I am the definition of a quiet wallflower, yet my best friend, Serena, is the ultimate player. I always thought she was too clever to ever get caught, but today, her luck finally ran out. She burst into my apartment, her face pale with panic. “I’m ruined, Paige!” “I confessed to three different guys last night, and all three of them said yes! What am I supposed to do?” As she paced the floor in a frenzy, her eyes suddenly lit up. “Hey, how about I give one of them to you?” I thought she was joking, so I casually took the phone from her hand. But the very next second, my breath caught in my throat. One of the contact cards displaying a successful confession belonged to Liam, my high school classmate whom I had secretly loved for five long years. I thought I had buried those feelings years ago. Yet, the moment I saw his face on her screen, my heart skipped a beat. After a long silence, I looked up, keeping my voice as flat and casual as possible. “Sure.” “Can you give this one to me?” 1 Serena went quiet for a few seconds. She shot me a thoroughly surprised look. “Wow, I didn’t expect you to agree so quickly.” I scrolled through his profile, pretending to be indifferent. “He’s handsome. Chatting with him isn’t exactly a chore.” Serena didn’t think much of it, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “True.” A quiet, bitter ache settled in my chest. Serena was a breathtaking beauty. Whenever we traveled to different cities, street photographers would inevitably stop her, asking to take her picture. She would flash them a radiant smile. “Is this free, or are you going to charge me?” The photographers would laugh, their eyes filled with admiration for this stunning stranger. “For you? Absolutely free.” Meanwhile, I would stand awkwardly to the side, holding her coat and waiting for her to finish. Life was rarely fair. I was always the one left in the shadow. I wasn’t ugly, but I was entirely ordinary. Because of that, I hadn’t dated once throughout my four years of college. I never initiated anything, and naturally, no one ever approached me. So, being allowed to step into Serena’s shoes and talk to Liam felt like winning the lottery. It was a tiny, stolen piece of luck. Serena explained that she and Liam had met through an online game. I was stunned to learn that the straight-A student who used to top our class ranking was involved in something as casual as online dating. “He’s actually very generous,” Serena said, tilting her head. “He’s probably quite wealthy, too. He bought me several thousand dollars’ worth of in-game skins.” Then, as if remembering something amusing, she giggled. “But my other guys are much wealthier, so… oops!” I remained silent, not knowing what to say. “Besides, the others are guys I know in real life. He’s the only one I met on the internet.” Serena paused, looking at me seriously. “So, if you meet him in person and he turns out to be a catfish, don’t blame me.” I jumped out of my chair in a panic. “What?” I gasped. “We have to meet in person?” 2 Serena laughed at my dramatic reaction. “Of course you do. What’s the point of online dating if you never meet in real life?” “But… how can I go?” My mind was spinning. “What am I supposed to say?” “Just tell him you’re Serena.” “But I’m not you!” Serena rolled her eyes, flopping onto my beanbag chair with the lazy grace of a cat. “He doesn’t know what I look like, and he’s never met you. The moment you show up, you are Serena.” She spoke with complete nonchalance, as if pretending to be someone else to go on a date was the most natural thing in the world. “What if he asks about… my life? I don’t know anything about what you told him.” “That’s why we’re having a crash course right now.” Serena pulled out her phone and began listing the various details of the persona she had built for Liam. But I didn’t hear a single word. My gaze was entirely fixed on the black profile picture on her screen. Liam. It was only after high school graduation that I had gathered the courage to add him on social media. But his profile had always been set to private, showing only three days of history, which consisted of nothing but generic landscape photos. I had assumed we would remain strangers for the rest of our lives. Yet now, his chat box was open right in front of me. Can we meet tomorrow at seven in the evening? Attached was a small sticker of a puppy scratching its head. It was hard to reconcile this cute, sincere gesture with the brilliant student who used to deliver school speeches with a perfectly deadpan expression. The contrast was incredibly endearing. “…so the key is to keep him hooked. Give him just enough attention to make him obsessed, and then pull back. Keep him wanting more.” Serena suddenly leaned in, catching me staring blankly at the screen. She furrowed her brow. “Are you even listening to me, Paige?” Her voice snapped me back to reality. “Yes, I am.” She crossed her arms, demanding I repeat what she had just said. I remained silent. With a heavy sigh, she handed me her phone. “Forget it. Just read through the chat history from the very beginning. You have twenty-four hours before the date. My survival depends entirely on you, Paige.” She stood up to go start her skincare routine, leaving me alone with the phone. I stared at the screen for a long time. Tomorrow at seven. I was going to use another girl’s name to meet the boy I had loved in secret for five years. It was the cruelest joke fate had ever played on me. 3 I barely slept that night. I spent hours in front of the mirror, practicing Serena’s tone, her gestures, and her laughter. Before leaving the apartment the next evening, I changed into a sleek, emerald slip dress—a style Serena favored but I would never normally wear. Standing in front of the full-length mirror, I could barely recognize myself. Serena helped me curl my hair, nodding in approval. “Honestly, you actually look like me now.” Twenty minutes later, I arrived at the restaurant Liam had chosen, a quiet, upscale sushi bar in the city center. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open. The restaurant was relatively quiet, and I spotted him immediately. He was slightly leaner than he had been in high school, wearing a thin black sweater with the sleeves casually rolled up to his forearms. His sharp jawline and clean profile were exactly as I remembered, yet there was a new, mature edge to him. I paused at the entrance for a few seconds before forcing my feet to move. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. As I approached the table, he looked up. Our eyes met. My mind went completely blank. Every single opening line Serena had prepared for me vanished into thin air. Liam stood up and politely pulled out a chair for me. The gesture was simple and natural, a testament to his good manners, but it still sent a shiver through my veins. During my high school years, I had dreamed of this moment countless times—sitting across from him, sharing a meal, talking like a normal couple. But it had always been a fantasy. Now, it was real. But I was playing a part. “Hi,” Liam spoke first, his voice low and smooth. “I’m Liam.” “I’m Serena,” I replied, my voice trembling slightly. He looked at me for three long seconds. Those seconds felt like an eternity. Then, a faint, barely perceptible smile touched the corner of his lips. When the waiter handed us the menus, I blurted out, “No wasabi for me, please.” The moment the words left my mouth, I froze in horror. Serena absolutely loved spicy food and wasabi. I had seen a bag of wasabi-flavored chips on her desk just before I left. Hearing my request, Liam fell silent. 4 I scrambled to find a way to cover my mistake, but Liam simply nodded, his expression neutral. “Understood. I’ll make a note of that.” He didn’t ask any questions. I let out a quiet sigh of relief, though a strange, uneasy feeling lingered in the back of my mind. The rest of the dinner went much smoother than I anticipated. Liam was a man of few words, but he was incredibly attentive, ensuring the conversation never felt forced. He listened quietly, nodding occasionally with a soft smile. After that evening, Liam began inviting me out regularly. We had dinners, went for long walks, and visited art exhibitions on the weekends. Meanwhile, Serena seemed to lose all interest in him. She was far too busy managing her other relationships—spending Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays with her younger boyfriend, and Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays visiting her older benefactor at his corporate office. She was a master of time management. One evening, after we finished dinner, the sky was still painted with the pale colors of twilight. Liam mentioned a quiet park nearby and asked if I wanted to take a walk. I agreed. The late April breeze carried a gentle warmth, and the cherry blossoms along the path were in full bloom, scattering pink petals with every gust of wind. He walked on my left, matching his pace perfectly to mine. We talked about random things until he suddenly asked, “Which high school did you go to?” My heart seized. I quickly named a school on the other side of town. “St. Jude’s.” Liam paused in his tracks, then simply murmured, “Ah.” He didn’t press further. As we turned down a quiet, winding path, the sound of familiar laughter drifted through the air—a soft, sweet, melodic giggle. I instinctively raised my eyes, and my entire body went rigid. On a wooden bench just a few yards away sat Serena. She was draped over a young man’s lap, her arms wrapped around his neck as they kissed passionately. It was her younger boyfriend. Liam stopped walking. He had seen them too. My stomach twisted into a tight knot, but then I realized there was no reason to panic. To Liam, the woman on the bench was just a stranger. I was the “Serena” he was dating. He had no reason to care. Forcing a light, casual laugh, I murmured, “Kids these days are certainly adventurous.” I smiled, trying to ease the sudden tension in the air. But there was no response from the man beside me. I turned to look at him, preparing to say something else, when Liam spoke. His voice was incredibly low, cold, and sharp. “What does she have to do with you?” I froze, the sheer hostility in his tone catching me completely off guard. We walked the rest of the way in suffocating silence. It was only as we neared the exit of the park that his steps finally slowed. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice returning to its usual quiet warmth, as if his sudden outburst had been nothing but a figment of my imagination. “I lost my temper back there. That was uncalled for.” “It’s fine,” I whispered. After that day, my dates with Liam became even more frequent. I truly believed that I had successfully stepped into Serena’s shoes, that I was finally the one he was falling for. Until today. I had left work early, wanting to surprise Serena for her birthday, only to be met with a reality that showed me just how foolish I had been. 5 As I neared the restaurant, I spotted Liam standing directly in front of Serena. My blood ran cold. How did they meet? Why were they together? Before I could process the shock, Liam reached out, grabbing Serena’s wrist in a tight, desperate grip. I had never seen such a raw display of anguish on his usually composed face. His voice was hoarse, thick with emotion. “Would you rather send a complete stranger to meet me than face me yourself, Serena?” Serena looked as stunned as I was, remaining completely silent. “Who was the man carrying your shopping bags yesterday?” Liam pressed, his voice trembling. “And the one whose car you got into the day before? Serena, how many guys are you playing at once?” Serena bit her lip, refusing to meet his gaze. Liam let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh, as if he had expected this exact response. Yet, he couldn’t seem to let go. “Is it really that hard of a question?” He slowly released her wrist, taking a step back as if he had finally run out of strength. “Let me ask you something else then…” “Serena, did you ever love me? Even a little?” Serena swallowed hard, her face pale. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Stop lying, Serena.” Liam leaned back against the display counter behind him, his eyes completely hollow. And then, he uttered a sentence that made my heart stop. “What about Paige?” Serena flinched. “Why are you bringing her up?” Liam let out a heavy, tired sigh. “Did you really think sending one of my old high school classmates would be enough to get rid of me?” He shook his head, his voice flat and devoid of any warmth. “She is nothing but an irrelevant stranger to me. I could never love her.” “I only love you.” The late April wind suddenly felt like ice, making me tremble from head to toe. I wanted to laugh, but my throat was tight, choked with a sudden, suffocating grief. I tried to back away quietly, wanting to escape before they saw me, but my elbow caught a vintage porcelain vase on a nearby display stand. Crash— The sharp sound shattered the silence of the restaurant. Shards of porcelain scattered across the floor.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “451432”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 At the annual medical gala, Austin, a prominent celebrity surgeon, was asked a poignant question about his years of saving lives: was there anyone he regretted failing to save? He shook his head, then slowly nodded. “None on the operating table,” he said, his voice dropping. “But indirectly? I took a life.” The crowd fell silent as he continued, “Five years ago, my college roommate got a full-ride scholarship to study in London. He asked me to look after his girlfriend while he was away. The problem was, the moment I saw her, I fell helplessly in love.” “She rejected me at every turn. In a fit of jealousy, I Photoshopped a highly intimate picture of her and me. I showed it to him, lying through my teeth that she had slept with me for my money.” A collective gasp rippled through the auditorium. Someone in the crowd called out, “What happened next?” Austin’s eyes welled with tears. “He believed me. He broke up with her right then and there. She boarded the very next flight to go find him and explain. That plane crashed into the ocean. She died.” The day that interview clip went viral on social media, the roommate he spoke of, Jude, was boarding a flight with his fiancée, Peyton. They were flying home to get married. … In the quiet cabin of the flight back home, Jude gently pulled a wool blanket over Peyton’s legs. She smiled, offering a playful, slightly teasing pout. “So attentive, babe. Did you use to tuck your ex in on flights like this too?” Jude caught her nose in a brief, affectionate pinch, his expression softening with amusement. “Never.” “Back when I was with her, we were so broke we had to split a single five-dollar takeout box. We had to watch the timer on rental bikes just to save a buck. Flying was a luxury we couldn’t even dream of.” His smile faded, replaced by a cold, bitter edge. “Maybe if I’d had the money to buy her a plane ticket back then, she wouldn’t have sold me out.” Jude’s resentment ran deep, deeper even than mine, and I was the ghost who had been trailing silently behind him for five long years. He had every right to feel that way. His own family had been torn apart when his father walked out after an affair. Cheating was the one thing Jude loathed above all else. Worse still, when Jude had received that graphic, intimate photo of me, he had been in the middle of a crucial university laboratory experiment. The sudden shock had shattered his focus. He had dropped a highly reactive chemical flask, triggering an explosion and fire that swept through the lab. A falling ceiling beam had crushed his leg, leaving him with a permanent limp and a million-dollar debt to the school. If Peyton, his junior at the university, hadn’t stayed by his side through his long rehabilitation and pulled him out of that dark abyss, Jude’s life would have been entirely ruined. Ruined by that photo. Ruined by me. His hatred was entirely justified. I didn’t blame him. Perhaps remembering those grim days, Peyton’s eyes grew misty with sympathy. “That gold-digging Ruby got exactly what she deserved. Karma always finds people like her.” Jude offered a quiet, reassuring smile, intertwining his fingers with hers. “Forget it. Karma or not, it’s in the past. We go back a long way, after all. We should at least invite her to our wedding.” Peyton blinked in surprise, then nodded quickly. “Absolutely, we have to! When she sees that you’re wealthier now than the rich kid who stole her away, she’ll be green with regret.” “Will she?” Jude murmured, his voice barely audible. The flight attendant’s voice over the intercom drowned out whatever else he said, but for the rest of the journey, Jude seemed lighter, almost happy. I knew what he was thinking. He wanted to see me drown in regret. Back then, when he first woke up in the hospital after the fire, the very first thing he did was dial my number over and over, sending text after text to a phone that was already dead. First, he demanded an explanation. Then, his pride crumbled. He text me saying that if I came back, he would forgive the betrayal and pretend none of it ever happened. He begged me to give him time, promising he would eventually make more money than Austin ever could. He waited from dawn until dusk, staring at a screen that never lit up. When Jude and Peyton finally landed, the award ceremony video had already been trending online for twenty-four hours. Around the baggage claim, travelers were quietly debating the ethics of the scandal. “I can’t believe Dr. Austin was such a scumbag in college. That’s honestly sick.” “It was probably just a stupid joke. He didn’t mean for anyone to actually die.” “Honestly, the boyfriend is the real villain here. He dumped her over a single rumor. He probably met someone else in London and used Austin’s lie as an easy exit.” Hearing Austin’s name floating through the crowded terminal, Jude froze. Peyton looked at him, concerned. “Jude? What’s wrong?” A look of pure disgust crossed Jude’s face, his knuckles turning white against the handle of his suitcase. “Nothing. Just heard a piece of trash’s name. It makes me sick.” He was right. Austin was trash. The very day Jude had left for London, Austin had cornered me to confess his feelings. When I rejected him, he started showering me with expensive gifts. I hadn’t dared to tell Jude because I didn’t want him to worry while he was half a world away, so I simply did my best to avoid Austin entirely. I never expected my silence to drive Austin to such malice. Staggering under the weight of those memories, I shook my head to clear the thoughts. By the time I focused again, I was floating behind Jude and Peyton as they entered their new apartment. Jude had always been an incredibly attentive partner. When we were together, even on our cheap weekend trips, he would meticulously plan every detail to give me the best experience possible on a shoestring budget. He was no different with Peyton. Before returning from London, he had hired a top-tier design team to renovate their new home, tailoring every corner to Peyton’s taste. Soft beige walls, warm chestnut floors. But when Peyton noticed the sheer pink curtains fluttering gently in the breeze, she raised an eyebrow with a playful grin. “Jude, you actually made a mistake! Since when do I like pink?” Jude frowned, instinctively defending himself. “But you told me you wanted pink curtains…” He cut himself off, his face suddenly draining of color. He gently pushed Peyton back, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Sorry. I got it wrong. I’ll have them replaced immediately.” It was as if the color itself disgusted him. Unable to wait for a decorator, Jude ripped the curtains from the rod with sudden, violent force and stuffed them into the trash chute in the hallway. I drifted out after him, staring silently at the empty chute. Ghosts have no tears, yet my eyes burned with a dry, heavy ache. Years ago, when Jude and I were crammed into a windowless, five-hundred-square-foot basement studio, I used to curl up against his chest and whisper: “Jude, when we make it, we’re going to buy a place with massive windows, and we’ll hang pink curtains to let the sunlight through.” He had remembered. He bought the apartment with the beautiful windows, but because the girl beside him had changed, the pink curtains had to go. I drifted back into the living room just as the two of them were grabbing their coats to head out. “Jude, do you think Ruby will show up at the college reunion tonight?” Peyton asked. My heart tightened. After leaving the country, Jude had cut all ties with our old classmates. He had no idea I was dead. But going to this reunion meant he would find out the truth. Would he be sad? Jude’s voice broke through my thoughts, cold and indifferent. “If she shows up, she shows up. It’s the perfect chance to hand her our wedding invitation.” His face remained expressionless, but the pinky finger on his left hand was trembling. He was lying. Back in college, when he secretly sold blood to buy me a winter coat and lied about winning a student grant, his pinky had trembled exactly like this. He cared. He was terrified of seeing me, or perhaps, of not seeing me. On the drive to the venue, Jude was unusually silent. No matter how excitedly Peyton talked about showing off their relationship to me and Austin, Jude only offered distant, polite nods. His grip on the steering wheel grew tighter with every block. At every red light, he checked the class group chat on his phone. As notifications rolled in from people arriving at the restaurant, his jaw clenched. In his distraction, his thumb brushed against my old, inactive profile picture. For a second, both Jude and I seemed to hold our breath. “Jude, the light is green,” Peyton reminded him. Jude jolted, tossing the phone into the cup holder as if it had burned him. “Right.” They arrived at the restaurant. The moment Jude parked, several of our old classmates waiting outside walked over to greet them. “Jude! Man, it’s been ages.” “Hey, I saw you active in the group chat earlier, tapping Ruby’s icon. You’ve been off the grid for so long, do you seriously not know what happened to her…” “It was an accident,” Jude interrupted, his tone freezing the conversation. He reached over to open the passenger door. “Everyone, this is my fiancée, Peyton.” The classmates exchanged uneasy glances, quickly shifting to polite small talk. Strangely, even as the group began walking into the restaurant, Jude remained standing by his car, his eyes darting toward the street entrance. “Jude, who are you looking for?” one of them asked. I wondered too. Everyone from our old class was here, except for me and Austin. Was he waiting for Austin? “No one,” Jude snapped, turning on his heel and walking briskly toward the entrance. Peyton blinked in confusion, quickly scrambling to catch up. Though Jude had cut everyone off years ago, his academic success abroad was well-known. During dinner, classmates kept rising to toast him. Jude accepted every drink offered, and it didn’t take long for the alcohol to flush his cheeks. Peyton, looking worried, finally placed her hand over his glass. “Jude, that’s enough drinking…” Marcus, our old class president, was already tipsy. He laughed and raised his glass. “Come on, Peyton, play nice. When Ruby was with Jude, she never breathed down his neck about having a few drinks.” The private dining room went dead silent. Marcus instantly regretted his words, biting his lip. Jude, however, let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Of course Ruby wouldn’t care. She never loved me anyway.” A sharp ache pierced through my chest, cold and biting. I could accept his anger. I could accept his hatred. But I could not bear him denying the love I had given him. “Jude, that’s out of line!” The voice belonged to Becca, my college roommate and closest friend. Her eyes were red as she looked at Jude, then glanced at Peyton, biting back her words. “She’s not even…” “She’s not here, so I’m not allowed to talk?” Jude sneered, looking around the table. “If she didn’t have a guilty conscience, why is every single person in this room here tonight except for her and Austin?” Peyton added coldly, “People with guilty consciences usually stay hidden.” “Guilty conscience?” Becca slammed her glass onto the table, standing up as tears spilled over her cheeks. “Jude, Ruby has been dead for five years!” Jude bolted upright, knocking his heavy chair backward with a loud, scraping crash. “What did you say?” Becca, fueled by alcohol and years of suppressed anger, screamed back at him, “Who are you to judge her? If she wasn’t so desperate to fly out and explain things to you, she would have never boarded that plane! She would still be alive!” Jude stared at her, his entire body starting to tremble. “Explain what?” Marcus reached out, gently pulling Becca back into her seat. “Jude… Ruby never cheated on you. That photo Austin had was fake. It was Photoshopped.” Hearing this, the tension in Jude’s shoulders suddenly broke, and he let out a bitter, mocking laugh. “Right. Keep making up stories.” He looked at Becca’s tear-stained face with utter disdain. “I get that you guys were close, but fabricating a lie like this just to defend her? It’s pathetic.” “She was blown to pieces for you, and you think I’m lying?” Becca cried. “Shut up!” Jude roared, slamming his fist onto the table. “Tell Ruby she doesn’t need to play dead. I’m not going to sue her or Austin. If she’s really that scared of me, all she has to do is show up, apologize to my face, and we’ll call it even.” Becca laughed, a sound hollow and hysterical. “You want a corpse to apologize to you, Jude?” “Do you take me for a fool?” Jude’s eyes flared with savage anger. “I know a real photo when I see one.” Peyton chimed in, her voice tight. “When that picture was sent, I helped Jude run a digital analysis myself. There was absolutely no trace of editing.” A shadow of pain crossed Jude’s eyes, but he forced his jaw to set. “Tell Ruby that if she doesn’t come here and apologize to me tonight, I’m not leaving this room.” Silence fell over the table. Becca wiped her face, a cold, bitter smile forming on her lips. “An apology? Fine, Jude. Watch this, and tell me who needs to apologize.” Peyton’s face instantly lost all color. Before she could stop her, Becca pressed play on her phone and turned the screen toward Jude. It was the video of Austin’s interview. “Five years ago, my roommate went abroad… I fell helplessly in love with his girlfriend… I Photoshopped an intimate picture… She died in a plane crash on her way to explain…”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “451431”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I was born a sloth. My cognitive gears turn at a glacial pace. Everything takes a beat longer to register, and my typing speed is always half a step behind the rest of the world. When I graduated from college, people at my first internship mocked me, calling me brain-damaged. My parents were so heartbroken and furious they nearly bought out and closed down the firm just to fire my tormentors. To shield me from the harsh realities of the corporate world, my older brother, Gavin, founded a boutique venture capital firm. Here, the entire staff operated at 0.5x speed, aligning their rhythm perfectly with mine. That was until last month, when a highly accomplished intern joined our department. Watching me take half an hour to draft a single email response, she tapped her fingers impatiently on my desk. “Maisie, with a brain as slow as yours, you really should focus on running errands and fetching coffee,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension. “The corporate world doesn’t harbor freeloaders. Otherwise, why would anyone keep a useless slowpoke around?” I clutched my water glass, my slow brain struggling to find a comeback. She had no idea that during campus recruitment, she was about to be rejected for failing her basic financial licensing exam. It was only because I saw her crying in the hallway that I begged my brother to give her a chance, casting the deciding vote that got her hired. If Gavin heard her say those words, she wouldn’t just lose her chance at a permanent position; she would be entirely blacklisted from the city’s financial district. … By the time my mouth finally opened to speak, Sasha’s thin stiletto heel had already ground into the papers I had dropped on the floor. A stark, black shoe print smeared across the core due diligence data I had spent the last two weeks painstakingly calculating. I stared down at the ruined pages, numb. A dull ache bloomed in my chest, though the crushing feeling of suffocation took a delayed ten seconds to fully register. This week, Gavin had taken the senior management team and core employees abroad for a closed-door summit, leaving the office completely in the hands of the new interns. Sasha, leveraging her Ivy League degree, had immediately set herself up as the self-appointed queen of the department. A heavy plastic bag filled with shredded paper waste was suddenly slammed onto my desk. Fine paper dust billowed into the air, settling over my keyboard and my hair. “Since your brain works at a snail’s pace, do something that doesn’t require one,” Sasha said, looking down her nose at me. “If you don’t piece this entire bag back together by tonight, don’t even think about leaving.” I blinked slowly, looking at the mess covering my workspace. At lunchtime, eager to cement her authority, Sasha announced loudly to the room: “Thanks for the hard work, everyone! Gourmet high tea from the Ritz-Carlton is on me!” “Sasha, you’re the best! We’re definitely going to rely on you once we get hired full-time!” The other interns crowded around her, offering shameless flattery. Sasha raised her voice, throwing a malicious glance toward my quiet corner. “Oh, my bad. I didn’t order anything for Maisie. After all, feeding a useless slowpoke is just a waste of company resources. Her sluggish digestive system probably wouldn’t even process high tea until tomorrow!” The office erupted into a chorus of unprompted, mocking laughter. Determined to secure their permanent positions, the other interns quickly fell into line, eager to show Sasha their loyalty by targeting me. Dustin, an intern with bleached blond hair, walked past my desk and spat his chewing gum right at my feet. Another intern, Kayla, deliberately bumped into the corner of my desk as she walked by. My water glass tipped over, sending a wave of warm water rushing across the neatly arranged paper fragments I had spent hours piecing together. The ink dissolved instantly, turning my hard work into a soggy, illegible gray paste. “Oh, my bad,” Kayla giggled, covering her mouth as she scurried back to Sasha’s side. “Maybe you shouldn’t leave your trash lying around.” I stared at the puddle on my desk, my hands hovering in the air, trembling uncontrollably. Tears welled in my eyes, but my throat was so tight I couldn’t squeeze out a single word of protest. I could only pull out a tissue, trying in vain to dab the water away. Sasha walked over, her heels clicking against the floor. Instead of stopping the harassment, she pointed a finger at my face. “Maisie, look at this disgusting mess you’ve made. You’re single-handedly dragging down the aesthetic of this entire firm.” “Go scrub the restrooms. Every single one of them. If there is a single speck of dirt left by tomorrow morning, don’t bother coming back.” I slowly lifted my head, my face flushed as I shook my head. “I… my core work… isn’t finished…” Sasha slapped my hand away and grabbed my collar, pulling it tight. The fabric choked my throat, making my vision go blurry. “Do what you’re told,” she hissed. “One more word, and I’ll make sure we all give you a zero on the peer reviews. You’ll be packed up and gone by noon.” Frightened by the sheer malice in her eyes, I shrank back. Under the watchful, mocking gazes of a dozen colleagues, my body moved stiffly as I picked up the mop and walked slowly toward the restrooms. Behind me, Sasha raised her phone, laughing loudly as she recorded my retreating back. “Hey, followers! Check this out: a real-life look at the brain-dead janitor working at the city’s top venture capital firm!” The sharp click of the camera shutter and the echoes of their laughter pierced through my sluggish senses. 2 “The way she mops is so stiff, like her brain can’t even tell her arms what to do. It’s hilarious.” The video Sasha posted in the group chat quickly sparked a flurry of messages. Her caption was incredibly cruel, and my phone in my pocket vibrated constantly against my leg with incoming notifications. Dustin sent a mocking meme, and Kayla sent a voice note: “This is so embarrassing. If a client came to visit and saw a janitor like her, they’d think our firm was about to go bankrupt.” Because of my slow movements, I had to work straight through dinner to finish cleaning. My low blood sugar made my head spin, and the heavy scent of disinfectant in the restroom made it hard to breathe. I had to lean against the tiled wall for five minutes just to gather enough strength to walk. When I finally dragged my feet back to my desk, the scene before me made me freeze. The investment draft I had spent a month carefully organizing was spread out across the table. Sasha was sitting in my chair, eating a bowl of greasy, spicy takeout noodles. Red chili oil had dripped onto my model data, and my meticulous draft was being used as a grease mat under her food. The model was something I had built line by line, staying up late to verify every single decimal point against the screen. A hot tear spilled over my cheek, landing on the back of my hand. “Why… did you… ruin my papers?” I asked, my voice trembling. Sasha sucked in a noodle, tossing her wooden chopsticks onto the ruined documents. “What are you crying for? Trying to ruin my appetite?” She pulled out a napkin to wipe her mouth, rolling her eyes. “With a rusty brain like yours, could you actually write anything of value?” “It’s just a stack of scrap paper. Using it to protect this solid mahogany desk is doing it a favor.” My body shook with anger. I reached out to pull the document from beneath the greasy container, but before my fingers could touch the paper, Sasha kicked the trash can beside my desk. With a loud crash, discarded paper and fruit peels scattered across the floor, blocking my feet. “Maisie, not only are you a slob, but you’re also a literal hoarder,” she sneered, pointing at my face. “Keeping absolute garbage like it’s some kind of treasure. You smell like poverty.” The surrounding interns gathered around, chiming in. “Seriously, Maisie, your workspace is a total eyesore. It’s ruining the high-end vibe of the office.” “I say we move her desk to the janitor’s closet in the hallway,” Dustin suggested with a smirk. “She can sit with the mops and brooms. It suits her.” Suddenly, my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was a video call request from my brother, who was still abroad. Seeing his name on the screen, I hesitated. I knew exactly what Gavin was capable of. If he found out how I was being treated, this venture capital firm would vanish overnight, and the people standing in front of me would find their careers utterly destroyed. As I stared at the screen, Sasha stepped forward and snatched the phone from my hand, abruptly declining the call. She stared at the screen with deep suspicion, assuming I was trying to complain to management. “Oh, look at you. Trying to play the victim and tattle on us?” “Give… it… back…” I reached out, but my movements were too slow, and my hand swiped through empty air. Sasha held the phone, her gaze locking onto the device. It was a custom, zero-radiation satellite phone Gavin had commissioned from a research lab specifically for me. On the back, a single, brilliant pink diamond was flush against the casing. A glint of greed flashed in Sasha’s eyes. “Ooh, a pink diamond?” She scraped her fingernail against the stone. “Did you buy this cheap piece of glass at some street vendor for ten bucks?” 3 Sasha turned the custom phone over in her hands. Although she didn’t recognize the brand, she could tell the craftsmanship of the pink diamond was extraordinary. It was a real diamond. She clenched her jaw. How could a useless freak like me own something so valuable? She casually slipped my phone into her designer bag. “No personal phones during work hours. I’m confiscating this.” “I’ll hand it over to management when they get back from their trip, along with a formal report of your misconduct.” Tears began to spill from my eyes again. That phone contained a custom voice assistant Gavin had built for me. Without it, I couldn’t remember which bus to take or how to safely navigate the busy crosswalks on my way home. It was my only link to the outside world. “Please… give it back…” I reached out, grasping at the strap of her bag. “My brother… gave that to me…” Sasha slapped my hand away. A sharp, stinging pain radiated up my arm, and my skin immediately flushed a bright red. She looked at me, her brow furrowing with disgust. “Maisie, a slow-witted parasite like you only got into a top-tier firm like this because your parents begged and pleaded for a favor. You’re a drain on society, a complete hazard in the workplace!” She stepped closer, her sharp nail almost touching my nose. “Without your parents sheltering you, you wouldn’t even survive begging on the streets!” I covered my ears, my pale face draining of what little color it had left. Memories of my childhood diagnosis and the cruel whispers of classmates flashed through my mind, making my heart flutter erratically. I struggled to draw a breath. “No…” I whimpered, tears slipping through my fingers. “My brother said… if I take my time… I can still shine…” Sasha laughed, her voice sharp and mocking. “Shine? That’s just a lie they tell toddlers to keep them quiet!” She shoved my forehead with her finger, forcing me to stumble back a few steps. “Who do you think you are? A mute idiot who can’t even speak a full sentence. Your very existence is a waste of resources.” She turned back to the crowd of interns, raising her chin proudly. “Look at me. I come from an ordinary family, but in college, I received an anonymous, full-ride sponsorship from the city’s most powerful financial mogul. Even my placement at this firm was personally arranged by him.” Her eyes filled with arrogance. “Once I am hired full-time, I will be second-in-command here. You, Maisie, aren’t even worthy of wiping the dust off my shoes.” I froze, my slow brain catching a familiar thread of information. A year ago, Gavin had mentioned sponsoring a brilliant but underprivileged student who had failed her basic licensing exams and was about to have her contract terminated by HR. I had seen her crying in her file photo and had begged Gavin to make an exception for her. The ungrateful student was Sasha. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I stared at her. “My brother… would never like you. If he knew… the truth… he would throw you out.” The words seemed to strike a nerve, and Sasha’s face twisted with rage. “Your brother? What are you babbling about, you freak?!” She grabbed my collar, raising her hand to strike me, but stopped herself when she noticed the other interns watching. She leaned in close, her voice a lethal whisper. “The Venture Capital Gala is in three days, and the big boss will be there in person. I’ll make sure you watch me stand right by his side.” She shoved me hard, sending me crashing to the floor. “And the very first thing I do when I take power will be to crush you under my heel and throw you out of this company!” 4 Four days later, the Venture Capital Gala. I huddled in a quiet corner of the grand ballroom, finding it difficult to even breathe. Having my custom phone stolen for three days meant I had lost my voice assistant. I had gotten lost multiple times, missed meals, and had almost been hit by a delivery truck on my way home. My congenital heart condition was flaring up, pushed to its absolute limit. I wanted to cross the ballroom to find my parents and brother, who had just landed and were arriving at the venue. I leaned against the wall, dragging myself forward step by painful step. But as I rounded a corner into a quiet hallway, Sasha, dressed in a lavish gown, blocked my path. She was draped in rented jewelry, her eyes scanning the crowd for the elusive billionaire. When she saw my pale, disheveled state, her face contorted with disgust. “Oh, look. The freak is here to ruin the view.” She stepped forward, her sharp heel deliberately pinning the hem of my skirt to the floor. A sudden, sharp pain flared in my chest. I tried to pull away, but she lunged, tripping me with a harsh sweep of her leg. I lost my balance and crashed heavily onto the marble floor. The impact echoed in the quiet hallway. My knee split open against the stone, blood pooling onto the white fabric of my dress. The sharp pain made my vision go black. The interns standing behind her burst into sneering laughter. “If I were born a broken piece of trash like you, I would have ended my own life long ago,” Sasha said, looking down at me as she ground her heel against my bleeding hand. “Living like a parasite off your parents, and now you show up here trying to look for a handout? Disgusting.” The pain drained the last of my strength. My heart contracted violently, and the suffocating lack of oxygen squeezed my throat. I curled onto the floor, my body shaking uncontrollably as I reached out a hand, silently begging for help. “Stop playing dead!” Sasha snapped, kicking my hand away. “If you get blood on my couture dress, you won’t live long enough to pay for it!” As the darkness closed in, I felt myself slipping away. Suddenly, a terrified scream shattered the quiet of the hallway. “Oh my god! Miss Maisie! Miss Maisie!!!” The Executive Vice President of the firm came running around the corner, his face completely pale with horror. Before anyone could speak, the double doors at the end of the hall were thrown open with a violent crash. A group of people rushed in, their faces tight with panic. Sasha froze. She stared at the man leading the group, her heart leaping with excitement. It was the mysterious billionaire she had dreamed of meeting. But in the next second, the triumph on her face shattered. Through her widening eyes, she watched as the most powerful man in the city pushed past the crowd, dropped to his knees, and gathered my limp, bleeding body into his arms.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “451430”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 To pay for my child’s urgent surgery, I ignored my old injuries and my husband’s protests to enter the rock-climbing championship. As I neared the summit, just a few feet from the finish line, a frantic voice crackled through my earbud. “Brooke, stop climbing!” The voice was raspy, laced with a deep, consuming desperation. Strangely, it sounded hauntingly familiar. “He’s going to release your locking carabiner. You’re going to fall, and you’ll be paralyzed!” Before I could even process the warning, a sharp click echoed from my waist. The tension in my safety harness vanished. I looked down in terror. My husband, Garett, stood on the belay platform below. He held the brake line in one hand, his eyes rimmed with red. “Brooke, Bianca is too proud,” he called up, his voice echoing. “She can’t handle losing to you again, and this championship belongs to her anyway. Your harness is loose. Just forfeit the match. Don’t fight her for this.” I froze on the vertical rock face, my mind going entirely blank. But then I thought of our child lying in the hospital bed, waiting for the money to save his life. I grit my teeth and reached for the next handhold. Suddenly, the voice in my earbud screamed, frantic and raw: “Garett isn’t a broke scholar! He’s a billionaire! He only listened to Bianca’s lies because he wanted to test your loyalty!” “And Jack isn’t your son! He belongs to Bianca and Garett!” … The mountain wind rushed up from beneath my feet, and my fingers began to bleed against the rough rock. How was that possible? How could Jack not be my son? I had endured five hours of agonizing labor, nearly dying on the operating table to bring him into this world. My blood began to slick the stone, and a terrifying weightlessness seized my entire body. When I opened my eyes, I was in a hospital bed, the sound of soft sobbing drifting into my ears. “Garett, I’m so sorry,” Bianca wept. “I just wanted to beat her fairly for once. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I just cared too much about the trophy.” “Don’t blame yourself, sweetheart,” Garett replied, his voice gentle. “I know how much this competition meant to you.” This championship indeed meant everything to both of us. Years ago, when we were known as the twin stars of the climbing world, we had entered this very tournament. Halfway up the wall, my grip had failed, and I fell, shattering my left knee. Bianca had won the trophy that year. The event took place annually, always on damp, rainy days. She had won every year since, while I could only sit in a wheelchair, suppressing the agonizing pain of bone grinding against bone, and offer her my congratulations. This year was my first comeback since my retirement, entered solely to raise the hundred thousand dollars needed for Jack’s surgery. “But what about Brooke’s leg?” Bianca asked after a brief silence. Garett sighed. “Once she donates her kidney to Jack, I’ll reveal my wealth to her and make sure she lives the rest of her life in comfort.” My knee throbbed with a burning agony. I forced myself up, grabbing the edge of the bed. The movement knocked over the IV pole, the metal clattering loudly against the floor. Bianca jumped back from Garett’s embrace, her eyes wide and watery. My gaze fell upon her throat. Resting against her collarbone was a custom silver promise pendant. During the freezing winter we had gotten engaged, Garett had promised to take me somewhere special. He had blindfolded me, guiding me up step after step. When he finally told me to open my eyes, we were standing before a majestic mountain cathedral. “We just walked up all five hundred stone steps together,” he had said, placing the silver pendant in my hand, his palms damp with nervous sweat. “I climbed up every single step on my knees to get this blessed by the priest. He said it would bind our hearts forever.” I had stared at his scraped, red knees, touched by his devotion. “You walked up all five hundred steps on your knees?” He hadn’t answered, only leaning down to fasten the pendant around my neck, his fingers warm against my skin. “Brooke, it’s not worth much, but keep it on. Think of it as me always being by your side.” I had laughed at his sentimentality, but I had never taken it off. When I fell from the rock face, the chain had snapped, and the pendant had vanished. I had spent three days searching through the gravel, weeping when I couldn’t find it. It hadn’t been lost. It had simply found a new owner. “Give it back,” I rasped. Bianca shrank back, her hand instinctively clutching the silver medallion. “Brooke, Garett gave this to me. If you really want it…” She bit her lip, playing the victim. “I can let you have it, but you can’t say ‘give it back’.” “Enough, Brooke!” Garett stepped in front of her, his brow furrowed as he glared at me. “There are millions of identical pendants in the world. How can you be sure it’s yours?” “I understand you’re frustrated about your mistake during the climb, but don’t take it out on Bianca. She did nothing wrong!” “If you’re angry, take it out on me.” My tears began to fall, hot and uncontrollable. Garett’s expression hardened, his tone turning irritable. “What are you crying for?” He paused, as if making a difficult decision. “Brooke, do you really want me to spell it out for you?” I looked at him, but he avoided my gaze, staring out the window. “You’ve been jealous of Bianca’s victory since college, haven’t you? You’ve got it all wrong. The day you fell, you had argued with her, and she cried all afternoon.” The air in the room felt thick and suffocating. I covered my ears, wanting to shut out his voice, but Garett continued ruthlessly. “So, I put something in your water bottle to teach you a lesson.” My mind went entirely blank. Six years of agonizing pain. Five years of sleepless nights on rainy days, listening to the rain as my ruined leg throbbed. All because Bianca had cried for an afternoon. My body shook as I stared at him. “Garett, you destroyed my career, you ruined my leg, just because she cried?” “You’ve had enough glory in your life, Brooke. If you weren’t so stubborn…” He sighed, his tone shifting. “It was an accident. I wanted you to lose, not to get hurt.” An accident. It was always an accident. I looked at his handsome, indifferent face, my mind drifting back to the day we had stood beneath the mountain cliffs. I had clutched his sleeve, asking if he loved me, and he had met my question with a long, heavy silence. I had waited years for an answer, and now, in his betrayal, I finally had it. I looked away, my voice steady and resolute. “Garett, I want a divorce.” “And I will not be donating my kidney to Jack.” Bianca’s face drained of color. “Brooke! How could you eavesdrop on our conversation?!” In the next instant, she dropped to her knees by my bed, her eyes swimming with tears. “I beg of you, Jack is the child you raised!” “Why should I give my kidney to some bastard child that isn’t even mine?” A sharp slap echoed through the room. My head snapped to the side, the taste of copper filling my mouth. Garett’s eyes blazed with fury. “You are wicked, Brooke.” “Jack has called you ‘Mom’ for five years. He is my son, and you speak of him like this? You don’t deserve to be a mother.” Bianca sobbed, her shoulders shaking. “It’s my fault. I wanted Jack to have a proper family, so I arranged the swap. But Jack is innocent. He didn’t choose this.” As her hand brushed against my knee, the hospital anesthetic began to wear off. A wave of excruciating pain surged through my body, radiating from my knee, my back, and my hands. My balance wavered, and I fell forward, crashing down on top of Bianca. She let out a piercing scream. Garett grabbed my shoulder, dragging me off her and throwing me aside with violent force. My back slammed against the metal bedframe, and my vision went black from the impact. “You’ve lost your mind, Brooke!” Garett yelled. Bianca cowered on the floor, shaking her head as she whimpered, “The pendant… the pendant broke…” Garett looked at me, his eyes cold. “Get in here!” he roared toward the corridor. “Tie this lunatic down!” A heavy sedative was pushed into my IV line, and my consciousness slowly slipped into the dark. When I finally woke, the room was bathed in the pale, cold glow of the moonlight. I tried to sit up, only to find my wrists secured to the bedframe with thick restraints. Footsteps approached, and a heavy-set man carrying a camera slipped into the room. My chest rose and fell rapidly as I stared at him. “What do you think you’re doing? Get out!” He offered a vile grin, locking the door behind him and setting up his camera on a tripod. I struggled against the straps, the rough material cutting into my wrists until blood began to bead on my skin. He unbuckled his belt, taking a slow, heavy step toward the bed. “Help! Someone help me!” “Garett! Garett!” The name escaped my lips before I could stop it. The memories of our past came rushing back, overriding my logic. Years ago, during a late autumn climb, I had fallen into a deep ravine. I had screamed for help until my throat was raw, believing I would die in the wilderness. Just as my consciousness was fading, I heard footsteps. Garett, carrying his heavy pack, had knelt at the edge of the ravine, his silhouette framed against the setting sun. His voice had been clear and reassuring: “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.” He had spent hours pulling me out, carrying me down the mountain on his back in the pitch black. It was that memory that had taken root in my heart, a bond I had never been able to break. But now… The man leaned over the bed, his hands moving over my waist. “Well, Bianca paid a good price for this. You’ve got a nice figure, lady.” “Is it Bianca?” I gasped, my voice hoarse. “How much did she pay you? I’ll double it. Just let me go.” He slapped me hard across the face. “Shut up.” He gestured toward the wall behind the bed. “Listen to that. Your husband and Bianca are pretty occupied next door. They don’t have time for a crazy woman like you.” Through the thin drywall, a muffled rustling sound drifted into the room. “Garett…” Bianca’s voice murmured. “I think Brooke is calling out…” After a brief pause, Garett’s low, breathless voice responded, “It’s fine. She’s probably just woke up from the sedative. Focus on me, Bianca.” Tears slipped down my swollen cheeks, mixing with the blood on my wrists. No one was coming. The man tore at my shirt, his eyes locking onto the faded C-section scar on my abdomen. “A damaged good. No wonder your husband threw you away.” As he leaned down, I gathered the last of my strength. I lunged forward, sinking my teeth deep into his ear. He let out a blood-curdling shriek, his fists raining down on my head and shoulders. I didn’t let go until the taste of blood filled my mouth, a wild, desperate laugh escaping my throat. “You crazy bitch!” he screamed, clutching his bleeding ear. He wrapped his thick fingers around my neck, squeezing tight. The ceiling lights began to spin, looking like the safety ropes suspended above the climbing wall. I thought of the child they had stolen from me. Did she look like me? Did she have my eyes, my laugh? Did she curl up when she slept? Had she ever called out for her mother? I wanted to live. I wanted to see my daughter. I couldn’t die here. Suddenly, the door was kicked open, and a nurse rushed in, screaming at the man. “What do you think you’re doing?! I’ve already called security and the police!” Terrified, the man grabbed his camera and fled through the open door. The nurse rushed to my side, quickly untying the restraints and helping me adjust my clothes. I looked at her, my throat raw as I whispered, “Thank you… thank you…” She offered a gentle smile, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “I know who you are, Brooke. Back in college, I watched every single one of your climbing matches.” “You were so full of life, just like your name. Whatever is happening here, whoever is trying to hurt you… you need to run. Now.” I thanked her, clutching my phone with trembling fingers as I staggered out of the hospital into the freezing night. Suddenly, the screen lit up with a message from an unknown number: I know where your daughter is. As the first light of dawn broke over the horizon, I ignored the sharp pain in my spine, following the coordinates provided in the text. I arrived at a massive, elegant estate. Another message arrived: The security code is your birthday. I entered the numbers, the heavy lock clicking open, and I rushed inside. The main foyer was vast, a grand crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. In the center of the room, Jack was sitting astride a little girl, holding her head down against the marble floor as he shouted, “Heeyah! Faster, pony!” The little girl lay motionless, her cheek pressed against the cold stone. I ran forward, pushing Jack aside, and gathered the little girl into my arms. I wiped the tears from her pale face, cradling her close. This was my daughter. She hadn’t disappeared. She had been hidden here all along. My phone buzzed: I’m sorry. Bianca’s due date was a few hours after yours. To prevent you from realizing the swap, she arranged to have your daughter deprived of oxygen during delivery. She was born with severe cognitive damage. A wave of grief washed over me, tears streaming down my face. I held my daughter tighter, ignoring the rest of the text. I lifted her in my arms and turned toward the door. “Mom! Mom, where are you going?!” Jack cried, slipping on the slick marble as he fell and began to weep. Alerted by the house staff, Garett and Bianca rushed through the front doors, standing side by side like a devoted couple. “Brooke, you lunatic! How dare you push Jack!” Bianca screamed. Her gaze fell upon the silent girl in my arms, a cruel, mocking smile touching her lips. “And look at you, running off with a dummy.” “She is not a dummy! She is my daughter!” Garett’s expression tightened as he stared at me, his jaw clenching. He waved his hand toward the door. Two large security guards stepped into the foyer. I turned to run, but another guard blocked the hallway, grabbing my arms. I struggled wildly, my daughter letting out a frightened, soft whimper. “Don’t touch her!” I screamed. They pried my fingers apart one by one, taking my daughter from my arms. “Brooke,” Garett said, his voice cold and flat. “Once you donate your kidney, I’ll let you see her.” “Garett, she is your daughter too!” I wept. He didn’t answer, turning his back as the guards carried my daughter away. She leaned over the guard’s shoulder, a thin line of saliva slipping from her lips. She had never even called me Mom. Before they wheeled me into the operating room, Garett leaned down and covered my eyes with a silk handkerchief, tying a neat climber’s knot at the back of my head. In the darkness, his voice was close, his breath warm against my cheek. “Brooke, be good and do the surgery. Once it’s over, I’ll explain everything to you. We’ll start over, and I will love you just like I promised at the cathedral.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “451429”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 “No, I can’t do this anymore…” Desperate for quick cash, I had accepted a part-time product testing gig. The listing promised a generous payout of three thousand dollars just for testing out some new merchandise. But I never could have imagined what kind of products they actually were. They were intimacy devices: high-powered vibrating toys in shades of hot pink, strangely shaped massagers, essential oils that gave off a heavy, suffocating scent, and synthetic stimulants designed to spike your adrenaline and hormones. But the most terrifying thing in the room was the heavy red leather chair. I was currently strapped to it, my wrists and ankles secured, forced to experience every single device in the shop. That day, my body’s natural sensitivity was pushed past its breaking point, trapping me in a nightmare as the shop’s personal testing machine. … My name is Luna, and I’m a dance major from a struggling background. To cover my tuition and monthly expenses, I’ve had to take on almost every odd job imaginable. Right now, I was standing in front of an adult novelty shop. It was a secluded, single-story building located in a quiet, industrial pocket of the city. A dim, warm pink light spun lazily above the entrance, casting an eerie glow over the pavement. My heart did a nervous flutter, and I checked the address on my phone one last time. This was the place. Yesterday, a notification had popped up on my student job board app: High-paying gig, first come first served. Female only. When I saw the three-thousand-dollar payout, I didn’t stop to think. I just tapped “accept.” Only now, standing in front of the locked door, did the reality of the situation sink in. A three-thousand-dollar testing job wasn’t going to be for regular household appliances. It was going to be for highly private, intimate novelty products. I swallowed hard, my throat dry. I had heard rumors of other college girls taking similar high-paying gigs. One girl had returned to the dorms with her legs shaking so badly she couldn’t leave her bed for a week. As I hesitated, my phone buzzed in my hand. It was a text from my landlord, Mr. Davis. Luna, rent is due next week. Don’t be late. On one hand, I was facing immediate eviction. On the other, I had three thousand dollars practically waiting for me. I grit my teeth. It was just a product test, right? People used these things every day. There was nothing to be afraid of. I took a deep, shaky breath, knocked on the door, and waited. The door was opened by a tall, heavily built man in his late object-thirties. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of loose gray sweatpants, his skin glistening with sweat as if he had just finished a strenuous workout. A heavy, sweet, yet metallic scent drifted from the interior, making my chest tighten. The man leaned against the doorframe, his eyes scanning me from head to toe. “You here for the gig?” This had to be Marcus, the owner. I offered a quiet nod. He was easily twice my size, and the fear I had managed to push down came rushing back. Marcus let out a slow, satisfied grin. “Well, they finally sent me a good one.” His gaze was incredibly intense, as if he were looking straight through my clothes. I clenched my fists, feeling like prey cornered by a predator. “Come on in,” he said, turning back into the dimly lit room. I stepped inside, the heavy, sweet scent instantly wrapping around me. The room was dark, save for the bright glow of a thirty-two-inch monitor on the main desk. As my eyes adjusted, my body went rigid. The screen was playing a highly explicit, graphic video. On the monitor, a woman was bound to a leather chair, her limbs restrained as she was subjected to various mechanical devices, her muffled gasps echoing softly from the desktop speakers. The sheer explicitness of the scene made my pulse race, a strange, nervous heat blooming in my cheeks. I tried to look away, but my eyes kept darting back to the screen. Marcus caught me looking, a low chuckle escaping his throat. “You don’t have to look away. It’s just human nature, after all.” He reached over and unplugged the headphones, letting the loud, rhythmic sounds of the video fill the empty room. “No, that’s… that’s fine,” I stammered, stepping toward the display shelves to distance myself, only to find them lined with massive, bizarrely shaped silicone devices that looked entirely unnatural. “Marcus, please… can we just get the test started? I’d like to finish as quickly as possible.” My heart was pounding against my ribs, my voice shaking. “Eager, aren’t we?” Marcus switched on a standing lamp, casting a warm, amber glow across the room. Now I could clearly see the layout. In the center of the room sat a massive king-sized bed, and beside it was an intricate red and black leather chair fitted with heavy straps and various mechanical attachments. “Right here,” Marcus said, patting the leather headrest. “This is our newest import. You’re going to be testing it today.” 2 “What?!” I gasped, taking a step back. I had assumed the testing would involve small, hand-held devices, things I could easily manage. But the chair in front of me was the exact model from the video, the one where the woman had been completely overwhelmed by the machinery. The thought of being strapped to that device made my skin crawl. “I’m not doing this. I want to cancel.” Marcus reached out, his heavy hand clamping firmly around my forearm. “Don’t be so quick to leave. This chair cost me a fortune to import, and it’s just a sensory massage system. Nothing more.” “Besides, if you back out now, you’ll have to pay the cancellation fee.” “What cancellation fee?” I demanded, trying to pull my arm free. Marcus’s lips curved into a smug smile. “I guess you didn’t read the fine print on the app.” I quickly pulled out my phone, opening the gig contract. Hidden at the very bottom of the terms was a clause stating that if the tester cancelled after arriving at the venue, they would be liable for double the payout in liquidated damages. Six thousand dollars. I had been so blinded by the three-thousand-dollar offer that I hadn’t even looked at the terms. I didn’t have six hundred dollars to my name, let alone six thousand. “I didn’t think you’d have that kind of cash lying around,” Marcus murmured, his grip on my arm tightening slightly. “How about this? If you cooperate and complete the test, I’ll add another two thousand to your payout.” Five thousand dollars. My resolve crumbled. The thought of my unpaid rent and my empty bank account flashed in my mind. “Fine,” I whispered. “But you have to stop if I tell you to.” “Of course,” Marcus promised, his voice smooth. “The moment you say stop, I’ll shut it down.” He guided me to the chair, and I lay back against the slick, cold leather. It was surprisingly comfortable, but the moment my limbs were in place, Marcus pulled the thick leather straps over my wrists and ankles, securing me flat against the frame. The interior of the straps was lined with soft velvet, preventing them from chafing my skin, but the realization of being completely helpless made my breath hitch. He walked over to a small table and lit a heavy, scented candle. As the sweet, exotic aroma filled the air, a strange, heavy relaxation began to wash over me, dulling my anxiety. “During the test, I need you to be completely honest about what you feel,” Marcus instructed, picking up a clipboard. “Your feedback determines the final report.” I nodded slowly, trying to stay focused. “Okay.” He flipped a switch on the console, and a low hum vibrated through the chair. It started gently, a pulsing sensation that moved from my calves to my thighs. “It… it tickles,” I murmured, squirming slightly. Marcus made a quick note on his clipboard. “Highly sensitive. Good.” The intensity of the vibration increased, the pulses growing stronger as they moved up toward my lower abdomen. A sudden, sharp wave of heat bloomed inside me, making my chest rise and fall rapidly. I tried to arch my hips away from the vibration, but the straps held me firmly in place. “What does it feel like now? Is it too intense?” Marcus asked, his eyes locked on my face. “It’s… it’s too much,” I gasped, my skin flushing as a feverish warmth spread through my limbs. “Marcus, turn it off… please!” The machine suddenly surged, the localized vibrations pulsing rapidly against my core. I cried out, my mind spinning as the unnatural, drug-induced stimulation overwhelmed my senses. Finally, the machine clicked off. I lay gasping for air, my skin slick with sweat, my mind completely scrambled by the intensity of the sensation. “We need to remove your outer clothes for the next phase,” Marcus said, his voice dropping an octave. “The fabric is damp, and it’s interfering with the sensors.” Before I could protest, my mind still clouded by the heavy scent of the candle, Marcus reached down and unzipped my shorts, pulling them and my shirt away until I was left in only my underwear. The cool air of the room hit my damp skin, making me shiver. He picked up my shorts, his eyes dark as he examined them. The cold air helped clear my head, and a sudden wave of panic washed over me. “No… we didn’t agree to this. I want to stop!” I struggled against the leather straps, but Marcus simply looked down at me, a cold, dark grin on his face. “You don’t get a say anymore.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “451428”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My ten-year-old son, James, was supposed to be enjoying his after-school swim club. Instead, his classmates held his head down, pinning him to the pool’s suction drain. I dove in like a madman when I saw the water blooming with a sickening crimson. But by the time I dragged him out, the brutal force of the drain had already torn his face beyond recognition. He choked up a final pool of dark blood and went completely still. The ringleader, an arrogant boy, sneered without a shred of remorse. “So what? I’m a minor, the law can’t touch me anyway.” “Besides, I couldn’t stand him. Now that he’s dead, nobody is in my way for first place.” His father tossed a credit card at my feet with a lazy, patronizing shrug. “There is a hundred grand on there. That should be more than enough to buy your boy’s cheap life.” Grief-stricken, I demanded justice, but my wife, Audrey, held me back. “They’re just kids, Lucas! Our boy is already gone, do you really want to ruin another child’s entire future?” My relentless crusade only managed to land the boy a brief stint in juvenile hall, a far cry from the justice my son deserved. Consumed by despair, I swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills by my son’s grave. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day I was supposed to drop James off at the pool. Instantly, I grabbed his hand and dragged him back to the car. We were going home. But even with James safe, the tragedy of the pool still unfolded, only this time, it claimed a different boy. … We had left in such a hurry that James’s dry clothes were still in the locker room. I told him to wait in the car while I ran back inside, intending to also warn the facility manager about the dangerous suction drain. But the moment I stepped into the natatorium, a chorus of cruel laughter echoed off the tiled walls. “Look at him! Doesn’t he look like a dead fish? Move, you idiot! Why aren’t you moving? Hahaha!” Three boys were laughing hysterically. The tallest, Mason, was stepping heavily on a patch of blue fabric underwater. Seeing that familiar shade of blue, identical to James’s swimsuit, and the faint pink cloud rising in the water made my heart stop. If I hadn’t known for a fact that James was sitting safely in the car, I would have collapsed right there. In my past life, Mason had targeted James because my son beat him academically, and Mason wanted to crush him in the pool too. But who was this boy? And why were they doing this to him? I didn’t have time to think. I rushed forward, shouting at the top of my lungs. “Stop! What the hell are you doing?!” Mason looked up, raised an eyebrow, and took a casual step back. “Oh, look, the old dog’s here to protect his pup. Game’s over, boys.” The other two boys jumped back like startled rabbits, refusing to look me in the eye. Even though they had released him, the immense suction held the boy’s face flat against the drain grate. His limbs floated limply. In my past life, James had been trapped exactly like this. I had dove in to save him, but the suction was too strong to fight. By the time the staff turned off the filtration system, the golden window had slammed shut, and my son died in my arms. The blue swimsuit, the medium-cropped hair, the slight build… I kept telling myself James was safe, but my hands shook uncontrollably. Drawing on my grim experience, I screamed at the nearby lifeguard. “What are you standing there for? There’s a kid stuck to the drain! Shut off the filtration system now!” The lifeguard finally snapped out of his daze and scrambled to call the control room. A few agonizing minutes later, I pulled the boy’s limp body from the water. His face was swollen and distorted, completely unrecognizable. He wasn’t breathing, and there was no pulse. Mason stood nearby with his arms crossed, a smug smirk playing on his lips. “Mister, he said he could hold his breath for three minutes. We were just helping him.” “Helping him?!” My vision went red. I slapped him hard across the face. “You call pinning him to a drainage grate helping him?!” Mason clutched his cheek, glaring at me with venom. “It was just a game! Who knew he’d be such a wimp?” “How dare you hit me? Do you know who my mother is? She’ll destroy your whole family!” I knew exactly who his mother was, and it only made me want to tear that arrogant look off his face. His mother had married a useless parasite named Richard, and together they had raised this little monster. “A game? This is murder! Do you understand that?!” The chubby boy beside Mason finally started to look terrified, his voice trembling. “Mason, did we… did we go too far?” Before he could finish, Mason snapped. “Shut up! You were holding him down just as hard!” The third boy burst into tears. “I want to go home…” I ignored them, laying the boy flat on the tile. I began administering CPR, screaming at the staff. “Call an ambulance! Hurry! He might still have a chance!” As I tilted his chin back to give him rescue breaths, I noticed a tiny, dark-red birthmark shaped like a plum blossom behind his ear. Something clicked in my mind, but the thought slipped away before I could grasp it. Just then, Coach Briggs walked in through the side door, exhaling a slow puff of cigarette smoke, accompanied by Richard, Mason’s father. The moment they saw the scene by the pool, the color drained from their faces. “What… what happened here?!” Mason immediately twisted his face into a mask of tearful innocence, running to his father. “Dad! We were just having a breath-holding contest. He said he could do three minutes, but then…” “This is unacceptable!” Coach Briggs went pale. “I’ve told you boys a thousand times, no swimming without a coach present!” “I’m sorry, Dad, I won’t do it again,” Mason whimpered, burying his face in his father’s side, though he cast a malicious smirk at me from the shadows. “But that mister over there hit me!” Richard saw the red handprint on his son’s face and pointed an angry finger at me. “Who the hell do you think you are, putting your hands on my son?” He cast a dismissive glance at the dead boy on the floor. “The kid didn’t follow the rules, and his parents clearly weren’t watching him. You can’t blame anyone else for a tragic accident, right?” In my past life, the security footage showed Mason pushing James into the pool from behind before all three boys dragged him to the drain and held him down. The boy lying here had suffered the exact same fate. I knew the agonizing pain of losing a child. No matter who this boy was, he was innocent. Saving him was the only thing that mattered. I didn’t waste my breath on Richard, continuing my chest compressions while looking at the coach. “Coach Briggs, this happened on your watch. You have a responsibility here. You need to contact this boy’s parents immediately.” 2 Coach Briggs fumbled with his phone, his hands shaking so violently he nearly dropped it. “Yes… yes, of course… I’ll call right away…” A few seconds later, he looked down at the boy’s mangled, swollen face. “But… his face is so swollen, I can’t tell which student he is.” I looked up, thoroughly exasperated. “Then check your roster! See who was supposed to be here today, cross-reference the absences, and look at who’s standing right here!” Mason chimed in, stepping forward. “Don’t bother looking, Coach. I know exactly who it is.” He crouched down next to me, staring at the boy’s face. His voice was quiet, but his words pierced my ears like needles. “It’s James, Mister. Don’t you even recognize your own son?” “You were so dramatic earlier, I thought you knew. Or were you just too scared to face the truth?” My eyes widened as I stared at him. They thought this was James? That was why they had done this? Mason seemed delighted by my shock. Seeing that my hands hadn’t stopped pumping the boy’s chest, he shook his head. “Don’t waste your energy. You’ve been doing CPR for twenty minutes, but he was under for ten. The golden window is long gone. He’s brain-dead.” My hands went limp, and I collapsed onto the cold tiles, my entire body shaking. Was I too late again? In my past life, I couldn’t save my own son. In this life, I couldn’t save this boy either. I glared at Mason. “Why would you do this? Aren’t you afraid of retribution?” “Oh, I’m shaking in my boots,” he mocked, clutching his chest dramatically. “What retribution? The law?” “I’m only eleven. Under the law, anyone under fourteen can’t be held criminally responsible.” He was so close I could smell the orange shampoo in his hair. That scent, combined with those exact words, had been the soundtrack to my nightmares in my past life. Looking at his twisted, malicious face, the hatred I had suppressed across two lifetimes boiled over. I grabbed him by the hair and shoved his face toward the water. “You sadistic little monster! I’ll let you taste what it feels like…” Before I could drag him under, Richard slammed his heavy key ring into the side of my head. The metal cut deep into my forehead, and blood began to trickle down my face. I was forced to let go, and Richard quickly pulled Mason behind him. “Are you insane?!” Richard roared. “It was an accident! Why are you taking it out on a child? My son is just a boy, how could he understand the consequences? It was a tragic accident!” “An accident?!” The blood roared in my ears. “Go check the security cameras! Three of them held his head down and forced him into the drain! You call that an accident?!” Richard glanced back at his son, who looked slightly guilty, before slowly pulling a black card from his wallet. “What do you want, justice? Let me tell you something, Mister. Justice in this world depends entirely on who you are and how much you can pay.” He took a step forward, tapping the card against my nose. “Do you know who my son is? His mother is the sole heiress of the Harrington Group.” “And your son? Just a working-class brat. His life isn’t worth ruining my son’s future.” He tossed the card directly at my bleeding forehead. “There’s a hundred grand on this card. The pin is six eights. Take the money, bury your kid, and keep your mouth shut.” “If you breathe a word of this to anyone, or if you call the police, I’ll make sure you and your wife can’t even get jobs sweeping streets in this city.” Mason peeked out from behind his father, sticking his tongue out at me. There wasn’t a trace of fear on his face, only pure, malicious triumph. Coach Briggs, desperate to avoid a scandal, whispered in my ear. “James’s dad, look, it was an accident. Since they’re offering to settle this privately, why don’t we all just take a step back?” Take a step back? I looked at the black card on the floor, then at the cold, lifeless boy, and a bitter laugh escaped my lips. A child’s life was just a transaction to them, negotiated with such casual ease. My eyes fell on the birthmark behind the boy’s ear again, and suddenly, I remembered who he was. If a working-class boy’s life wasn’t enough to bring them down, let’s see how many of their own lives they would have to pay to settle the score for this boy. Mason kept rambling. “Mister, be smart. Money is real. Your kid is dead anyway, you can always just make another one…” I slowly raised my head, my eyes locking onto his arrogant face. “Your mother’s money won’t save you this time.” He tilted his chin up. “Say whatever you want. I won’t get in trouble anyway. My dad said the law protects minors like me.” I gently wiped the water and blood from the dead boy’s face, my finger brushing against the plum-blossom birthmark. Then, I took off my jacket and laid it gently over his body, giving him his last shred of dignity. “Protects you?” I let out a cold, hollow laugh. “Then you’d better pray that the law is the only thing people believe in.” Richard frowned, his eyes narrowing. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I ignored him, pulling out my phone to send a single text. Then, I leaned down and whispered into the dead boy’s ear. “Don’t worry, buddy. Your mom is on her way.” With that, I began dialing 911. “What do you think you’re doing?!” Richard demanded, his voice dropping to a threatening register. “I told you, we settle this here and now! If you dare…”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “451427”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I spent five years trying to become the leading lady in Nolan’s life. The floating comments in my head had warned me from the very beginning. Doesn’t she realize there isn’t a shred of love in his eyes? Don’t be stupid. He only tolerates her because his son needs a mother. Once his first love returns from abroad, all her years of devotion will mean absolutely nothing. But I refused to believe them. Every story had a past, didn’t it? Nolan was attentive, respectful, and always kept clear boundaries. His personal life was as clean as a blank sheet of paper. How could I throw away everything we built just because of a few cynical remarks from unseen onlookers? Later, when he got down on one knee and proposed, the comments finally began to shift in my favor. Yet, that was the exact moment I decided to let go. … I opened the custom wedding invitation Nolan had designed. The gold-embossed font was elegant, bold, and striking. My smile slowly froze on my face. “Who is Giselle?” Nolan went rigid for a fraction of a second, his eyes darting away. “Oh. The designer must have made a mistake.” “I’ll have them reprint a new batch immediately.” If I hadn’t seen that exact name on the list of newly hired instructors at my school, his smooth explanation might have actually convinced me. I picked up the remote and casually switched on the television. “…World-renowned ballerina Giselle has returned to the country to continue her studies. In an exclusive interview, she stated she is currently focusing on her career and has no plans for marriage…” The reporter’s crisp voice filled the quiet living room. The arm Nolan had wrapped tightly around my waist suddenly went limp and slipped away. The floating comments flared up again. Nolan, what are you doing?! Just hearing her name makes you pull away from Gemma? My heart breaks for her. Don’t forget Gemma basically raised your kid and coddled your demanding mother for five years. If you still want Giselle, you are completely heartless! Am I the only one who pities the designer? The male lead gave the wrong name but blamed it on the working class. Was it really a designer’s mistake? Or was it that, in his subconscious, his bride had always been Giselle? I took a deep, quiet breath, forcing a playful smile onto my face as I turned to look at him. “What a coincidence. She shares the same name.” He didn’t answer. His eyes were glued to the television screen. The woman on the screen was elegant, her movements light and ethereal. When the reporter asked her about her college days, a deep, unshakeable sorrow clouded her eyes. “Gemma, should we move the wedding up?” “Next year is going to be incredibly busy at the winery. We have several major international contracts to negotiate, and I might not have the energy to plan a proper wedding then.” There was an intense, pleading look in his eyes, mixed with a complex emotion I couldn’t quite decipher. The chat feed began placing bets. Half of them say he’s doing this just to spite the female lead. The other half say he’s terrified of regretting his choice, so he’s burning his own bridges. Not a single soul believed he actually wanted to marry me. But what if? What if there was a tiny chance? His excuse was perfectly logical, after all. If only he hadn’t deliberately avoided eye contact the moment Giselle’s name came up. I wanted to speak, but a sudden mist blurred my vision. Seeing my silence, a flicker of panic crossed his face. He quickly reached out, grasping my hand to reassure me. “Don’t worry. I promise the wedding will be grand. I won’t let you feel rushed or slighted just because we’re moving the date up.” “Toby already calls you Mom, and my mother gave you the family heirloom emerald bracelet. You are the destined daughter-in-law of this family. Having the wedding a bit earlier is a happy occasion for everyone, isn’t it?” “Are you still upset about the name on the invite? It really was just an accident. Please don’t be mad at me, okay?” The more he spoke, the more defensive he sounded. I almost felt embarrassed for him. One of the comments had put it beautifully: He was never a good liar. I gently pulled my hand from his grip, my expression as sweet and calm as ever. “Whatever you prefer.” The next afternoon, Nolan picked me up after work to try on wedding dresses. “A few new arrivals from Milan just came in. I had them set aside the best ones so you can have first pick.” The moment I slid into the passenger seat, he leaned over naturally to pull my seatbelt across me, clicking it into place. For five long years, he had been this meticulously attentive. The comments always claimed he was like a cold, emotionless robot. I had spent years arguing with them, defending his quiet care. But the moment of truth was finally here. As we neared the boutique, my phone rang. “I’m just one intersection away,” I said into the receiver. “Take your time, don’t rush.” Nolan reached over, taking my hand in his. “Did you invite a friend?” I nodded. “A new colleague from work. She just got back from abroad and has an incredible eye for fashion. I figured she could help me choose.” The floating comments were practically screaming with excitement. The legendary reunion is finally here! The female lead left twelve years ago to pursue her career after having his baby, and now they’re finally going to stand in the same room! I’ll always support Gemma, but for just one second, I really want to see this tragic couple reunite. Does the second female lead know something? Is she testing him on purpose? When Giselle arrived, Nolan was holding my handbag and my discarded coat, looking every bit the devoted, doting fiancé. I smiled warmly as I introduced them. “Nolan, this is Giselle. She just joined our faculty as a ballet instructor. She used to be the principal dancer for an international company.” “And Giselle, this is my fiancé, Nolan. He runs a private winery.” 2 I clenched my fists in my pockets, watching their faces intently, searching for even a flicker of recognition. But there was nothing. They exchanged polite, professional handshakes, greeting each other like complete strangers. My heart made a clean, sharp cracking sound and died. I forced myself behind the heavy velvet curtain to change, pulling the fabric back just a fraction of an inch to peer out. The moment they thought I was out of sight, their polite masks shattered instantly. “I thought you were allergic to caffeine.” “I went through desensitization therapy while I was abroad.” “Ha. Did you approach us on purpose today?” Nolan’s tone was biting, but it couldn’t hide the raw panic bleeding through his voice. “I had no idea you were her fiancé.” “Save it. I will never believe another word that comes out of your mouth.” “If you find this too awkward, tell her I had to leave when she comes out.” “Who do you think you are? Coming and going whenever you please?” Through the gap, I watched as Nolan reached out and grabbed Giselle’s wrist, squeezing it tightly. The veins in his neck were bulging with rage. All of his usual calm, composed dignity had vanished into thin air. “Gemma and I are getting married next month. Don’t you dare try any of your games again.” Giselle began to weep, turning and running out of the boutique. Nolan hesitated for two agonizing seconds before rushing out after her. Almost immediately, my phone buzzed with a text. An emergency came up at the winery. Take a cab home, okay? I looked down at the glowing screen, a bitter smile touching my lips. The harsh, warning words he had hurled at Giselle weren’t a rejection of his old flame. They were the desperate, defensive lashes of a man trying to score a point against the only woman who had ever truly broken him. The comments floated across my vision. Don’t cry, Gemma. You’re beautiful, and you’ll find someone who actually cherishes you. I’m starting to hate the male lead. Both Giselle and Gemma are completely innocent here. This is a total trainwreck. I’m finally old enough to understand both sides of this mess. In the beginning, the comments had been brutal to me. Before Nolan, I had never been in a relationship. A strict upbringing and a demanding academic schedule had molded me into the classic quiet, obedient girl. Even after entering the workforce as a piano teacher, my life remained sheltered and simple. Toby was the student who gave me the most headaches. He couldn’t sit still, had a terrible memory, and his parents were always late to pick him up. The third time I found him sitting alone in the dark corner of the classroom, his stomach rumbling loudly, I decided to take him home with me. I cooked him sweet-and-sour chicken, braised beef, and tomato eggs. He ate like he hadn’t seen food in days. The following week, a tall, elegant man accompanied Toby to class. “Hello, I’m Toby’s father. Thank you for looking after him the other day.” And just like that, Nolan entered my life. Over time, I learned he was thirty-five, a single father, ran a successful wine business, and had been raised by a single mother. He was physically fit, impeccably dressed, and carried himself with a quiet, mature dignity. Falling for him was as natural as breathing. At first, I wasn’t sure if he felt the same way. Until one day, the floating comments appeared before my eyes. Stop dreaming, second female lead. You are not the heroine of this story. Once his first love returns, all your years of devotion will mean absolutely nothing. If the male lead’s mother hadn’t hated the first love so much, they’d have three kids by now. Gemma, listen to me. Don’t rush in just because he seems to like you right now. You’re just a placeholder. Amidst the sea of warnings, I realized one thing: He liked me. If he liked me, what was there to hesitate about? A young girl’s feelings shouldn’t just remain a quiet secret. I began to pursue him, putting myself in his orbit as much as possible. “I found an incredible bakery nearby. We should take Toby there sometime.” “Toby’s piano needs tuning. If you aren’t sure which brand to buy, I can come with you.” “Your mother picked up Toby today and invited me over for dinner. I didn’t say yes immediately because I didn’t want you to feel awkward. Haha.” It was a simple, transparent strategy, and the comments hated me for it. One afternoon, when we took Toby to the amusement park, the insults nearly blinded me. Doesn’t she realize there’s no love in his eyes? What a manipulative woman, using the kid to force the male lead to spend time with her! The second female lead is just a glorified, free nanny. Learn your place. Nolan, reject her already! The female lead is living a lonely, miserable life across the ocean while you’re playing house with another woman! But the tides turned completely after I stood up for Toby at school. Toby had gotten into a fight, and Nolan was away on a business trip in Europe, so I stepped in. I had never been a mother, but I believed a mother should trust her child. I shielded Toby, spent hours track down the school’s security footage, and stood my ground against the aggressive parents of the other kids. She stood up for him in front of the principal without hesitating. That was so cool! I wish I had a mother like her. The other parents kept calling her a stepmother who didn’t care about the kid. She took so much abuse for him! The bullies had nothing left to say, so they teased Toby for not having a mom. Gemma literally brought him lunch to show them he had someone. I’m crying, this is so sweet. It was after that incident, as Nolan drove me home, that he spoke a sentence that changed everything. “Do you want to give us a try?” After a long, breathless pause, I heard my heart hammering against my ribs. “Yes.” 3 So, when I saw Giselle’s name on the new hire list, I decided to take a gamble. She was stunning, elegant, and carried herself with an effortless confidence. She was everything the comments had warned me about—the legendary, unshakeable first love. She actually existed. But then I thought, so what? I had been by Nolan’s side for five years. I went from his son’s piano teacher to his mother’s favorite shopping companion, and finally, a permanent fixture at the family dinner table. We were just one signature away from making it official. Most importantly, Nolan, who was notoriously cold toward women, had been the one to ask me to give us a try. On the day we officially made our relationship public, even the comments that had hated me from the start conceded that my devotion had finally paid off. They said my sincere heart had finally touched him, and that a man as responsible as Nolan would never look back once he made a commitment. I had let those words fill me with a quiet, secret joy for a very long time. When Nolan finally came home that evening, I was in the living room, gently correcting Toby’s finger placement on the piano keys. Nolan held a bouquet of white lilies, a quiet apology on his lips. I didn’t reach out to take them. “Are you still angry?” He leaned down, trying to coax a smile out of me. Toby, sensing the tension, quietly slipped back into his bedroom. My smile felt incredibly stiff and cold. “I’m allergic to lilies.” Nolan rubbed the back of his neck, dismissive. “I just remembered you liked the color. I forgot about the allergy.” “On our anniversary last year, the restaurant you booked was decorated with white lilies. I broke out in hives and had to spend the night in the ER.” “Last month, when I asked you to buy an air purifier, you brought home a lily-scented one. I spent weeks struggling to breathe before I finally had to move back to my own apartment.” Twelve years had passed, yet he remembered with absolute clarity that Giselle was allergic to caffeine. I had been by his side for five years, and he couldn’t even remember the flower that sent me to the hospital. The difference between love and tolerance was staggering. I didn’t acknowledge his empty apology. I quietly packed my things into my bag and walked toward the front door. “Don’t be mad, Gemma. I promise I won’t buy the wrong flowers next time.” “And about today… leaving you at the bridal shop was my fault. Next time, even if you try on a hundred dresses, I’ll sit right there and watch you. Okay?” He took me by the shoulders, his eyes wide and seemingly sincere. It was always the same script. I had spent years waiting for those “next times,” watching my hope slowly curdle into complete numbness. “There won’t be a next time, Nolan. Here are your keys.” I kicked off my slippers, slipped into my heels, and placed the house keys gently on the shoe cabinet. His polished composure finally cracked, a flash of irritation breaking through. “Gemma, is this really necessary? You’ve always been so reasonable. Are you really going to pick a massive fight over such a trivial thing?” Missing my high school reunion because he didn’t want to socialize was a trivial thing. Skipping our wedding photos because he hated the hassle of hair and makeup was a trivial thing. And now, putting his first love’s name on our invitations and abandoning his bride-to-be to chase her down was also a trivial thing. What, then, was a significant thing? As the comments had so brutally pointed out: When a man doesn’t love you, you could hang yourself from the ceiling and he’d just think you were playing on a swing. I looked up, locking eyes with him. “I heard you two in the dressing room.” “What?” “Why didn’t you tell me you knew Giselle? The bride’s name on our invitation belonged to your first love.” His entire body went rigid, and he slowly lowered his head, unable to speak. The cards were finally on the table. And he had absolutely nothing to play. Even though I was the official fiancé, in the grand narrative of his life, the first love was an invincible force. My logical mind told me to run from a man who couldn’t choose, but a small, desperate part of me wanted to wait just a little longer. What if? That was why I had set up their meeting today. I needed to see it with my own eyes so I could finally kill the hope inside me. Otherwise, I would have walked away looking graceful, only to torture myself with endless “what-ifs” later. I walked out of the apartment and pressed the button for the elevator. The numbers ticked up slowly. 1… 2… 3… 4… 5… It would take a while to reach the twenty-third floor. But the door behind me remained firmly shut. No one ran out to stop me. For a single, fleeting second, I had thought that if he ran out and gave me even a half-decent explanation, I would have forced myself to believe it. The comment feed erupted into a frenzy. Gemma, don’t cry! We’ll find someone a million times better! Nolan is just prideful and slow to open up. He doesn’t want you to leave, but chasing you down would look desperate, and that’s just not who he is. You’ve held on for so long, why not give it one more shot? In a choice between two women, the one who stays is always the one who ends up suffering. I cleared out every single one of my belongings from Nolan’s apartment. During the day, I went to work and taught my classes as if nothing had happened. At night, I sat in my empty apartment, reading through our old text messages and crying until my chest ached. When I finally decided to pour myself a glass of wine to dull the pain, I realized my rack was filled entirely with bottles Nolan had gifted me over the years. The sight only made the tears flow faster. From now on, if I wanted a drink, I would have to buy it myself. Ironically, Nolan, who had always been so distant, began texting me every single day. It’s raining today. Remember to bring an umbrella. I ordered your favorite hot pot. It should arrive at your place soon. Gemma, those are all things of the past. You haven’t visited in days, and Toby really misses you. That last text struck a nerve with the comments. He’s just using the kid as leverage because he’s losing his free nanny! Block him! Delete his number! True moving on starts with physical boundaries. Cut him off! But I didn’t block him.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “451426”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 When I woke up from the car crash, six years had vanished. I was married to my childhood sweetheart, and we even had a son. Our little boy was the spitting image of his father—quiet, guarded, and painfully adorable. I couldn’t help myself. I scooped him up and covered his chubby cheeks in kisses. Just then, my phone rang. It was an unrecognized number. I pressed answer, and a man’s drunken voice slurred through the speaker: “She blocked me. It hurts so bad, Hazel. Can you come keep me company for a while?” My five-year-old son immediately gripped my hand, his knuckles turning white. “Mom… are you going out to drink with Uncle Beckett again?” “Dad will be so sad.” He lowered his head, his voice cracking. “And so will I.” … When I first opened my eyes, a beautifully dressed little boy was standing at my bedside, staring at me with wide, anxious eyes. “Mom, you were having a nightmare. Are you okay?” Why was he calling me Mom? I blinked, taking in his features. He was incredibly handsome, a perfect, miniature version of Jasper. Then, my eyes drifted to the wall. Hanging above the headboard was a massive, elegant wedding portrait of Jasper and me. I had only been in a car accident. How did I wake up married to him with a child? But looking at the sweet little boy, logic went out the window. My hands moved faster than my brain, pulling him into my chest. I hugged him tight, kissing him repeatedly until his face was damp. That was when the phone on the nightstand buzzed. The caller ID read: Beckett. I answered, and the heavy scent of alcohol seemed to bleed through the line as a man groaned. “She blocked me. It hurts so bad, Hazel. Can you come keep me company for a while?” I was completely bewildered. “Who is this?” The voice on the other end grew cold and exhausted. “Hazel, stop playing games. You know I’m in no mood for your drama right now.” “I’m at our usual bar. Old place. I’m waiting.” With a sharp click, the line went dead. I checked the time. It was two in the morning. Who was this lunatic, demanding my presence in the middle of the night? Did he think I was some cheap, desperate girl? My five-year-old son squeezed my fingers, his chest heaving. “Mom, are you going out to drink with Uncle Beckett again? Dad will be so sad.” He looked down. “And so will I.” I stared at him, a deep sense of unease settling in my chest. Why did this little boy look so incredibly insecure? Seeing my silence, his grip slowly loosened. His shoulders slumped, a look of profound disappointment crossing his small face. “If you have to go, Mom… I’ll get your coat.” “It’s cold outside. You shouldn’t catch a chill. Remember your scarf, too.” He was so heartbreakingly sweet that my heart melted. I quickly grabbed his tiny hands, my voice softening. “I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. How could I leave you all by yourself in the middle of the night?” “Come here. Let’s cuddle and go back to sleep.” The boy froze, staring at me with a hesitant, shy, almost overwhelmed expression. “Is that… is that really okay, Mom?” “Of course it’s okay! A mother sleeping with her baby is the most natural thing in the world.” I pulled him under the warm duvet, wrapping my arms around him. “By the way, what’s your name, sweetie?” He reached up, placing a cool hand against my forehead. “Mom, do you have a fever? I’m Tristan. You were the one who chose my name.” “Tristan? Like the knight?” He shook his head, his voice dropping. “No. You said it meant sorrow. Because you hated us.” I went completely numb. Tristan? Sorrow? Why on earth would I give such a beautiful, innocent child a name like that? The next morning, I woke up late to find Tristan already dressed. He was sitting quietly on a small chair, reading a book without making a single sound. My god, I had given birth to an angel. I adored him instantly. I wanted to call his name, but “Tristan” felt too heavy, too thick with a past I couldn’t remember. So, I called out softly, “Sweetheart.” “Where is your father?” Hearing the endearment, Tristan’s ears flushed a bright red. “Dad… he was working late at the office last night.” “Oh. I see.” I thought about the six-year blank in my memory since the car crash. I offered him a warm smile. “Come here, sweetheart. Let me test you. How is the relationship between your dad and me?” Tristan hesitated, his eyes dropping to the floor again. “Not very good, Mom. You seemed to really hate us.” “Dad said you lost your memory after the accident. Since you didn’t have any other family left, he brought you home to care for you, and you two got married shortly after.” “But after I was born, you were unhappy every single day. Dad said it was postpartum depression, that you didn’t hate me, you were just sick.” “But then you met Uncle Beckett, and you started smiling again. You told Dad that Beckett was your medicine.” A bitter, old-beyond-his-years look crossed his face. “And then, you didn’t want us anymore.” I searched my brain, but the name Beckett conjured absolutely nothing. “Who is this Beckett? Why would I care about him so much?” Tristan shook his head. “I don’t know.” “But on your anniversary with Dad, Uncle Beckett called Dad from your phone on purpose.” “Dad thought it was you calling, and he was so happy when he answered.” “But you didn’t know the call was connected. You were busy talking to Uncle Beckett. He told you he didn’t love you, that he was in love with his brother’s fiancée, even though they could never be together.” “You asked him why, if it was so painful, he couldn’t just consider you instead.” “Uncle Beckett said that if you got a divorce, he would consider it.” “And then, Mom… you said, ‘Okay, I’ll divorce him.’” “Dad… Dad was so heartbroken that day.” His voice trembled. “And so was I.” I sat there, utterly stunned. In my son’s eyes, I was nothing but a desperate, pathetic simp. I was throwing away my family for a man who was pining after his own brother’s fiancée. It was the plot of a cheap, trashy soap opera. I reached out, gently covering Tristan’s ears. “A child shouldn’t have to carry these heavy things.” Tristan blinked, looking at me with confusion. I let out a long, heavy sigh. Jasper was my childhood sweetheart. When I was seven, my father worked as a driver for the Lu family. Because my mother was gone and my father was always busy with work, he would often leave me at Jasper’s estate. My classmates had warned me, telling me that rich kids were cruel to their bones. They said Jasper would treat me like a toy, bullying and tormenting me every day. But the moment I met him, those fears vanished. Jasper had no sense of superiority. He looked at me and said I looked like a delicate porcelain doll. I was fragile and sickly back then. But despite being the pampered heir of the wealthy Lu family, Jasper would kneel on the frozen ground to put on my socks in the winter. He carried my backpack to school every day. When I was sick in bed, he would sit by my side, holding my hand and refusing to leave. Later, when my father died in a tragic accident, none of my relatives wanted to take in a penniless orphan. It was Jasper who took my hand and led me into his home. The Lu family was one of the most powerful dynasties in the city, but he never let me feel like an outsider. To me, he wasn’t just a lover. He was my family. Before the car crash, we had been planning our wedding. We had already picked out our future home. I had teasingly told him the bathroom needed a double tub, a massive mirror, and floor-to-ceiling windows so we could play around. Jasper had smiled and promised me everything. And yet, during the six years I had lost to amnesia, I had treated him like garbage. The guilt tore at my chest. “Sweetheart, let me ask you one more thing. When is our wedding anniversary?” “November twenty-first, Mom.” That was just two days ago. I couldn’t let my husband suffer like this any longer. When Jasper came home, I was going to make things right. That evening, Jasper returned from the office. The house was dark, quiet, and cold. As usual, there was no one waiting for him. He let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh and reached for the light switch. The moment the light flared, I stepped into his path, a brilliant smile on my face. “Surprise!” The living room had been beautifully decorated, and a warm, steaming dinner sat on the dining table. Jasper froze, his briefcase slipping slightly in his grip. “Hazel? What is this?” “I know we missed our anniversary, so I wanted to make it up to you tonight.” Tristan was already fast asleep, leaving just the two of us in the quiet room. “Just an anniversary dinner?” “Of course. What else? I made everything myself. Come, try some.” I pulled him toward the table, making him sit. I stared at him, taking in his features. He was breathtakingly handsome, like a painting of a modern prince. I wanted nothing more than to drag him to bed and ruin that perfect, neat composure. I tilted my head, offering a soft smile. “Does it taste good, honey?” Jasper’s fork paused mid-air. He looked at me as if I were a ghost. “It’s been a long time since you called me that.” He took a slow bite. “The food is excellent.” I winked. “If you like it, I’ll cook for you every single day.” But there was no joy in his eyes. “Is that so? That must be incredibly exhausting for you.” “How much money do you need this time, Hazel?” “After all, you worked so hard to learn how to cook healthy meals for Beckett’s sensitive stomach. You wouldn’t waste those skills on me without a price.” I went entirely rigid. Just then, my phone began to blare. It was Beckett. I immediately swiped decline. But a second later, the screen lit up again. Jasper placed his fork down, his eyes dark and empty. “Why don’t you answer? Are you afraid I’ll hear something?” “You don’t have to hide it from me. Just do what you want.” His voice was a hollow whisper. “I already know everything anyway.” Left with no choice, I swiped accept and pressed the speakerphone button, laying the phone flat on the table. Beckett’s irritated voice snarled through the speaker. “Hazel, you actually dare to hang up on me now?” “You had quite a spine last night, actually refusing to show up. Is this a new game? Playing hard to get?” “I have to admit, you’re slightly more interesting than before.” He let out a patronizing chuckle. “I have some good news for you.” “My brother is marrying his girlfriend next week. I’m going to plan the wedding myself. Maybe once I hear her say ‘I do’ to him with my own ears, I can finally let her go.” “And then, I’ll give us a try.” “As for you, make sure you clean up your mess and cut off whatever ties you need to on your end.” Jasper listened to the entire speech, a faint, mocking smile playing on his lips. “How touching. You gave him your heart, and now you’re going to give him your official status too.” “Should I start packing my bags to make room for him?” Before he could say another word, I reached out and pressed my fingers against his lips. “Husband, shut up for a second and let me handle this.” I cleared my throat, speaking into the phone with cold precision. “Beckett, right? I am a married woman with a family. Please have some self-respect.” “Stop trying to insert yourself into my marriage. My husband and I are deeply in love, and we don’t need a third wheel.” “We’ve just finished our romantic candlelight dinner and are about to go to bed. I need to warm his sheets now. Goodbye.” With a swift tap, I disconnected the call. Then, right in front of Jasper’s stunned eyes, I blocked the number and deleted the contact permanently. Surely he would believe me now. But Jasper only stared at me, his shoulders slumped. “You don’t have to force yourself to play these humiliating games for his sake.” “How am I forcing myself?” He looked away. “We’ve been sleeping in separate rooms for a very long time.” I blinked, thoroughly confused. “Why on earth would we do that?” My eyes slowly drifted down to his lap, my voice dropping to a cautious whisper. “Is it because… you can’t perform?” That didn’t make sense. Before the accident, Jasper had been insatiable, going through an entire box of ultra-thin condoms every night until I was begging for mercy. Jasper’s face flushed a deep crimson, a mix of embarrassment and anger flashing in his eyes. “You were the one who demanded it!” “Because you said the mere thought of me touching you made you sick.” I wanted to punch my past self. How could I have kept such a masterpiece of a man out of my bed? Was I out of my mind? “Well, tonight, we’re touching.” “Husband, I’ve missed you so much. Let me feel you.” I slid my hand beneath his shirt, pressing my palm against the firm, defined muscles of his chest, gently teasing his skin. It had been years since I had touched him like this. His body went rigid, a low, ragged groan escaping his throat as he grit his teeth. “Enough, Hazel.” “Beckett’s company just secured its funding. You don’t have to disgust yourself by seducing me anymore.” He pushed my hand away, stood up, and walked out of the room. Looking at the back of the man who used to look at me with nothing but warmth and adoration, my heart shattered into a million pieces. I tangled my fingers in my hair, staring at the empty doorway. What had I done? Could a man as proud and dignified as Jasper ever forgive me?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “451425”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 Rumor had it my sugar daddy was tired of me and wanted to break up. Helpful and civic-minded as always, I immediately hopped onto a popular gossip forum to recruit his next replacement. In-network referral for my ex. Great performance, low maintenance. 30% finder’s fee. Serious inquiries only. Within a day, two thousand candidates had signed up. Left with no other choice, I created a massive group chat and auctioned off his private itinerary, letting them battle it out and compete for the position. Hounded and cornered on all sides by eager bachelorettes, my sugar daddy, Barrett, finally snapped. When he got home, his face was blacker than coal. “My darling, I gave you my primary black card. Was that not enough?” “Do you seriously have to monetize every single breath I take…?” … I had been with Barrett for three years, and he had finally grown tired of me. According to my undercover informant, Barrett had been sitting in a VIP lounge, casually playing with his lighter, when he tossed a dismissive remark to his friends. “Marry her?” “Where did that ridiculous rumor come from?” “I guess it’s time to break it off…” Hearing this tragic news, I didn’t waste a single second crying. I immediately logged onto my socials, determined to squeeze every last drop of value out of him before my eviction. In-network referral for my sugar daddy. Great performance, low maintenance. The man is a local billionaire, handsome, generous, mentally stable, drives million-dollar cars, and owns real estate worldwide. I am resigning from my post due to force majeure. Now selling his contact. Only charging a 30% finder’s fee. Serious inquiries only. Perhaps the title was a bit too blunt, but the post immediately drew a massive crowd of onlookers. Within half a day, two thousand people had applied. The comment section was pure chaos. Me! Me! Pick me! Give him to me!!! I have the least self-respect! Let me go first! With so many applicants, I had to create a giant group chat. After a quick preliminary screening, I gathered all the interested candidates. I’ve uploaded some of my soon-to-be-ex’s private files to the group folder. Please review @everyone. The chat erupted like a bomb. Holy shit, the admin’s boyfriend is Barrett?! Who? Who is Barrett?! A massive tycoon. Third-generation old money. I can’t say much more or my account will get banned… ????! Is everyone eating this good nowadays?! I’m currently serving a sugar daddy who is eighty and has terrible gas. I can’t take it anymore. Can I get priority, please… No way, first come, first served! I’ll put down a five-thousand-dollar deposit right now! Ten thousand! Fifty thousand! I just want a meeting. I’ll handle the rest myself @admin @admin. Let’s just auction off his itinerary! Everyone gets a fair, competitive shot!!! I stared at the screen, blinking. Sigh. This kind of money seemed significantly easier to make than a finder’s fee. As for Barrett’s itinerary, I didn’t even have to dig for it. Lately, he had been taking his “doting boyfriend” role far too seriously, sending me daily play-by-plays of his business trips, down to the exact hotel room numbers. All I had to do was copy, paste, and watch the cash flow into my account. This was brilliant! I immediately took action and posted in the group. We are now holding a bid for Barrett’s current hotel location. Highest bidder wins. If the winner defaults, it goes to the next runner-up. None of the women in this group were short on cash. The bidding war kept driving the price up until it reached nearly six figures. In the end, a girl with the handle PeachBunny claimed the prize, transferring several hundred thousand dollars without even blinking. Looking at her profile, she was an absolute stunner. Her skin practically glowed, and her feed was filled with yachts, private jets, and luxury galas. A high-class socialite. She was a world apart from someone like me, who took her sugar daddy’s allowance and spent hours debating which brand of cheap chips was the best value. Barrett was a lucky bastard. But that was none of my business. I was just a middleman making a tidy commission. The moment the funds cleared, I packed up Barrett’s location details and sent them over without a single ounce of hesitation. Once I made enough from this, I was going to retire back to my hometown and buy a farm. That night, to verify if my information was legit, the losing bidders camped out in the chat, waiting for PeachBunny’s live updates. Under the watchful eyes of thousands, she finally logged on at eight. I saw him. That single sentence sent shockwaves through the group. !!!!! It’s actually real! The admin is a goddess! Ahhh! If I’d known, I would have bid another ten thousand! How was he? Is he handsome? Did you talk to him?! Give us the details, please! Faced with the onslaught of questions, PeachBunny was happy to share. He’s incredibly handsome, way better-looking than any movie star. But he’s freezing cold. I pretended my heel broke and fell toward him, but he literally stepped out of the way, letting me slam onto the floor without even reaching out to help. Then he turned to his assistant and said, “The quality of this brand is garbage. Tell them to stop sending their seasonal collections to my girlfriend. I don’t want her twisting her ankle.” … The highly active group chat went dead silent. Oh no. This was directed at me! Barrett was taking his doting boyfriend act way too far! How was I supposed to run a business like this?! Since when did he ever pay attention to my shoes?! As my anxiety began to peak, PeachBunny posted again, offering some comfort. It’s fine. He probably just didn’t like me. We all still have a chance. This just proves how incredibly well he treats his woman. Once one of us succeeds, we’ll get the same treatment. It’s definitely worth investing in. I stared at my phone. Aww, Penelope was such a sweetheart! The atmosphere in the group warmed up again, and everyone began talking at once. Damn, my competitive spirit is fully ignited now. I want seasonal luxury collections delivered to my door too! Who doesn’t, sister! But he’s so hard to crack… Honestly, getting into Harvard sounds easier than getting into Barrett’s bed. True! Since the admin is resigning anyway, can you share some of your success secrets? Give us a roadmap. Great idea! We need a guide! Please! Agree! Please!!! Success secrets? I scratched my head, feeling a bit embarrassed. On the day I met Barrett, I had just been screamed at by my horrible boss. Fuming with rage, I had vowed for the two-hundred-and-fiftieth time to marry a rich man. Then, I turned around and saw Barrett. It wasn’t because of his expensive suit. He was just too handsome, practically glowing among a crowd of balding executives. In a fit of reckless courage, I grabbed a glass of champagne, chased him down, and splashed it all over his chest. When he finally lost his patience, he glared at me. “Are you trying to give me a bath?” I raised my hands, my eyes shining. “Hehe, can I?” Barrett was speechless. Perhaps he had never met anyone so utterly shameless. I ended up beating out a sea of models, actresses, and socialites to become his official “girlfriend.” Of course, in reality, I was just a kept canary. Looking back at Barrett’s family tree, not a single male heir had ever married a commoner, and I knew I wouldn’t be the exception. So… I really didn’t have any real secrets to share. But as the demands in the chat grew louder, and the girls began referring to themselves as the Billionaire Capture Alliance, I reluctantly typed out a reply. He seems to prefer classic drama plots. Like… throwing drinks on him. The good news: Thanks to Penelope’s glowing review, the alliance trusted me implicitly, and my business was booming. The bad news: Barrett was back from his business trip. Embodying the perfect spirit of a kept canary, I ran downstairs to greet him. The carved wooden doors swung open, the golden twilight spilling into the grand foyer, outlining his tall, aristocratic frame. But as he stepped into the light… His collar was torn, his shirt was wrinkled, and his coat was soaked with a mixture of wine, tea, coffee, and several unidentifiable stains. The entire man smelled like… a trash bin. I froze. Usually, the moment he walked through the door, I would throw myself into his arms. But right now, even my professional work ethic couldn’t bridge the gap. I took a step back, horrified. Seeing my hesitant expression, Barrett closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and surrendered to his fate. “I’m going to take a shower first.” I watched his retreating back, feeling a wave of silent awe. My clients were far too aggressive. I had to tell them to tone it down. If they drove my cash cow to his grave, who was going to pay my bills? After a shower, Barrett dragged me onto the bed. He was incredibly passionate, barely letting me catch my breath. But my mind was entirely focused on my thriving business. I wanted to check my messages. My phone on the nightstand was buzzing constantly. It had to be the girls clamoring for more information. My heart was in the chat room even though my body was in his bed. I reached out toward the nightstand. Slap! A large hand pinned mine to the mattress, completely cutting off my escape. “Maisie, focus.” Barrett frowned, his fingers tightening slightly on my chin as he pulled my face toward him. “I’ve been gone for days. Don’t you have anything to say to me?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “451424”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

It was the final event of my boyfriend’s company gala: the couples’ waltz. The familiar opening notes drifted through the ballroom. It was the “Serenade” waltz, the exact song we had danced to ten years ago at our college dance championship. Standing beside me, my best friend, Becca, gasped and covered her mouth. “Oh my gosh, Summer, this is your song! Ten years later, and Gavin has finally taken the hint. Do you think he’s going to propose tonight?” A soft smile touched my lips as I smoothed down my dress, taking a step toward Gavin. But before I could reach him, I watched him take the hand of a young girl and lead her onto the floor. They moved with seamless grace, perfectly in sync with the music. It was obvious they had practiced this countless times in private. The spotlight followed their elegant silhouettes across the room. I stood frozen in the dim corner, feeling like a dusty, expired relic. Gavin looked alive, his eyes bright with a spark I hadn’t seen in years. But he had no idea that this waltz was the very last chance I was willing to give him. Ten years. The waltz had expired, and so had my love for him. I pulled out my phone and sent a quick reply on my messaging app: Mom, I accept the arrangement with Nolan Sinclair. … “Summer! That little secretary did that on purpose!” Becca hissed, pacing back and forth, practically vibrating with rage. “I saw the way she looked at you during those spins. It was pure provocation!” I gently caught her wrist to stop her. “Let it go, Becca. I’m done waiting for him.” Becca’s eyes welled with tears. “Oh, babe. You deserve so much better.” As the music faded, the young girl walked over to us, her hand still tucked comfortably into Gavin’s arm. “Oh, Summer!” she chirped, looking at me with wide, innocent eyes. “I heard you were the waltz queen back in college! I’m so clumsy. Gavin tried to teach me a hundred times, and I still can’t get the steps right.” Gavin patted her head affectionately, a gesture so tender it belonged to someone coaxing a kitten. “You’re not clumsy at all. Besides, Summer only won back then because the competition was weak.” I swallowed the sudden tightness in my throat. With one casual sentence, he had completely erased years of my hard work. “I don’t dance anymore,” I said, my voice flat. “I’ve forgotten the steps anyway.” Sensing the shift in my tone, Gavin’s brow furrowed slightly. “You’re thirty years old, Summer. Don’t be petty with a kid.” I offered a polite nod. “Of course. You two were wonderful. Would you like me to clap for you?” Amber lowered her head, her lower lip trembling with rehearsed vulnerability. “Summer, I really didn’t mean to take up so much of Gavin’s time. But since you don’t work in the corporate world, you might not realize that social dancing is a necessary skill for networking.” Gavin nodded in agreement. “She’s never set foot in an office, so she wouldn’t understand. Don’t worry about it, Amber.” For the rest of the night, Gavin kept Amber glued to his side. He even intercepted drinks meant for her. “She’s just a kid, guys. Don’t make her drink.” I watched them, my mind drifting back to our early days. During the first year of his startup, I was the one drinking myself to sickness to secure clients for him, pushing through a severe alcohol allergy until my body literally went numb to it. I remembered him holding me by the curb as I threw up, his eyes filled with absolute anguish. Summer, you’ve suffered so much for me, he had cried, clutching me close. I swear I’ll give you the life you deserve. The vows back then were real, and his love was genuine. But just like that college waltz, it had a shelf life. And it had finally expired. “Get in,” Gavin said later, opening the car door. “I called a driver.” I slid into the passenger seat and immediately noticed the tilt of the backrest had been altered. When I flipped down the vanity mirror, a familiar tube of lipstick rolled into my lap: Dior 999, Rogue Red. It was a bold, crimson shade I never wore. The bullet of the lipstick was visibly worn down. In my mind, a vivid picture painted itself: Gavin driving Amber to a business dinner, her sitting in this very seat, applying this red lipstick while chatting away. But it wasn’t just the lipstick. In the glove compartment, there was an eyebrow pencil, a small makeup bag, and even a few personal hygiene pads. Amber was marking her territory, staking her claim piece by piece. Gavin had to have seen them, but he chose to look the other way. The city neon flickered across the window, casting a pale, exhausted shadow over my reflection. I looked drained, empty of the warmth I used to carry. “Gavin,” I murmured, staring at the glass. “Let’s end this.” He was sitting in the back seat, completely absorbed in his phone. He didn’t hear me. “It’s pouring out,” Gavin said into his receiver, his voice dropping to a gentle murmur. “You won’t find a cab at this hour. Go wait in the hotel lobby. I’ll come back to pick you up in a bit. Don’t catch a cold.” The rearview mirror caught his expression: tender, protective, and warm. It was a look that had once been exclusively mine. “Did you say something, Summer?” he asked, not bothering to look up from his screen. The blue light illuminated the sharp angles of his face, making him look distant. “I said, Gavin, let’s break up.” He finally raised his eyes. He froze for a second, and then a small, patronizing laugh escaped him. “Are you seriously jealous, Summer? Amber is dealing with a lot right now. I’m just trying to help her out where I can.” I remained silent, staring out at the rain. His tone took on a sharp edge of irritation. “Have you forgotten how hard it was for us when we first started? I’m just trying to be a decent person. Stop overthinking everything.” The car pulled up to our villa. The moment I stepped out, the tires screeched as the car reversed and sped off. He was in a rush to get back to Amber. He had worried about another woman getting wet in the rain, but he forgot that our driveway had no awning, and I had no umbrella. Drenched, I walked into the empty house. The first thing I did was turn on the stereo, playing that familiar “Serenade” waltz. I opened my cloud drive and found a video saved from ten years ago: our sophomore year dance competition. In the video, he was vibrant and young; I was radiant and full of life. I watched it to the very last frame, and then, without hesitation, I pressed delete. It was a quiet, final closing of a ten-year chapter. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Gavin. Amber sprained her ankle during the dance but didn’t say anything. I’m at the hospital with her now. It’s going to be late, so go to sleep first. Goodnight. I typed back a single word: Goodnight. In the past, I would have reminded him to drive safely, to hurry home, to text me when he arrived. Starting tonight, there would be none of that. I began sorting through the cabinets, pulling out old keepsakes. Among them was an unfinished oil painting from our days in the damp basement apartment. Gavin had started painting it years ago, trying to capture the two of us dancing. Seven years after graduation, the canvas remained half-blank. It was the perfect metaphor for our relationship. My fingers traced the dry, textured brushstrokes. Beside the canvas lay a half-empty pack of cigarettes. I had begged him to quit so many times, telling him it wasn’t healthy, especially if we wanted to start a family someday. He had always brushed it off. We’re not even married yet. We can worry about kids later. Perhaps he had never envisioned a marriage with me at all. I took a cigarette and lit it. The harsh, bitter smoke flooded my chest for the first time in my life. I ended up in a coughing fit, tears burning my eyes. Gavin was just like this cigarette: toxic, foreign, and never meant for me. Slowly, I pressed the glowing cherry of the cigarette directly onto the oil painting, burning a black hole right through his face. A sudden, intoxicating rush of relief washed over me. At three in the morning, the front door finally clicked open. Gavin walked in, carrying the faint, sweet scent of Givenchy powder: Amber’s signature fragrance. She was supposed to be a struggling intern, yet she was draped in luxury brands. I had chosen not to speak of these things, but it didn’t mean I hadn’t noticed. “Sorry I’m so late,” Gavin said, coming up behind me after his shower and wrapping his arms around my waist. “The ER doctor was a resident and took forever with Amber’s bandages.” I quietly shifted toward the edge of the bed, slipping out of his embrace. “Gavin, let’s break up. I’m not joking.” His body went rigid for a second, but then he pulled me back, locking his arms around me. He buried his face in my hair. “Summer, stop it. I know I shouldn’t have stayed out this late. But she’s my employee, and she has no one else in this city. I couldn’t just abandon her.” Another cheap excuse. But I didn’t care enough to argue. He let out a heavy, weary sigh, his voice softening. “Summer, we’ve been together for ten years. How many ten-year stretches do we get in a lifetime? You know you’re the most important person in my life. There is nothing going on between Amber and me.” “It’s not about her,” I interrupted. “I’m just tired, Gavin. It’s over.” If it wasn’t Amber, it would be someone else. When the love is gone, there is no point in pretending to hold on. Gavin’s patience snapped, and he sat up abruptly. “Summer! Why are you acting like a child over a little girl? I’ve already told you, you’re the only woman I’ll ever marry!” His eyes flashed with annoyance. He was done trying to soothe me; the facade was slipping. When we lived in that basement, he would save the best pieces of meat from his instant noodles for me, promising a beautiful future. Now, his company was public, the basement had been replaced by a sprawling villa, and his old bicycle had turned into a Porsche. And Gavin had become the very type of man we used to despise: arrogant, cold, and drunk on power. Was I supposed to be grateful that he hadn’t discarded me yet? “Gavin, you still don’t get it,” I said quietly. “I have absolutely no interest in being your wife anymore.” He stared at me, stunned for a few seconds, before his anger boiled over. “Summer, I have an exhausting job and massive responsibilities! Don’t try to use these petty threats to control me!” He threw his hands up. “Compared to the other guys in my circle, I’m a saint. At least I haven’t replaced you!” Even though I had already detached myself, his words still cut like a knife. It was proof that in his eyes, I was merely an object: an old appliance past its warranty, kept around out of sheer habit. He took a long, sharp breath. “Amber’s right. A woman who’s never had to survive in the real business world just doesn’t get it. You have nothing better to do than throw tantrums.” He stood up, grabbing his pillow. “Take some time to cool your head. I’m sleeping in the guest room.” I lay in the center of the massive bed, watching the city lights outside slowly fade into the gray light of dawn. The tears on my face had dried, leaving a tight, cold sensation. Did this man, who had lived with me for a decade, actually know me at all? He had no idea that I had built my own art studio and opened a gallery. He honestly believed I was just a kept bird, spending his money and waiting around for his return. It was almost laughable. Legally, his company and this villa had nothing to do with me. Yet he kept insisting he did it all for my sake. The next morning, I began sorting through my things, ready to purge my life of the past. Our college photos, the old dance trophies, the portrait sessions we had done years ago. I realized with a sudden jolt that for the last five years, we hadn’t accumulated a single shared item. Gavin came out of the guest room, dressed for work. He stopped when he saw the boxes scattered across the floor. “What are you doing with all this old junk?” You’re the junk, I wanted to say. But instead, I kept my voice neutral. “They’re just memories of our youth.” But those memories had died years ago. People change. The love we had back then was real, but so was the cold indifference of the present. A smug smile returned to his face. “I’m glad you’re finally being reasonable. See? Ten years of history. We have too much to throw away. Be a good girl, and once this busy season is over, I promise I’ll give you the most beautiful wedding.” He leaned down to press a brief kiss to my cheek. “Don’t worry, Summer. You’ll always be the most important person to me.” His steps were light as he walked toward the door, clearly believing the storm had blown over. “Gavin!” I called out. He turned back, his eyes carrying that familiar, easy smile. Ten years ago, he had looked at me the exact same way, pulling a cheap bouquet of roses from behind his back: a gesture that had cost him his entire week’s food budget. Summer, will you be my girlfriend? I promise to love you forever. I stood up, meeting his gaze with absolute clarity. “Gavin, I’m tired. Let’s break up.” The smile vanished from his face, replaced by a cold, familiar mask of superiority. “It seems you still haven’t cleared your head! I won’t be coming back for the next few days. I’ve clearly spoiled you too much.” The heavy front door slammed shut, the sound vibrating through my chest. It didn’t hurt. My phone lit up with a text from Becca. Summer! Look at what this little snake just posted! She is literally declaring war! A screenshot popped up. It was a selfie of Amber, her collar pulled down slightly to expose her bare shoulder. In the background was our kitchen, where a man wearing my pink apron was busy over a simmering pot of soup. Her caption read: It’s pouring outside, but the boss’s homemade soup keeps me warm. The comments below were nauseating: Amber, you’re so lucky! I had no idea the CEO could cook! She gets all the special treatment because she deserves it! There were dozens of likes. Most of them were people who had been with Gavin since the startup days. They all knew about our ten-year relationship. But in their eyes, I had already become invisible. I replied to Becca: It’s fine. Gavin and I broke up. Becca replied instantly: Good! That trash doesn’t deserve you anyway! It took me less than half a day to pack my life into boxes. A decade of devotion, reduced to a few cardboard cartons. Later that afternoon, I carried the old keepsakes to the backyard incinerator. As the flames took hold, the remnants of my youth turned into ash. Gavin began a silent war of cold shoulder. In the past, he would text me his schedule every day. Now, our chat was a desert of silence. Over the next week, I arranged for my belongings to be shipped to my new place and bought myself a new car: a clean start so I could leave whenever I wanted. The first message I received after a week of silence came from Amber, using Gavin’s phone.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “451423”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel