1 My brother, Caleb, was the illegitimate son, the family’s dirty little secret. Growing up, he made it his mission to oppose me at every turn. When I finished first in my class, he reported me to the school for cheating. When I joined the board of directors, he crashed his sports car into the main gates of our headquarters. And when I finally found someone I loved, he became obsessed with stealing her from me. Thankfully, my girlfriend, Reese, came from a respected family of academics and carried herself with a cool, aloof grace. Every one of Caleb’s pathetic declarations of love was met with a stinging slap across the face. “I am going to be your sister-in-law,” she would tell him, her voice like ice. “So get rid of those pathetic little ideas you have.” Eventually, it seemed Caleb had accepted his fate. He stopped fighting me, starting from the very bottom of the company and working his way up. My father even praised him publicly at the annual company gala. Even Reese remarked with a pleased smile that my little brother had finally grown up. That all changed on the night I was officially appointed CEO of the entire corporation. Caleb sent me a video. On the screen, Reese, who had been conspicuously absent from the ceremony, was lounging in his arms, her eyes hazy with pleasure. … I didn’t hesitate. I floored the accelerator, racing to the hotel I recognized in the background. I kicked the door open. Reese scrambled for the sheets, but they couldn’t hide the messy constellation of love bites that stained the pale skin of her neck. Caleb, a smirk playing on his lips, provocatively tossed a used condom at my feet. “Sorry, big brother. Looks like you’re a step too late.” He leaned back, the picture of arrogance. “It’s a shame. I could’ve given you a few pointers on how to make Reese scream.” The cloying scent of sex in the room was so thick it made me want to gag. I strode over to the bed, ripped him out of it, and drove my fist into his smug face. Reese shrieked at me. “Julian, are you insane? Calm down!” I whipped my head around to face her, my eyes burning as I stared at her lips, swollen and red from his kisses. “Calm down? How the hell am I supposed to calm down when you’re in his bed?” Caleb staggered to his feet, a cold sneer on his face. “Is this all it takes to break you?” he taunted. “I told you, Julian. I’m going to destroy everything you have. Your love, your career, all of it.” I raised my fist again. Before it could land, Reese threw herself in front of him and slapped me hard across the face. The sharp crack echoed in the silent room, and a fiery sting spread across my cheek. She turned back to Caleb, tenderly wiping a smear of blood from the corner of his mouth before rounding on me again. “He’s your brother, Julian! How could you hit him?” My nails dug into my palms, the pain so sharp it felt like it was stealing the air from my lungs. Just hours ago, I was sick with worry because she wasn’t answering my texts. I was such a fool. She was busy rolling around in bed with my own brother; of course she didn’t have time for me. As if my humiliation wasn’t complete, Caleb added in a whiny, pathetic voice, “Come on, bro. We both have Vance blood, but you’re the one in charge of the whole corporation. I have nothing. Reese was just trying to… compensate me in bed. You’re not going to get petty over a little thing like that, are you?” At his words, Reese’s glare intensified. “He’s right. You don’t need to blow this out of proportion,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain. “Caleb just wanted to see what it was like to be with a woman. If you’re that bothered by it, I can go to a clinic and have it ‘fixed’.” She knew. She knew the betrayal was what was killing me, but she was deliberately trivializing it, trying to force me to back down. “No need,” I said, my voice flat and dead. Each word was a shard of glass. “Since you were so eager to climb into my brother’s bed, the wedding is off.” I turned and walked out. But the moment I opened the door, I realized the media had already caught the scent of scandal. 2 They swarmed me like sharks that smelled blood in the water. Microphones were shoved in my face. “Mr. Vance, is it true that your fiancée was caught in bed with your brother?” “As the new CEO of Vance Holdings, you’re starting your tenure with a major scandal. Do you have any comment?” My face was a mask of stone as I pushed through the crowd, repeating “no comment” over and over. Then, behind me, I heard Caleb’s voice, feigning weakness as he sobbed for the cameras. “It’s all my fault. I just love Reese so much. And… and I’ve been diagnosed with cancer. I don’t have much time left. I just wanted to be brave and fight for the woman I love in the time I have left…” I stopped in my tracks, stunned by the sheer absurdity of it. The way he was acting just moments ago? He was the picture of health, not a dying man. Then came Reese’s choked sobs. “Caleb did nothing wrong,” she cried. “The one at fault is Julian. He proposed to me, but he hid the fact that he’s impotent.” I spun around, my eyes wide with disbelief. To protect Caleb, Reese was throwing me under the bus, slinging the most damaging mud she could find. For the heir to a corporate empire, a rumor of physical inadequacy was more destructive than any financial scandal. Every camera, every microphone, every pair of eyes turned on me like a hundred poisoned arrows. “Mr. Vance, is this true?” “Sir, can you confirm your fiancée’s statement?” Their questions hammered down on my already shattered nerves. But Reese wasn’t finished. “I’ve been a virgin in all but name for five long years,” she declared, her voice ringing with false tragedy. “It was only after I was with Caleb that I finally understood what it feels like to be a woman.” She looked at Caleb with a raw adoration I had never seen from her before. She was the one who insisted on no sex before marriage, citing her family’s strict values. She was the one who pushed me away time and time again. And now, to save Caleb, she was pinning it all on me. The rage and betrayal were too much. My vision swam, the world tilted, and then everything went black. When I opened my eyes, I was in a hospital room. Reese was sitting by my bed, her eyes red and puffy. The moment she saw I was awake, fresh tears streamed down her face. “Julian, you’re finally awake! You scared me to death when you collapsed.” She gripped my hand tightly, playing the part of the devoted lover. But she was the one who had put me here. I yanked my hand away in disgust. “What are you doing here? Come to see if I’m miserable enough for you yet?” Reese bit her lip, her gaze filled with manufactured guilt. “What I said last night… I had no choice. Reporters from every major paper were there. If the real story got out, Caleb would have been destroyed.” I stared at her. “And what about me? Did you ever stop to think what happens to me now that this rumor is out there?” She looked away, her eyes flitting around the room. “The story will die down. People will forget.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “You’re a communications professor, Reese. You, of all people, know the internet never forgets. Even if I issue a denial, who’s going to believe me now?” She wrung her hands nervously. “But it’s already out there. Julian… can’t you just sacrifice for me one more time?” Five years. For five years, I had sacrificed everything for her. I turned down a strategic marriage alliance with a family of equal standing, all for her, a woman with a humble background. To get my family’s blessing, I defied my father, knelt for three days in the family chapel, and withstood the full force of his fury. I remember her holding my hand in this very hospital after that ordeal, her tears falling onto our intertwined fingers. “Julian,” she’d whispered, “you’re the only one for me, for the rest of my life.” Her promise didn’t even last five years. 3 I was exhausted. I pointed a weary finger at the door. “Just go. And don’t ever come back.” Reese bit her lip, her expression stubborn. “I’m not leaving. You’re sick. I’m staying here to take care of you.” She opened a thermal container and poured out a bowl of chicken soup, carefully blowing on each spoonful to cool it. It was just like the time I was hospitalized for a bleeding ulcer after a brutal negotiation, and she’d cared for me with such tenderness. Back then, I was certain she loved me. Now, I couldn’t tell where her heart truly lay. She brought the spoon to my lips, but a notification on her phone made her jump. She shot up from her chair, a flicker of panic in her eyes. Realizing how she must have looked, she offered a clumsy explanation. “That’s… the university. Something came up. You rest, okay? I’ll be back as soon as I’m done.” Before I could say a word, she grabbed her purse and hurried out. The click of the door plunged the room into silence. She hadn’t even noticed. In her haste, she’d knocked over the bowl of steaming soup. It was all over me. I calmly called a nurse to help with the burns. Just as I was finishing up a call with my secretary to delegate my work, a message from Caleb popped up on my phone. [Guess where Reese and I are right now?] It was followed by a photo of the master bedroom in our old family estate. The room I had spent the last six months personally renovating for our marriage. [Already tested out your wife for you. Figured I should break in the bed, too.] In less than a day, he had defiled the sanctuary I had built for us. That was the last straw. I tore off the hospital gown, changed my clothes, and raced to the estate. The moment I walked in, I felt the servants’ eyes on me, their gazes lingering on my lower body. “So the young master really is… you know?” “Good thing Miss Reese found herself a backup plan.” “Can you imagine? A lifetime of that… poor woman.” My eyes swept over each of their whispering faces. I’d deal with them later. After I was done with that treacherous pair. Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door to our bedroom. The scene that greeted me was somehow worse than the raw, physical betrayal at the hotel. Reese was on the phone, her voice laced with a sycophantic tone I had never heard from her. “Professor Miller, I know your program is incredibly competitive, but Caleb is just so talented. Could you please give him a chance? Just an interview, that’s all I’m asking…” The fawning, desperate expression on her face threw me back three years. Back then, my position in the company was still precarious. I had the skills, but the older board members saw me as too green. A key partner’s daughter was applying for grad school, and I asked Reese if she might tutor the girl as a favor. She had refused me flatly, looking at me with deep disappointment as if I had suggested something sordid. “You’re asking me to compromise my principles for business?” Because of that, I lost a billion-dollar deal. But in a strange way, it made me admire her more. I loved that fierce, unbending integrity. Now, here she was, throwing those same principles out the window for Caleb. Caleb saw me standing in the doorway. He wrapped an arm around Reese’s waist, a clear gesture of ownership. “Reese, my love, you’re pulling strings for me. You think my dear brother is going to get angry again?” She ended the call and pinched his cheek affectionately. “You’re different. For you, I’d do anything.” Only then did she seem to notice me. Her face hardened. “You’re supposed to be in the hospital. What are you doing here?” Caleb pouted. “Maybe he followed you.” Her expression turned icy. “Julian, do you have any idea that stalking is illegal? You’re being a real creep. No wonder your own mother didn’t want you when she left!” Her words hit me like a physical blow, a shard of ice driving straight into my heart. She knew. She knew my mother had left because she found out my father was keeping a mistress, one who had a son just three months younger than me. Reese had been the one to comfort me, to swear she would never betray me like that. And now she was using my deepest wound as a weapon, mocking me for being the boy his mother left behind. Caleb’s face was a mask of twisted delight. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” He nuzzled his face against Reese’s neck. “Thank God you finally saw my brother for who he really is, Reese. We’re the ones who truly belong together.” Just then, my father’s voice echoed from downstairs, clearing his throat loudly. He wanted to see us. Caleb shot me a look brimming with meaning. “Who ends up in charge around here is still up in the air, you know.” Reese gave me a look of pity. “Julian, things are about to change at Vance Holdings. You need to stop fighting with Caleb.” Caleb just squeezed her waist. “He’ll find out soon enough. No need to spoil the surprise.” Listening to them, a cold dread began to creep into my heart. 4 When I got to the living room, I saw that every single member of the company’s board was there, gathered in our family home. I looked at my father, sitting on the main sofa, and my throat went dry. “Dad… what is all this?” He struck my leg with his dragon-headed cane. “On your knees!” My knees hit the cold marble floor with a dull thud. I looked up at him. “Dad, what did I do wrong?” His face was etched with pain and disappointment. “If Caleb hadn’t told me, how long were you going to hide this from me? The future leader of Vance Holdings cannot be a crippled, impotent man!” He sighed heavily. “Julian, in light of your many years of service to this company, you will be reassigned to manage the overseas division. As for everything else… I am handing it all over to Caleb.” I shot to my feet. “Dad, that’s just tabloid gossip! There’s nothing wrong with me!” My father waved a hand, and two bodyguards instantly grabbed my shoulders, forcing me back to my knees. Caleb let out a triumphant chuckle. “Come on, brother. We’re all family here. No need to keep up the act. If there’s nothing wrong with you, how is it that Reese was with you for five years and was still a virgin?” My father’s brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of annoyance at Caleb’s insolence. But my supposed “condition” made him tolerate it. “Your brother is right,” he continued, his voice heavy. “More importantly, the world now believes you’re impotent. The media is painting you as a spoiled heir who strong-armed your way into a relationship and ruined a true love story. This negative press is already hitting our stock price.” He coughed into his hand. “After a unanimous vote by the board, you are hereby removed from your position as CEO, effective immediately. Caleb will be your successor.” Caleb could no longer hide his glee. To celebrate, he picked up a bottle of red wine and poured the entire contents over my head. “To the victor go the spoils, big brother,” he sneered, wine dripping down my face. “From now on, you’d better remember to call me Mr. Vance.” Blinded by rage, I struggled to lunge at him, but the guards held me fast. Finally, my father spoke again. “That’s enough, Caleb.” He turned his cold gaze back to me. “Julian, you will remain here at the estate to reflect on your actions. You are not to set foot outside these grounds without my permission.” I stared at him, aghast. “Dad, are you really going to hand this company over to an illegitimate son who knows nothing about running it? You’ve seen what I’ve done for Vance Holdings all these years!” He slammed his fist on the table. “A failure who can’t even keep his own woman has no right to talk about running an empire!” Caleb’s smile was pure victory. He bent down and patted my cheek condescendingly. “Oh, and I almost forgot to tell you. Reese is pregnant with my child.” I stared in shock at Reese’s still-flat stomach, then at my father, who pointedly avoided my gaze. And then it all clicked into place. The reason he was so determined to replace me. Faced with a supposedly flawed heir, he would naturally choose the one who was about to give him a grandchild. A laugh, raw and broken, escaped my lips. “Dad, you’re so confident. But how can you be so sure the child in Reese’s belly is the grandson you’ve been dreaming of?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388263”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 It was five years after my divorce from Richard when I saw the little girl in the corner tea shop I now owned. She couldn’t have been more than six or seven, pretty as a porcelain doll, with a startling familiarity in the curve of her eyes. She just stood there, staring at me. The moment our eyes met, a wave of memories I had buried so deep came rushing back to the surface. I felt an unconscious, desperate urge to keep her with me. “Hello, little one,” I said, my voice softer than I intended. “Would you like to try some of this tea? It’s called Spring’s Secret. It’s very nice.” She took the small cup with delicate hands and listened quietly as I rambled, filling the silence. I told her that I once owned the largest tea emporium in the country, but it was taken from me. I told her I once had a daughter, too, who would have been about her age. The little girl looked up at me with curious eyes. “Do you hate them? The bad people who took your things?” I looked down at her for a long moment, then a slow smile spread across my face. “You can only hate where there was once love,” I said softly. “It’s been five years. I let it all go a long time ago.” … Suddenly, the heavens opened up, and rain began to pour down outside. The girl paused mid-sip, a little frown creasing her brow. “Oh no!” she muttered. “The pretty lady put a spell on Nora, and now I’m going to be late for Daddy’s engagement party! And my driver isn’t here…” Her eyes scanned the street outside the shop, and then she let out a little gasp. “Wait… is that Daddy’s coat? Is he here to get me?” I followed her gaze and saw the dark sleeve of a man’s suit flash past the doorway, but no one came in. Probably just someone seeking shelter from the downpour. I turned back to Nora, unconcerned. “Don’t you worry. I’ll take you when the rain lets up.” She tilted her head, her bright eyes shining with a sudden warmth. “Thank you, miss.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Besides, Daddy would never come in here. He only loves whiskey. He hates tea more than anything! He hates it, and he won’t let me like it either. He’s so bossy!” As she complained, her words painted a picture of a man I knew all too well. He, too, hated the scent of tea… and he, too, hated me. Nora’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “So, where’s your daughter? Is she at school?” she asked, swinging her little legs from the chair. I turned to clean the tea set, and my hand faltered for a second under the running water. “She’s gone,” I said, my voice quiet. “It happened when she was very little.” Nora was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It’s alright.” I set down the teapot and gazed out at the grey, rain-streaked sky. My daughter’s death was a thorn buried deep in my heart, and even the slightest mention was agony. But for some reason, I felt compelled to share it with this little girl. I offered her a small, sad smile. “Would you… like to hear my story?” My name is Ava, and I was once the heiress to the largest tea corporation in New York. My childhood friend was Richard Vance, the sole heir to the Vance Spirits empire. Our families were old friends, incredibly close. But he and I couldn’t stand each other. I was allergic to whiskey, and he despised the scent of tea. Every time we met, it ended in a screaming match. Then, when we were eighteen, our families went on a trip together. There was an accident. The car smashed through the guardrail. Richard had a clear chance to save his parents, but instead, he threw himself at me. His mother and father died on impact. My parents were overwhelmed with a mixture of gratitude and guilt. When Richard took over his family’s company, they liquidated nearly all of their assets to help him stabilize the stock price. It played out like a movie script. Thrown together by tragedy, we fell in love. I discovered that the man with the sharpest tongue could become impossibly tender. He memorized all my favorite things. He would stand in line for an hour every morning just to buy the artisanal croissants I loved. He would force himself to drink a whole cup of my strongest tea when I was feeling playful, even though it made him sick. On our wedding day, his hand trembled slightly as he placed the ring on my finger. If only I had known then what was truly in his heart, I wouldn’t have mistaken his trembling for nervous excitement. Nora frowned, interrupting my story. “But if Mr. Vance was so nice, how could he let someone steal your company?” It’s a question even a six-year-old could figure out. But I had been blind. After we were married, he was even better to me, putting me before everything. But whenever I was brewing tea, I would catch him staring at my profile, a strange, lost look on his face. It was a complex expression, a mixture of struggle and guilt. At the time, I thought he was still grieving. A year later, on the exact same stretch of road as the first accident, my parents’ car went off a cliff. The brakes had failed. At their funeral, I collapsed into Richard’s arms, sobbing until I nearly passed out. But then, he pushed me away. He stood in the center of the room and produced a set of documents. “I’ve acquired Sterling Tea,” he said, his voice flat and cold. “This is what you and your family owed me. I won’t divorce you, but that is all you will ever have from me.” I stared at his retreating back, my world crumbling around me. On that day, I lost the three people I loved most. On that day, I became the biggest joke in New York. Nora slammed her little hands on the table, her face flushed with anger. “He can’t do that! He’s a monster! A big, mean thief!” I smiled and stroked her hair. “In the adult world, things are rarely so black and white.” In the days after the funeral, I barely slept. I desperately needed to prove that none of it was real. While arranging my parents’ burial, I used the last of my money to hire a private investigator. The truth was a cold blade to the heart. Richard was right. We did owe him. The accident all those years ago… my father had planned it. He only intended for Richard’s father to be injured, giving him an opening to seize a larger market share. He never meant for anyone to die. Human nature is a tangled thing, isn’t it? My father could give a man his entire fortune out of guilt, yet he could also orchestrate a tragedy for a sliver of profit. Richard had played the long game, humbling himself until the perfect moment for revenge arrived. And I, on a rainy night, simply walked away from the Vance mansion and never looked back. Nora’s eyes welled with tears. “But he was so good to you before… He’s just like my daddy. He hates tea, and he doesn’t know how to cherish his wife.” Her shoulders slumped. “I’ve never even met my mommy. I’ve had a nanny my whole life. And today… today my daddy is getting engaged to her. But she’s always telling me what a bad person my mommy was. I don’t like her.” The word “nanny” sent a jolt through me. I was about to ask more when a loud crash from the doorway made us both jump. The man in the suit was still there, scrambling to pick up the pieces of a shattered teapot he had knocked over. I started to go and help, but Nora grabbed my arm, holding me back. She squinted at the figure outside, then looked at me, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Don’t worry about him, miss! Let the big dummy clean it up himself! So, did you leave that mean man?” I drifted back into the past. “I was going to. But then… I found out I was pregnant.” The next time I saw Richard was a month later, in a hospital. I had collapsed from exhaustion. As I drifted in and out of consciousness, I smelled that familiar, sharp scent of whiskey. When I opened my eyes, he was sitting there. He looked away, but not before I saw the redness in his eyes and heard the rasp in his voice. “You’re pregnant and you didn’t even know? Are you an idiot?” I slapped him. Hard. The sound echoed in the quiet room. As his head snapped to the side, my hand instinctively reached for him, but I pulled it back. While he was out talking to the doctor, I fled back to my tiny rented apartment. The next day, he was standing at my door with a suitcase. “Go away,” I said coldly, trying to close the door. He pushed his way inside. After that, no matter how much I screamed at him, hit him, or threw things, he remained silent. I threw his suitcase out dozens of times, but every day when I came home from work, I would find him in the kitchen, awkwardly trying to cook nutritious meals for me. At night, I would wake to find him curled up on the sofa, too tall to even stretch his legs out. Two months later, he collapsed from exhaustion and nearly died. I gave in. I moved back into the Vance mansion, with a plan to leave for good after the baby was born. He hired a nanny to help, but he still insisted on doing everything himself. The days were quiet and warm, and I found myself sinking into a comfortable illusion, unable to pull away. One morning, I saw Richard getting up before dawn, dark circles under his eyes, just to make me breakfast. I clutched the jade pendant my mother had left me and followed him to the kitchen, thinking I would join him, like old times. But what I saw was Richard and the nanny, locked in a passionate kiss. That night, I was rushed to the hospital. My daughter was born premature. I was so weak I couldn’t even hold her. Richard stood by the bed, his eyes red-rimmed, wanting to touch her tiny hand. I turned my face away. My voice was an empty whisper. “Richard Vance. Let’s just let each other go.” Nora’s teacup slipped from her fingers and shattered on the floor, the sharp sound yanking me back to the present. “Richard Vance?” she repeated, her voice trembling. “That man… his name is Richard Vance?” Her expression changed in an instant. She shot up from her chair, her eyes flooding with tears as she stared at me. I was taken aback, but I nodded slowly. “So it’s true…” Nora whispered, her gaze a whirlwind of emotion—excitement, sadness, understanding. Suddenly, she threw herself into my arms, her voice choked with sobs. “So you left him? You never saw him or your daughter again?” I held her tightly, feeling her small body tremble as her tears soaked my shirt. “Nora, what is it? What’s wrong?” She looked up, her face a mess of tears. “Please, miss! You have to tell me! Why did you say your daughter was gone?” I looked at her tear-streaked face, and a wild, impossible thought sparked in my mind. A thought I didn’t dare believe. My arms tightened around her as I continued my story. The truth is, the signs were there all along. Richard had hired the nanny, Lynn, because he was afraid the smell of whiskey on him would trigger my allergies. She was young, barely in her twenties, with a simple, innocent face, but she was surprisingly experienced with newborns. And she loved to drink. Richard, who had never been comfortable around women, let his guard down with Lynn. They developed an easy rhythm in the kitchen. When he was developing a new blend, she was the first one he asked to taste it. I saw the way he looked at her, the growing softness in his eyes. I wasn’t blind. But I was scared. I was terrified that if I said anything, I would shatter the fragile peace we had found. It wasn’t until much later that I understood that a soured love is like spoiled wine; trying to swallow it will only poison you. The day I decided to leave, I lifted my daughter from her crib. But Richard grabbed my wrist, his grip so tight it was frightening. “There’s nothing between me and Lynn!” he roared. “Come back with me.” He locked me in the mansion and took away my phone, my laptop, everything. “Richard, you’re insane!” I screamed, struggling against him, but I was still weak from childbirth. Lynn stood by, her face a mask of concern. “Sir,” she said softly, “the mistress’s symptoms… they seem like postpartum depression. I have experience with this. I can take good care of her and the young miss.” The door locked. I heard his footsteps pause outside for a long time before finally fading away. From that day on, Richard rarely came home. And from that day on, my personal hell truly began. The next morning, Lynn brought in my breakfast. When I refused to eat, she smiled. “Ava, you’re so unstable. It wouldn’t be good if you hurt the baby.” Before I could react, she strode to the crib and snatched my daughter. “What are you doing!” I lunged for her, but she sidestepped me easily. She stood in the doorway, cradling my child, her eyes a mixture of pity and triumph. “The master said you need to rest.” The door clicked shut behind her. I pounded on the wood. “Give me back my baby!” All I heard was my daughter’s crying, growing fainter and fainter. After that, the only time I was allowed to see my daughter was for ten minutes a day, to breastfeed her. Lynn always stood over me, watching me like a hawk. Then, one day, I saw it. A large, dark bruise on my daughter’s tiny arm. From then on, I found new marks every day. Needle pricks, burns, bruises, pinch marks. Every time I confronted Lynn, my voice raw with hysteria, she would just look at me with that same pitying expression. “Ma’am, are you having hallucinations again? You did that yourself yesterday when you lost control. I couldn’t stop you.” I couldn’t take it anymore. One night, I waited until Richard came home and screamed through the locked door. “Richard! You have to save our daughter! Lynn is hurting her!” There was a long silence from the other side, then his weary voice. “Ava… Lynn told me everything. You need to calm down. Stop hurting our child, and stop… accusing innocent people.” My heart turned to ice. The last time I saw her, my daughter’s body was covered in angry red welts and horrifying blisters. It looked like she had been scalded. I completely lost my mind. I threw my body against the door, screaming for Lynn to give me back my baby. Lynn appeared in the doorway, holding my daughter, who was sobbing convulsively. Behind her stood Richard, his face a thunderous mask of rage. “Sir,” Lynn said, her eyes welling with tears as she held up her own burned hand. “The mistress… she threw the baby into boiling water. I tried to stop her, but I wasn’t strong enough…” Richard looked at the blisters covering his daughter’s body, and the last flicker of trust he had in me died. He snatched the baby from Lynn’s arms and looked at me as if I were a monster. “Ava, you’d even hurt your own child just to get away from me? You make me sick.” The door was locked again, and this time, so was my heart. For the next six months, I became a puppet, doing whatever Lynn said to protect my daughter from more harm. “Ms. Lynn, please, just let me see her. Just for a minute.” She would look down at me. “Get on your knees and scrub the floor with your hands.” I would do it immediately, scrubbing until my nails bled, all for ten minutes with my child. I did whatever she asked. I endured it all. Until my daughter’s first birthday. That was the day I put my year-long plan into action. During the party, while everyone was distracted, I picked the lock on my door and took my daughter. Lynn and Richard were busy with guests. I changed into a janitor’s uniform and carefully placed my sleeping baby inside a rolling trash can. Step by step, I made my way towards the main entrance. No one even glanced at me. My heart pounded in my chest. Finally, I pushed the bin out the front doors of the Vance mansion. Tears of relief streamed down my face. I scooped my daughter into my arms and ran. I rounded the corner of the street, and my breath caught in my throat. The person who was supposed to be there to help me was gone. Instead, Lynn was standing there, a strange, familiar smile on her face. Behind her stood two large men in black suits. “Just as I expected, Ava.” A cold dread washed over me. I turned to run, but the men were too fast. When I woke up, I was on a second-floor balcony, overlooking the party guests below. Lynn was standing behind me, holding my daughter. My body was weak, but I forced myself to my feet, stumbling towards her, trying to get my baby back. Lynn’s face was a mask of sorrow, but her eyes were cold and cruel. “Go on, then. Take her.” I reached out my hands. The moment her tiny body was in my arms, Lynn let go. The world seemed to stop. I threw myself forward, but it was too late. I could only watch her fall. A tiny body, surrounded by a halo of crimson on the stone patio below. The guests screamed. “What happened? Is that his wife? She killed her own child!” “The rumors were true! She’s insane!” I don’t remember much after that. Only the burning sting of whiskey that Lynn threw on me, and Richard’s hands on my shoulders, squeezing so hard I thought my bones would break. “Ava! You monster! You’d kill your own daughter just to leave me! Fine! I’ll give you what you want! Lynn, call the police! I’ll make her pay for this!” He never gave me a chance to explain. He never even remembered that I was allergic to whiskey, that I never touched the stuff. The court found me guilty of murder under the influence. I was sentenced to five years. I was released a year early for good behavior. I left New York, that city of ghosts, and came to Boston to open this little shop. “And that’s the end of the story,” I said, my voice hollow. “I should probably get you home now.” I stood up, but Nora clung to me, sobbing uncontrollably. “But you didn’t see her! You didn’t see her die! How do you know she’s gone?” she cried. “She’s not! She’s alive!” A tremor went through my entire body. I looked down at her, my heart hammering against my ribs. Just then, the shop door creaked open. The man in the black suit finally stepped inside. His eyes were bloodshot. He looked at me, then at Nora.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388262”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My mom is a kleptomaniac who’s afraid of getting caught, so she’s always used me as a shield. When I was little, she’d hide stolen candy in my pockets, then loudly blame me: “Why are you so greedy? I’ll sew your mouth shut at home!” To look good to the neighbors, she even stopped buying me formula, stunting my growth. Later, she stole a friend’s iPhone from their house and, when caught, cried, “How could I raise such a bad child!” My friend left me, and I was isolated at school. I ended up working in a factory after graduation. On my wedding day, she slipped my mother-in-law’s gold necklace into my purse. When it went missing, she disowned me publicly: “You’re still stealing from your mother-in-law? You’re a disgrace!” The video spread, and everyone called me a gold-digger. I jumped into a river in despair. When I opened my eyes, I was back in that supermarket, hearing my mom tell the cashier I stole the candy. I looked up innocently and said sweetly, “Mommy, you put the candy in my pocket. Why are you lying?” 1 The words hung in the air. My mother’s face instantly flushed a deep shade of crimson. Without a second thought, she clamped her hand over my mouth. “You naughty girl,” she hissed, “how dare you lie after you’ve been caught!” I looked at her face, twisted with guilt and panic, and a storm of hatred and fury surged within me. This was the face that had ruined my life. I knew why she had this sickness. Growing up, she was convinced my grandparents favored her younger sister, my aunt, giving her all the things that should have been hers. But I remembered clearly—my aunt wore my mother’s old clothes and played with her old toys. Despite the reality, this false sense of deprivation clung to her like a toxic vine for her entire life. After she got married, she started shopping compulsively, racking up crippling credit card debt. When my father left, it only got worse. Stealing was the only way she could feel that pathetic, twisted thrill of getting something for nothing. I used to feel sorry for her. I naively believed that if I just grew up, made money, and gave her the best of everything, I could cure her. I was wrong. Every time she was caught, she threw me in front of her as a human shield without a moment’s hesitation. From a few scallions at the market to my mother-in-law’s gold necklace at my wedding, she built her own innocence on the ruins of my reputation and my life. I was condemned by everyone, branded a gold-digger, and scorned by the world until I finally threw myself into the cold, dark river. This time, I would not be her scapegoat. I couldn’t save her, but I had to save myself. The memory faded, and the stares of the people around the checkout counter felt like needles on my skin. I pried her hand from my mouth and, with all the strength my small body could muster, I shouted in my most childlike voice, “My teacher at daycare said we can’t touch anything in the supermarket! We have to wait for the cashier lady to go ‘beep,’ and for mommy and daddy to pay the money. Otherwise, it’s stealing!” I looked up at her, my voice filled with faux concern. “Mommy, you’re a grown-up. Why don’t you listen to the teacher? Why do you have to steal? Look, even Jane is a good girl!” My voice cracked with staged fear. “Mommy, the teacher said a policeman will come and take you away if you steal! Please put the candy back! What if the policeman comes?” I let my eyes well up with tears, perfectly playing the part of a good child terrified by her misbehaving parent. 2 I was giving her one last chance. If she admitted her mistake right then, showed even a flicker of remorse, maybe there was still a sliver of hope for us. But she reacted like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, her voice shrieking. “When did you learn to lie like this? Everyone, be my witness! I’m a grown woman. Do you really think I, who can have anything I want, would steal a cheap lollipop?” As she spoke, she poked my forehead with a look of profound disappointment. “Have I starved you? Have I not given you enough? Is this how you repay me, by humiliating me in public?” I wasn’t going to give her another chance to perform. My heart was no longer soft. My voice was clear and crisp, not loud, but sharp enough for everyone who was pretending not to listen to hear every word. “Mommy, in your pocket, after you weighed the scallions, you secretly added some expensive garlic to the bag.” Her face froze. I pointed to the clip in her hair. “And that barrette on your head. You took it from the shelf, and when no one was looking, you ripped off the price tag and put it right in your hair.” A wave of stifled gasps rippled through the crowd. My mother’s lips trembled. She couldn’t form a single word. In a fit of rage and shame, she raised her hand and slapped me. The sharp crack echoed in the suddenly silent supermarket aisle. My cheek stung with a fiery pain. “Hey! What kind of mother hits her own child?” A woman with curly hair, one of our neighbors, stepped in and pulled me behind her. “You can teach a child if they’re wrong, but you don’t hit them!” “Exactly! We all saw it. The kid was making perfect sense. You’re only hitting her because you’re guilty!” another person added. The cashier’s face hardened. She pressed a button on her console. “Manager, security, we have a shoplifter over here, and she’s hitting her child. Please come handle this.” My mother was completely cornered. Faced with the contemptuous stares and the approaching security guards, she had no choice but to grit her teeth, pay for everything she’d taken, and pay a hefty fine on top of it. After that incident, my mother’s carefully crafted image as a simple, honest woman in our neighborhood was shattered. She had to behave herself for a while. To put on a show of being a good mother, she even went out of her way to have someone buy expensive imported formula for me, terrified I might say something else to expose her. But at night, when we were alone, she would stare at me with eyes full of poison, as if I were her mortal enemy. That repressed anger finally found an outlet at my aunt’s wedding. This time, she went for something big. At the wedding, I was the flower girl, dressed in a beautiful princess gown, carrying the ring box. Just before it was time to walk down the aisle, I opened the velvet box. It was empty. The ring was gone. Before I could even panic, my mother’s shrill cry echoed through the backstage area. “Oh my god! Jane! How… how could you steal your aunt’s ring?!” She snatched the empty box from my hands and rushed out to face the crowd, tears streaming down her face on command. She beat her chest in despair. “You have shamed me! How could you touch something so valuable?” 3 My aunt, Claire, instinctively pulled me behind her, frowning at my mother. “Sis, don’t scare her.” My aunt and my mother had a complicated relationship. My grandparents did have a favorite, but it was my mother. Aunt Claire grew up wearing my mother’s hand-me-downs and playing with her old toys. The fact that my mother still believed she was the one who had been mistreated just shows how subtly and completely my grandparents had spoiled her. Now that they were grown, my aunt wanted to mend their relationship, but my mother was resentful and constantly made sarcastic remarks. The fact that my aunt had married well and her husband was throwing her a lavish wedding after the birth of my cousin, Leo, had pricked my mother’s fragile ego. She was practically insane with jealousy. So, of course, she wasn’t going to let the wedding go off without a hitch. In my last life, because of the supermarket incident, my aunt already harbored doubts about me. She believed I had bad character and gave a coveted spot at a top elementary school to someone else in exchange for getting my mother a cushy job as a dorm supervisor there. My mom had it easy. This time, the supermarket scandal was over. I couldn’t let my aunt misunderstand me again. I lowered my head, feigning shame. “I didn’t steal the ring… I might have lost it by accident. But… but why did Mommy’s first thought was that I stole it?” I directed this question at my aunt. My mother realized she had acted too hastily. But in front of all our relatives, at the wedding of the sister she envied most, she couldn’t possibly admit to stealing the ring. Her reputation would be ruined. She had to pin it on me. It was the perfect way to save herself and punish me for my disobedience at the supermarket. She immediately adopted a heartbroken expression. “Claire, my dear sister, I’m not accusing her without reason! This child has always had sticky fingers. She steals erasers at school, candy from the store… and if I say anything, she talks back! It’s all my fault. I haven’t been a good mother!” She was a masterful actress, portraying a long-suffering single mother betrayed by her wicked daughter. In an instant, she had stolen the spotlight from the bride. The relatives began to whisper. “Well, it’s not easy raising a child alone. She can’t watch her every second.” “That kid has some nerve, causing trouble at an event like this. She’s just bad to the bone.” “So greedy at such a young age, stealing something so expensive. What will she be like when she grows up? No one will want to marry her.” The tide of opinion turned against me. Aunt Claire looked at my mother’s pitiful performance, and her resolve began to waver. A look of guilt crossed her face. “Sis, she’s still young. You can still teach her.” Seeing that she was about to be convinced, I panicked. I grabbed her dress. “Auntie Claire, you can’t think that! It hurts Jane’s feelings!” I cried out. “At the supermarket, it was Mommy who was stealing, and she blamed me! My teacher said that’s called slander!” I stood up as straight as I could. “If you don’t believe me, you can ask the ladies in our neighborhood!” My conviction seemed to sway her again. A flicker of sympathy for me returned to her eyes. Sensing she was losing control, my mother unleashed her ultimate weapon: a full-blown tantrum. She plopped down on the floor and began wailing, slapping her thighs. “Why is my life so hard! My parents and my sister bullied me when I was a kid, and now my own daughter is doing it!” She pointed a trembling finger at my aunt. “Claire! You invited me here today just to make a fool of me, didn’t you! I told you not to make Jane the flower girl, I was afraid she’d cause trouble, but you never listen! It’s always been this way! Everything has to be your way, and Mom and Dad always told me to let you have it! I’m the older sister!” She was building to a crescendo. “And now my daughter steals something and blames it on me, and you take her side! You spoil her rotten, and now she doesn’t even respect me, her own mother! Fine! It’s your big day, I won’t make things difficult. Fine! You win! I stole the ring, okay? I’ll pay you back! Is that what you want to hear?!” 4 My aunt was overwhelmed with guilt. In her mind, my mother had never done anything truly terrible, and her heartbroken cries seemed genuine. Her wavering resolve finally snapped, and she sided with my mother. I knew this would happen. My aunt was soft-hearted, and my mother was a professional victim. After years of a tangled sisterly bond, it was inevitable. Still, a bitter sadness washed over me. In this drama, I was completely alone. Tears, real ones this time, began to fall. I sniffled and said in a small, choked voice, “Auntie Claire, Mommy said she wanted to check the ring box, so I gave it to her. When I got it back, the ring was gone.” I thought the tears of a six-year-old might earn me some compassion. But instead of comfort, I was met with my aunt’s suddenly icy gaze. “Jane, who taught you to say all that?” Her voice was stripped of all its former warmth. “Your mother wouldn’t hurt you. But you, at such a young age, you’ve already mastered the art of twisting the truth! If I hadn’t known your mother my whole life, I might have actually been fooled by you!” My uncle, Mark, holding my baby cousin who was sucking on his fist, added his own sarcastic comment. “We’ll have to be careful how we raise our son. Sis, raising a child on your own is so tough. We should have been more considerate.” His words were meant to comfort my mother, but they were another knife in my heart. My grandparents, who had always been kind to me, were now shaking their heads in disappointment. “Stealing and lying at her age… what will become of her?” “What a disgrace to the family.” The other relatives all started pointing and whispering. My mother, seeing her victory, stopped crying. A triumphant smirk flickered across her face. She had successfully made me the villain and deepened my aunt’s guilt towards her all at once. My heart sank. I had nothing left to lose. “No, Auntie Claire! Why would I take your ring? It was Mommy! She’s jealous of you and Uncle Mark! She wanted to steal the ring so you couldn’t get married!” My aunt’s face darkened completely. She looked at me with profound disappointment and said, each word a hammer blow, “The spot at the elementary school next year… you can forget about it. If I recommended you and you started stealing from your classmates, how could I ever show my face again?” My grandparents immediately cooed over my baby cousin. “Look at you, Leo. Mommy is so good to you, and you’re so grateful and sweet. Your cousin is six years old and still so naughty.” My mother was still leaning on my aunt’s shoulder, sobbing quietly, but the corner of her mouth was turned up in a smile no one else could see. I looked at their cold, accusing faces, and I felt the blood turn to ice in my veins. In the suffocating silence, my baby cousin, who had been quiet in my uncle’s arms, suddenly stretched out a chubby little hand and pointed at a round camera on the ceiling in the corner of the room. “Jane… no steal…” he babbled. “Look… black ball! Ball… know!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388261”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The rain hit so hard I ducked into a coffee shop. As I shook off my coat, I froze. It was Stella Gordon, my ex-wife. “The person I’ve wronged most in my life,” she said, voice thick, “is my ex-husband, Adam Shaw.” My breath iced over. “Eight years ago, a student I sponsored, Leo, caused an explosion. Dozens died. I… I forced Adam to take the fall.” Her words shattered my peace. “His parents disowned him. Relatives of the victims cornered and burned him. I was so afraid he’d talk, I forged a psychiatric report, declared him insane, and had him committed. I put him in that asylum myself.” A sob broke from her. “The day they took him away, I wore the wedding dress he’d picked for me. That was the day I married Leo.” She buried her face, shoulders shaking. But to me, her tears were just another act. As the rain eased, I turned to slip back into my quiet life. Too late. Stella spotted me. I spun, pulling my sleeve to hide my mangled fingers. Before I could run, she rushed over, eyes red, clutching my coat. “Adam? Is that you? You’re out? Why didn’t you find me?” Her voice cracked. “I’ve been waiting all these years.” 1 Her words hung in the air, and suddenly every eye in the coffee shop was on us. A murmur went through the crowd. “That’s Stella Gordon, the CEO! The youngest president in Bayside!” “Then that guy must be her ex-husband, right? That piece of human garbage is still alive?” More people were crowding around, blocking the exit. Trapped. I frowned, trying to pull my coat free, but her grip was like iron. Tears welled in her eyes, as if she had a thousand things to say, but all that came out was a broken whisper. “Adam, I’m so sorry.” I’d seen Stella’s manipulations before. I didn’t buy this act for a second. Wary, I pulled the brim of my cap lower, my only thought to get away. “Ma’am, you have the wrong person.” That only seemed to agitate her more. She lunged forward and ripped the mask from my face. The network of scars that crisscrossed my skin was suddenly bare for everyone to see. A collective gasp filled the shop. People nearby flinched, taking an involuntary step back. Stella didn’t care. Her voice rose, sharp and desperate. “No! I’d never be wrong about you! You’re Adam!” Her eyes were wild now, her tone begging. “Don’t hide from me. Please…” I was about to speak when a light, cheerful male voice cut through the tension. “Stella, honey, what are you doing here?” A man with a gentle smile was making his way through the crowd. I knew him. Of course I knew him. He was the man I’d sponsored for ten years. And he was the real monster behind the explosion. Stella’s new husband. Leo Vance. He parted the onlookers and naturally wrapped an arm around Stella’s waist. Beside him, a little girl, maybe five years old, was staring wide-eyed. She saw Stella and ran forward, burying her face in her mother’s legs. “Mommy, I missed you!” Only then did Stella release me, scooping the little girl into her arms. When she looked at me again, her expression was laced with a flicker of embarrassment. “Well, well. If it isn’t the great Engineer Shaw,” Leo said, his smile widening into a smirk. “They let you out of the asylum, did they?” He spat the word “asylum,” his voice dripping with mockery. “Your parents may have disowned you, but they took me in as their son. You should come back and visit sometime. I promise I’ll give you the welcome you deserve, on their behalf.” Stella sighed, pulling a business card from her purse and holding it out to me. “If you need anything, call me. I owe you so much.” “What happened back then… we all had our reasons. It’s in the past now.” I ignored the card and pushed my way through the door, out into the damp air. Seeing Stella was like having a boulder dropped into the calm waters of my life, stirring up sediment I thought had settled long ago. I was fourteen when I first met her. Her parents had just divorced, and neither wanted her. It was the dead of winter, and she was curled up in a corner of our apartment complex, wearing nothing but a thin autumn shirt, nearly buried in the snow. I couldn’t leave her there. I took her in. And my family raised her for the next ten years. Later, Stella and I got married. I was madly in love with her. Marrying her made me feel like the luckiest man in the world. Until Leo Vance showed up. Back then, he was just a butcher’s boy, his face dark and weathered, but his manner was eager and earnest. He’d bring the freshest cuts of meat to our house every morning, sometimes throwing in an extra rack of ribs for free. Little by little, he worked his way into Stella’s life. Three months later, Stella brought him to me. “Adam, I’ve decided to sponsor his education.” It wasn’t a discussion. It was a declaration. I was stunned. Leo stood there, wringing his hands, looking at me with wide, pleading eyes. “Sir, I only dropped out of school to support my younger siblings. I get good grades, I swear.” His voice was barely a whisper. “I just want to study, sir.” My heart softened. I agreed. Life went on. I was consumed with helping Stella build her new company, and I didn’t give it a second thought. I treated Leo like my own younger brother. I took him shopping for new clothes, paid his siblings’ tuition, brought him to parties to help him network… But I couldn’t ignore it forever. Stella grew colder towards me, while she and Leo grew closer and closer. When I finally confronted her, she exploded. “Adam Shaw, can you just stop with your disgusting, paranoid mind?” she’d screamed. “Leo is just a student we’re helping! Not every man you see is a threat!” But on the day of Leo’s college graduation, I came home to find them tangled together in my bed, naked and intimate. I lost my mind. I screamed, I demanded answers, I smashed everything I could get my hands on. Through it all, Leo just knelt on the floor, weeping. “I’m so sorry, Adam,” he’d begged. “Stella and I… we’re truly in love. Please, just let us be together.” Let them be? I stared at them, my vision red with fury. I was the one who found Stella in the snow. I was the one who helped her start her company. I was the one who stood by her through everything. We had been in love. How dare he ask me to just step aside? In a blind rage, I slapped him across the face. Stella watched it all with a terrifying calm, recording everything on her phone. The next day, the factory exploded. Overnight, I became public enemy number one. No one believed me. Not even my own parents, who publicly announced they were disowning a murderer. In my panic, I tried to find Stella. Some stupid, lingering hope made me believe she was the only one I could trust. I couldn’t accept that she would be so ruthless, that she would let me fall into this abyss alone. But her phone was always off. It had been a week since I’d caught them, and she had never come home. Desperate, I went to her office. I didn’t even make it through the door before I heard Leo’s voice from inside. “Stella, it’s all my fault. I didn’t mean to mess with Adam’s blueprints…” His voice was laced with fake panic. “They’re not going to send me to prison, are they?” Then came Stella’s soothing reply. “Don’t worry. It’s all taken care of. Adam has a history of mental instability. He’s the one who messed up. What does it have to do with you?” A moment of silence was followed by the unmistakable sounds of a kiss. My world went white. I don’t remember how I got home, or how I became aware of the storm of accusations brewing online. It felt like I really was going insane. So when Stella released her edited video of me hitting Leo, cementing the narrative of my “mental instability,” I didn’t cry. I laughed. I laughed until tears streamed down my face. I didn’t know what was so funny, but I felt like a part of my heart had been gouged out, leaving a hollow space for the wind and the tears to whistle through. That night, the victims’ families abducted me. They were desperate, enraged. They screamed at me, demanding to know why a mentally ill man was allowed to work as a safety engineer, why I had murdered their loved ones. I tried to explain, to fight back, but no one listened. They broke my bones, one by one. And then, they doused me in gasoline. The flames scorched away the last shred of hope in my heart. It was Stella who saved me. She found me, had me treated. She looked at my burns and she cried. “Adam, it hurts me to see you like this,” she’d wept. “How did we ever come to this?” The next day, she sent me to the psychiatric hospital. Before I left, she pressed a bank card into my hand. “When you get out, I’ll make it up to you.” But I knew that day would never come. “Adam, you’re back!” My wife Chloe’s voice pulled me from the memories. I blinked, realizing I was standing in the doorway of our shop. Two years ago, after my release, I changed my name and opened this small used bookstore. It was here I met Chloe. Now, we had a son. I managed a smile for her. “Yeah. I’m home.” I didn’t tell her what happened today. I just helped her arrange a new shipment of books, same as always. I listened with a smile as she chattered about how our son had laughed for the longest time today, and complained good-naturedly about which of the new books were good and which were just okay. The evening sun slanted through the windows, filling the space with the unique, comforting scent of old paper and ink. We made dinner together, then I mixed a bottle for our son and rocked him to sleep. In that moment, the past felt like a distant nightmare. All I wanted was to protect this fragile, beautiful peace. But that night, an unwelcome guest shattered it all over again. It was Leo. All these years, my parents and Stella had treated him well. His once swarthy face was now clear and flushed with health. The blood-stained apron of the butcher’s boy was long gone, replaced by designer clothes from head to toe. Every strand of his hair was perfectly styled. On his finger, he wore the wedding ring that had once been mine. There was no trace of the poor, desperate boy he’d once been. He saw me and smirked, a vicious glint in his eyes that he kept hidden from the world. “Long time no see, Adam. So sorry to find you’re still alive.” He leaned against the doorframe, his voice low and cruel. “You know, I paid those orderlies at the institution a fortune. A real shame they couldn’t have been a little rougher with you.” This was the real Leo, so different from the obedient boy he pretended to be. I frowned and tried to shut the door, but he blocked it with his hand. “Not so fast, brother,” he sneered. “I came to tell you the truth about what happened. The reason you were kidnapped back then? That was all Stella’s idea. She was afraid you wouldn’t cooperate.” The words hit me like a physical blow. I froze. I had known Stella since we were fourteen. Even after she betrayed me, even after everything, I found it hard to believe she was the one who orchestrated the attack that had destroyed my body and my life. Leo saw my stunned expression and his grin grew wider, more manic. “So don’t try to pull any stunts. Stella feels a little guilty right now, that’s all. It’s not love. A pampered prince like you, born with a silver spoon in your mouth, you could never understand the bond she and I have. You don’t deserve to stand by her side.” His voice dropped to a possessive hiss. “The only one who belongs with her is me!” By then, some of the shock had faded, replaced by cold clarity. A woman who could throw me into hell with her own two hands was capable of anything. I shouldn’t have been surprised. “If you were so sure she loves you,” I said, my voice steady, “you wouldn’t have come here tonight.” I glanced toward the bedroom, worried he would wake Chloe and our son. “Don’t worry. I have no interest in fighting over someone else’s trash.” I didn’t wait to see the ugly look on his face. I slammed the door shut. The next morning, I was up early. Our son’s one-month celebration was in three days, and I needed to book a venue at the hotel. But when I arrived, the hotel lobby was swarming with people. There were at least a dozen news reporters. A knot of unease tightened in my stomach. And then I saw them. Stella and Leo. Standing right behind them were my parents. Leo spotted me and stiffened, his eyes flashing with alarm. But he quickly recovered, plastering on a smile as he walked over. “Adam! I didn’t know you were coming. Are you here to celebrate Mom’s 70th birthday?” Stella’s face flooded with relief. “Adam, you finally came back.” She gave me a hopeful look. “You know, Mom and Dad have missed you terribly. If you just apologize properly, I’m sure they’ll forgive you.” Her words were so absurd, a laugh escaped my lips. “Forgive me for what? I did nothing wrong.” My voice grew louder, sharper. “You two know exactly what happened back then!” My father’s face turned crimson. He lunged forward and slapped me hard across the face. “You monster!” he roared. “You killed all those people, then you let Stella fake a psychiatric report so you could escape justice, and you still have the nerve to say you did nothing wrong?” My mother was trembling with rage, pointing a finger at me. “Not a word from you for all these years, and now that you’re a pathetic wreck, you come crawling back! We don’t have a son who refuses to repent!” Their shouting drew the reporters like sharks to blood. Cameras and microphones were shoved in my face. I looked at my furious parents and spoke slowly, my voice dangerously calm. “You’d rather believe her lies than your own son? Is that it? After all this time, you never once believed me?” I let out a bitter laugh. “In your eyes, I’m really that pathetic? You think I’d hide in a mental hospital to save my own skin?” My words seemed to stun them into silence. After a long moment, my father spoke, his voice tight with anger. “We watched Stella grow up. Of course we believe her! As for you, you were so jealous you attacked poor Leo. Is that how we raised you?” And then I understood. To make sure my parents wouldn’t defend me, Stella had shown them her video of me hitting Leo long ago. And they, my own mother and father, had accepted it without question, without ever hearing my side. They had convicted me without a trial. A genuine laugh, hollow and bleak, echoed in the lobby. Under the blinding flashes of the cameras, I tore off my mask. The room fell silent. Nothing but the sound of shutters clicking. My mother gasped, tears instantly filling her eyes. “Adam… what… what happened to your face?” I held the stunned gaze of my parents, then slowly turned to look at the pale, horrified face of Stella Gordon. “Why don’t you ask your dear daughter-in-law? She can tell you all about the men she hired to kidnap me.” My parents stared at Stella, their faces a mask of disbelief. She swayed on her feet, looking like she was about to collapse. Before she could speak, I raised my hand and pulled off my glove. “And thanks to you,” I said, my voice ringing with cold fury, “they tortured me every single day in that asylum. These three fingers? That was their welcome gift.” At the sight of my mutilated hand, Stella finally broke. “That’s impossible!” she cried, her voice thin and reedy. “I paid them! I made arrangements to make sure they’d take good care of you!” I smiled, a cold, dead thing. “You let me rot for eight years. Six of those in an asylum. If you had felt a single moment of regret, if you had visited me just once, you would have known how I was doing.” My voice dropped to a venomous whisper. “So don’t you dare stand there now and pretend you ever gave a damn.” I had ripped away her mask of remorse in front of everyone. Her face was ashen. She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by a gentle, clear voice. “Honey, I’ve booked another venue for the baby’s party. It’s all taken care of.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388260”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The first time I saw James Nordling after our divorce was at a college reunion, three years later. He was the center of attention, holding court with a confident smile that froze the moment our eyes met across the room. A few of his loyal friends, drinks in hand, immediately turned on me, their voices dripping with sarcasm. “This is a reunion for Kingston University alumni. What’s someone who graduated from a no-name state school doing here?” “Well, look what the cat dragged in. Isn’t this James’s dark past, Misty Hayes? He wrote ‘Misty-minism’ instead of ‘determinism’ all over his philosophy final for you. Nearly gave the professor an aneurysm.” “Have you no shame? He was your stepbrother. You crawled into his bed and forced him to marry you. Now James’s a married man, and you’re still chasing him! His new wife is a certified genius, not a dimwit like you.” James still wore the watch we’d bought together on his wrist, but a new wedding band now gleamed on his ring finger. Suddenly, every gaze in the room sharpened, turning speculative and cruel. I idly stroked the diamond on my own ring finger and answered with a faint smile. “I’m here to pick up my husband.” James finally looked up, his brow furrowed. “Misty, we divorced three years ago.” I know. But I never said I was here for him. 1 “Shameless. Married, and still desperate enough to be the other woman.” Evan Scott lit a cigarette, his eyes lazily drifting over me. Evan had been my best friend in high school, along with James. He used to be the second-best person to me in the entire world. But when James and I were going through our divorce, he’d sided with James without a moment’s hesitation. Because the girl he was in love with was the third party in my marriage. And he had been helping James hide their affair all along. I was the only one who had been played for a fool from start to finish. “Evan, that’s enough,” James said, his lips a thin line, his voice a cold reprimand. Evan just scoffed, stubbing out his cigarette with an impatient flick. “What’s the big deal? A moron like Misty Hayes is nothing compared to a brilliant woman like Vivian. You were the only one who could ever stand a simpleton like her, letting her drag you down for all those years.” James’s eyes met mine. “Misty isn’t a moron,” he said quietly. Misty isn’t a moron. Coming from a genius like James, it sounded almost comical. But the sixteen-year-old me would have believed him. The year I finished middle school, my mother married James’s father, and our two families merged into one. James and I were the same age, and we ended up in the same public high school. Same class, even. He was ranked last, and I was solidly average. He hated me, so he never spoke a word to me. I’d often see him getting into fights, which always ended with him being disciplined. And that always ended with my mother being called to the school, where she would stand, head bowed, and endure the staff’s rebukes. One night, I went to get a glass of water and found her crying on the sofa in the dark. “Misty,” she whispered, “what can I do to make James accept me?” I didn’t know. All I knew was that after that night, our placid coexistence erupted into all-out war. I laced his drinks with wasabi, poured dirty water into his backpack, and spiked his lunch with laxatives. James finally snapped. “Is that all you’ve got? I’m telling you, Misty, if you can’t take me down, I’ll take down your mother!” We were locked in that standoff for over six months. I thought I would hate James Nordling for the rest of my life. But in the end, he became the only person in the world who still loved me. 2 Our conflict came to an abrupt end after an act of domestic violence. James’s father beat my mother so badly she ended up in the hospital. As she was being loaded into the ambulance, his father was still shouting vile things at her. “I chased you for two years, and for what? You’re pretty, but you’re completely useless. You have no skills, nothing!” My mother was nearly forty. Her whole life, my own father had spoiled her rotten, so of course she didn’t know how to do anything. When James heard those words, his mask of cold indifference shattered. He stared at me in shock, muttering to himself. “So it wasn’t your mom who seduced my dad…” He had always hated my mother, believing she was the homewrecker who had driven his own mother away. None of it mattered anymore. Because after that day, I didn’t have a mother, either. When I went to the hospital with a bouquet of her favorite white freesias, I learned she had run away. She hadn’t taken anything with her. Not even me. Suddenly, Misty Hayes was homeless. I didn’t know where to go. I was wandering the streets late at night when James found me. He looked furious, his eyes red-rimmed. I was terrified he was going to hit me, so I flinched, curling into a tight ball. But then a warm embrace enveloped me, and I heard his voice, softer than I’d ever heard it before. “Misty, come home with me.” He looked right at me. “From now on, I’ll be your whole world.” I took his outstretched hand and held on tight. And so, from the age of sixteen, my entire world became James Nordling. 3 After my mother left, James’s father became even more volatile. Afraid I would get hurt, James moved us out into a small apartment of our own. Life went on, but it was different. I stopped my pranks, and the harsh lines around his eyes softened. He started spending more and more time studying. I couldn’t help but ask him about it. “You used to hate reading. You hated class.” He looked at me seriously, then sighed and gently pinched my cheek. “Misty, I want to give you a better life.” I saw the tips of his ears turn pink, and I nodded fiercely. I decided then and there that I would never be the one to hold James Nordling back. I threw myself into my studies, but while James skyrocketed from the bottom of the class to the very top, I remained stuck in the middle. He’d come home and tutor me until midnight. I’d stare at calculus problems until my head spun. “You’re so dense, Misty,” he’d say with a soft laugh. “But I love how dense you are. It’s infuriatingly cute.” Drowsiness would overwhelm me, the pen slipping from my fingers as I mumbled. “James, can’t you slow down? I can’t keep up.” He told me I would never have to chase him. He would always wait for me. He didn’t. In the end, my denseness became the thing he hated most about me. The thing that annoyed him to no end. 4 “Not a moron? You tutored her for years, and she still only got into some second-rate state school, right?” Evan flicked his lighter open and shut, picking up where he left off. I scanned the room again but saw no sign of my husband, Caleb. Caleb had gone to Kingston, same as James, but they were in different departments. It was unlikely they’d be at the same reunion. He must have sent me the wrong address. I had no energy to rehash the past. “My apologies for the intrusion,” I said, and turned to leave. I sent Caleb a text, but he didn’t reply. My calls went straight to voicemail. I decided to just head home. Just as I reached for my car door, a hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. “Misty… forgive me, please?” James murmured, his gaze lowered, his eyes filled with an emotion I couldn’t decipher. That nickname. It used to make me blush, a secret, playful weapon against his usually stoic demeanor. But later, that same dynamic, brother and sister, became my personal hell. “Have you gotten addicted to acting, James?” I said, yanking my hand away. My face was a blank mask. “I don’t have a brother.” The air grew thick with tension, broken by a sudden, sharp laugh. “Misty Hayes. Fancy seeing you here.” Vivian Marsh strode toward us on sharp heels, as arrogant and ostentatious as ever. The old me would have been intimidated by her presence, filled with a mix of envy and admiration that curdled into insecurity. But now, after that excruciating past had been burned and purged from my soul, all that was left was a calm emptiness. “Misty, why don’t you come home with James and me? Your mother misses you, you know.” I never thought that, three years later, I would be able to say the words so calmly. “I don’t have a mother.” My brother, my mother. They had both chosen her. Vivian. And I had let them go a long time ago. Vivian grabbed my wrist, deliberately revealing the jade bracelet she wore. It was the heirloom James’s mother had left him. I wore that bracelet for ten years. Our relationship had also lasted only ten years. 5 Evan was right. I really was dense. Even with James pouring all his energy into tutoring me, I only managed to get into a state college. He, on the other hand, became the top scorer in the country on the entrance exams and went to Kingston University. We were both in the same city, not too far from each other. We couldn’t see each other every day, but our lives were sweetly intertwined. It was a simple happiness, a memory I will cherish for the rest of my life. James was handsome and brilliant, and women constantly pursued him. But he always made me feel secure. During college, I often visited him on campus. He was so well-known that every little thing he did caused a stir. Soon, threads started appearing on the school forums saying I wasn’t good enough for him. That besides my face, I had nothing. No talent, no background. A simpleton unworthy of a campus legend. James had already made our relationship public. When he found out about the forums, he was furious. He said they just didn’t know how wonderful I was. So, on one of his final exams in a political philosophy class, for every instance of the word “determinism,” he wrote “Misty-minism.” He almost failed the course and was publicly reprimanded by the department for being “lovestruck,” but the story became an campus-wide sensation. He wanted the entire world to know I was his girlfriend. But when it came time for us to get married, he said something else. “Misty, let’s keep our marriage a secret.” “Just give me a few more years. When I’ve made a name for myself, I’ll give you the grand wedding you deserve.” I agreed. Four years into our marriage, James was already incredibly successful. But the wedding I had dreamed of never came. Instead, his infidelity did. 6 On our fourth wedding anniversary, James flew into a rage. It was because I had lost the jade bracelet he’d given me. He stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him. It was the first time in his life he had ever spoken to me so harshly. It was pouring rain that night, but I searched every place I could think of. Then I remembered the little apartment we lived in during high school. James had bought it later. The walls inside were covered with the thousands of photos we had taken over three years. The moment I pushed open the door, my world shattered. The first thing I saw was James pressing another woman beneath him on the floor. The sound of their bodies colliding. My scalp tingled, and the air left my lungs in a silent scream. I knew her. Vivian. James had mentioned her, but only briefly. At first, he’d said her father had forced her into his company and that she was probably going to be a nuisance. But later, he started saying she was incredibly capable, brilliant. And it was around that time that James started calling me dense. We had less and less to talk about. He’d often say things like, “Can you just stop asking? You wouldn’t understand even if I explained it.” “Misty, you’re so dense.” But I was genuinely happy that he had found a partner who was on his level. But now, Vivian was wearing the bracelet, her eyes filled with undisguised provocation. The object I had been tearing myself apart with guilt over, searching for like a stray dog. It turned out I hadn’t lost it at all. James had given it to another woman with his own two hands. She slowly stood up, leaning against James’s chest. “Why so surprised?” she purred. “Your bed in the city, the shower, the floor-to-ceiling windows… we’ve done it everywhere you two have. Today, we just wanted to try the place where you had your first time.” A roaring filled my ears, and my legs gave out. Acting on pure instinct, I grabbed a photo frame from the table and hurled it at them. James shielded her with his body, his eyes blazing red. “Misty, are you insane?!” The man who had promised to be my whole world shoved me to the ground. My hand was covered in shards of glass. The photo… it was the first one we ever took together. He had his arm around me, a proud, possessive grin on his face. Now, it was shattered. And the look in his eyes was pure, unadulterated annoyance. Before I could even process it, another bomb dropped. “Misty, can you stop making a scene? You’re so suffocating! No wonder your own mother didn’t want you!” It turned out my mother had remarried. She had married Vivian’s father and had spent the last ten years doting on Vivian. The fantasy I had clung to for a decade had just become a nightmare. Soon after, James asked for a divorce. I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction, but I was no match for them. Everyone I had ever loved had turned against me. My lover. My best friend. And my mother. 7 James locked me in our villa in the city. For nearly a week, he unleashed all his fury on me. “I won’t divorce you,” I’d repeated, my voice raw. “If you want to marry her, you can dream on.” At that point, our marriage certificate was the only card I had left to play. I was stubborn as a madwoman. A week later, a censored video was leaked online. But the audio was crystal clear. “Brother, I love you the most. Please love Misty a little more for me.” It was from years ago, when he used to travel a lot for work. He said he needed something to comfort him when I wasn’t there. James was always so proper, so I was both shy and surprised when he suggested we film it. James and Vivian were masters of public relations. That one line was enough to throw me to the wolves. And my own mother and my best friend added the finishing touches. My mother accused me of incest, of seducing James, which was why she’d had to leave in the first place. Evan claimed that James had only ever seen me as a sister, that he had cared for me out of pity for years. He said I had repaid his kindness by climbing into his bed, forcing him to take responsibility and marry me. But the final blow came from James himself. I was lying numbly in bed, reading the accusations from my family and friends, when Vivian came to see me. She told me she had confessed her feelings to James back in college. He had rejected her. He told her he wasn’t good enough for her, but if she was willing, she could wait a few years for him. Wait until he was successful enough to stand beside her as an equal. That night, I gave in. I agreed to the divorce. As I signed the papers, I thought back to the past. The sixteen-year-old James, full of ambition, had said he wanted to give me a better life. But the twenty-six-year-old James’s future never included Misty Hayes. I wiped away my tears and forced myself to ask him. “What was I to you? A placeholder?” “A consolation prize until you found the one you really wanted?” He said, “Misty, I did love you. That was real.” I held back my tears. The love was real. And so was the betrayal. 8 During the mandatory cooling-off period, I barely left the house. The scandal was too big. Going outside meant facing anything from verbal abuse and ridicule to outright harassment. The day we were supposed to finalize the divorce, I found out I was pregnant. We had been trying for two years with no luck, but of course, it would happen then. I went back to the small town where we’d gone to high school. I hadn’t asked for anything in the divorce except for that small apartment. I threw out the bed they had slept on and spent my days curled up on the sofa. I listened to music, played my guitar, read books. Whenever I thought of James, I would burn one of our photos. At first, I’d burn hundreds a day, forcing myself to wait at least an hour between each one. Gradually, the number of photos I burned dwindled. I never really took care of the baby inside me. It must have known I didn’t want it. It was a good, quiet baby. For six months, it gave me no trouble at all. But in the sixth month, I got rid of it. Because on the sixth month of our divorce, James and Vivian got married. It was a lavish wedding. Even grander than the one I had imagined James would one day give me. That day, I burned the last photo. The twenty-six-year-old Misty Hayes couldn’t possibly be as foolish as the sixteen-year-old version. What sixteen-year-old Misty clung to so desperately, twenty-six-year-old Misty could finally let go. My world would no longer contain James Nordling. 9 “Misty, you’ve changed. I don’t recognize you anymore. You were never this cold,” James said, his brow knitted in a frown. I curved my lips into a smile. “Really? And you used to say you would only ever love me.” Vivian shot me a venomous glare. “Misty, stop being so shameless. Are you trying to seduce my husband right in front of me?” “I have no interest in your husband,” I said, glancing at James, my heart feeling not a single flicker. I pushed past them. “Get out of my way. I’m going home.” The moment I opened my car door, a man’s loud, frantic shout echoed through the parking garage. “Ma’am! Don’t go! Your husband is tearing this place apart looking for you!” A young man, pale and out of breath, skidded to a stop in front of me. It was Leo, my husband’s brother. “Oh, thank God you’re okay, Misty. My brother was about to kill me.” It took me a second to process what was happening. When I looked up, James’s face was frozen. He opened his mouth, but only managed to force out a few words. “You’re married?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388259”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The opening ceremony of the World Racing Championship. The cameras swept across the track, lingering on a couple lost in a world of their own, locked in a passionate kiss. The crowd erupted in a roar of cheers and whistles. I paused, instinctively pulling the brim of my cap lower. After five years of cutting ties with everyone from my past, I never expected to reunite with them like this. And Jett was the same as he’d always been. Reckless. Unrestrained. When he loved someone, he loved without reservation, eager to declare his devotion to the world, even at an event of this magnitude. And when he hated someone, he hated without mercy. He would seize any opportunity to grind them into the dirt, making sure they could never get back up. Unfortunately for me, I was the one he hated. The camera operator knew their angles. On the massive screen, the kiss was fiery, electric. Anyone watching would assume they were a couple deeply in love. The woman in Jett’s arms, Vivienne, was a vision in a stunning red dress, her gaze confident, almost defiant, as it swept over the crowd. She was a world away from the timid, shrinking girl I remembered from five years ago, the one who couldn’t even meet my eyes. Time is a strange and powerful thing. In just a few short years, it had reshaped everything. I lowered my gaze, about to turn and leave, when the man’s lazy voice echoed from the speakers, filling the entire stadium. “That’s right. This is my wife.” “I brought her here because I wanted her to share this honor with me.” “Why else?” Jett’s laugh was wild and free. “Because she’s worth it, of course.” My body went rigid. His cruel, sharp words from the past echoed in my ears again, and the old scars, long since healed, began to ache with a faint, phantom pain. I touched the jagged, terrifying marks on my wrist, and my mind drifted back to a summer day, ten years ago. That was the day I first met Jett. A fifteen-year-old boy, curled up in a corner by the dumpsters like an abandoned stray cat. A long, gaping wound on his wrist was bleeding profusely, staining the pavement crimson. I took him home. Back then, Jett was plagued by a profound world-weariness, tormented by depression and bipolar disorder until he was a ghost of a person. His father was in prison for gambling, his mother had run off with another man, and his relatives passed him around like an unwanted burden. His life had started to wither before it had even begun. Perhaps it was because we were kindred spirits, broken in similar ways. Even when he cursed me with venomous words for meddling. Even when, in a fit of madness, he bit clean through the palm of my hand, I never once thought of giving up on him. I spent five years pulling that sullen, self-destructive boy back into the world of the living. Jett told me I was his sun. He knelt before me, placing a simple silver band on my finger—a ring he’d earned by hauling a hundred bags of cement at a construction site. “Rhea,” he’d promised, his voice thick with emotion, “I’ll never try to die again. From now on, every single day, I’ll live for you.” In my innocence, I believed we would be happy forever. Until the year we graduated from college, when a distant cousin of mine, a daughter from a remote branch of the family, found her way to us. The girl wore ill-fitting rags, and the skin visible beneath them was a tapestry of purple and blue bruises. She looked up at me timidly and asked if she could stay for a little while. My heart went out to her. My cousin’s daughter, Daisy, grew up in a cramped, oppressive mountain village. Her mother died young, and her father was a violent alcoholic. Just after her sixteenth birthday, he’d eagerly sold her to the village chief’s idiot son for a couple of grand. She had fought her way here to escape that hell. I couldn’t possibly send her back. So, I took her in. Just like I had taken in Jett. But this time, my kindness was not rewarded. It became the single biggest regret of my life. “We hear today is also your wedding anniversary. Are you planning to give your wife the champion’s trophy as a gift, Mr. Jett?” a gossip reporter asked, thrusting a microphone towards Jett’s lips, his eyes gleaming with the hunger for a viral headline. The explosive question silenced the entire stadium. Jett’s smile was nonchalant. “Why else would I bring her here?” he retorted. “She’s the treasure I hold in the palm of my hand. I couldn’t let her come all this way for nothing.” The man’s arrogant confidence sent another wave of cheers through the crowd. The reporter, knowing he had his story, was trembling with excitement. “Wow! Jett, the devoted husband, lives up to his reputation! To have such an exceptional man dote on you for five straight years… do you have any secrets to share?” The reporter turned the microphone. “Would you care to answer, Ms. Vivienne Chen?” Vivienne Chen…? I froze for a second. It took me a moment to realize who they were talking about. The person I knew was named Daisy Chen. When she first told me her name, she trembled with shame, her small frame shaking. My heart ached for her. So when her family came looking for her, I didn’t hesitate to stand in front of her. Her drunken father stabbed me three times. I was rushed to the ICU and fought for my life for three days and three nights. The wound on my stomach required more than twenty stitches. I spent nearly ten days hovering on the edge of death, but I put that monster behind bars. I knew Daisy was timid, traumatized by years of abuse that left her with severe PTSD. So when I lay in a pool of my own blood, struggling to call Jett, and she just hid in the bedroom, shivering, I didn’t blame her. Jett, however, was furious. While I was in the hospital, he threw all her belongings out and even slapped her. They had a terrible fight. He sat by my hospital bed, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with rage. “She’s a curse,” he seethed. “It wasn’t enough that she got her own mother killed, now she’s trying to kill you!” “Rhea, let’s just kick her out, please? We’re not her parents. Why should we be responsible for her life?” During that time, even with me acting as a buffer, the tension between them was suffocating. No matter how carefully Daisy tiptoed around him, Jett never had a kind word for her. Even when she placed a plate of breakfast in front of him, he would just shove it to the floor. “What is this disgusting crap? You think this is worthy of being in front of me?” I’d shoot Jett a warning glare, and though he’d look resentful, he wouldn’t torment her further. He’d just pull a beautiful diamond bracelet from his pocket and fasten it carefully onto my wrist. “The latest from Cartier,” he’d say. “That’s my entire prize money from the last race, right there.” Daisy’s mouth would fall open. “That little chain is worth hundreds of thousands?” Jett would roll his eyes. “What does a country bumpkin like you know about diamonds or brands? One tiny diamond on this thing is worth more than your life.” Jett loved racing. It was more than a passion; it was his life’s work. In those difficult early years, he competed in countless underground races, day and night, just to give me a better life. The latest designer clothes, rare jewels from auctions, cutting-edge cosmetics—if other girls had it, I never went without. But those races were dangerous. Jett came home covered in injuries every other week. I hated seeing him hurt himself for me. He would just cup my face in his hands and kiss my eyelids gently. “But I can’t bear to see my favorite girl suffer,” he’d whisper. “My baby deserves to wear the most beautiful clothes, the most brilliant gems. She deserves to be spoiled like a princess.” To put my mind at ease, Jett formed a reluctant truce with Daisy, the person he despised most. Every time he came home injured, he would go to her room first to get cleaned up before seeing me. They even started conspiring together to hide it from me. Whenever I fell for their act, they would share a secret, knowing smile. Perhaps it was this shared secret that eased the tension between them. As her final exams approached, Daisy was buried in schoolwork. On a good day, Jett would even help her with a problem or two. But he still seemed to find her intensely annoying. “That pest is not only ugly, she’s stupid too,” he’d complain on our dates. “I’ve explained the same problem a dozen times, and she still doesn’t get it. And when I yell at her, she just stares at me with those big, red eyes. Does she think I’ll go soft on her? Ugh, it’s so disgusting it makes me want to puke.” During that time, I truly saw Daisy as my own sister. After she graduated, I worked tirelessly to plan her future, staying up until the early hours of the morning researching colleges and majors for her. I even planned to take her to the police station to legally change her name. I prepared thoughtful graduation gifts and surprises for her. Daisy was full of gratitude. She told me she would repay my kindness for the rest of her life, that she would never forget what I had done for her. “Sister,” she’d said, her eyes red, “when I start earning money, I’ll buy you clothes and jewelry. I’ll take care of you.” Jett had scoffed. “You’re just a little kid. You’ll be lucky if you can take care of yourself. Take care of Rhea? In your dreams!” Daisy had feigned annoyance and pretended to hit him. Jett laughed and dodged, teasing her for being short and slow. At the time, I didn’t see anything wrong. I was just relieved that their relationship had finally improved, that I no longer had to be the constant mediator between them. After graduation, Daisy was still young and withdrawn, like a turtle in its shell. Jett started taking her out to “see the world.” “I can’t stand her,” he’d grumble, “but she’s the sister you’ve taken in. I can’t have her getting bullied when she goes off to college!” He took her to his races, to parties in his social circle, introducing her to his friends. I thought it was an extension of his love for me. That he was treating Daisy like a sister. I forgot that between a man and a woman with no blood relation, the word that often gets added is not “sister,” but “lover.” It was the day of one of Jett’s major races. I had prepared a feast to celebrate with him. But I waited late into the night, and neither of them came back. I took a taxi to the racetrack. And I found them, their clothes in disarray. The girl was straddling the man’s lap, her slender body rising and falling with his movements, soft, cloying moans escaping her lips. And the race car—the one Jett cherished like his own life, the one that was supposed to bring him glory—was covered in sordid stains. In that moment, I lost all composure. I flew at them like a madwoman, hitting and scratching. Jett didn’t move, letting me vent my fury. Until I slapped Daisy across the face. Only then did he seem to snap out of his stupor. He shoved me to the ground, his eyes blazing red. “I’m the one who wronged you! Why are you hitting her?!” he roared. “Rhea, if you have a problem, take it out on me! Leave her alone!” I was stunned. Jett could be rough, fierce, even cruel to outsiders. But he had never shown me that side of himself. This was the first time. Tears streamed down my face. But the man who used to panic at the mere sight of my frown was now only concerned with the red mark on Daisy’s cheek. The scene was humiliating. I made sure everyone there knew what they had done. I filmed it and uploaded it to the internet. I only wanted to hurt them as much as they had hurt me, completely oblivious to the coldness hardening in Jett’s eyes. A story of a man caught cheating with the “other woman” by his partner is always guaranteed to go viral. The video shot to the top of the trending charts. The comments were a flood of curses against the cheating scumbags. Someone even doxxed Daisy, finding her school and demanding her expulsion. But the story quickly took a sharp turn. Jett posted a photo of his and Daisy’s marriage certificate online. “We are married. Unrelated parties, please stay out of it.” With that one sentence, he nailed me to a pillar of shame. The online mob, feeling duped, turned on me with a vengeance. “Are you serious, lady? They’re a sweet couple, and you just had to stick your nose in it. What, were you just using us as your personal army?” “This woman is just jealous. She’d even lie like this to steal a man. So pathetic and evil!” “And this bitch works for a Fortune 500 company? Hell no, I’m filing a complaint right now!” My social media was flooded with vicious curses. My doorstep was piled with garbage. The words “DIE, BITCH” were scrawled on my wall in what looked like chicken blood. Jett sent me a text. He said if I apologized to Daisy, he would help clear things up online. “Rhea, don’t be stubborn. When you do something wrong, you should apologize. It’s the best solution for all of us.” I huddled in my rented room, my hair a mess, looking like a ghost. “You’re the ones who did something wrong! Why should I apologize?!” I typed back, my fingers trembling. “Jett, people who betray love deserve to be punished. You and Daisy are both going to hell!” He never replied. I devised countless plans for revenge. But over the years, Jett had built a network of power and influence I couldn’t possibly imagine. My evidence was easily suppressed. My story was dismissed as the ravings of a lunatic. My pain became fuel for their love story. While I was at my lowest, Jett took Daisy to chase the Northern Lights in Finland, to ski in the Alps, to hang a jade charm on a cherry blossom tree at the foot of Mount Fuji, promising to love her for eternity. Those were the dreams I had cherished since I was a child. I had even planned the entire itinerary myself. As the person who knew me best, Jett always knew exactly how to twist the knife. I hid in my corner like a rat in the shadows, scrolling through photos of their happiness, my heart churning with a toxic brew of venom and envy. Daisy knocked on my door one day. She came with a three-month pregnancy test report. She clung to my legs, crying and begging me to let them be. “Rhea, sister, I’m so sorry, but Jett and I are truly in love!” she sobbed. “You’re the most important person to both of us. Without your blessing, we can never be truly happy together.” I was so disgusted I could barely breathe. I just wanted to shove her away. But somehow, she fell to the ground. A pool of blood spreading beneath her seared my eyes. And then, everything went white. A sharp slap sent me sprawling to the floor. It was Jett. “Rhea! Didn’t I tell you to take it out on me?!” he screamed, his voice raw with fury. “Are you that vicious? Do you have to target a poor, orphaned girl?!” My head was ringing. The only thing I could hear was Jett’s hate-filled warning. “If anything happens to her or the baby, I will never forgive you.” Daisy was young and frail. She lost the baby. And Jett blamed it all on me. Suddenly, a wave of my former classmates, roommates, and relatives began slandering me online. The company fired me for damaging its image. Wreaths were sent to my doorstep. My balcony window was shattered. Even when I went to take out the trash, people would point and whisper, calling me a venomous monster who had killed someone’s child. Jett had severe psychological issues in the past. He knew exactly how to push a person to the brink. I was afraid to look at my phone, afraid to leave my apartment. The slightest noise made me tremble. I started taking handfuls of sleeping pills. One cut on my wrist was followed by another, and then another. At my most desperate, I lay in the bathtub and watched as the warm water turned crimson. That was the closest I ever came to death. A cool autumn breeze pulled me back from the memories. I tightened my scarf, my first instinct to flee. But just then, a roving camera suddenly swept over my section of the stands. My pale, drawn face flashed across the Jumbotron.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388258”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My twin sister offered to help me get the attention of the guy I was secretly in love with. Instead, she started dating him. Later, when my sister was diagnosed with end-stage kidney failure, I refused to be her donor. I said no in front of our parents and him. … At my sister’s funeral, my parents each slapped me across the face. Bernard stood to the side, his silence deafening, his eyes burning with a hatred that could sear a soul. I knew they all despised me. They hated me for not saving Kathryn. Hated me for sealing my own sister’s fate. I can still feel the suffocating joy that filled her hospital room the day the compatibility results came in. The room buzzed with it. My mother clutched my father, thanking God through her tears. Bernard’s eyes were red with relief. But I refused. “Kathryn is your sister, Kelen! You’d really just stand by and watch her die?” “You grew up together! You’re flesh and blood!” “We’re begging you, on our knees, please, save your sister!” “You heartless, selfish girl!” … In those days, the scorn and confusion of everyone around me felt like a wave trying to pull me under. Bernard even came to me, his voice tight. “Why won’t you save her?” I just glanced at him, saying nothing. The resentment in his eyes was a physical thing before he turned and walked away. The year after Kathryn died, I left the country and never looked back. I heard Bernard also left for college, preparing to take over his family’s corporation after graduation. It didn’t matter. I deliberately built a wall around that part of my life, blocking out everything about my family. About Kathryn, about Bernard, about my parents. I pretended to forget, forced it all down. I tricked myself into believing it was all just a bad dream. Hiding in the fragile utopia I’d constructed for myself, I became a surgeon. I used to be squeamish, terrified of blood. I endured so much ridicule and doubt during my first year of med school. Looking back, I have no idea how I pushed through. But I had to win the scholarship; it was my only lifeline. My parents, consumed by their hatred for me, weren’t sending a dime. Those years abroad were a blur of endless work and study. After clawing my way through hell, I finally became a top surgeon at a renowned hospital in the city. After a grueling two-week stretch at the hospital, I stumbled out, my hair a mess, ready to collapse at home. And there he was, standing right in my path, as if he’d been waiting forever. Bernard. “Marry me,” he said. 2 I was always the quiet one. Growing up, the only person I ever really talked to was my sister, Kathryn. So when I realized I had a crush on Bernard, I panicked. The only person I could tell was her. It happened during the first lunch of freshman year. The high school cafeteria was a chaotic sea of bodies, and I got separated from Kathryn. Someone shoved me hard in the throng, and I stumbled backward, falling right into Bernard’s arms. I scrambled to my feet, my face instantly flushing hot the moment I saw him. That night, huddled in my bed, I whispered my secret to Kathryn. She was a hundred times more excited than I was. “Oh my God, you like Bernard?!” “Shhh! Keep your voice down! It’s just a little crush!” “Just a little crush? That’s Bernard! He was crowned the king of our school the day he walked in, and he’s a genius. Wow, Kelen, you sure know how to pick ’em.” “Stop teasing me.” Kathryn and I were complete opposites. She was a vibrant, sunlit field; I was a quiet, shaded corner. She wanted to be a doctor; I wanted to be an artist. Her effortless brightness was a language I could never learn to speak. Who wouldn’t fall for a girl like Kathryn? Including Bernard. … I stared at Bernard, completely bewildered. It had been so long. The man standing before me was a stranger. His hair was slicked back perfectly, his suit immaculate. A pair of thin, gold-rimmed glasses rested on his nose. The golden boy who once ruled our high school hallways now looked every bit the corporate executive. But none of that mattered. The day Kathryn was buried, I buried my own foolish, girlish heart with her. The only thing that mattered right now was the insane proposition hanging in the air. He wanted to marry me. “Bernard, do you have any idea what you’re saying?” “I do.” “What do you know? Marry me? You’re insane.” “I’m not insane,” he said calmly. “I’ve already spoken to your parents.” “What?” “They’re waiting for us at home. I’ve already bought the plane tickets.” Taking leave, boarding the plane, landing… As we stepped out of the airport, my mind was still a fog. I didn’t know how I’d let him drag me all the way back to my hometown. The car turned onto streets I no longer recognized, and it hit me. I had been away for a very, very long time. My parents’ reaction was exactly as I expected. “Uncle, Auntie, I want to marry Kelen.” “Absolutely not! Bernard, how could you do this to Kathryn’s memory? Did Kelen force you into this?” Of course. In their eyes, I would forever be the monster who killed their perfect daughter. “This is what Kathryn wanted.” Bernard took a deep breath, and his next words stunned the entire room into silence. 3 “Kelen, I found your love letters under your pillow!” “Kathryn, why were you going through my things!” “I didn’t mean to! But honestly, why write them if you’re just going to hide them?” “I… I’m scared. So many girls like him. It wouldn’t make a difference.” “Who cares what anyone else thinks? Just give them to him!” “No, I can’t.” “Why not? You have to be brave!” But I wasn’t Kathryn. I didn’t have that kind of courage. Those letters were my secret world, written in the stolen moments between studying. They were dreams I spun for myself, a sweet comfort only for me. They had nothing to do with him. I couldn’t bear the thought of him knowing, of him seeing me. A shining star like him belonged with someone just as dazzling. Not with someone as insecure and timid as me. The next day, I noticed the letters were gone from under my pillow. My heart leaped into my throat. I cautiously asked my parents, but they hadn’t seen anything. My fear turned to a single name. Kathryn. It had to be her. When she told me, grinning, that she had delivered all my letters to Bernard, my world collapsed. It felt like being thrown into a bottomless pit of darkness. All those secret, tender feelings were ripped out into the open, as if I’d been stripped naked in the middle of the street. Shame and rage burned through me. … Bernard pulled a journal from his bag. I recognized it instantly. It was Kathryn’s favorite, the one she carried everywhere. She loved to document everything, writing in it every single day. When Kathryn got sick and then passed away, my parents’ hatred was a wall that kept me from everything that was hers, including her belongings. I never thought I’d see that journal again, and here it was, in Bernard’s hands. “After Kathryn… passed, I was so busy with the company. I never really went through her things properly,” Bernard said softly, his fingers tracing the worn cover as he opened it. I could see the grief still etched on his face. Of course. How could he ever forget the girl he loved so much? He began to read excerpts, his voice a low murmur recounting the little moments Kathryn had captured. My parents were openly weeping. I fought back my own tears, clamping my jaw shut. I had no right to cry. But my heart felt like it was being pierced by a thousand tiny needles. Much of that journal was filled with things we did together. While I was buried in textbooks, she’d be on her bed, sketching and writing. She would always ask me how my day was. Most of the time, my mood was just… flat. So she would draw a little, multi-colored sun next to my name to cheer me up. This journal, this time capsule of our sisterhood, was now in his hands. The colors had faded, the pages yellowed with age. He must have read it countless times over the years. Bernard’s voice cracked as he turned to the final, tear-stained page. He took a shaky breath. “Kathryn’s last entry, her final wish, was for Bernard and Kelen to get married.” And just like that, the dam I had built inside me shattered. The tears I’d held back for so long finally broke free, streaming down my face.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388257”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 The day of the World Dance Championship finals, my partner vanished. I was frantically calling everyone I could think of when I looked up and saw her—my wife—gliding across the floor in the arms of her old flame. Just like that, my chance to compete was gone. I watched the two of them on the podium, accepting the trophy that should have been ours. I said nothing. I just turned and walked away. As I reached the exit, a message from Isabelle buzzed on my phone: “Victory party tonight. Don’t forget to come.” I didn’t reply. I walked to the nearest trash can and tossed the anniversary ring I’d been carrying in my pocket into the darkness. That night, Isabelle’s childhood sweetheart, Jason, updated his social media. The photo showed him with his arm wrapped around Isabelle’s waist, both of them beaming with a private, shared joy. The caption read: “Sometimes, the thing you can’t have is the only thing worth fighting for.” I didn’t call her, screaming for an explanation like I used to. I just posted a simple status of my own: “The worst kind of pain is being one step away from fulfilling your mother’s dying wish, only to have the person sleeping next to you be the one who trips you.” Isabelle’s call came almost immediately. Her voice was laced with a thin veneer of apology. “Leo, don’t be mad. We can try for Mom’s dream again next time, okay? Together.” I hung up. There wasn’t going to be a next time. A full week passed after the competition, and Isabelle never came home. The day she’d abandoned me, the grief and shock had triggered a chronic health condition. A kind stranger found me collapsed and rushed me to the hospital. The doctor told me it was serious this time, that I needed surgery immediately. He asked me to call my next of kin to sign the consent forms. I pulled out my phone. My thumb hovered over Isabelle’s name for a long time before I finally pressed it. “What’s up? I’m kind of busy right now,” she answered, her voice distant. “Whatever it is, can it wait until I get back?” Before I could even speak, she hung up. I stubbornly called back. The call was instantly rejected. The doctor saw the look on my face. “This is serious,” he said, his voice stern. “This isn’t a game. Where is your family? We need to proceed with the surgery now!” I glanced at my phone, at the new picture Jason had just posted. It was a video of him and Isabelle laughing and chasing each other on a beach. A hollow feeling opened up in my chest. “Doctor,” I said, my voice steady. “I’ll sign it myself.” I put my phone down, my resolve hardening. “But you have a wife,” the doctor said, confused. “I saw her listed as your emergency contact.” “Oh,” I said quietly. “We’re divorced.” “What about your parents? Any other relatives?” I shook my head, a wave of desolation washing over me. “My parents are gone. I don’t have anyone else.” The doctor’s expression softened with pity. He didn’t ask any more questions. I spent the next week recovering in the hospital. Isabelle never showed up. According to Jason’s social media, they were having a wonderful time. They’d watched the ocean, gone horseback riding, stargazed, and watched the sunset. It looked idyllic. I made sure to ‘like’ every single one of his posts. And after each ‘like,’ a message from Isabelle would pop up. “Don’t overthink it. We’re just travel buddies.” “You better be practicing at home. I’ll check to see if you’ve been slacking when I get back.” “Just be good and wait for me. I’ll bring you back a souvenir.” For the first time, I didn’t reply with a desperate, pleading paragraph. After a long pause, I simply typed back one word: “Okay.” The day I was discharged, Isabelle called. “Why aren’t you at home? I told you to wait for me, didn’t I? Where have you been messing around?” “I’m at the hospital,” I said, my voice flat. Even then, a pathetic little part of me hoped she would ask why, hoped for a flicker of concern. But all I got was her dismissive sigh. “Oh. Well, hurry back. I have to go, Jason and I are working on some new choreography. I want to check it out.” Before I could respond, she’d hung up again. I let out a bitter laugh. What was I even expecting? I slowly gathered my belongings. The little boy in the bed across from me piped up, his voice full of innocent curiosity. “Hey mister, where’s your wife?” He pointed at my phone screen. “I saw her on your wallpaper! She’s really pretty!” I forced a sad smile. “You must be mistaken, little guy. I don’t have a wife.” “But you do! All week, you’ve been staring at her picture. How can you not have a wife?” 2 The boy’s mother quickly shushed him and pulled him away. I had just stepped out of the hospital when my phone buzzed with a new message. “Are you still at the hospital? I can come pick you up.” For a moment, I was disoriented. Before I had time to think, I’d already typed back, “Okay.” I stood at the hospital entrance, waiting. It was a full two hours before Isabelle’s car screeched to a halt in front of me. She took one look at my pale, exhausted face and wrinkled her nose in disgust. “God, Leo, you look awful. Couldn’t you have made an effort to clean yourself up?” I didn’t answer. I walked to the passenger side and pulled the door open. But the seat was already taken. Jason was fast asleep, his head resting against the window. “Jason’s had a long week,” Isabelle said casually, her eyes fixed on him with a softness I hadn’t seen in years. “Let him sleep. You can sit in the back.” I froze, the door handle cold in my hand. For seven years, that seat had been mine, just as the passenger seat in my car had always been hers. It was an unspoken rule, a small symbol of our partnership. And now she was banishing me to the back like a stranger, without a second thought. She must have sensed my hesitation. “He’s already asleep,” she explained, a little defensively. “It would be rude to wake him.” I said nothing. I just closed the door and got in the back. “We’re heading to the studio first,” she announced as she pulled away. “Then we can go home.” “Why the studio?” I asked. “You’ll see.” The rest of the drive was silent. I noticed Isabelle glancing at me in the rearview mirror a few times, but I ignored her, pretending to be busy on my phone. I knew what she was expecting. For all our years together, I was the talker, the one who shared every little detail of my day with her. Now, the desire to share anything at all had completely evaporated. As we neared the studio, Jason started to stir. “Mmm, how long was I out, babe?” he murmured, reaching out to affectionately ruffle Isabelle’s hair. Isabelle shot a panicked look at me in the mirror. “You’re still half-asleep,” she said, her tone a gentle reprimand. “Stop talking nonsense.” Jason finally seemed to notice I was there. He turned around, a lazy smile on his face. “Hey, Leo. Long time no see.” I didn’t look up. I was busy messaging my lawyer about divorce proceedings. An idea was beginning to form in my mind. “Leo, Jason said hello to you. Are you deaf?” Isabelle snapped, her voice sharp with annoyance. “Yeah, I am,” I replied coolly. “Are you offering to pay for the treatment?” “In your dreams. Stop wasting time and get out of the car!” I smirked, opened the door, and followed them into the studio. The moment they walked in, the other dancers swarmed them. “Isabelle! Jason! You’re finally here!” “We were just waiting for you two! Let’s get started!” Isabelle turned to me. “We’re working on a new piece, but we’re short one backup dancer. You can fill in for now.” I looked at her, my fingertips trembling. I tried to suppress the wave of humiliation crashing over me, but the pain was impossible to hide. “What… did you say?” She shot me an impatient glare. “What’s wrong with your hearing today? I said, you’re going to be a backup dancer for me and Jason.” Hearing the words a second time, I felt something inside me shatter into a million pieces. My mother used to tell me the story. Shortly after I was born, she found a baby girl crying on our doorstep. She couldn’t bear to leave her, so she took her in. Eventually, realizing it wasn’t a permanent solution, she brought the baby to an orphanage, but she visited every few days. Finally, her heart broke for the little girl, and she officially adopted her. She brought her home and named her Isabelle. In those days, raising one child was hard enough, let alone two. The pressure eventually became too much for my father, and he left. My mother was a world-renowned dancer. From the time we could walk, Isabelle and I were in the studio with her, learning at her side. We trained for over a decade. 3 On my eighteenth birthday, my mother didn’t come home. Instead, we got the call that shattered our world. Before she passed, she held both of our hands and made us promise her we would fulfill her dream: to win the World Dance Championship. For all these years, I never allowed myself to slack off. I danced until my body ached, pushing myself over and over. Finally, I became the lead dancer at our studio. Together, Isabelle and I fought our way to the world finals. I was ecstatic, dreaming of the moment we would be crowned champions. I planned to propose to her right there on stage, in front of the whole world. But everything went wrong. Seeing my continued silence, Isabelle finally lost her patience. She strode over and grabbed my arm. “Stop being so dramatic. It’s a small favor, that’s all.” She lowered her voice. “Are you still mad about the finals? Look, I already told you, I had to do that to keep a promise I made to Jason. You have to be a person of your word, right?” I looked at her, a bitter smile on my lips. “And what about our promise? The one we made to Mom?” Her face fell. She turned away, unable to meet my eyes. “I told you, we’ll do it together next time.” I shook my head and started to walk away. “It’s okay, Isabelle,” Jason called out smoothly. “If Leo doesn’t want to help, we shouldn’t force him. I mean, asking a lead dancer to be a backup… it’s probably insulting. I shouldn’t have suggested it. We’ll just scrap the choreography.” That did it. Isabelle lunged forward and yanked me onto the dance floor. “Leo, stop being so petty!” she seethed. “It’s just a small favor! Why are you making such a big deal out of it? Don’t make me lose respect for you!” The sudden movement sent a searing pain through my abdomen. The wound from my surgery felt like it had torn open. I doubled over, clutching my side, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. Isabelle rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Leo. Are you done yet?” “My incision,” I gasped, the pain making my voice weak. “I think it opened.” “Seriously? You’re going to use an excuse like that just to get out of helping? Leo, I’m ashamed of you!” The pain intensified, and my vision started to blur at the edges. The doctor’s warning echoed in my head: if the wound got infected a second time, the consequences could be severe. “Isabelle… take me to the hospital.” “Leo! Can you just stop faking it? Fine! You don’t have to help! Just get out of here and stop bothering us! Go!” I forced myself to stand, leaning on my own strength, and staggered towards the door. “Isabelle,” I heard Jason say behind me, a hint of false concern in his voice. “He doesn’t look so good. Maybe you should check on him. It’s just choreography; I don’t want it to cause problems between you two.” Isabelle’s angry voice followed me out. “Forget him! Let’s see how long he can keep up this act! Let’s just keep going.” I only made it a few steps outside the studio before my legs gave out and I collapsed on the sidewalk. For the second time in a week, I was rushed to the hospital by a stranger. When I opened my eyes, I was back in the same familiar room. “You’re awake.” A woman was sitting by my bed, her face etched with worry. “It’s only been a week. How did you manage to get yourself back in here already?” “You…” I stared at her, stunned. It was the woman who had found me the first time. And now, here she was again. “Yeah, it’s a small world,” she said with a gentle smile. “Let’s do a proper introduction this time. I’m Stella.” I shook her offered hand, thanking her sincerely. Before we could say more, the doctor came in. “I told you to take care of yourself! To let the wound heal! Is this what you call taking care?” His scolding words should have felt harsh, but instead, a strange warmth spread through my chest. I was feeling more kindness from strangers than I had from my own wife. After they left, I was alone again. I scrolled through my phone, watching Jason’s feed. They’d found a new backup dancer. The routine was a success. Now they were all out at a celebratory dinner. Someone in a video was daring Isabelle and Jason to perform a difficult, intimate lift. They did it perfectly, their bodies pressed close together. I closed the app and dialed my lawyer.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388256”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 To cure me of my possessiveness, my girlfriend replaced me—the groom—on our wedding day. Immediately after the ceremony, she jetted off to the Maldives for a honeymoon with her first love. When she came back, she found a new, more compliant version of me. She would flaunt her intimacy with him, but I no longer showed any signs of jealousy. When she broke all the rules to cast him, a mere social media influencer, as the lead in her new film, I didn’t object. I even handed over my own shot at the Best Actor award without a fight. When he publicly slandered me, I just apologized obediently and silently endured the onslaught of online hate. She bragged about her successful “training” on a live stream, tossing me a cheap ring like a bone to a dog. “Wear this for the rest of your life,” she’d said. “Consider this ring compensation for what happened at the wedding. But as long as you behave, you’ll still be the one I legally marry.” I was genuinely confused. “But… aren’t you already married?” She seemed to have forgotten that the contract termination had already been signed. I had already let her go. In three days, I would be on a plane, heading towards an arranged marriage of my own. From that moment on, our lives would be nothing more than two parallel lines, never to cross again. … My question made her hand freeze. Her expression instantly turned to ice. “What do you mean by that? Don’t you know why I married Adrian? If you hadn’t deliberately flaunted our wedding in his face, driving him to the brink of suicide, do you think I would have married him just to make it up to him?” At our wedding, Adrian had held a knife to his throat, threatening to jump from the roof unless she made him the groom. Afterward, as my punishment, she’d personally taken him on what was supposed to be our honeymoon. I had been a wreck. I drank, I smoked, I stared at the ceiling all night. But now, clarity had finally settled in. The truth was, our relationship had started cracking a year ago, the moment Adrian returned to the country. It began with innocent lunches, then escalated to blatant movie dates, and eventually, nights when she wouldn’t come home at all. Every time I confronted her, she would snap, accusing me of being too possessive. So, to “cure” me, she deliberately grew closer to him. She even told the press that Adrian was the man she had dreamed of for years, and I was just a passing amusement. The wedding was the final, brutal lesson. Adrian was her first love, the one who got away. I could never compete with a ghost. So I decided to give up. On her, and on our ten years together. Faced with her aggressive questioning now, the old me would have desperately tried to explain that I hadn’t flaunted anything, that Adrian had lied to sabotage the wedding. But the new me just obediently took the blame. “You’re right. It was all my fault. I shouldn’t have asked.” It was my fault. My fault for wanting a wedding that was never mine to have. My fault for hoping I held any place in her heart at all. At least I’d learned my lesson before it was too late. My admission seemed to satisfy her. She nodded, pleased. “Well, as long as you understand. Wear this ring. Don’t take it off without my permission. As for the marriage license, we’ll get it next month.” I looked at the plain, cheap ring she held out. It was a freebie she’d gotten when she bought Adrian an outrageously expensive watch. It was worthless. But I obediently slipped it on. As for the marriage license, that would never happen. To me, she was now just the CEO of my agency. In three days, my ten-year contract would expire, and I would leave this life behind for the one my parents had arranged for me. After that, Cassandra and I would be nothing to each other. Seeing me put on the ring, Adrian, who had been standing nearby, grinned. “See, Cassandra? I told you. Men just need a little training. Look how well-behaved Evan is now! He hangs on your every word. The ‘abandoned pet’ effect works every time. He’s completely dependent on you now.” A self-satisfied smile played on Cassandra’s lips. She turned back to me with another order. “The Rising Star Awards are this afternoon. You’ll go with Adrian as his assistant. You have more experience, so make sure you take good care of him.” Even though I had already let her go, the words still twisted in my gut. This was the last award I needed to complete my grand slam, to achieve my lifelong dream of being recognized as one of the greatest actors of my generation. But a few weeks ago, just because Adrian had casually mentioned wanting to be an actor, Cassandra had forced me to give up my nomination for him. And now she wanted me to watch him accept my award, as his assistant. She knew how much this meant to me. And she had snatched it away without a second thought. A dull ache throbbed in my chest, but I agreed. This would be the final act, the closing punctuation on our eight years together. After this, we would owe each other nothing. The awards ceremony was already crowded with the biggest names in the industry. Adrian’s eyes lit up. He grabbed a glass of champagne and tried to schmooze, but the A-listers barely gave him the time of day. After being snubbed several times, his face paled with fury. He turned and snapped at me, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “Are you blind? You know I’m allergic to alcohol! Get over here and drink this for me.” He tilted his chin up, trying to reclaim some of the status he’d just lost. I was about to refuse when his expression changed dramatically. His face crumpled as if he were about to cry. “Cassandra,” he whimpered, looking over my shoulder. “You’re not here, and everyone is bullying me. Even Evan is looking down on me.” I turned. Cassandra, the event’s host and a celebrated actress in her own right, was standing right behind me. She was usually protective of my public image, but the look on her face told me that tonight was different. “Evan,” she said, her voice dripping with ice. “I told you to be his assistant. Does that role not include taking a drink for him? Do I need to spell it out for you?” The weight of everyone’s stares was physically painful. I clenched my fists, took the glass, and drained it in one gulp. Cassandra finally looked satisfied. She took Adrian by the arm and began personally introducing him to the industry giants. Suddenly, the crowd was full of fawning voices, and Adrian puffed out his chest like a victorious rooster. A little later, he sauntered over to me. “So what if you’re a famous actor?” he whispered, a smug smile on his face. “You’re still just my little puppet.” He leaned in, then raised his voice for others to hear. “Evan, my shoes are dirty. Be a dear and clean them for me.” I felt my patience fray. He saw my clenched fists and just laughed. “Oh, Evan, I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice oozing false apology. “I didn’t mean to trouble you. It’s just this suit… I can’t risk wrinkling it.” Cassandra chimed in. “He’s right. The suit has to be perfect for the cameras.” She gave me a look that was a clear command. When I didn’t move, her brow furrowed. “Well? Are you going to clean them or not? Don’t forget your place. You’re just an assistant.” Rage simmered beneath my skin. I took a deep breath. Just a few more days. I knelt down and took out a wipe. Just as I was about to touch his shoe, the announcer called his name. Adrian brushed imaginary dust off his lapels, gave a gracious bow to the audience, and then, as he walked past, deliberately stomped on my hand on his way to the stage. Pain shot up my arm. Cassandra just nudged me with her foot. “The speech! Are you an idiot? Get the speech to him!” I scrambled to my feet, my hand throbbing, and rushed after him. As I reached out to hand him the cards, he suddenly stumbled and went tumbling down the stage steps. Cameras flashed wildly. I reached out to help him, but he shoved my hand away, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Evan! I know you’re jealous that I got the award, but I earned it! How could you try to humiliate me in front of everyone like this?” Whispers erupted around us. The cameras turned on me. “I didn’t,” I said calmly. “You pushed me! Everyone saw it!” People nearby started murmuring their agreement. “I didn’t push him,” I tried to explain. “I was handing him the speech.” But no one believed me. Adrian looked up, tears welling in his eyes, but in the split second before he looked away, he shot me a triumphant smirk. I had been framed. His knee was bleeding, but he struggled to his feet, putting on a brave face that earned him the sympathy of the entire room. “I can’t believe Evan would do something so petty,” someone whispered. Cassandra rushed to Adrian’s side. When she saw his bleeding knee, she turned and slapped me hard across the face. “Evan, you’ve gone too far! Look what you’ve done! Don’t you know he has a photoshoot in a few days? How could you be so malicious?” The cameras flashed, capturing my swollen cheek. I wanted to disappear. “Apologize to him right now,” she seethed, “or you’ll regret it.” Adrian looked at me, a smug, victorious glint in his eyes. I took a deep breath and looked straight at Cassandra. “Apologize to a talentless, social media hack? I’d rather not.” I turned and walked away, leaving them both sputtering in rage. Just as they’d planned, I became the villain of the story. The incident was the top trending topic online. Everyone called me bitter and vindictive. Cassandra even used my official account to issue a public apology, cementing the lie. The next day, she called an emergency board meeting. “Due to Evan’s deliberate actions, which have caused significant damage to the company’s reputation, I am revoking his position as Vice President and appointing Adrian in his place.” The board members, men I had personally mentored, all nodded in agreement. “Evan is getting older,” one of them said. “We need fresh blood. I support the change.” Cassandra looked at me, her eyes cold. “The board has voted unanimously. Do you have anything to say?” What could I say? This company was our baby. We had built it from the ashes after her family went bankrupt. And now, they were kicking me out. It didn’t matter. In a few days, I would be gone. “I have nothing to say.” My quiet acceptance seemed to unnerve them. They had been prepared for a fight. Adrian’s first act as VP was to reassign all of my upcoming projects to himself. I was officially suspended. That night, Cassandra came home. She saw me standing on the balcony and for a fleeting moment, I saw a flicker of something like pain in her eyes. She had brought me takeout from a restaurant I’d always wanted to try but could never get a reservation for. The old me would have been thrilled. But I knew her kindness always came at a price. “Adrian really likes your limited edition Bentley,” she said, her voice hesitant. “Could you give it to him? He has a lot of appearances coming up, and it would be more comfortable for him.” The car was the only gift she had ever given me, and only after I’d earned the company a billion dollars on my last film. At the time, she’d called me materialistic for even asking. “Fine,” I said. She frowned. “Why are you acting like a robot? All you do is nod.” I almost laughed. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” She came up behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist. “I know I’ve been hard on you. But once we get our marriage license, I’ll take you on a proper honeymoon. Should we bring Adrian along?” It was the first time she had ever asked for my opinion. “Whatever you want,” I said. Her body stiffened. “I wanted you to be less possessive, not to stop caring completely! If you keep this up, I’m not marrying you!” She stormed out, slamming the door behind her. When I cared, she called me controlling. When I let go, she accused me of not caring. I didn’t see her for the next few days. On the day my contract expired, I went to the office to sign my termination papers. The HR department processed it quickly. All it needed was Cassandra’s final approval. Just as I was about to message her, a text from her came through with an address, telling me to pick her up. It was a remote film set deep in the mountains. I didn’t want to go, but I needed her signature. When I arrived, the place was deserted. Then Adrian appeared, flanked by a group of menacing-looking men. “Where’s Cassandra?” I asked. He smirked, rubbing his neck, revealing a collection of fresh hickeys. “She’s sleeping. Worn out.” The text had been from him. His eyes turned cold. “Everyone’s saying my award was fixed. I bet you’re the one spreading those rumors.” “I don’t need to,” I said. “Anyone with eyes can see you didn’t earn it.” “It doesn’t matter,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “Because after today, you’ll never be an actor again. And I will take your place.” He gestured to his men. They grabbed me, slamming me to the ground. I managed to kick one of them away, but another one immediately took his place, smashing my head against the concrete until my vision blurred. Adrian loomed over me, planting his foot on my head. “You’re a threat to my career. Cassandra can only protect me so much. The only way I’ll feel truly safe is if you’re completely destroyed.” He pulled out a knife. I realized what he was about to do just as the cold steel sliced across my cheek. I screamed, but they held me down. The tears streaming down my face stung the open wound. One cut. Two. I counted twelve in total. Then he told his men to proceed with the plan. They doused the set in gasoline. As they were leaving, Adrian called Cassandra, his voice a high-pitched, terrified shriek. “Cassandra, help me! Evan is trying to kill me!” He calmly lit a cigarette and tossed the still-lit lighter onto the gasoline-soaked floor. The world exploded in flames. Cassandra arrived just as the fire was engulfing the building. She ran inside, her face a mask of terror. She saw me lying on the floor, my face covered in blood, and for a second, she reached for me. Then Adrian let out a weak cry from the other side of the room. “Cassandra, you’re here! Help me!” She hesitated, then let go of me and ran to him. I watched as she struggled to lift him—he was only pretending to be injured—and carried him out of the inferno. “Help me…” I whispered, my hand outstretched. She paused at the door, a flicker of guilt in her eyes. “I’ve called the fire department, Evan! Just hang on!” Then she was gone. I woke up in the hospital. The only person there was the head of HR. He handed me my signed termination papers and left without a word. I was in the hospital for a month. Cassandra never visited. When I was finally discharged, I went back to my house, the one I had bought years ago with my own money. It had been transformed into a newlywed’s nest for her and Adrian. Red sheets, celebratory banners, and their wedding photos were everywhere. The moment she saw me, her face contorted in a snarl of rage. “How dare you come back here? You tried to kill Adrian! Do you have any idea what you’ve put him through? His depression has relapsed because of you!” She raised her hand to slap me, but stopped when she saw my face. There was no unmarked skin left to hit. Adrian just smirked. “It’s okay, Cassandra. I forgive him. His face is ruined, but he’d make a decent body double. It’s not like they need to show his face.” I looked at his smug, treacherous face, and years of suppressed anger finally boiled over. “A body double for you? I’d rather die.” Cassandra clicked her tongue in annoyance. “Evan, stop being so dramatic. Your face is ruined. What else can you do?” She looked at the horrific scars, and for a split second, I saw that flicker of pain in her eyes again. “Look, I know you’re mad that I didn’t save you from the fire. But it was your own fault for trying to hurt Adrian. You brought this on yourself. But,” she continued, “if you agree to be his body double, I’ll marry you tomorrow. We can even go on a honeymoon. But we’ll have to bring Adrian. I don’t trust him to be alone.” She had it all planned out. But it had nothing to do with me anymore. I held up the termination papers. “You’re already married. You should go on a honeymoon. But why are you inviting me?” “I’m getting married, too. To someone else. And my fiancée is waiting for me abroad.” “Also,” I added, “this is my house. I’ve sold it. You need to leave.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388255”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

While I was asleep, Oren’s junior colleague, Lila, cut off my long hair and posted humiliating photos of me in our group chat to sell them. I was shaking with rage, but Oren just said, “Lila’s just being childish. Don’t stoop to her level.” So I gave her a taste of her own medicine. I shaved Lila’s head, hung a sign on her that read “Academic Trophy,” and posted it for sale in the same group chat. Oren roared at me, “Victoria, are you even human?!” Later, Lila sent me a photo of Oren accompanying her to a prenatal checkup, complete with a taunting voice message. “Once Oren’s research is published, we’re getting married. You’d better come to the wedding, Vicky!” She didn’t know that the research lab Oren was so proud of was funded entirely by my family, the Byrnes. And now, I was done with Oren. The brilliant man she saw, the one with the dazzling future, was about to lose everything. 1 I woke to a series of sharp, stinging sensations. The first thing my eyes focused on was Lila. She was holding my phone in one hand and a pair of medical scissors in the other—the kind with blunt tips, used for cutting gauze. A sly, triumphant smile played on her lips. “Oh, Vicky, you’re awake! I gave you a new haircut. You’re welcome.” My hand flew to my hair, and my blood instantly ran cold. My fingers didn’t find the smooth, waist-length waterfall I was used to, but a jagged, butchered mess. The left side was prickly against my scalp, the right a chaotic jumble of varying lengths. The back of my head felt terrifyingly bare. I scrambled into the adjoining bathroom. The fluorescent light hummed to life, illuminating a bizarre, laughable monster in the mirror. Was that me? My left temple was crudely sheared to the earlobe, the stubble uneven, revealing patches of sickly green-white scalp. In the center of the back of my head, a palm-sized chunk was gone, like a patch of turf violently ripped from the earth. The long hair on my right side was hacked into a hideous, step-like pattern, the longest strand barely brushing my shoulder. The hair I had spent seven years growing was utterly ruined. I remembered Oren whispering in my ear how much he loved the feel of my long hair brushing against his cheek, like the softest feather. For that, I had turned down every stylist who suggested a shorter cut, treasuring it like a jewel. Now, it was a joke. My fingers trembled as I tried to smooth the mess, only to have more fine strands of hair fall through my fingers. My eyes reddened instantly, not from sadness, but from a profound, soul-crushing humiliation. Lila followed me into the bathroom, the phone’s camera still pointed at me, recording my every devastated expression. “Auctioning off a ‘brand new look’ for Oren’s girl! Starting bid $10, comes with a free academic waste recycling service.” She typed as she spoke, her voice laced with faux innocence. “Oh dear, does a princess like you even know what PCR is? Or cell culture? The lab isn’t a place for you to be playing with your hair, you know.” My phone began to vibrate uncontrollably. It was the “Kingston Inner Circle,” a small, private group chat with only thirty-two members, all of whom were friends who had been with Oren and me from our undergraduate days to our PhDs. I opened it. Messages were flooding the screen. Mark, Oren’s lab mate: [??? Lila, you’re playing with fire.] My best friend, Sophie: [Lila, are you fcking insane?! @Oren Get your girl in line!]* Someone else posted a laughing emoji: [Not gonna lie, it’s kind of a punk look.] In three minutes, there were over ninety-nine new messages. Each one was a tiny knife, twisting in my already wounded heart. Just then, the door to the inner lab was yanked open. Oren stormed out, noise-canceling headphones around his neck. He had just finished an online meeting. He froze for a second when he saw the scene in the bathroom. Me, with my ridiculous, ruined hair, glaring at him with red-rimmed eyes. Lila, holding my phone, smiling innocently. He frowned and took off his headphones. “What’s going on?” “Oren!” Lila scurried to his side like a startled fawn, her tone so guileless it sounded like she was seeking praise. “Vicky’s hair was so long, I was worried it would get contaminated in the lab. I just wanted to help her trim it a bit.” She waved the phone. “Everyone in the group chat thinks it’s creative!” On the screen, messages of shock and amusement were still scrolling rapidly. I stared at Oren’s face, waiting for the explosion, waiting for him to defend my honor. He glanced at the group chat, and the corner of his mouth twitched uncontrollably. It was the face of a man trying desperately not to laugh. Then he turned to me, his eyes holding no sympathy, only a tired sort of blame. “Victoria, Lila just had her research data accepted by a Cell Press journal. She’s just excited and playing a joke on you.” He paused, his gaze resting for a fraction of a second on my mangled hair before flicking away. “It’s just hair. It’ll grow back.” Such a casual dismissal. Seven years of care, reduced to “it’ll grow back.” My gaze involuntarily dropped to the collar of his lab coat. Tucked underneath was a hand-knitted, grey-blue scarf. The stitches were clumsy, uneven, and a few were even dropped at the end. It was endearingly amateurish. I recognized it. Three days ago, Lila had posted a picture of it on her social media. The caption read: [A thank-you gift for my mentor. Knitted until 3 AM, my hands are about to fall off! ~] The accompanying photo was an intimate shot of Oren, head bowed, as she wrapped the scarf around his neck to test the length. My mouth opened, but the words, “Do you remember I grew my hair for seven years for you?” wouldn’t come out. “Hey everyone, come and judge for yourselves!” Lila deliberately raised her voice, calling out to two graduate students who were peeking out from down the hall. “Don’t you think Vicky’s new hairstyle is so refreshing? She won’t have to worry about maintaining it anymore!” The two of them sucked in a breath, their eyes a mixture of pity and morbid curiosity. Oren’s patience finally snapped. He glanced at his watch. “Victoria, I have a thesis defense rehearsal tomorrow at 8 AM. Dean Albright is personally attending.” “Just go home, please? This… Lila’s just being childish. Don’t stoop to her level.” I took one last look in the mirror. The woman in the silk dress stared back, her hair a disaster, her eyes so red they looked like they might bleed. I grabbed my bag and stormed out of the bathroom. As I passed Oren, I caught the faint scent of gardenias. It was Lila’s perfume. 2 I stopped at a vending machine, leaning against it, feeling like I might collapse. Oren caught up, grabbing the corner of my sleeve. “Victoria.” He sighed. “Lila’s from a poor family, her parents always favored her brothers. She fought tooth and nail just to get into Kingston. It hasn’t been easy for her. I’m just… looking out for her a bit, the same way you used to look out for me.” “Looking out for her?” I yanked my arm away and spun to face him. “Looking out for her means adding her to our private group chat? The one with only thirty-two people? The one my own cousin isn’t even in!” I pulled up the chat history and shoved the phone in his face. Lila posted in it almost daily, like a conqueror planting flags. [Oren teaching me how to run a gel electrophoresis, step-by-step. He’s so gentle~ [Image]] The picture was a close-up of Oren’s focused profile. [Late night in the lab! Just me and my mentor burning the midnight oil again! [Image]] The picture showed two coffee cups side-by-side amidst a scatter of research papers. [Oren says I have a real talent for research~ [Blushing Emoji]] Every post was a new provocation. And the friends who had witnessed our love story were now either silent spectators or active cheerleaders for her. “Everyone in the group is so nice!” a cheerful voice called out from the stairwell. Lila sauntered down, smiling like a victor. “One of the senior members even offered to help me find an internship. Oh, Vicky, a princess like you who was born with a silver spoon wouldn’t understand the bond we scholarship kids have, sticking together to survive.” My mind flashed back five years. Oren was crammed into a dingy, eight-hundred-dollar-a-month apartment, his eyes red from sleepless nights spent writing a grant proposal. I ached for him but didn’t want to wound his pride. So, I had my father’s foundation secretly approve his project under the guise of a “high-scoring blind review.” It was the first major funding of his career. The night he got the news, he held me so tight, his voice thick with emotion. “Vicky, you are my only anchor.” The ding of an elevator door pulled me from my reverie. Oren’s advisor, Dean Albright, stepped out with several other professors. The Dean’s eyes immediately landed on my disastrous hair. He froze, his brow furrowing slightly. Lila instantly shed her provocative persona and put on a mask of obedient diligence. “Good evening, Professor Albright! We were just discussing our experimental design!” I saw Oren’s body tense up. He instinctively shifted, trying to shield me from his mentor’s view, before offering a polite smile. “Professor, all the data for tomorrow’s rehearsal is ready.” He never introduced me. Not a single word. It was as if I was an embarrassing problem that shouldn’t be there. Dean Albright gave Oren a long, meaningful look, nodded, and walked away with his colleagues. The moment he was gone, Oren’s voice dropped to a near-plea. “Victoria, please, just go home. I’ll come find you after my rehearsal tomorrow, okay?” I didn’t answer. I turned and walked towards the building’s entrance. Just as I pushed open the glass door, my phone vibrated again. It was the same group chat. Lila had posted again. It was a carefully staged photo: the longest lock of my severed hair, placed inside a clean petri dish, like a trophy specimen. The caption read: [Oren says my haircutting skills are pretty good. Maybe I should switch careers and become a stylist! [Winking Emoji]] My finger scrolled through the list of group members. All those familiar faces, all people who had witnessed the seven years of love between me and Oren. They had watched Lila invade my life, watched me be humiliated, and had either stayed silent or joined in the fun. Except for Sophie, not a single person had said a word in my defense. I closed the app and opened a chat with my father’s personal assistant. My fingers were cold, but my movements were steady. [Uncle Lee, I need a complete financial breakdown of all three phases of Oren’s lab project. Immediately.] 3 At two in the morning, I returned to my high-rise apartment. The sudden ring of my phone was jarring. It was my family’s butler. His voice was hesitant. “Miss Byrne, Mr. Vance arrived about an hour ago… with a Miss Miller. He said it was an academic emergency, that he urgently needed to use the Leica DMi8 microscope in your study. I… I couldn’t stop them.” My heart sank. That microscope, worth over a million dollars, was a gift I’d bought for him at an auction in Germany to celebrate his acceptance into the PhD program. When he received it, he’d hugged the massive case, his eyes red, and choked out, “Vicky, I swear, I’ll use this to produce Nobel-level work.” It was his treasure, and our shared dream. I grabbed my car keys and raced back to the university. Through the glass window of the high-value instrument room on the second floor, I saw a scene that chilled me to the bone. Lila was hunched over the microscope, but she wasn’t looking at cell slides. She was examining a small diamond ring on her finger. Oren stood behind her, leaning in slightly, one hand on the back of her chair, the other adjusting the focus. They were impossibly close. “See the facets inside?” I heard his smiling voice through the glass. “The cutting process for a diamond of this quality is very complex. But don’t worry, Lila. You’ll have things like this of your own one day.” I shoved the door open. It slammed against the wall. Lila jumped, fumbling the ring. Oren looked up, startled. I walked straight to the microscope, switched it off, and stared at him. “I bought this for you in Germany to celebrate your PhD admission. You said you would use it to produce Nobel-level work.” “Vicky, don’t be so stingy!” Lila immediately clung to Oren’s arm, pouting. “Aren’t the centrifuge and the sequencer also paid for by the Byrne Foundation? Oren said sharing lab equipment is a virtue.” A flash of embarrassment crossed Oren’s face before he adopted a scolding tone. “Victoria, Lila has never seen such a high-end microscope before. She was just curious. What are you doing here so late? Don’t you have that important finance summit to attend tomorrow?” He was blaming me. Blaming me for interrupting him and Lila as they admired her ring with the gift I had given him. I said nothing. I just carefully packed the microscope back into its protective case. As I left, I saw Lila furiously typing on her phone. Five minutes later, as I drove off campus, my phone buzzed again. The same group chat. Lila: [Wow! Got to see a legendary million-dollar microscope today. My mind is blown! A huge thank you to Vicky for being so generous and sharing! [Image]] There were two pictures. One was a dazzling shot of the diamond’s interior, taken through the microscope’s eyepiece. The other was of me, my back to the camera, carrying the enormous case as I walked away from the lab, a solitary, forlorn figure. I pulled over, staring at the photo for a long time. Then, I called Sophie. “Sophie, did you see the picture?” “I saw it! I’m going to kill them! That cheating bastard and that little snake! Vicky, are you…” I cut her off. “I need you to find me four reliable people. Good with their hands, better at keeping their mouths shut. I need them tomorrow afternoon.” There was a beat of silence, then Sophie’s voice came back, low and thrilled. “Consider it done.” 4 The next day at 5 PM, in the underground parking garage of the science building. Lila was humming as she walked towards Oren’s white Audi. She was wearing a new dress and her makeup was perfect. When she was about ten feet from the car, two men in sunglasses stepped out and blocked her path. “Who are you?! What do you want?” she yelped, startled. “My mentor is Oren Vance! He’s coming down any second!” She reached for her phone, but one of the men snatched it away with swift precision. I stepped out from behind a concrete pillar. My hair had been expertly styled by the city’s top hairdresser into a chic, sharp bob. Every strand seemed to gleam with a cold light. “Lila,” I said, watching the panic bloom on her face. “Yesterday, you put my hair up for auction. Today, I’m giving you a sign to wear.” Before she could process my words, one of my men produced a pair of electric clippers. “BZZZZZZ—” The roar of the clippers echoed in the cavernous garage. Lila’s scream followed immediately. She thrashed wildly, but the two men held her fast. “Victoria! You’re insane! You wouldn’t dare!” I ignored her curses and nodded to the man with the clippers. Locks of her hair fell to the cold concrete floor. Three minutes later, the girl with the beautiful curls was gone, replaced by a pale, shivering woman with a freshly shaved head. The other man produced a pre-made cardboard sign and hung it around her neck. In bold red letters, it read: ACADEMIC TROPHY, $5 OBO, FREE SHIPPING. I took her phone, unlocked it with her fingerprint, and took a crystal-clear photo of her pathetic, tear-streaked face. Then, I opened her social media and posted the picture to her feed and to the “Kingston Inner Circle.” The caption: [Priced to sell. Comes with a bonus ‘Humble Beginnings’ sob story.] “Ding!” The elevator doors opened, and Oren walked out, carrying his laptop bag. He froze when he saw Lila, bald, with the sign around her neck, trembling in the corner. His face turned ashen, then a deep, furious red. “Victoria! What are you doing?! This is assault!” he roared, his eyes blazing with a rage and disappointment I had never seen before. “Just a little joke,” I said, even managing a small smile. “Didn’t Miss Miller say that academics are supposed to be the most open-minded people?” I took a step closer to him. “Besides, compared to you letting her waltz into our lives, humiliate me, and trample all over our past, what I’ve done is nothing, is it?” Lila finally snapped out of her shock. She touched her bald head and let out a bloodcurdling shriek. Oren immediately shrugged off his jacket, rushed over, and wrapped it around her, pulling her into his arms. When he looked back at me, his eyes were full of a murderous hatred. In the dead silence, Lila suddenly clung to him as if he were her last hope, her voice a hysterical, tear-choked cry. “Oren, I’m pregnant with your baby! You have to protect me!” The fury on Oren’s face vanished, replaced by an incredibly complex expression. It was a mixture of shock, panic, and… was that a flicker of relief? I took half a step back, my nails digging into my palms. Just then, his phone rang. It was one of the lab’s suppliers, demanding payment on a critical project. He glanced at the caller ID, his brow tightening, and rejected the call. Then, he scooped the still-sobbing Lila into his arms and strode towards the elevator. He didn’t look at me again. But just before the doors closed, I clearly saw him bend down and press a gentle, reassuring kiss to her forehead.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “388254”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel