law, usually so stoic, wiped at his own eyes. I hugged her, forcing back my own tears. “Mom, please don’t say that. It’s not your fault. My mom would never blame you. You’ve taken care of me for so many years. It’s more than enough. It really is.” Carol and my mom had been best friends, which is why they bought houses next to each other. My mom had made a bad choice in a husband, divorcing young and raising me alone. Carol was always there for her. When my mom died of cancer while I was in high school, she entrusted me to Carol. She kept the news from me so I could focus on my college entrance exams. I’ll forever regret not being there to see her one last time. Carol held me tight, letting my tears soak her shoulder. “Jenna,” she whispered, “from now on, I am your mother. You are my daughter. You treat me like your own mom.” And she meant it. In college, my allowance from her was always a hundred dollars more than Jason’s. She’d buy me beautiful clothes and get him the cheaper stuff. Whenever I came home for break, the table was always filled with my favorite foods. I hated onions, so she never put them in any dish, or if she did, she’d have Jason pick them out for me. I often thought to myself that my mom had terrible taste in men, but impeccable taste in friends. Carol wanted to stay and help with the baby, saying it was too much for me alone. I refused. They were getting older, and the flight had exhausted them. The gesture was enough. She was overjoyed when she saw Joy, saying the baby looked just like me as a child—big eyes, a high nose. A little beauty who would steal hearts one day. She stayed for a few days and helped with the baby, which gave Mrs. Rosa a bit of a break. But the baby was fussy at night, and the dark circles under Carol’s eyes were impossible to hide. After just a couple of days, she and my father-in-law had to leave. Before she left, she hesitated, a troubled look on her face. I saw it. “Mom, just say it.” She spoke with difficulty. “What Jason did was wrong. But the baby… the baby is innocent. He needs a birth certificate, a legal identity. After you get the divorce decree, I want to make sure the baby is registered.” I understood. She supported Jason marrying Amy. I smiled. “Mom, it’s fine. It’s not a big deal. I won’t say anything.” Her eyes filled with tears again. She squeezed my hand. “Such a good girl, such a good girl.” As she was leaving, she pressed a bank card into my hand. “A gift for Joy. The PIN is her birthday.” I had no choice but to accept it. I watched them step into the elevator. As the doors slid shut, I tilted my head back, a sob catching in my throat. No matter how kind Carol was, no matter how close she was to my mom, no matter how much she cared for me, she wasn’t my mother. If my own mom were here, she would never have let me be wronged like this. She would have stood firmly on my side. She would never have said that an innocent child was involved. But my mother was gone. And I missed her so much. 7. The day Jason and I agreed to meet at the courthouse arrived quickly. I found our marriage certificate, still pristine in the folder where I’d kept it safe. He picked me up, parking downstairs. As I got into the passenger seat, I noticed a collection of little trinkets dangling from the rearview mirror. Seeing me stare at them, a flash of embarrassment crossed Jason’s face. “Amy put them there. She’s pregnant. She throws a fit if I take them down.” I gave a small, humorless laugh. “My mistake. I should have sat in the back.” I had opened the passenger door out of habit, without thinking. We drove in silence. When he asked a question, I gave a vague, noncommittal answer. At a red light, pedestrians streamed across the crosswalk. Jason suddenly spoke. “Remember in school? We were always catching this red light, counting down the seconds before we had to sprint across.” “Only old people reminisce about the past,” I said, my words sharp, offering him no comfort. He didn’t get angry. He even chuckled in agreement. “You’re right. We are getting old.” I snorted softly and turned to stare out the window, ignoring him. A month, maybe more, had passed. I had accepted the fact that he cheated. But that didn’t mean I had no feelings left for him. It also didn’t mean I was going to let those feelings get in the way of what had to be done. 8. There was a line at the divorce office. When it was our turn, the clerk asked, “Are you sure you want to divorce? Have all assets been divided?” My voice was firm. “Yes, we’re sure.” Jason glanced at me, then mumbled, “Yeah.” The moment the official stamp came down, a cold, hollow space opened up in my chest, and a bitter wind howled through it. How long had we been married? I did the math. Fourteen years. I was only twenty-one when I graduated from college, and he was twenty-three. We hadn’t even bought a house yet, but we couldn’t wait to get married. The day we got the certificate, he excitedly bought a beautiful folder to keep it in. We went out for hot pot, and he took dozens of photos of me, which I immediately posted online. That night, he held me close, his voice full of contentment. “Jenna, I finally married you. I can’t believe it. It feels like a dream.” I teased him for being so dramatic, but my own heart was pounding in my chest. After graduation, I chose to stay in the big city. We worked here, rented an apartment together. Two years later, our careers had stabilized. Carol gave us the down payment for a small, two-bedroom apartment in the city center, and Jason and I made the monthly mortgage payments. It was our own place. Even though it was a secondhand apartment, I poured all my love into it. I picked out the curtains, and he fixed the light fixtures. I grew flowers, and he kept a little turtle and some fish. We both worked hard to make that little place a home. Jason even threw me a grand, beautiful wedding to make up for eloping. I knew he was doing everything he could to give me the best. A high school friend complained playfully, “I asked you if he was the guy you liked back then, and you lied and said he was just like a brother to you. Now look at you, all married.” Jason used to visit me at my high school all the time during his college breaks, so many of my classmates knew him. I had a crush on him even then, but I believed my studies were more important. I told everyone he was my “brother,” and he never minded. He knew how I felt. And he knew, just as I did, that we would end up together. And in that old apartment, we conceived our first child.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388393”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My million-dollar investment fund was supposed to be the key to my future. Instead, it became the dowry for my fiancée’s adopted brother. Seraphina’s family had one rule: any man who wanted to marry her had to build a three-million-dollar investment fund. I scrimped and saved, working myself to the bone, ruining my health, until I finally hit the two-million mark. But then, everything went wrong. The stock market crashed. A major project at work fell through. That last million felt impossibly far away. Seraphina, seeing how much I was struggling, promised she would help me save. Then my mother fell gravely ill. She needed an expensive, life-saving surgery. I tried to access the fund, but after three failed password attempts, the account was locked. I couldn’t get a single penny out. I raced to the bank, half-panicked. The teller delivered the news with cold indifference. “Sir, you are not the authorized user of this fund.” How was that possible? I had deposited every single dollar myself! The teller, annoyed, spun his monitor towards me. The name of the fund was displayed in stark black letters: The Leo Matheson Marriage Endowment. … I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. Just then, the bank manager’s voice, hushed and nervous, drifted from a nearby office. “Ms. Matheson, that was a close one. Mr. Ethan Grey was just in here trying to withdraw thirty thousand. I managed to stop him just in time.” “Good.” The tip of Seraphina’s cigarette glowed in the dim light. “Leo has always been sheltered. I don’t want people to think he’s incapable when he gets married. Every dollar in that fund was earned through Ethan’s hard work. It will give Leo’s future in-laws a reason to respect him.” The manager chuckled obsequiously. “But Ms. Matheson… Mr. Grey has been struggling to reach that final million. It’s not like him…” Seraphina casually stubbed out her cigarette. “That was my doing. Leo isn’t done enjoying the single life yet. I can’t get married until he does. We’re not in a rush.” Her words hit me like a physical blow. The money I had traded my health for was nothing more than a status symbol for her brother? A dull ache spread through my chest. Before I could even process the betrayal, my phone buzzed with another urgent message from the hospital. “Mr. Grey, if you can’t pay the surgical fees soon, there’s nothing more we can do.” Sweating, panicked, I ran, losing a shoe in my haste to catch up to Seraphina as she left the bank. I cornered her outside her office, swallowing every last scrap of my pride. “I need thirty thousand. Please. I’ll pay you back…” She froze, her expression hardening into a mask of corporate disapproval. “My parents made you save that money as a test, not so you could find loopholes. Instead of begging for money, you should be developing new projects. Your performance this quarter is already lagging.” She looked me up and down with disdain. “And thirty thousand, just like that? Do you think I’m made of money?” I was speechless. As I tried to follow her, her assistant blocked my path. “Sir, please.” Just then, her brother, Leo, dressed head-to-toe in designer clothes, shouldered past me and bounced into her office, showing off his latest shopping haul. A single watch on his wrist was worth more than my mother’s surgery. And every cent of it was my money. My five years of relentless, back-breaking work. What was that worth in Seraphina’s eyes? As I turned to leave, my phone rang. My mother was gone. Through the blinds of her office window, I could see them laughing together. I pulled out my phone and called a number I hadn’t dialed in five years. “You said you’d always have a position for me. Does that offer still stand?” The funeral lasted three days. It was long enough for me to cry myself empty. The whole world knew my mother had died. The only person who didn’t was Seraphina. She knew I would skip meals, sacrifice sleep, do anything to hit that three-million-dollar mark. She had seen me work until I was hospitalized with a bleeding ulcer, and she had sat by my bedside, her voice soft with concern. “Ethan, you don’t have to push yourself so hard. I’m here for you, you know.” I thought it was love. I never imagined that she was the one using my blood and bones to pave a golden road for her brother. In my grief, a small, foolish part of me hoped she would notice my absence, that she would call, that she would ask what was wrong. But the tabloids were full of her. She was making headlines for outbidding everyone at auctions, making a spectacle of her generosity as she built a trousseau for Leo. MATHESON HEIRESS D’OTES ON ADOPTED BROTHER, SPENDING MORE ON HIS FUTURE THAN HER OWN WEDDING! Even the paparazzi could see it. I remembered handing her our wedding plans, a thick binder filled with dreams. She hadn’t even looked up from her work. “It’s still a long way off. You handle it.” Now, I was tired. So incredibly tired. When I finally went back to our apartment, she greeted me with a warm hug. “You must be exhausted, honey.” She sighed, her voice laced with practiced regret. “I’m sorry I was so harsh before. I was just thinking about our future. This is the only thing my parents have ever asked of you. As soon as you hit that target, we can get married.” Is that so? The wedding I had waited five years for was entirely dependent on whether or not her brother felt like settling down? I pulled away from her embrace, my smile feeling brittle. “The wedding can wait.” My cool response seemed to extinguish the last of her patience. “Ethan, is this because I didn’t lend you that thirty thousand?” she snapped. “I’m just as anxious to get married as you are, but I can’t help you cheat!” I looked at her, my voice trembling despite my efforts to keep it steady. “I’m done. I don’t want to save anymore. I’m just… tired.” Her anger vanished, replaced by a flicker of panic. “What are you talking about? Don’t joke like that. If you’re tired, I can help you behind the scenes from now on.” I stared into her eyes, wondering how she could say that with a straight face. A few weeks ago, a project I had spent six months designing was suddenly accused of regulatory violations at a major bidding conference. The “evidence” was damning. I was crucified by the industry, branded a fraud. Seraphina had been my fierce defender, smashing a bottle over the accuser’s head and comforting me all night. I never would have guessed that she was the one who orchestrated the whole thing. The stock market dips, the supply chain failures… it was all her. A heavy pain settled in my chest. I couldn’t even clench my fists. Later that night, I heard her on the phone in her study, her voice a hushed whisper. “Yes, lay off him for now. Let him land a few small projects. It won’t be enough to finish the fund quickly.” I stood on the other side of the thick door and laughed without making a sound. There was no point. I was done playing her game. Leaning against the doorframe, I heard her switch to a video call with Leo, her voice softening as she used his pet name, patiently coaching him on how to pitch my project at the conference the next day. I remembered when I was starting out, how ruthless she had been, her standards impossibly high. I didn’t listen anymore. I went to the bedroom, packed my bags, and booked a flight for the following night. The five-hundred-page project proposal burned brightly in the fireplace. “What are you doing?” Seraphina demanded, rushing in and snatching the charred remains from the flames. A bitter taste filled my mouth. “Nothing. It just fell in.” She didn’t question it. She simply reprinted a fresh copy and handed it to me. “Be on time for the conference tomorrow.” The next day, the conference hall was packed with the city’s business elite. But the center of attention wasn’t me. It was Leo, dressed in a flamboyant tuxedo, his arm wrapped possessively around Seraphina’s waist as he chatted animatedly with investors. He was the star of the show. Until my proposal flashed onto the main screen. A wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd. “Isn’t that Mr. Matheson’s idea? How shameless, stealing someone else’s work!” “It’s blatant plagiarism! He’s really willing to do anything to marry into that family.” “Good thing Leo mentioned his concept to us earlier. Otherwise, Grey might have tried to blame him!” I instinctively looked at Seraphina. Her face was a mask of disappointment and shame. “You don’t believe me either?” She looked away, disgusted. “You know what you did.” She turned her back on me completely, pulling Leo into a comforting embrace. He buried his face in her shoulder, his body shaking with crocodile tears. “I know Ethan doesn’t like me,” he sobbed. “But I worked so hard on this proposal. How could you say it’s yours?” Seraphina’s face hardened. She pointed a finger at me, her voice ringing through the silent hall. “I trusted you! And you repay me by bringing shame to this family? If this is how you intend to earn your money, you will never marry me!” My heart shattered. I remembered when her parents first gave me the ultimatum. She had been so indignant, so ready to fight for me. She said she would rather give up her inheritance than see me crushed under such pressure. Now, I wondered. How much of that was real? My voice was thick with emotion. “You reprinted the proposal yourself last night. You know—” “Shut up!” she roared. “Who knows when you cornered Leo, what despicable means you used to steal his idea!” She didn’t care about my side. She only cared about the tears on her brother’s face. The whispers and jeers of the crowd felt like physical blows. Leo, his eyes red and puffy, gave a deep, theatrical bow to the audience. “I apologize for the trouble we’ve caused. I’ll personally compensate everyone for their time. Please, forgive my brother-in-law.” Seraphina’s heart seemed to melt. “It’s not your fault. You have nothing to apologize for.” She then turned her steely gaze on me. “Ethan, you will pay for the company’s losses.” I started to laugh, a wild, unhinged sound. “Seraphina, can I even access the money in the fund?” She flinched, a flicker of guilt in her eyes. But her next words were a death blow. “Doesn’t your mother have an ancestral home? Auction it off.” For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. That house was the only thing my mother had left, a final gift from my father before he died. Even when she was on her deathbed, I couldn’t bring myself to sell it. “No!” My firm refusal only prompted more theatrics from Leo. “It’s my fault. Ethan must hate me for embarrassing him. I’ll give you the proposal, just please, auction the house. Don’t let Seraphina lose face because of this.” I felt the blood rush to my head. “It was my proposal to begin with!” “Enough!” Seraphina slapped me, the sound echoing through the hall. “What is wrong with you? We can rent your mother another apartment. Is that really more important than Leo’s feelings?” The sting on my cheek was nothing compared to the agony in my heart. The prestigious bidding conference turned into an auction for my mother’s legacy. The crowd whispered and watched, but no one made a bid. “I bid… one dollar!” Leo’s cheerful voice cut through the silence. The room erupted in laughter. Seraphina just sighed, a look of fond exasperation on her face. She knew what that house meant to me. With Leo leading the charge, the bids became a cruel joke. “Two dollars and fifty cents!” “Five dollars, over here!” Their contemptuous gazes were suffocating. From the back of the room, Leo shot me a triumphant smirk. The gavel came down. My mother’s home was sold for the humiliating sum of fifty dollars. My eyes burned. Seraphina signed the transfer papers and gave me a dismissive glance. “The point was to show everyone you were sorry. The price doesn’t matter.” I stared at her, each word a monumental effort. “The house doesn’t matter. My mother’s life doesn’t matter. And from now on, Seraphina, neither do you.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388392”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The day I got out of prison, I saw my ex-wife with her childhood sweetheart and a little boy at a flower shop—a perfect family picture. The next day, the boy went missing. I made it quick, then dismembered him, froze the pieces, and mailed them to her with a note: “Returning what’s yours.” She stormed into my place that night, pressing a cleaver to my neck. “He was innocent—take your revenge on me!” I only smiled. “Innocent? You and your lover threw my daughter Rosie into an industrial mixer alive. You had my parents killed for seeking justice and framed me for her murder—landing me seven years in hell.” Her face went white with terror. I stepped closer, blood at my throat. “Scared? The game has only just begun. And none of you are getting away.” 1 Clang. The cleaver slipped from Veronica’s numb fingers and crashed to the floor. She stumbled backward, collapsing into a heap on the ground. A flicker of something—maybe regret—crossed her face for a fraction of a second. I watched her, my heart a barren wasteland. There was no victory, only a hollow emptiness. It wasn’t enough. This was nowhere near enough. Just then, the door flew open with a violent crash. David stormed in, his face a mask of pure fury. He lunged, and his fist connected with my jaw with a sickening crack. “Ethan, you son of a bitch!” he roared. “Your daughter crawled into a mixer and got ground to pieces because she was stupid! She had it coming!” “She went in there looking for you! What right do you have to hurt my Leo?” “I’ll kill you! I’ll make you pay for what you did to my son!” Hatred poured from David’s eyes. In the next moment, he bent down, snatched the cleaver from the floor, and swung it straight at my head. The blade stopped an inch from my eyebrow. Veronica was clinging to David’s waist, her eyes wide with alarm as she stared at me. “David, don’t! He wouldn’t dare… He wouldn’t kill Leo! He’s bluffing! We’ll call the police right now!” “If you hadn’t lied to Rosie, telling her I was hiding inside that machine, she never would have crawled in there,” I spat, swallowing the metallic taste of blood rising in my throat. I stared him down. “If you hadn’t flipped the switch, she wouldn’t have been torn apart!” “David,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “Your son screamed so pitifully before he died.” “He kept crying ‘Daddy, save me! Daddy, help me!’” I pretended to clean out my ear, as if annoyed by the memory. “He was making so much noise, so I cut out his tongue. It was much quieter after that.” Their faces twisted in horror. I started to laugh, a deep, shuddering sound that shook my entire body. But then, without warning, a single tear escaped and traced a cold path down my cheek, disappearing into the collar of my shirt. “Let me go! Veronica, let go of me!” “I’m going to kill him! I’m going to chop him into pieces!” My words had pushed David over the edge. He thrashed wildly in Veronica’s arms. Her eyes, too, now blazed with a murderous light. But I just chuckled, pushing the blade away from my face before settling into an armchair. I even poured them both a cup of hot tea. “By the way,” I said conversationally. “You still haven’t found his head, have you?” “Where do you think I might have put it?” I picked up the remote and turned on the projector. An image flickered to life on the wall: Leo, his face streaked with tears, his small body trembling as he sobbed in terror. David lunged at the wall, his hands shaking as he tried to touch the boy’s face on the screen. In the projection, the child’s cries grew weaker… fainter… until they faded into absolute silence. David trembled violently, unable to speak. Veronica froze, looking as if she’d been struck by lightning. It was only in that moment that the reality finally crashed down on them. Their son was never coming back. I watched them, my expression cold as ice. Does it hurt? Every second of this agony… I lived through it once. Seven years ago. Without a single detail spared. My Rosie… they shredded her, just like this. And I, like them, had knelt in the depths of despair, with no one to hear my screams. 2 I looked at the couple, once so untouchable, and my mind drifted back to Rosie’s last birthday. Ever since she was born, Veronica had never once celebrated with her. Rosie was always on her tiptoes with anticipation, just hoping her mom would be there to blow out the candles with her for once. But David always found a way. A single phone call, one text message, and Veronica would be gone. Until Rosie turned five. She’d heard her mom was finally going to take her to the amusement park. She put on her favorite princess dress and twirled in front of the mirror, a radiant smile on her face. As she left, she turned and waved to me. “Daddy, I’ll save you the biggest piece of strawberry cake when I get home!” She never came home. She was dragged into a cold, merciless machine, reduced to a mess of blood and mangled flesh. That pink princess dress was soaked through, a horrifying, piercing red. Three days after she died, Veronica herself put me on the witness stand. She pointed her finger at me and named me as her daughter’s killer. “Ethan, I’m warning you, don’t be a fool. Rosie is gone. Leo and David are innocent.” Veronica’s voice, sharp and laced with a threat, pulled me back to the present. “You have until 8 PM to bring Leo back. If you don’t, I have no problem sending you back to prison for another decade.” Another decade? I looked down and chuckled grimly. Terminal stomach cancer. I didn’t even have three months left. Biting back the searing pain that twisted in my gut, I clenched my jaw. “You’re still quite the powerful lawyer, aren’t you, Veronica? Did you really think I’d fall for the same trick twice?” She paused, her voice tinged with that familiar, weary annoyance. “Ethan, we’re divorced! Stop using these games to get my attention!” “Eight o’clock. If I don’t see Leo, you will regret this.” With that, she bent down, helped the trembling David to his feet, and they left. The moment they were gone, I couldn’t hold on any longer. My body folded, and I collapsed onto the cold floor. A cold sweat soaked through my clothes, leaving me shivering and chilled to the bone. I must have passed out. When I woke up, the room was shrouded in darkness. Trembling, I pushed myself up, fumbled in the back of a cabinet for my painkillers, and swallowed two pills dry. Night had consumed the apartment. I flicked a lighter. Click. A tiny flame leaped into existence. Click. Darkness swallowed it again. In that fleeting glow, I thought I could almost hear the soft whoosh of Rosie blowing out birthday candles. I went into the bedroom. Her smiling face, forever captured in a photograph, hung in the center of the wall. I lit a stick of incense with the lighter. “Don’t be scared, Rosie. Daddy just has one last thing to do. Then I’ll come be with you.” Just then, my phone buzzed with a new text message: “Everything’s in place.” My fingers gently traced the smile on Rosie’s face in the picture, and a faint smile touched my own lips. The cancer was getting worse. The attacks of pain were coming more frequently. My time was running out. 3 At eight o’clock sharp, I turned on the feed from the security cameras I’d installed at Veronica’s house. “Vera, it’s eight. Why isn’t Leo back yet?” David’s voice was thick with panic, his eyes red-rimmed. “He’s never been away from me this long…” Veronica patted his hand, about to speak, when the doorbell rang. A massive cardboard box stood on their doorstep. David shoved Veronica aside and tore at the box like a man possessed. The moment the flaps flew open, he froze. Inside was a giant teddy bear. Except its head had been replaced with Leo’s. His severed head had been crudely stitched onto the bear’s furry neck. Fresh blood seeped from the seam, staining the soft fur and soaking into the cardboard, creating a dark, spreading stain that crept towards their feet. “Aaaargh—!” David clamped a hand over his mouth, a strangled, agonized cry escaping him. At that exact moment, his phone lit up with a new message. 【Did you get my gift? Hope you like it.】 【Don’t worry. You’re next.】 The instant he read it, David threw the phone against the wall as if it were electrified. His body shook uncontrollably before his eyes rolled back and he collapsed, unconscious. Veronica, enraged, kicked furiously at the empty air. “Ethan, you psycho!” she screamed. “If you dare touch David, I swear I will kill you!” Watching the two of them break down on the monitor, a low, dark laugh rumbled in my chest. For the next few days, Veronica was a wreck. She spent her days arranging Leo’s funeral and her nights watching over a catatonic David. On the fourth afternoon, while she was out meeting with a psychiatrist, I used a burner phone to lure David out. 【I know where the rest of Leo’s body is.】 【Come alone. Call the cops, and you’ll never find him.】 The moment he saw me, his eyes went bloodshot with rage and he lunged. The next thing he knew, a steel pipe slammed into the back of his neck. … The damp, metallic scent of the basement filled the air. David was tied to a chair, deep purple bruises already forming around his wrists. He jerked awake with a violent shudder as the first steel nail pierced his shoulder blade. “I told you,” I said, my voice echoing in the gloom. “You’re next.” I stood in the shadows, lighting a cigarette. Through the hazy smoke, I calmly observed the way his face twisted in agony as he struggled against his bonds. David gasped for breath, then looked up and managed a twisted smile. “Ethan, Veronica will never let you get away with this! You’re going to hell!” I stepped forward into the light, where he could see me clearly. “Did you really think,” I began softly, “that I didn’t know who was behind my parents’ ‘car accident’?” David’s pupils contracted. He had been so careful. Besides, I was already locked up back then. There was no way I could have known. “So what if it was me?!” he suddenly roared after a moment of stunned silence, the veins in his neck bulging. “Those two old fools, your parents… they wouldn’t stop trying to clear your name. I just… helped them on their way.” He writhed manically, ignoring the blood bubbling from the wound in his shoulder. “If you miss them so much, why don’t you hurry up and join them for a little family reunion!” “You don’t need to worry about me. Right now, you should be worried about yourself.” “When it comes to you and your son, I believe in equal treatment.” With that, I pressed a green button on the control panel next to me. A low, grinding rumble started up, growing louder as it drew closer. 4 David’s head snapped around. Not far away, an industrial mixer was spinning at high speed. Anyone caught in it would be turned into a slurry of bone and flesh in seconds. Just like my Rosie. “No… please, no…” he whimpered, broken sounds escaping his throat as his body began to convulse uncontrollably. “What’s wrong?” I taunted, ignoring his trembling. “Scared now?” “Ethan! It wasn’t me who pushed Rosie in!!” he screamed. “It was Veronica! She said Rosie was being too noisy! She did it because Leo said he wanted to see what it looked like when someone got ground up in there… I can testify! I’ll help you put her away!” The chair rolled forward another foot. The foul wind whipped up by the mixer was already ruffling David’s hair. He was sobbing hysterically now. “Please… I’ll give you all my money! You can have Veronica back! Just let me go!” I sat where I was, watching him with a blank expression, and began a silent countdown in my head. Ten… nine… eight… seven… six… BOOM! The steel door to the basement was kicked open. Veronica stood silhouetted in the doorway, her chest heaving. “Ethan, if you want revenge, take it out on me! Let David go!” Her eyes were bloodshot, her face a mask of exhaustion and barely contained fury. “I already told you my terms,” I said, casually waving the remote control in my hand. “Agree, and I’ll let him go immediately.” Three days earlier, she had received a text from me: 【You want David to live? Tell the media the truth about what happened seven years ago.】 Telling the truth meant her reputation, her career, everything she had built over the years, would be utterly destroyed. “So, what’s it going to be?” I rested my chin on my hand, watching the beads of cold sweat trickle down her forehead. “Vera, save me! I don’t want to die…” David shrieked. “He’s insane! Ethan is really going to kill me!!” The roar of the mixer grew louder, punctuated by David’s terrified screams. “I’ve already called the police, Ethan!” Veronica’s face was ashen, but her fingers were trembling. “It’s not too late to stop. The court already ruled you were mentally unstable when you killed Rosie! That’s the official verdict!” She was still trying to fight it. “David,” I said, turning to him, my voice clear and steady. “You see? She’s not going to save you.” The chair lurched forward another few inches. The tips of David’s shoes were now touching the edge of the rotating drum. Pure, unadulterated terror finally shattered his sanity. “VERONICA!!” he shrieked. “YOU BITCH! IT WAS YOU! YOU THREW YOUR OWN DAUGHTER INTO THAT MIXER—” Love, reputation… none of it mattered in the face of death. Hearing his words, Veronica’s face contorted into a mask of pure hatred. She whipped her head around to glare at me. “This is all your fault, you animal! You’re the one who should die!” She lunged, grabbing me with surprising strength and trying to drag me towards the roaring machine. I was slammed hard against the cold edge of the control panel, a jolt of agony shooting up my spine. But I smiled. I lifted a hand and pointed to a small, blinking red light in the corner of the room. “Veronica,” I said, my voice calm. “I told you I wouldn’t fall for the same trick twice.” “Smile for the camera. We’re live.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388391”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Eight years of marriage, and my husband was still a stranger to our son. He always missed Leo’s parent-teacher conferences. If Leo called out “Dad!” in public, Arthur would never answer. It broke my heart every time my son would look up at me, his eyes clouded with fear, and whisper, “Mommy, does Daddy hate me?” Arthur was a man carved from ice, naturally cold and detached. Leo was an accident, a surprise that broke our child-free pact. I fought to keep him, but I could never make Arthur love him. I thought this was just how our lives would be, a quiet, constant ache. Until the day a speeding car barreled toward Leo. In that heart-stopping instant, Arthur, who had been standing right beside me, lunged forward. But he didn’t throw himself in front of Leo. He dove for the boy standing next to our son. A scream tore from my throat, ripping through the sky. Leo lay in a growing pool of his own blood. Just before his eyes fluttered shut, he looked at me, his voice a broken whisper of disbelief, “Mommy, why didn’t Daddy save me?” My gaze shifted from my son’s broken body to Arthur, who was now cradling the other boy, murmuring soft words of comfort. And in that moment, something inside me shattered completely. The truth was a cold, sharp blade in my heart. It wasn’t that he didn’t like children. He just didn’t like mine. … After two agonizing hours, the surgeons managed to pull Leo back from the brink. He was alive. The icy terror that had gripped me finally began to thaw, letting feeling seep back into my numb limbs. A nurse handed me the surgical consent forms, her expression sympathetic. “A parent needs to sign.” My eyes fell on the blank line next to “Father’s Signature,” and a tear I hadn’t known I was holding back slid down my cheek. In all his life, Arthur had never once come to the hospital with Leo. Not even now, when our son had nearly died. I signed my name in silence, my hand shaking. Just as I finished, a familiar voice, sharp with panic, cut through the quiet hum of the waiting room. “Doctor, please, look at this child! He’s burning up!” It was Arthur. He was cradling the same boy from the accident, his face slick with sweat. And the woman clinging to his arm, her face a mask of worry, was Evelyn. His first love. The air in my lungs froze. The blood in my veins turned to ice, inch by painful inch. Arthur and Evelyn had been the city’s golden couple. Their love was the stuff of legends, a whirlwind romance that was supposed to end at the altar. But it all imploded when Evelyn decided to move abroad. The breakup was ugly, so ugly it sent Arthur spiraling. He crashed his car, a wreck that nearly killed him. I was the one who sat by his hospital bed for a year, pulling him back from the brink, piece by agonizing piece. I was the one he clung to in the dead of night when the nightmares came, whispering my name like a prayer. “Claire,” he’d murmur, his voice rough with sleep and fear, “I can’t live without you.” The moment he was discharged, he’d practically dragged me to the courthouse. I never, ever imagined they would find their way back to each other. And the child in his arms… he looked just like Arthur. A perfect, miniature copy. Perhaps my stare was too intense, because Arthur suddenly looked up, his eyes meeting mine. Panic flashed across his face. He saw the cold calm that had settled over me as I turned to walk away, and he took an instinctive step to follow. But then Evelyn’s voice, a fragile, desperate cry, stopped him. “Arthur! Noah’s not breathing right!” He froze. Without a second of hesitation, he spun around and rushed back to her side. When I walked into Leo’s room, he was already awake. He was straining to lift his head, his eyes fixed on the doorway behind me, searching, hoping. The pain in my chest was so sharp I couldn’t speak. The light in Leo’s eyes flickered and died. He understood. He forced a small, brittle smile. “Daddy’s busy,” he whispered, his voice getting smaller with each word until it was gone. “I get it…” My heart clenched. I rushed to his side, gathering his trembling, bandaged body into my arms. He was crying silently, but he still looked up at me, his face a canvas of misery, and asked the question that was destroying him. “Mommy, am I a bad kid? Is that why Daddy doesn’t like me?” My poor, sweet boy. Even now, he was blaming himself. I couldn’t lie to him anymore. Tears streamed down my face. “No, Leo, no. You are the best boy in the entire world. The problem isn’t with you.” I held his small, battered body closer and finally said the words I had held back for so long. “If we get a divorce, would you want to come with me?” I didn’t care how much money Arthur had. I couldn’t leave my son with a man so utterly devoid of a heart. Leo froze, his little mouth opening as if to say yes. But his gaze drifted back to the door, to the empty space where his father should have been, and he couldn’t get the word out. After a long moment, he buried his face in my shoulder. “Wherever you go, Mommy, I’ll go,” he mumbled into my shirt. The door creaked open. It was Arthur. He looked confused. “Where are you two going?” Leo and I just looked at each other. For the first time, we were united in our silence. A flicker of surprise crossed Arthur’s face before he masked it. He walked to the bedside, his gaze landing on our son’s injuries. A shadow of guilt finally darkened his eyes. “Leo, I’m so sorry. Is there… is there any gift you want? Anything at all?” A tiny spark ignited in Leo’s eyes. He held his breath, his voice barely a whisper. “Can you just spend one day with me, Daddy?” Arthur seemed taken aback by the simplicity of the request. When he didn’t answer right away, Leo’s voice grew urgent. “Some of my friends are coming to visit me later, and I… I just…” He flushed, unable to finish the sentence. But I knew what he wanted to say. He wanted to prove that he had a father. For the past two years, kids at school had whispered that he was the boy with no dad. Once, it got worse. They’d taped a note to his back. By the time he found it, the whole school had seen the cruel words scrawled on it. “Bastard. Freak.” Leo had shattered that day. He’d gotten into a fight, earning a nasty scar on his face that served as a constant, haunting reminder. “Okay,” Arthur finally said, his voice firm. “I’ll stay with you all day today.” But the promise had barely left his lips before his phone started buzzing incessantly. Arthur’s jaw tightened, and he silenced it. A few minutes later, though, his attention began to drift again. “I’m just going to the restroom,” he announced, getting up. My fingers went numb. Seeing the vacant look in my son’s eyes, I shot up and followed him out, anger coiling in my gut. Evelyn was waiting right outside the door, tears streaming down her face, looking artfully tragic. She clutched Noah, who looked perfectly fine. “He won’t take his medicine unless he sees his daddy,” she pleaded. “I don’t know what else to do.” Then, she dropped to her knees in front of me. “Claire, I’m not trying to steal Arthur from you. But my child needs his father. Please, I’m begging you. Can’t you just lend him to me for a little while? Just for a moment?” Her voice was thick with manufactured sorrow. On cue, Noah began to wail. “Daddy! I want my daddy!” Arthur’s eyes instantly reddened. He rushed forward and pulled Evelyn to her feet. As he turned to leave with them, my voice came out, sharp and raw. “Arthur! Have you already forgotten the promise you just made to Leo?” It was always like this. Promises made, promises broken. Gifts he swore he’d buy, forgotten. Trips he planned to take Leo on, always missed. And now, he was about to crush this one, tiny, desperate wish. I threw my pride away. I lunged forward like a madwoman and grabbed his arm. “Don’t you dare go. You can’t leave!” A dark glint flashed in Evelyn’s eyes. She grabbed my wrist, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “Claire, please, can’t you find it in your heart to be a little kind? You’re a mother, too. How can you bear to watch a child suffer?” As she spoke, her sharp fingernails dug deep into my skin. “Ah!” I cried out in pain, shaking her off. The next second, Evelyn let out a piercing shriek and crumpled to the ground, pulling Noah down with her. The boy’s wails intensified. Arthur’s face contorted with rage. He spun around, and the flat, sharp crack of his hand across my face echoed in the hallway. “You venomous bitch!” The force of the blow sent me staggering backward. I tripped, and my head hit the polished floor with a sickening thud. The world spun, and I gagged, bile rising in my throat. A crowd was already gathering, their whispers like a swarm of insects. “Is that the other woman? She has some nerve, attacking a mother and her child. Shameless.” “Yeah, look at that poor little boy crying. It’s just awful.” I trembled, pushing myself up from the floor, my body aching. Arthur looked at me, a flicker of regret in his eyes, but then Evelyn let out a soft sob, and his expression hardened again. He turned back to her. “Daddy!” A broken cry came from down the hall. Arthur slowly turned. Leo was standing there, barefoot, his small body rigid as he fought back tears. “Daddy, you promised,” he choked out. “You promised you’d stay with me today.” A few of his classmates were standing behind him, their eyes wide with curiosity. Leo stared at his father, his entire body trembling, a desperate plea in his eyes that was so raw it was almost unbearable to witness. For a moment, Arthur looked torn. But then Noah whimpered “Daddy” again. That was all it took. The conflict vanished from his face. He turned his back on our son, scooped Noah into his arms, and walked away without another glance.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388390”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel