1 Three days after my husband vanished, I had stomach ulcer surgery alone. Waking from anesthesia, I saw a post on a confession blog. It’s usually about cheating partners, but this was from a man. He wrote: “My wife’s stomach was bothering her, but my girlfriend missed me. I lied about a business trip to be unreachable. My wife is understanding—she won’t call. She texted she felt sick, but my girlfriend got upset, so I silenced my phone.” “The girl also complained of a stomachache and kept me in bed. I rubbed her belly and bought her whatever she wanted. Seeing her act spoiled… I found it cute.” “After she slept, I checked my card bill and saw my wife’s message: she’d just had surgery. Guilt hit me. My wife agonizes over one expensive necklace, yet what I spent on this girl could buy several.” Stomach pain. A necklace. It clicked, chilling me like the IV drip. Weeks earlier, I’d loved a $10,000 necklace but walked away. Frugality is ingrained. When we started our business, we lived in a basement, used subway AC, and often ate once a day. Old habits stay, even with money now. Comments erupted: “And people wonder why the birth rate is falling…” I turned off my phone, clinging to hope—it had to be a coincidence. Stomach issues are common. I can’t be the only woman who wanted that necklace. Just as dawn was breaking, Ethan finally arrived at the hospital. He rushed to my bedside, his hand immediately going to my forehead. “Lily, I am so, so sorry. I had no idea the client last night would be so difficult.” The worry and concern in his eyes seemed genuine. But then I noticed it. His shirt was buttoned wrong. And it wasn’t the shirt he’d been wearing before he left. Ethan was always meticulous about his appearance. What kind of business meeting would require a complete change of clothes before he could see his wife? He pulled a small box from his pocket. When I opened it, my heart plummeted. It was the necklace. “Honey, isn’t this the one you’ve wanted for so long? You wouldn’t buy it for yourself, so I did. What’s the point of earning all this money if we don’t spend it? If you want something, just buy it.” He mistook my pale, shocked face for post-surgery weakness. But a comment from the blog post echoed in my mind. “Sudden grand gestures are just compensation for secrets kept.” 2 After a restless night, I went home, my heart heavy with suspicion. It was Saturday, and we were both exhausted. I, from my surgery. But him? What was his excuse? He went to take a shower, leaving his phone on the nightstand. On a dark impulse, I picked it up and unlocked it. I opened his social media and checked his direct messages. There it was. The profile picture of the confessional blog. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an icy hand. Still in denial, I opened his WhatsApp. The pinned contact at the very top was nicknamed ‘Kiddo.’ The intimacy of it was a slap in the face. The chat history was a blatant, undeniable record of his affair with that girl. And I knew her. Her name was Aria, a name as ethereal and spirited as she was. All the little details I’d dismissed, all the red flags I’d ignored, came flooding back. Aria had started as a college intern, a senior, yet was inexplicably promoted to be Ethan’s executive assistant. There was the time Ethan came home blind drunk from a work dinner, leaning heavily on Aria. She’d helped him onto the sofa, her voice a mix of apology and concern. “Lily, please don’t be mad at him. It’s my fault, I can’t handle my liquor. Mr. Hayes was trying to protect me from having to drink, that’s why he got like this.” Before she left, she reminded me to make him some honey water to ease his hangover. “Lily, I remember you keep the honey in the top kitchen cabinet. Don’t forget.” She knew her way around my home. At the time, I’d brushed it off as a young girl fresh out of college, her head filled with silly romance novels and unrealistic fantasies. I had complete faith in Ethan. We had known each other for twenty-eight years. But now, their messages burned that faith to ashes. For Aria’s birthday, Ethan had filled her apartment with flowers, a grand romantic gesture to win her over. A thirty-year-old man, writing a personal note on every single bouquet. How romantic. Her texts were tinged with a playful jealousy. “Do you do this for your wife on her birthday?” “No,” he’d replied. “She’s… immune to romance.” He used to buy me a single flower for every birthday and holiday. But flowers were expensive, a luxury I saw as a waste. Twenty bucks for something that would just wilt. I’d told him how much I appreciated the thought, but that a home-cooked meal would make me happier. All the sacrifices I’d made, all the little things I’d asked him to save, were now being lavished on someone else. I scrolled to the last message, and Ethan’s words twisted the knife. “If only I’d been born a few years later, or if I wasn’t married right now.” Aria’s reply was smug. “Hmph. You’re terrible. As punishment, I’m taking your good luck charm. The one your wife gave you. I hate seeing it.” I heard something inside me shatter. That charm. I’d gone on a pilgrimage for it, to a remote monastery deep in the mountains. Three steps and a bow, five steps and a prayer, all for his safety. Our wedding vows rang in my ears. “Lily, I finally get to marry the love of my life. I’ve never felt so lucky.” And now, he was telling another woman, “If only I wasn’t married right now.” The pain was a suffocating net, wrapping around me, tighter and tighter. 3 Ethan came out of the shower to find me holding his phone. The color drained from his face. He lunged for it, snatching it from my hands. “Lillian! What the hell? Since when do you have no respect for privacy? Who said you could go through my phone!” I stared at his neck. It was bare. “I was just picking it up to put it on the charger,” I said, my voice flat. Ethan let out a breath of relief. No respect for privacy? He was the one who’d set his phone’s passcode to my birthday. “My phone is your phone,” he used to say. “I have nothing to hide from you.” “Ethan,” I asked quietly, “did your business deal go well last night?” He froze for a second, his lips tightening. “It was fine.” Tears welled up in my eyes, silently at first, then spilling over, fat drops soaking into the duvet. I rarely cried like this. He was stunned. He reached out, pulling me into his arms. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It was just a reflex. Come on, don’t cry.” “Ethan… it hurts so much,” I sobbed, my voice muffled against his chest. “It hurts.” He apologized again for not being there the night before, thinking my pain was purely physical. He got a hot water bottle, gently placing it on my stomach, and started massaging the area, his eyes filled with a soft, tender love. After twenty-eight years of knowing him and ten years of loving him, I couldn’t tell what was real anymore. I’m not some badass heroine from a novel. I couldn’t just walk away. Our lives, our twenty-eight years, were woven together, flesh and blood. The intricate web of our shared business interests was impossible to untangle. I couldn’t just rip him out of my life. It would mean ripping myself apart. “Ethan,” I said, my voice cold. “Your assistant. I was at headquarters the other day. She was rude to me. Fire her. I don’t like her.” He looked taken aback. “She’s just a kid, Lily. Why are you picking a fight with her?” I just looked at him, saying nothing. Then, a slow smile spread across his face. “Is that all? She’s just an assistant. If you don’t like her, we’ll get a new one. Hell, if you didn’t like one of my managers, I’d replace him without blinking an eye.” 4 Ethan started coming home more often, bringing small gifts each time. He would roll up his sleeves and cook, filling the table with all my favorite dishes. Sweet and sour fish, honey-glazed ribs, slow-braised pork… These were the dishes that had defined my youth. We were so poor back then, always hungry, so I craved hearty, filling meals. We could only afford to treat ourselves to one of these dishes every couple of weeks. Ethan would cook, giving me all the meat and taking the bony pieces for himself. Maybe this was for the best. With Aria gone, perhaps I could pretend nothing had ever happened. Right? But as I looked at the food, my appetite vanished. She was a shard of glass in my heart. The thought of her was agony. The sight of Ethan made me sick. I couldn’t stand being in the same room with him, couldn’t eat his food, couldn’t sleep in the same bed. His presence was a constant, nauseating reminder of his betrayal. I wanted to scream at him to get out. But I had to keep playing the part of his wife. Ethan raised his glass in a toast to me, thanking me for standing by him. I forced myself to lift my glass and drain it. The mood was right. He leaned in to kiss me. His face was so close, his breath on my skin. The revulsion was too much to suppress. I bolted to the bathroom and threw up until there was nothing left. Ethan followed me in, handing me a glass of water. “Sorry,” I mumbled, wiping my mouth. “My stomach’s just really sensitive.” Years of drinking at business dinners had wrecked my stomach. It was the perfect excuse. He rubbed my back, his face a mask of pity. “I’m so sorry, Lily. You did all this for me.” Our company had only survived its early years because I was the one out there, drinking myself sick to woo clients and secure deals. I threw myself back into work, hoping to channel my turmoil into something productive. I had a meeting at a client’s office. After we wrapped up, the project manager suggested we grab dinner. As we walked out, I saw a familiar car parked across the street. I froze. How did Ethan know I was here? I was about to cancel on my colleague when I saw her. A lively figure bouncing toward his car, crashing right into his arms. It was Aria. I heard Ethan’s voice, thick with affection. “You’re a professional now, you can’t keep being so clumsy. It’s chilly today, why aren’t you wearing a warmer coat?” Her tone was playfully demanding, just like mine used to be years ago. “You fired me. I haven’t forgiven you for that. Not unless you tell me you love me, every single day.” Ethan’s reply was a sigh of helpless indulgence. “Okay, okay. I love you. I love you the most.” Aria, satisfied, stood on her toes and playfully kissed him. Ethan took control, deepening the kiss until it was anything but playful. My blood ran cold. So, “the most” wasn’t an exclusive term in Ethan’s vocabulary. He could be at home, bending over backwards to please me one minute, and the next, he was whispering “I love you the most” to another woman. He hadn’t just replaced his assistant. He had simply moved their affair from the office to the bedroom. “Kids these days, huh?” my colleague remarked with a chuckle. “So open about everything. Not like us old folks.” I forced a smile. “Who is she? One of your company’s employees?” “Yeah. Some executive’s friend, I think. She was assigned to my team. Useless, to be honest. But the boss said someone important asked him to look out for her, so I can’t even reprimand her.” That night, Ethan didn’t come home. He was “out with clients.” I numbly called his phone. No answer. A moment later, a friend request from an unknown account popped up on my screen. I knew that profile picture instantly. It was Aria. “You saw us today, didn’t you? You’re really good at pretending.” “Ethan’s in the shower right now. He can’t take your call.” It was a childish, pathetic attempt at provocation. I ignored it. Apparently, that wasn’t the reaction she was hoping for. She sent me a screenshot of a social media post. “Dare you to look?” 5 I stared at the screenshot, a profound sense of dread washing over me. I had a feeling that whatever was in that link would destroy what was left of us. But Lillian, are you really going to keep running? It was Aria’s private blog, a chronicle of their love story. The cute, clumsy intern meets the handsome, domineering CEO. Sparks fly, and like magic, the two are drawn together in an unstoppable romance. Like a thief in the night, I scrolled through her life, meticulously comparing every picture, every date. The week I was in the ER with a bleeding ulcer, they were in San Francisco, feeding seagulls on the pier. The night I was delirious with a fever of 104, they were in Miami, playing in the waves. The day they watched the sunrise together from a mountain peak, I was being humiliated by a client, forced to drink an entire bottle of whiskey. My eyes landed on one date, and the world stopped. It was from the darkest period of my life. My grandmother, the only person in my family who had ever truly loved me, had passed away. Ethan was supposedly on a business trip to Orlando and got stuck there because of a sudden lockdown. But on that same day, Aria’s blog read: “He finally had time to take me to Disney, but we got unlucky with the pandemic and got locked down in our hotel. He basically turned into a wolf. Omg, I’ll never say a 30-year-old man is past his prime again, lol.” The accompanying photo was of a man’s back in the shower. I could clearly see a few long, angry scratch marks. Ethan knew what my grandmother meant to me. While I was at her funeral, sobbing my heart out, he was tangled up in a hotel bed with another woman. His text messages from that day were hollow and dismissive. “Everyone dies eventually. You have to stay strong.” My stomach twisted into a knot of searing pain. Disgust, pure and vile, rose in my throat. Everyone deserves to feel this pain. Only then will it be fair. 6 Maybe when you get close to thirty, you stop believing in fairy tales. Realism sets in. If ten years of love was all a lie, then I was going to maximize my return on that investment. Once the initial shock subsided, I scheduled a meeting with the last person on earth I wanted to see. Aria. Youth really is something. Her eyes were full of that clear, unfiltered stupidity. “Ethan and I are meant to be. This marriage is the only thing holding him back. He told me he’s only truly happy when he’s with me.” “Does it feel good, pretending you don’t know what’s happening? If you’re afraid you won’t find anyone else after the divorce, I’m sure Ethan will give you a generous settlement.” Her condescending, naive words almost made me laugh. “Miss Aria, you went to a good school. It’s a shame you didn’t learn anything. Naivete isn’t a virtue; it’s just a nicer word for stupid. You’re a homewrecker, and you’re proud of it?” I didn’t bother lowering my voice. People at the surrounding tables turned to look. Aria’s face flushed, a mottled mix of red and white. “Don’t you dare try to guilt-trip me! That won’t work on me!” Seeing her so flustered, an idea began to form. I pulled a checkbook from my purse. “How much do you want? Fill it in yourself. Take the money and learn some self-respect. I’ve seen plenty of gold-diggers like you. A little dignity goes a long way for a young woman.” She looked as if I’d just slapped her across the face. She snatched the check and tore it to shreds. “You know nothing about love!” I scoffed. “Quite the appetite. Maybe I don’t know love, but I know decency. Was my offer not high enough for you?” Completely enraged, she lunged at me, trying to grab my purse. In the scuffle, she gave me a hard shove. I didn’t resist. I let my body go limp, allowing her to send me stumbling backward, crashing hard onto the floor. A sharp, tearing pain shot through my abdomen. Something warm and wet trickled down my leg. I heard gasps from the people around us, and saw the color drain from Aria’s face.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387866”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My heiress best friend, Mimi, was about to leave for Europe to expand her business. Before she left, she tearfully begged her brother to look after her “darling baby girl,” who apparently couldn’t survive on her own. Over the phone, a man’s voice—cool, lazy, and laced with disdain—drifted through. “What kind of turtle is so high-maintenance? It needs temperature and humidity control?” Mimi’s whining was completely shameless. “Come on, Matt! Just think of it as your good deed for the year. Can you just watch her for three months? Please?” “Fine. Send it over. But let me be clear: if it dies, I’m not paying for a new one.” I clutched the phone, my palms sweating as I listened to the voice that had haunted my dreams. What Matt Shen didn’t know was that the so-called “turtle” was a living, breathing person. And that person was me, Rosie Lin, the girl who had been silently in love with him from the shadows for six long years. I had to get myself packed and delivered to him. Immediately. 1 My best friend, Mimi, was a woman of action. Less than half an hour after she hung up, her driver was already waiting outside my apartment building. “Miss Lin, Miss Shen instructed me to ensure your safe arrival at Mr. Shen’s residence.” I stared at the stretch limousine and fell into a deep thought. I was moving in temporarily, not ascending to a throne. And more importantly, did Matt even know that the “turtle” was me? Probably not. After all, in Mimi’s words, I was basically a decorative pet who did nothing but eat and sleep. With a heart torn between the thrill of a honeymoon and the dread of facing a firing squad, I knocked on the door of Matt’s apartment. It was a sprawling condo in the city center, one unit per floor. Mimi had told me Matt bought it to escape the noise of their family estate. The doorbell chimed three times. I heard the scuff of slippers against the floor from inside—slow, heavy footsteps that seemed to tread directly on my last nerve. Click. The door swung open. Matt had obviously just woken up. He was dressed in dark gray silk pajamas, the collar gaping open to reveal the faint outline of his abs and the shadow of a dangerously sexy V-line. A few strands of his hair stuck up in a messy rebellion, and his face was a thundercloud of “don’t you dare speak to me” morning grumpiness. He squinted, his gaze lingering on my face for a bare two seconds before sliding past me, looking at the empty air behind me. “Mimi sent you?” My fingers were trembling so hard I could barely control them. I just nodded dumbly. “Mhm.” Matt yawned, stepping aside to let me in. “Come on in.” He turned and walked back into the apartment, his voice still rough with sleep. “Leave the suitcase by the door. Find a spot for yourself somewhere.” “I’m going back to bed.” “Oh, right.” He took two steps, then stopped and turned back to me. Those almond-shaped eyes of his, slightly upturned, scanned me with a critical look. “Where’s the thing?” I blinked. “What?” Matt pointed at my empty hands, then at my enormous suitcase. “Mimi’s precious little treasure.” “The turtle.” “Where is it? In the suitcase?” He frowned, as if the idea was completely absurd. “Hope it doesn’t suffocate in there.” I was frozen to the spot, my face flushing a deep, mortified crimson. How was I supposed to tell him? There was no turtle. The “darling baby girl” that needed to be fed and cared for… Was me. My mouth opened, but before I could explain, Matt waved a dismissive hand, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Whatever. I’ll deal with it when I wake up.” “Just don’t let it crawl all over the place. I’m a neat freak.” And with that, he slammed his bedroom door shut, leaving me standing alone in the vast, empty living room, feeling like a complete idiot caught in a hurricane. He really, genuinely thought I was a delivery person dropping off a turtle. 2 I sat on the sofa like a statue for two hours, waging a fierce internal war. Maybe I should just leave? This misunderstanding is way too big. But the thought of living under the same roof as Matt for three whole months was a temptation I couldn’t resist. That single thought crushed all my instincts to flee. I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t bear to leave. Matt was a senior from my high school and Mimi’s older brother. He was known for his sharp tongue and arrogant attitude, looking at everyone as if they were idiots. But I’d seen him feed stray cats when he thought no one was looking. I’d seen him give his umbrella to an old woman picking through trash in a downpour, then sprint back to his car through the rain. He wasn’t unkind; he was just too proud to show it. As I was lost in thought, the bedroom door opened again. Matt emerged, showered and changed into a set of casual loungewear. He looked refreshed, the sharp edges of his morning temper softened. He was sipping from a bottle of ice water as he walked into the living room. He stopped short when he saw me still sitting there. “You’re still here?” I shot up from the sofa, my palms slick with sweat. “Um… Matt.” He raised an eyebrow, strolling over to the armchair opposite me and sinking into it, crossing his long legs casually. “You know me?” “I’m Mimi’s best friend, Rosie Lin.” He gave a slight nod, his reaction placid. “Oh. Rosie.” “I think she’s mentioned you. The one who can’t take care of herself…” My soul withered. Mimi, what on earth have you been telling him about me? Matt set his water bottle down, his eyes scanning the room once more. “So, where’s the turtle?” “I wanted to see what kind it is. I did a quick search, and some tortoises are pretty high-maintenance. You have to control the temperature and humidity.” He had actually researched how to care for a turtle. I took a deep breath, deciding it was time to come clean. “Matt, actually…” “There is no turtle.” He froze, his gaze snapping to mine. “What do you mean?” I pointed a shaky finger at myself, my voice barely a whisper. “The one Mimi was talking about…” “That’s me.” The air in the room solidified. For a full minute, the silence was so absolute you could have heard a pin drop. Matt just stared at me. He looked me up and down, a slow, meticulous appraisal that made my skin burn. Finally, he let out a short laugh. It wasn’t mocking; it was the sound of someone confronting the utterly absurd. “Did Mimi hit her head on something?” He pulled out his phone and immediately started a video call with her. She picked up instantly. Her face appeared on the screen, the background noise suggesting she was in an airport lounge. “Jules! Did you get Rosie? Be nice, she’s really shy!” Matt flipped the camera around to show me sitting awkwardly on the sofa. “This is the turtle you wanted me to raise?” Mimi was completely unfazed. “My darling girl! What’s the problem?” “Rosie’s not feeling well, and she has low blood sugar. I didn’t want her living alone,” she said, her voice full of righteous indignation. “Besides, you’re on vacation with nothing to do. It’s just one extra plate at the table.” Matt scoffed. “I’m your brother, not your nanny.” “And besides,” he added, his eyes landing on me with a playful glint, “this breed… looks like a handful.” My face exploded in a blush. I wished the ground would swallow me whole. Mimi shrieked from the phone. “Matt Shen! You promised me! You can’t go back on your word!” “If you dare kick Rosie out, I’ll tell Mom that the girl you brought to that blind date was a hired actress!” Matt’s expression darkened. “Mimi, are you trying to get yourself killed?” “Just tell me, are you going to keep her or not?” The two of them bickered through the screen while I sat trapped in the middle—small, pathetic, and utterly helpless. Finally, Matt ended the call with a frustrated sigh. He tossed his phone onto the sofa and looked at me. “Fine,” he said. “You can stay.” “The guest room is on the left. Get yourself settled.” Feeling like I’d just been granted a royal pardon, I grabbed my suitcase and made a break for it. “Wait.” His voice stopped me in my tracks. I turned around stiffly. Matt was leaning back against the sofa, his fingertips drumming a light rhythm on his knee. “Since Mimi entrusted you to me, let’s get a few things straight.” “I have a bad temper, and I don’t like waiting on people.” “If you’re hungry, order takeout. Don’t expect me to cook for you.” I nodded frantically. “I know! I can take care of myself!” He let out a short, disbelieving huff. “We’ll see about that.” 3 The first day of our cohabitation passed peacefully. Aside from his sharp tongue, Matt was actually a pretty good roommate. He mostly ignored me, which was a relief. I was happy to make myself as invisible as possible. Until the next morning. I’m an early riser, so I was up at six. I figured since I was living in his house, I should at least try to be useful. I crept into the kitchen, determined to make breakfast. Fried eggs, bacon, and hot milk. Simple. Except I had severely underestimated the complexity of Matt’s high-tech stove. I turned the flame up way too high. The oil in the pan instantly started smoking. The moment the eggs hit the pan, they sizzled violently, and a plume of black smoke erupted. In my panic to turn off the stove, I knocked over the bottle of cooking oil. CRASH! The kitchen was a disaster. As I stood there, spatula in hand, completely lost, a cool voice came from behind me. “Are you trying to blow up my kitchen?” I jumped, the spatula clattering into the smoking pan. I whipped around to see Matt standing in the doorway, his arms crossed, a look on his face you’d give a complete idiot. “I-I’m so sorry…” My eyes started to well up. “I just wanted to make breakfast…” Matt walked past me and expertly switched off the stove. He turned on the exhaust fan and threw open the window, all in one smooth, practiced motion. He glanced at the two black, carbonized lumps in the pan, then at me, smelling faintly of smoke and grease. He sighed. “Mimi was right.” “You really can’t take care of yourself.” Shame washed over me. I stared at my feet. “Get out,” he commanded. “Huh?” “Go wash your face and change your clothes.” He gave me a gentle nudge towards the door. “You stink of oil. It’s disgusting.” I scurried back to my room in disgrace. When I emerged, clean and changed, two plates of breakfast were already on the dining table. Perfectly cooked sunny-side-up eggs, golden-brown toast, and a glass of warm milk. Matt was sitting across from me, methodically cutting his bacon. He saw me and jutted his chin towards the empty chair. “Eat.” I sat down, feeling flustered and grateful. “Did… did you make this?” “Who else? The cleaning fairy?” he retorted without looking up. But as he spoke his cutting words, he pushed the plate of bacon he had just cut across the table to me. “I don’t eat the lean parts. This is for you.” Something soft and warm nudged my heart. He remembered. At a high school gathering once, I had meticulously picked all the fatty pieces out of my pork dish. Everyone else had laughed at me for being so picky. Only Matt, who had been sitting quietly in the corner, had silently traded his plate of lean meat for mine. He remembered that? “Thank you,” I said softly. Matt grunted. “Don’t get any ideas.” “I just don’t want Mimi coming back from Europe to murder me for mistreating her precious ‘turtle’.” I took a bite of toast to hide the smile creeping across my face. Being his “turtle” wasn’t so bad after all. 4 Life continued this way for a quiet, peaceful two weeks. Against all odds, Matt was actually taking pretty good care of me. I would wake up ten minutes before him to preheat the coffee machine, and he would make breakfast for both of us when he got up. If he came home early from work, he’d bring back dessert, or sometimes a roasted sweet potato from a street vendor. They were always my favorite things. This comfortable routine started to create an illusion in my mind, as if we had been living together for a very, very long time. Until a phone call shattered the peace. It was a Friday night. Matt was in his study working, and I was curled up on the living room sofa watching a movie. My phone suddenly buzzed. It was an unknown number, a local area code. My heart gave a violent lurch, and a sense of foreboding washed over me. After a few seconds of hesitation, I answered. “Hello?” A ragged, heavy breath came through the receiver, followed by a voice that had haunted my nightmares for a decade. “Well, well, little girl. You’re good at hiding.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387865”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

At ten o’clock at night, my neighbor from next door, whose screen name was StillWaters, suddenly tagged me in the resident group chat: 【To the fucking bitch in 705, can you tone it down a little? The whole building is supposed to listen to your bedsprings squeal all night? Are you trying to keep everyone awake?】 【My baby has a congenital heart defect. If you wake him up again, I’ll kill your whole family!】 I quickly tried to explain that I lived alone, but she refused to believe me. After a few patient attempts, I gave up and ignored her. I never imagined that two weeks later, she would burst into my apartment with a knife and stab me eighteen times. As I collapsed in a pool of my own blood, she kept slashing like a madwoman, her screams tearing through the air. “This is all your fault! My baby died last night! You’ll pay for his life with yours!” My vision blurred, and I lost consciousness. Even in death, I couldn’t understand how I had ever harmed her child. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back to the very day she had cursed me in the group chat. Faced with her familiar tirade, I didn’t back down. This time, I shot back with fury: “Stop your goddamn crazy talk! Your baby died three years ago!” 1 After I sent the message, the once-lively group chat fell silent. A few minutes later, my neighbor exploded: 【What the hell are you talking about, you whore? My baby is about to turn one! How dare you curse my child to die!】 【Everyone see this? The bitch in 705 can’t have kids of her own, so she’s cursing other people’s!】 The other residents saw our exchange and immediately jumped to her defense: 【706, that’s way out of line. How could you say something so horrible about a child?】 Another person tried to placate her: 【Linda, calm down. We’re all neighbors here. Let’s just talk this out peacefully.】 That only made Linda angrier: 【Talk peacefully my ass! What is there to say to a slut like her? She’s just jealous that my baby is happy and healthy!】 【My baby has a heart condition! It’s a miracle he’s made it to his first birthday. The doctor said we have to be extremely careful!】 【And this whore? She’s shaking her bed like there’s no tomorrow! If anything happens to my son, she’ll be the first person I kill!】 The other neighbors piled on, their accusations aimed at me: 【Linda has a point. It’s late. You two should show some restraint.】 【Yeah, it’s ten o’clock. Give it a rest!】 Reading their messages, I felt a wave of absurdity wash over me. I’d lived in 705 alone since the day I moved in. There was no man in my apartment. As for Linda next door, her baby had died shortly after birth. How could I, with a non-existent man, possibly disturb the sleep of a child who was already dead? Just as I was about to explain, Linda started spamming the chat again: 【Are you starting up again, you bitch? Will you die if you don’t get fucked for one night?】 【Are you doing this on purpose? You don’t want my baby to live, do you? He’s fought so hard to survive, and you’re trying to kill him!】 【If he has a heart attack because of you, can you take responsibility for that?】 A few other neighbors chimed in, their messages dripping with annoyance. 【705, her kid has a heart condition. Do you really have to pick on a sick child?】 【Exactly. Linda’s a single mom, it’s not easy. The least you could do is be considerate, but instead, you curse her child.】 In my past life, I had explained over and over that I lived alone, but no one listened. Instead, Linda’s harassment escalated. I called building management, I called the police, but nothing worked. Finally, I’d had enough and went to stay with my best friend for a few days. When I returned, Linda forced her way into my apartment with a knife and murdered me. Even now, whenever I close my eyes, I can see her deranged face. The fury inside me finally boiled over. I switched to voice memo and sent a message to the group, my voice shaking with rage: “Can you just leave me the hell alone?! Your child is already dead!” 2 The group chat went silent for several seconds. I thought she’d finally shut up, but then a frantic pounding erupted at my front door. I looked through the peephole and saw Linda, her eyes wide with fury, screaming at my door. “You bitch, you’re asking for it! How dare you say my baby is dead!” “I just got him back to sleep, and you say that! Are you trying to kill him on purpose?” “If anything happens to my baby, I’ll kill you!” The commotion brought other neighbors out of their apartments. They immediately started pointing fingers at me. “Vera, you’ve gone too far! Linda’s baby is barely a year old. Have some decency!” “Exactly! You’ll have kids of your own one day. How would you feel if someone said something so vile about them?” “Picking on a baby… you’re just asking for bad karma!” Linda was still hammering on my door, her eyes bulging as if she wanted to tear me apart with her bare hands. “You goddamn bitch! Slut! Why are you cursing my son?” “I’m going to kill you! I’m going to kill your whole family!” Her shrieks were piercing, drilling into my eardrums and making the late-night hallway feel terrifyingly cold. The memory of being falsely accused and then stabbed to death by this lunatic made my body tremble uncontrollably. When she screamed about killing my family, I snapped. I yanked the door open and slapped her hard across the face. “Shut the hell up! Where is this baby of yours? How come I don’t hear him crying?” “Bring your precious baby out here right now. Let me see him with my own eyes, and I will gladly be your free nanny for life!” The slap stunned her. She froze for a few seconds, then lunged at me with her nails out. I quickly dodged back into my apartment and stuck my foot out, tripping her. As the memory of my own murder flooded my mind, a fresh wave of rage consumed me. I sat on her back, grabbed her hair, and started pulling. “You like to scream? You like to bang on my door? Let’s see what you’ve got now!” Pinned beneath me, Linda could only let out strangled shrieks. “Vera, you’re an animal! This is insane! I’m calling the police!” Her cries brought the neighbors running. They swarmed in, pulling us apart and calling for the building manager. I glared at Linda, still breathing heavily, my anger far from satisfied. By my calculation, I had only been reborn for about an hour. An hour ago, I had been murdered by this very woman. How was I supposed to stay calm? But as the others held me back, they all turned on me. “Vera, you were already in the wrong, and now you’re getting physical? You think you can bully a single mother just because she’s alone?” “I never realized we had such a vicious person living on our floor!” “I’ve already called management! If you keep this up, we’re calling the cops and letting them handle it!” 3 Freed from my grip, Linda’s arrogance returned. She gritted her teeth and slapped me twice across the face, the sound echoing so loudly in the hallway that all the motion-activated lights flickered on. “You bitch! You disturb my child’s sleep, and then you dare to hit me! This is what you get!” I struggled to fight back, but the neighbors held me tight. “Are you still trying to fight? Just calm down!” Linda taunted me, her insults growing viler by the second, while the other neighbors scolded me for my lack of public decency. One woman, holding a small child, looked at me with pure hatred. “You’re a grown woman! Have you no shame? You woke up every child on this floor! Are any of us supposed to get any sleep?” “Linda is a single mother, and her baby has a heart condition! Who can stand you making all this trouble?” I fought against their grip, shouting back, “How many times do I have to explain? I live alone! What bed am I shaking? Am I shaking it with a ghost?” “And another thing—she says I woke her baby. Has a single one of you ever actually seen her baby?” My words gave them pause. A flicker of doubt crossed their faces. But Linda quickly retorted, “I just fed my baby! He’s sleeping soundly in his room right now!” I laughed coldly. “A minute ago, you said I was shaking the bed and keeping him awake. Now you’re out here screaming your head off, and suddenly he can sleep through it?” Everyone froze. The mother holding her child muttered to herself, “My baby is a pretty deep sleeper, but her kid is supposed to be sensitive to noise. How did he not cry through all that commotion?” Just then, the building manager rushed over. Hearing the argument, he immediately stepped in. “Ms. Linda, the sound you’re hearing might be coming from the aging wooden structures in your own apartment.” “If it’s convenient, we can come in and check for you now, so it doesn’t disturb the baby’s rest.” Linda, who had been so aggressive just moments before, suddenly went silent. After a long pause, she said reluctantly, “Come back tomorrow. My baby is already asleep. You’ll just wake him up with all your banging around.” I wasn’t about to let her off that easily. “I think you’re just hiding something. I’ve lived here for months, and I have never once seen your child!” Linda grabbed my arm. “You keep saying my baby is dead. Fine. Let me ask you this: if my baby is sleeping peacefully in his room, what will you do then?” I didn’t hesitate. “If your baby is in there, I will move out of this complex immediately. I guarantee you won’t hear another peep from me!” Linda turned to the others. “You all heard her! She said it herself!” With that, she dragged me into her apartment. “Fine! I’ll let you see him with your own eyes!” The neighbors and I followed her inside. The moment we stepped through the door, we were hit by the strong smell of milk. The living room table was cluttered with baby formula and half-empty bottles. Tiny clothes hung on a drying rack on the balcony. We walked into the bedroom. A crib, a mobile, soft floor mats, and padded corner guards—it was a perfect nursery. For a moment, I started to doubt myself. Did Linda really have a baby? She yanked me over to the crib. “Take a good look! Isn’t my baby right there?” I peered into the crib and was struck dumb. Linda was gloating. “You all heard her! Vera is getting kicked out of this building!” After she finished, she glanced into the crib herself. And then, with a choked gasp, she collapsed to the floor. Because the crib was completely empty. 4 Linda scrambled back to her feet and started tearing the room apart, muttering frantically, “Where’s my baby? Baby, where did you go?” She searched every inch of the room, but there was no child. The mother from the hallway tried to comfort her. “Linda, think carefully. Did you maybe move the baby somewhere else? A one-year-old can’t climb out of a crib by himself.” At her words, something seemed to click in Linda’s mind. Her eyes lit up. “Right! Someone must have taken him just now!” She spun around and grabbed my shoulders. “Aha! I knew it! I was wondering where your lover was. He must have snuck in and run off with my baby while we were arguing!” “Vera, if you’ve done anything to my son, I’ll kill you!” She screamed for the manager to lock down the complex. Security guards and the neighbors who knew what was happening joined the search. For over half an hour, thirty or forty people scoured the property, but they found no trace of anyone suspicious. The manager tried to calm Linda down. “Don’t worry. If the child is still in the complex, we’ll find him. If not, we have to call the police.” Linda shook her head violently. “No! We can’t call the police! It will scare the baby! My baby has a congenital heart defect!” The manager frowned. “But this is serious. You have to tell your family. What about your husband?” Linda’s reaction was even more extreme. “No! I can’t tell him yet! The baby isn’t one year old! I wanted it to be a surprise!” Her words left everyone baffled. Everyone except me. I sensed something was deeply wrong. I spoke up, my voice firm. “Her baby is no longer in this complex. You could turn this place upside down and you still wouldn’t find him.” The manager’s face flushed with anger. “Did you really take her child? Do you have any idea that kidnapping is a serious crime?” A male neighbor, his face twisted in disgust, slapped me hard across the face. “You animal! This is all because Linda interrupted you and your lover, isn’t it? This is your revenge!” Hearing this, Linda lunged at me, grabbing my arms in a death grip. “You bitch! My baby is so small, and he has a heart condition! How could you be so evil?” “Tell me, where is my baby?!” I gritted my teeth. “I told you. Your baby is already dead.” A collective gasp went through the crowd. They all assumed I had killed the child. They spat insults at me, calling me a heartless monster, completely ignoring my attempts to explain. Finally, the manager said, “We have to call the police.” The police arrived quickly. The neighbor across the hall from Linda provided security footage from his doorway camera. The video showed the entire sequence of events, from Linda banging on my door until the moment her “baby” disappeared. No one had entered her apartment. Next, the building management pulled footage from all the main gates. No one was seen leaving the complex with a child. After a thorough investigation, the police found no evidence that Linda’s child had been taken. In fact, over the past month, the only person seen entering or leaving her apartment was Linda herself. There was never any sign of a baby. All eyes turned back to me. Because from the very beginning, I was the only one who had been saying that Linda’s child was already dead.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387864”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I saved a pregnant woman on the side of the road, but I was in a hurry for a blind date and had no time to take her to the hospital. So I called her husband’s number. “Hello? Dad-to-be? Your wife’s in my hands. She’s about to pop, and I don’t have time to wait around. I’m just going to cut the baby out myself. It’ll be better for everyone. Your call. And don’t forget to bring cash.” I glanced down. The pregnant woman, drenched in a cold sweat from the pain, watched me hang up with a look of pure terror. I never would have guessed that five minutes later, twenty private helicopters would land on the hospital lawn. I couldn’t help but marvel. Are families this extra these days? It’s just childbirth, not a full-scale military invasion. 1. The roar of the massive rotor blades felt like it was trying to tear my skull open. A hurricane of wind kicked up debris from the lawn, stinging my face. I squinted, my eyes fixed on the line of matte-black attack helicopters hovering in the air. Ropes dropped, and heavily armed men slid down with chilling efficiency. Anyone else would have thought they were filming a Hollywood blockbuster, or that some head of state had just been assassinated. But I knew. This whole spectacle was for me. Or more accurately, for the pregnant woman at my feet, who had just broken her water and was writhing in agony. Just five minutes ago, I’d done the craziest thing of my life. I’m a former surgeon, suspended from the hospital and desperate to appease my furious mother by going on a blind date. On my way there, I found this poor woman. The ambulance was stuck in rush-hour traffic on the interstate. She had acute placental abruption. Ten more minutes, and it would be two bodies instead of one. I didn’t have time to explain medical jargon to her family or waste precious seconds on pleasantries. To get the fastest response, you have to use the most extreme methods. So I snatched her phone, called the top contact labeled “Hubby,” and delivered a threat that could have landed me in prison. The effect was immediate. But it seemed I had provoked someone I really shouldn’t have. This wasn’t just any family. This was the devil himself. Dozens of men in black suits swarmed the area, forming a tight perimeter. The dark muzzles of their guns—though they tried to conceal them, I could smell the metallic tang of rust in the air—were vaguely pointed in my direction. The man leading them was built like a tower, his custom-tailored suit doing little to hide his formidable frame. His face, while criminally handsome, was dark enough to curdle milk. He strode toward me, his presence so commanding that the very air around us seemed to freeze. “Who’s the one who’s going to cut my wife open?” His voice was a low growl, laced with a bloodthirsty chill. I swallowed hard, but my hands didn’t stop moving. I was using a brand-new eyebrow razor—sterilized with an alcohol wipe—to cut away the fabric of the woman’s dress, performing emergency triage. “That would be me,” I said without looking up, my hands a blur of motion. “And tell your pilot to hold steady. The wind is kicking up too much dust. We don’t want the wound getting infected.” The man stopped in his tracks. He probably wasn’t used to kidnappers being concerned about their hostage’s risk of infection. He stood over me, his shadow swallowing me whole. “How much money do you want?” he asked coldly. “Or is it your life you’re after?” “I need gauze, hemostats, antibiotics, and a gurney on wheels that won’t get stuck in traffic. Now!” I finally looked up and shot him a glare. “Your wife is fully dilated, but the baby is in the wrong position. Keep wasting my time, and you can prepare for a funeral.” The man was stunned into silence. Just then, the woman on the ground found a sliver of strength and weakly grabbed his trouser leg. “Damien… Mr. Knight… She’s a doctor… She’s saving me…” Mr. Knight? My mind flashed to the one and only Damien Knight, the tycoon who controlled half the city’s economy and was rumored to have his hands in both legitimate and shady dealings. I was so screwed. I had just threatened to gut his wife. 2. The misunderstanding was cleared up faster than I expected, mainly because Damien Knight, while terrifying, wasn’t an idiot. With a single wave of his hand, the men who had been pointing guns at me transformed into the most professional team of paramedics, gently lifting the woman onto a waiting stretcher. An accompanying medical team rappelled down from one of the helicopters and immediately took over. I let out a sigh of relief, tucked the bloody eyebrow razor into my purse, and stood up, dusting off my pants. “Well, since the cavalry has arrived, I’ll be on my way.” I glanced at my watch, and my heart sank. Only ten minutes left until my blind date. The guy was a “premium catch” my mom had meticulously selected—an elite professional who’d worked on Wall Street, with a six-figure salary. If I was late, my mom would lecture me for a year straight. “Wait,” Damien called out. He had already regained his composure, looking every bit the untouchable CEO, though his eyes now held a flicker of curiosity as he looked at me. “What you said on the phone…” “A tactical threat,” I cut him off. “If I hadn’t scared the hell out of you, would you have deployed your helicopters? The ambulance is still crawling along the freeway.” Damien was silent for a moment, processing the logic. Then, he pulled a gold-embossed business card from his jacket and held it out to me. “Damien Knight. I owe you one.” I didn’t take it. My hands were covered in blood; I’d only smear it. “No need, Mr. Knight. Saving lives is instinct, even if I’m currently suspended.” I gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Instead of a favor, could you have one of your men give me a ride to The Sterling Cafe? I’m about to be late.” Damien raised an eyebrow. “A blind date?” “Obviously,” I said, gesturing to the designer tweed suit I’d worn for the occasion, which was now wrinkled and stained with blood. A ghost of a smirk played on his lips. “Get in. I’ll drive you.” It turns out, arriving at your blind date in a Rolls-Royce definitely makes a better impression than taking the subway. If only I didn’t smell faintly of blood. Damien drove himself, handling the car like a Formula 1 racer—impossibly fast, yet impeccably smooth. “You said you were suspended?” he asked suddenly. I watched the city blur past the window and grunted in affirmation. “Yeah. Pissed off the wrong people. Sometimes, in a hospital, saving a life is the wrong thing to do.” He didn’t press further. The car pulled up to the cafe right on time. “Thanks,” I said, hopping out without a backward glance. I heard the window roll down behind me. “If you’re in trouble, use that number.” I waved a hand over my shoulder and rushed inside. At that moment, I had no idea how much that promise was worth. Nor did I have any idea what kind of freak I was about to meet. 3. When I found table 18, the so-called “elite professional” was impatiently tapping his watch. He was decent-looking, I guess, but the shrewd, calculating glint in his eyes immediately put me on edge. I didn’t waste time with small talk and sat down. “Sorry, something came up on the way. I was delayed.” The man looked me up and down. His gaze lingered on my blood-stained sleeve and disheveled hair, his brow furrowing in disgust. “Alex, right?” he began, his tone dripping with annoyance. “You’re a full thirty seconds late.” I was speechless. Was this guy for real? “And what’s with your outfit?” he continued, pinching his nose with a napkin. “You smell… strange. I thought you were a doctor. Don’t you people care about hygiene?” I took a deep breath, fighting the urge to throw my glass of water in his face. “I had to save someone on the way here. Didn’t have time to change. You must be Kevin? The matchmaker said you’re in finance.” Kevin scoffed, puffing out his chest. “That’s right. Just back from Wall Street. We don’t need to talk salary; you wouldn’t understand the complex financial models anyway.” He picked up the menu but didn’t offer it to me, flipping through it himself. “Since we’re both here, let’s get straight to the point. I have very high standards for a partner.” “First, you’ll have to quit your job after we’re married. A doctor’s schedule is too demanding, and you won’t be able to manage the household. I need a full-time housewife to take care of me and our future children.” “Second, my mother will live with us. She’s had a hard life, coming from a small town. You’ll need to be respectful and never talk back to her.” “Third, I don’t like women who are frivolous with money. Your salary will be deposited into an account my mother controls. After all, I’m the finance expert. I’ll manage our assets.” “Fourth…” I listened, utterly stunned. He wasn’t looking for a wife; he was hiring an unpaid nanny and a baby-making machine. A machine that had to hand over its own paycheck, no less. “Kevin,” I interrupted his monologue. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I’m here for a blind date, not to apply for a position as your personal slave.” Kevin’s face darkened. “What kind of attitude is that, Alex? You’re a suspended doctor with a ruined reputation. I’m doing you a favor by even showing up. Do you really think you’re in any position to be picky?” My heart skipped a beat. How did he know I was suspended? That information was supposed to be internal to the hospital. No one on the outside knew. Unless… “Who told you?” I asked, my voice turning to ice. Kevin smirked. “It’s a small world. My cousin works at your hospital. Laura. She told me you were suspended for taking bribes from patients and causing a medical accident. Said you’ve been blacklisted from the entire industry.” Laura. The name hit me like a punch to the gut. My dear cousin. The one who stole my promotion, framed me for taking bribes, and ultimately got me kicked out of the hospital. It really was a small world. And it was full of my enemies. 4. “If you know why I was suspended, what are you doing here?” I sneered at him. “Not worried I might slip something into your drink if I’m in a bad mood?” Kevin’s face paled for a second, but his arrogance quickly returned. “Don’t try to scare me. Laura said you’re a total pushover. Marrying me would be the best thing that ever happened to you. I suggest you get smart and agree. With your reputation, you’ll never find another man.” As he spoke, he reached across the table to grab my hand. “Your reputation might be trash, but you’re not bad to look at. As long as you learn to behave…” CRACK! I slapped him across the face. The sound was crisp and loud, silencing the entire cafe. Kevin clutched his cheek, staring at me in disbelief. “You… you hit me?” “So what if I did?” I stood up, looming over him. “That was to teach you some respect. And you can go back and tell Laura that she shouldn’t assume her dirty little secrets are safe. I may be suspended, but I’m not dead yet.” I grabbed my purse and turned to leave. Kevin, seething with rage, jumped up and seized my arm. “You bitch! You think you can hit me and just walk away? Not a chance! You’re going to kneel and apologize right now, or I’ll make sure you can never work in this city again!” His grip was strong, and I couldn’t break free. People around us started to whisper and point, but no one moved to help. Just as I was preparing to use my self-defense training to introduce his groin to my knee, a cold voice cut through the air. “Make her kneel? Who the hell do you think you are?” The cafe door swung open. Two of Damien’s bodyguards strode in, plucked Kevin off me like he was a bag of garbage, and threw him to the floor. Following them was Damien Knight himself. He’d changed into a dark grey trench coat that made him look even taller and more imposing. He didn’t even glance at the whimpering man on the ground, walking straight to me and frowning at the red marks on my wrist. “Finished here?” I nodded, stunned. “Mr. Knight? What are you doing here?” “Just passing by,” Damien said coolly, his gaze finally shifting to Kevin. “This is your blind date? You have terrible taste.” Kevin, dazed from the fall, scrambled to his feet, ready to curse them out. But when he saw Damien’s face, the color drained from his. “M-Mr. Knight?” As someone in finance, he of course recognized the most powerful man in the industry. Damien ignored him, turning back to me. “Do you need me to take out the trash for you?” I looked at Kevin’s pathetic, trembling form and suddenly felt nothing but boredom. “No, thanks. Not worth getting my hands dirty.” I straightened my clothes. “He’s not worth it.” Damien nodded and gave a slight flick of his wrist. The bodyguards understood immediately, grabbing Kevin and dragging him out. “Mr. Knight! Please, I’m sorry! I didn’t know she was with you…” Kevin’s desperate cries faded into the distance. The cafe was deathly silent. I sighed and looked at Damien. “Mr. Knight, isn’t this a bit much? You scared off my blind date. My mother is going to kill me.” The corner of Damien’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Perfect. I happen to be in need of a private physician. Room and board included, with a salary triple what you used to make. Interested?” I was speechless. Wasn’t this plot moving a little too fast? “Besides,” he paused, his gaze deepening, “my wife is awake. She wants to meet the woman who threatened to cut her open to save her life.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387863”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 The day my father signed over 30% of the company to the golden boy he raised instead of me, the woman I’d loved for ten years dumped me. “Omid,” Kiki said, sitting across from me in the cafe booth. “This is it for us.” A tremor ran through my fingertips. “Why?” “I’ve been waiting for five years,” she said, her eyes welling up. “You told me that once you got your stake in the family business, we could finally buy a place in the city, get married. And now? Where’s the equity, Omid?” I started to explain, but she cut me off. “In your parents’ eyes, you, their real son, are worth less than the one they adopted. I’m thirty, Omid. I don’t have time to be part of your family’s psychodrama anymore.” She grabbed her coat and walked away without a backward glance. My phone screen lit up. It was a picture from my mother, a photo of Leo at the equity signing ceremony. The voice message that followed was bubbling with joy. “Leo is officially a shareholder! We can finally relax.” The look of smug satisfaction on Leo’s face in the photo made me laugh until tears streamed down my face. I left the “Shaw Family” group chat and blocked every last one of them. Since you chose him, so be it. Your precious reputation, your web of obligations… they mean nothing to me now. I just wonder if you’ll remember the son you threw away when your darling boy, the one you poured everything into, burns your entire world to the ground. Three days later, an unfamiliar number buzzed relentlessly. “Omid, how could you just block your parents? That’s so childish!” It was my Aunt Carol, my mother’s younger sister. “Is there something you need?” My voice was flat. “Your mother is sick with worry! Her heart is acting up! She couldn’t reach you, so she had to call me.” The accusations rained down on me like hail. “You need to unblock them right now and call your mother.” “We have nothing to say to each other,” I bit out. “You…” Aunt Carol was speechless for a moment, then her tone turned sour. “Is this really just because they gave the shares to Leo? He grew up in the company, he knows the business…” “Knows the business?” I let out a cold laugh. “Aunt Carol, is giving the adopted son a million dollars’ worth of company stock what you call ‘knowing the business’? While I, the biological son, get nothing?” Silence on the other end. “Last month, I found a condo in Queens I wanted to buy. A million bucks. The down payment was three hundred thousand. I was a hundred and fifty grand short.” “I begged them to lend me the money for the down payment. I promised to pay it all back, with interest. Do you know what they said?” My aunt said nothing. I scoffed. “My father told me a man needs to stand on his own two feet, that it wasn’t their obligation. My mother told me New York was too expensive and asked why I didn’t just move back home.” The line was dead quiet. “And then,” my voice trembled with a rage I couldn’t contain, “they turned around and handed a million-dollar stake in the company to Leo. He’s twenty-five, an art major making eight grand a month who does nothing but shop and party. My mother said he needed a foothold in the company.” “Well…” “Aunt Carol, I’m not jealous of Leo. I just want to know one thing: am I their son or not? I’m out here killing myself trying to build a life, and they tell me to do it on my own. But the spoiled brat who only knows how to spend their money? They couldn’t wait to hand him the keys to the kingdom.” “Omid, your parents were just thinking about the company’s future…” “The company?” I cut her off. “They didn’t even find me until I was twenty-two. Haven’t they done enough to ‘compensate’ him in the last eight years? Leo’s designer clothes, his tuition to study abroad—the family paid for all of it. And now that he wants to play businessman, they’re willing to give him a core stake in the company, all for the sake of their reputation as ‘generous, loyal’ people?” Aunt Carol sighed. “Your parents are from a different generation. They feel a responsibility to the son they raised.” “And what about their responsibility to their actual son?” I shot back. “I’m thirty years old. A five-year relationship just ended because of this. Aunt Carol, you tell me. What am I supposed to do?” “Kiki… broke up with you?” she asked, surprised. “The day after my mother sent me that picture.” My laugh was bitter. “She said she couldn’t marry a man who meant nothing to his own parents.” My aunt was completely silent. “They want to be saints. Fine. I’ll let them,” I said. “But from this day forward, they can consider me dead. If they get sick, if they need anything, they can go to their precious investment. The one they bought for a million dollars.” “Omid, don’t say things you don’t mean…” I hung up. The world was finally quiet. I opened my laptop and started searching for cheap apartments on the outskirts of the city. The Bronx, Jersey City… I didn’t care how far or how rundown it was, as long as I could stay in this city. That three-hundred-thousand-dollar down payment? I’d earn it myself. Without anyone’s help. A week later, I was working late when an unknown number called. “Hello?” “Omid. It’s me.” It was my father. His voice sounded exhausted. I said nothing. “You’re not even going to answer my calls now?” “What do you want?” “Your mother’s in the hospital. High blood pressure.” My heart sank, but a layer of ice quickly formed over it. “Is it serious?” “She needs to be kept for observation.” He paused. “Take a few days off and come home.” “I’m busy. I can’t get away.” “Work is more important than your mother?” he demanded, his voice rising. “Yes,” I answered calmly. “Since I can’t rely on my mother, work is all I have left to rely on.” I could hear his heavy, ragged breathing on the other end. “Omid, do you think you’re so tough now? You’d throw away your own parents over a little stock?” “Dad, it wasn’t ‘a little stock.’ It was a million dollars,” I corrected him. “It was our chance at a life in this city, a chance you personally destroyed.” “It’s our company! We can give it to whoever we want!” he roared. “You’re right,” I agreed. “And my time and energy belong to me. Right now, I need to give them to my job.” “You…” He was choking on his anger. “Mom’s in the hospital, but you’re there, aren’t you? And you have your beloved Leo. He just came into a million dollars. Shouldn’t he be the one to step up and play the devoted son?” “You ungrateful bastard!” “Dad, let’s do the math,” I cut him off. “I make twelve grand a month. If I take time off, I lose my salary plus my attendance bonus. That’s about two thousand dollars down the drain. The round-trip train ticket is another thousand. And the cost of my time is even higher. This trip would cost me at least ten grand.” He was silent, his breathing growing heavier. “You still have 70% of the company, don’t you? Can’t you afford her medical bills?” He gasped. “How did you know there was 70% left?” That question shattered the last shred of warmth I had for him. “So it’s true. You did keep 70%,” I said, my laugh ice-cold. “Last week, Aunt Carol told me you practically bankrupted yourselves giving Leo his shares, that you had to bribe the board. I almost believed her.” They weren’t stupid. They’d kept a safety net for themselves. A safety net that never included me. “One hundred percent of the company,” I said, spelling it out. “You gave 30% to your adopted son and kept 70% for yourselves. But you wouldn’t even lend your biological son a hundred and fifty grand.” I paused. “Dad, what are your hearts made of?” A long, heavy silence. “Omid…” he started, trying to explain. “Don’t,” I interrupted. “You have the money for Mom’s treatment. You have the time to take care of her. And so does Leo. It doesn’t matter whether I come back or not.” “You’re really not coming?” He sounded incredulous. “No,” I said. “Take care.” I hung up and blocked his number. The fluorescent lights of the office made my face look ghostly pale. I slumped over my desk, my shoulders shaking uncontrollably. So it was true. In their eyes, I was worthless. They would rather give their fortune to a stranger than spare a dime for me. Fine. This way, the break was cleaner. I had nothing to feel guilty about. A month later, a party was held at a lavish hotel back home to celebrate Leo’s appointment as Vice President. Photos and videos flooded the family group chat. Even though I’d left, a “well-meaning” cousin sent them to me privately. “Omid, look how amazing your brother is doing! Your parents must be so proud!” “How could you not come back for something this important?” I deleted everything without a flicker of emotion. The next day, my grandmother called. “Omid, honey. Are you still angry?” “Grandma,” I said, my voice softening. “You didn’t come to Leo’s party yesterday. Your parents lost a lot of face,” she sighed. “All the relatives were asking about you. They had to tell everyone you were busy with a big project.” “I am busy.” “I heard about you and Kiki…” “Yeah.” “Such a shame,” she sighed again. “Your parents really messed this one up. Ignoring their own son just to put on a show for everyone else.” The phrase “messed this one up” made my eyes burn. It was the first time since this whole nightmare began that a family member had taken my side. “I’m okay, Grandma.” “Oh, you…” she said. “Your father is obsessed with his image. He’s always felt like he owed Leo something. Giving him the shares was his way of paying a debt and showing off at the same time.” “So he traded my happiness for his pride?” “He wasn’t thinking clearly,” she said. “I bet your mother and Leo’s biological mother put him up to it.” “The result is the same.” “They got drunk last night, bragging about how the whole family respects them now.” Her tone was dismissive. “I told them off. I said, ‘Your own house is falling apart, and you’re busy fixing someone else’s roof!’” I listened quietly. “Don’t hold a grudge, honey. You can always make more money, but when family is gone, they’re gone for good.” “I’m not holding a grudge,” I said. “I just see things clearly now.” “What do you see?” “That you can’t rely on anyone but yourself,” I said. “I’ll buy my own house. I’ll build my own life. They have their golden boy to take care of them in their old age. That’s great.” “Oh, you stubborn child…” “Don’t worry, Grandma. I’m doing fine,” I said. “When I buy my place, you’ll be the first guest.” “Okay, honey. Okay,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. After we hung up, I stared out the window. The New York skyline was a glittering tapestry of dreams, but I knew that from now on, I would be walking this path alone. I opened my laptop and sent a proposal to my boss with a note attached: “If any overseas projects in the Middle East or Africa open up, please consider me first. I’m not afraid of hard work. I want the highest possible hazard pay.” He replied instantly: “Omid, are you crazy?” I typed back: “Not crazy. Just need to make money.” To scrape together the down payment, I put myself through hell. I moved out of my $2,500-a-month apartment in Queens and into a tiny, rundown studio in the Bronx that was a twenty-minute bike ride from the nearest subway station. The rent dropped to $1,500. My commute went from ninety minutes to three hours each way. I was up at 5:30 AM and home after 10:00 PM. I cut out every non-essential expense. Coffee, dinners with friends, movies, new clothes—all gone. Breakfast was two stale bagels. Lunch was the cheapest special in the cafeteria. Dinner was whatever discounted instant meal I could find at the grocery store. I took on a manic amount of freelance work. On weekends and late nights, I wrote proposals and reports for small companies, making a few thousand dollars per project. It was exhausting, but the money was fast. In three months, I lost twenty pounds. My eyes were sunken, my skin sallow. A coworker joked that I looked like I’d been abducted by aliens. Only I knew the truth: I was trading my life force for cash. The number in my bank account grew slowly but steadily. $80,000, $85,000, $92,000… Every thousand dollars was a step closer to my goal. During this time, my parents tried to reach me through relatives. My aunt: “Your mother cries every day, thinking about you.” My reply: “A shame she can’t call me, then.” My uncle: “Your dad’s blood pressure is through the roof. Are you trying to kill them?” My reply: “They have 70% of a company and a million-dollar son. They’ll be fine.” Even Leo called, his voice dripping with false sincerity and a hint of gloating. “Hey, bro. Heard you were having a tough time. Need any help? Now that I’m VP, I’ve got cash to spare.” “No, thanks.” “Don’t blame Mom and Dad. They just love me a little more, you know? How about I send you five hundred a month for living expenses?” He said it like he was offering a handout to a beggar. I laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. “Leo, how does that million-dollar stake feel in your hands? Enjoying the VP title? Does it feel good having everyone kiss your ass?” He was stunned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Stay out of my life,” I said. “And make sure you use that stock to take care of Mom and Dad in their old age. After all, you’re their successful investment.” I hung up and blocked his number. At the end-of-year company gala, I was named Salesman of the Year for my outstanding performance. The prize was a $50,000 bonus. My boss handed me the award and asked me to say a few words. Standing in front of hundreds of colleagues, my mind was a blank. “Thank you to the company, thank you to my managers…” I recited the clichés, my mind racing. Fifty grand, plus my savings and freelance income… that’s almost two hundred and fifty thousand. Only fifty thousand to go. Then, my eyes fell on someone in the audience. Kiki. She’d been invited as a former employee. She was dressed in a sharp power suit, laughing with the man next to her. Our eyes met for a split second. A flash of surprise and something more complicated flickered across her face. I gave her a curt nod and looked away. My heart, a placid lake. After the gala, I skipped the after-party and went home alone. My phone rang. It was Kiki. “Omid. Congratulations.” “Thanks.” “You’ve… lost a lot of weight.” “I’m fine.” “I heard about what happened with your family,” she said. “And I heard how hard you’ve been working.” “Yeah.” After a moment of silence, she said, “Could we… maybe start over?” I stopped on the sidewalk and looked at my reflection in a store window. Thin, exhausted, but my eyes were like steel. “Kiki,” I said calmly. “We can’t go back.” “Why not? Everything you were doing was for us, for our home. You’re almost there with the down payment…” “It was,” I cut her off. “But now, I’m doing this for me.” She was silent. “I wish you the best,” I said, and hung up. That night, I dreamed of college. Kiki and I were walking across the campus green. She asked me where I wanted to settle down. New York, I’d said. I want to give you a home here. I woke up to a cold, damp pillow. I opened my banking app and stared at the balance: $240,000. Almost there. I was almost there. I worked through the holidays, earning triple pay. On New Year’s Eve, I sat alone in the empty office, eating instant noodles while reviewing project data. Outside, fireworks exploded over the city, celebrating other people’s reunions. My phone buzzed. It was a video from my grandmother. In the video, she was at the head of the dinner table, surrounded by my parents, Leo’s biological mother Brenda, and Leo and his new wife. “Omid, Happy New Year! Make sure you’re eating well in New York!” Grandma shouted. My parents’ expressions were stiff. My mother’s eyes were red; my father’s face was a stony mask. Leo raised his glass toward the camera, his face flushed with wine. “Happy New Year, bro! Hope you get rich and find a new girl soon!” In the background, I could hear Brenda’s shrill voice. “Why would you say that? You’ll just make him feel worse! Our Leo is just so much more fortunate!” The video cut off. I finished my noodle soup and shut off my phone, my face impassive. Three days later, my aunt called. “You’re really not coming home? Your mom barely touched her food on New Year’s. She just cried the whole time.” “Oh.” “And your dad got drunk and called you an ungrateful wolf.” “He can say what he wants.” “You should see Leo now! He’s the king of the castle!” my aunt said, her voice giddy. “Your parents are talking about throwing another party to celebrate his success!” “Congratulations.” “Brenda has been dropping hints that they should just give the other 70% to Leo too, let him run the whole show.” My heart seized. “Did they agree?” “Your mom is hesitant, but your dad hasn’t said no. Brenda is in their ear every day, saying Leo is so much more capable than you, that he was groomed for this…” My aunt paused. “If you don’t come back soon, that 70% is really gone for good.” My knuckles turned white from gripping the phone. “I understand.” I hung up and immediately booked a train ticket. Not to fight for the shares. But to sever the ties for good. I arrived home at three in the afternoon to a living room full of people. My parents, Brenda, Leo and his wife, and a few gossipy neighbors were all there, deep in a lively discussion about the company’s future. “Don’t you worry, the company will be in great hands with Leo!” Brenda was saying, beaming at Leo’s in-laws. “And besides, Omid is their only son. Everything they have will be Leo’s one day anyway!” Leo’s mother-in-law smiled graciously. “You’re too kind!” My father sat in his armchair like a king, smoking a cigarette with a proud look on his face. My mother sat beside him, forcing a smile, her eyes darting nervously. I pushed the door open and walked in. The laughter died instantly. Everyone froze, staring at me as if I were a ghost. “Omid? What are you…” my mother stammered, jumping to her feet. My father’s face darkened. I ignored them, walking to the center of the room and scanning the crowd. “I hear you’re planning to give the remaining 70% of the company to Leo,” I said, getting straight to the point. Dead silence. Brenda’s face contorted. “Omid, don’t say things like that. It’s hurtful. We were just talking…” “Talking?” I looked at my father. “Dad, have you made a decision? Is he getting it or not?” My father, furious and embarrassed, crushed his cigarette in the ashtray. “This is Shaw family business. It’s none of your concern!” “Isn’t it?” I sneered. “When you gave him the first 30%, you said the rest was your retirement fund. Now you’re going to give that away too?” “I…” He was at a loss for words. “Big brother,” Brenda said, trying to smooth things over. “Omid is just worried about you. But Leo is managing the company so well! We’ll take care of you in your old age, don’t you worry!” She shot Leo a look. Leo took the cue and stood up. “Don’t worry, big brother. I’ll take care of Dad and Mom!” “You’ll take care of them?” I laughed. “With the money my parents gave you?” Leo’s face turned bright red. “Omid! Watch your mouth!” my father yelled, slamming his hand on the table. “Am I wrong?” I met his gaze without flinching. “What does an art major know about running a business? The only reason the company is still afloat is because of loyal clients and longtime employees. The second he runs it into the ground—and he will—you’ll be lucky if he doesn’t come begging you for more money. Take care of you? Dad, have you lost your mind?” “You insolent brat!” My father raised his hand to strike me. I didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. “Go ahead,” I stared at him. “You hit me, and whatever is left between us is officially over.” His hand froze in mid-air, then fell limply to his side. My mother started sobbing. “Please, don’t upset your father. His health isn’t good…” “I’m upsetting him?” I turned to her. “Mom, I’m asking you one last time. What are you going to do with the other 70%?” She just stammered and cried. “I’ll tell you what they’re going to do!” Brenda shrieked. “The shares should go to Leo! He’s earned them, running this company for the family! What have you done? You couldn’t even keep your own girlfriend!” “Shut up,” I snarled. The venom in my voice made her flinch. I took a deep breath, reached into my bag, and pulled out two things, slapping them down on the coffee table. The first was a bank statement, showing a balance of $240,000. The second was a document titled “Declaration of Familial Severance.” “First,” I said, “this is the money I earned through my own blood and sweat. It’s enough for a down payment on a small place. I did it without you, and I will never ask you for anything again.” “Second,” I held up the document for everyone to see. “Let’s get this straight, here and now, in front of everyone. You can give that 70% to whoever you want. I don’t want a single penny. But you sign this document, and from this day on, we are strangers. Your health, your life, your death—they have nothing to do with me. When I get married, when I have children, you will not be notified.” The room was utterly silent. My father stared at the document, his face ashen. My mother collapsed into a heap, sobbing. “Dad. Mom,” my voice was terrifyingly cold. “You wanted your reputation. You wanted to be ‘loyal.’ You wanted an adopted son who could run your company. I’m giving you what you want.” “All I want is my own life.” I placed a pen on top of the agreement. “Sign it.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387862”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When we graduated college, Julian and I had one last hookup—a breakup fling. Afterward, he skillfully handed me a cigarette, teasing, “In the future, the woman I marry definitely won’t be the type to smoke after sex.” My throat tightened. I asked him why. He exhaled a cloud of smoke and smiled. “Chloe, I like them innocent.” I fell silent. After that night, I cut off all contact. Five years later, he became my new CEO. To avoid the awkwardness, I proactively handed in my resignation, only to be cornered by him in his office. “It’s been five years,” he murmured, pressing me against the desk. “One more time for old times’ sake?” I lowered my eyes, my voice steady. “No thanks. I have to pick up my kid from school.” Chapter 1 The air in the office instantly solidified. Julian froze. I tried to push myself off his lap, but his grip on my waist tightened, pinning me in place. The burning heat in his eyes cooled rapidly, replaced by a crack in his usually composed mask. He gritted his teeth. “How old is the child?” I stayed silent for a moment before whispering, “Three.” Three years old. Not four. And we had been broken up for five years. The math didn’t add up. This child had nothing to do with him. Clearly, Julian realized this too. I tried to stand up again. This time, the large hand around my waist let go. As I reached the door, his voice cut through the silence, laced with suspicion. “I recall your HR file says ‘Single.’” I paused, steadied my breathing, and turned back with a calm expression. “We just got the marriage license recently.” “Just got the license, but the kid is three?” I nodded, my face a mask of坦 honesty. “Yes. We had the baby out of wedlock.” Julian didn’t respond. His sharp gaze swept over the cheap ring on my finger, and he let out a scoff of disbelief. I didn’t feel embarrassed. I held up my hand, displaying the ring proudly, almost shoving it in his face. Sensing his temper about to flair, I quickly made my escape. Back home that night, I let out a heavy sigh. Sometimes, a lie is the most efficient way to solve a messy problem. I bought the ring yesterday at a dollar store. Cheap, effective. I figured it was enough to kill whatever lingering nostalgia Julian might have had for me. Sure enough, my resignation was approved the very next day. The HR director personally came to notify me. “Hand over your projects within the week, and you’re free to go.” Normally, resignation takes two weeks to a month. Mine took days. It was obvious whose order this was. I nodded and began transferring my files to the intern. The new intern, Bella, was sweet and enthusiastic. Or at least, she was when I was buying her coffee and breakfast. Near the end of the day, Bella looked at me with puppy dog eyes. “Chloe, can I leave a little early? My boyfriend is taking me out to dinner.” I hesitated. It wasn’t that I wanted to be mean, but I also needed to leave early to pick up my daughter. Seeing my silence, she put her hands together in a pleading gesture. I laughed, relenting. “Fine, go ahead.” She thanked me profusely and started packing. “My boyfriend is coming up to get me.” “He works in the building?” I asked, surprised. Bella looked mysterious. “No, he’s…” Before she could finish, a deep, magnetic voice interrupted from the doorway. “Ready to go?” Chapter 2 My body went rigid. If it were any other voice, I might have looked up out of curiosity. But this voice… it had haunted my nightmares for the past five years. In the dark nights where I relied on melatonin to sleep, Julian’s voice would echo in my mind. “Chloe, you’re too good. I’m going to corrupt you.” “Chloe, try it. Girls who smoke look cool. I want to see a different side of you.” Under his coaxing, I fell. I learned. Starting sophomore year, I went from one of Julian’s many admirers to his hookup buddy. Eventually, I beat out the sorority queens and became his girlfriend for three years. The day he accepted my confession, the weather was terrible. The wind was howling. He had just dropped off a senior girl back at her dorm. His car was idling downstairs. His hand, elegant and long-fingered, hung out the window, holding a cigarette. I wrapped my coat tighter, went downstairs, and knocked on his window. relying on the tiny bit of special treatment he showed me, I confessed. In that moment, the wind seemed to stop. It felt like a movie paused on a single frame. I waited for his answer. Julian turned to look at me, brought the cigarette to his lips, his dark eyes bottomless yet fatally attractive. Like I was possessed, I leaned in and took the cigarette from his mouth with my own. My lips brushed his fingers. He didn’t pull away. His playful expression shifted to acquiescence. He only said one thing: “The good girl isn’t so good anymore.” At the time, I was drowning in love. I didn’t understand the underlying meaning of those words. It wasn’t until graduation day, the last time we went to a hotel, the last time we met. After the passion subsided, he skillfully handed me a cigarette. “In the future, the woman I marry definitely won’t be the type to smoke after sex.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and asked him why. Julian smiled, smoke swirling around his fingers. His tone was serious. “Chloe, I like them innocent.” Tears spun in my eyes, and I forgot how to breathe. Innocent. He said he liked them innocent. But once, he complained that I was too pure, too well-behaved, that he didn’t know where to start. Years later, I finally understood. Because I wasn’t “good” anymore, I was automatically categorized into the “fun for now, but not for keeps” bin. Chapter 3 I pulled myself out of the memory, my face returning to a neutral mask. Bella turned excitedly, grabbing her bag and trotting over to him. Then she stopped and looked back at me. “Chloe, didn’t you say you had to pick up your daughter? We can give you a ride.” Before I could refuse, Julian walked over, grabbed my bag from the desk, and turned toward the elevators without a word. He didn’t give me a chance to say no. The atmosphere in the car was suffocating. Only Bella chirped occasionally. Julian tapped the steering wheel lazily, giving her short answers, but his gaze kept flicking to me in the rearview mirror. Maybe sensing the awkwardness, Bella tried to make conversation. “Chloe, when you work late, does your husband usually pick up the kid?” Hearing the word “husband,” I froze for a split second. I shook my head, making up an excuse. “He works out of town. He’s not back often.” She nodded, then her eyes landed on the ring I bought at the dollar store. “Is that your wedding ring? It looks a bit… tarnished.” “It looks like one of those cheap ones you get online for ten bucks.” “Oh! I didn’t mean it like that, please don’t misunderstand.” Bella realized she had been rude and turned to apologize. But I caught the flicker of disdain in her eyes, a sense of superiority. Right. Compared to her Hermès, my canvas tote was trash. Before I could speak, a laugh cut through the air. Julian reached over and patted her head, smiling dotingly. “It’s fine. You didn’t say anything wrong. No need to apologize.” Then, he looked at me through the mirror. It sounded like casual chatter, but I knew it was meant for me. “Poor people care too much about face. If you’re too blunt, Bella, you might get on people’s bad side at work.” He was talking to Bella, but the words were a slap to my face. A seemingly careless comment, defending her while warning me. I pretended not to hear and looked out the window. In the three years I was with Julian, I heard similar things countless times. They said I wasn’t good enough for him. I admit, the gap between us was massive. My family wasn’t poor, just middle class. But the Sterling family was old money—wealth and power combined. When we first got together, Julian told me clearly: “Chloe, you can be my girlfriend, but you’ll never be my wife.” I knew. I always knew. I tried to guard my heart, never crossing the line. But when we were in love, I wavered. I thought, maybe if I try hard enough. Maybe if I fight for it. What if I succeeded? So, near graduation, I asked him to meet. He picked me up early. The car stopped in a quiet corner of the campus. The driver got out to give us privacy. I sat in the passenger seat, the dappled sunlight through the trees stinging my eyes. An hour later, Julian leaned back, his white shirt slightly damp with sweat. The window was half open, cold wind rushing in, dispersing his breath. I looked at him and finally asked the question. “Julian, do you love me?” More than asking if he would marry me, I just wanted to know if he had ever loved me. He looked at me, the playfulness in his eyes replaced by a rare seriousness. “We’re graduating soon.” In that instant, I understood. We’re graduating, so it’s time to break up. Chapter 4 The car stopped in front of the kindergarten. I pushed the door open. My daughter, standing at the gate holding her teacher’s hand, waved happily when she saw me. I rushed over, thanked the teacher, and looked down at my little girl. “Sorry, Mommy is late today.” “Wait long?” My daughter looked up and pointed a small finger. “Was it because of that uncle?” I was startled and looked back. Julian was standing behind me. His nonchalant expression was gone, replaced by intensity. And… a trace of hidden joy? I froze, instinctively tightening my grip on my daughter’s hand. He walked over, slowly squatting down in front of her, studying her cute face. Julian’s usually cold voice softened. “How old are you? What’s your name?” I didn’t stop him. We were together for three years; I knew him well enough. If he didn’t see it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t believe my lie. I looked at my daughter tenderly and gave her hand a squeeze—our secret signal. My smart girl understood immediately. “I’m Lily. I’m three years old.” Exhale. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Julian looked at the girl who shared 70% of his features. The joy of fatherhood didn’t even have time to fully form before her words dumped a bucket of ice water on him. The words caught in his throat. Lily was born premature, and because I was malnourished during the pregnancy, she was smaller than her peers. For a toddler, it’s hard to tell the difference between three and four. After breaking up with Julian, I blocked him on everything. He never tried to reach out. We were like two intersecting lines—after a brief entanglement, we drifted further apart. Living in the same city for five years, I had fantasized about running into him at a coffee shop or a red light. But it never happened. We operated in different orbits. Even under the same sky, we were worlds apart. Back home that night, Lily tugged at my shirt, looking confused. “Mommy, I’m four. Why did we lie?” Why indeed? Maybe to avoid trouble. Shortly after the last time I saw him, I found out I was pregnant. I thought about abortion. But lying on the operating table, I hesitated. I admit, I was unwilling to let go. I thought, even if we couldn’t be together, having a child that connected us would be enough. So I gave birth alone. But the moment I held that tiny pink bundle, my mindset shifted. I was glad I kept her. She was my child. She didn’t belong to anyone else. She deserved to see the world. … After putting Lily to bed, I got a call from HR notifying me not to come in tomorrow. I frowned. “Whose order is this?” The person on the other end hesitated and didn’t answer. I didn’t press. Leaving a day early or late made no difference to me.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387861”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After our family business went bankrupt, my sister was diagnosed with ALS. I dropped out of college, shouldering the crushing debt and the weight of my sister’s fragile life. For five years, I was beaten by debt collectors until I vomited blood, but I wouldn’t spend a dime on painkillers. I worked five jobs a day, passing out from exhaustion, but I never dared to take a sick day. Every penny went to keeping my sister alive. Until one night, while delivering drinks at a high-end club, I saw her. My sister, who was supposed to be in a wheelchair waiting for me at home, was standing there in a designer gown, chatting effortlessly with her friends. “You’ve been faking ALS for five years, Maya,” her friend laughed. “Liam has worked himself to the bone for you. Isn’t this punishment enough?” My sister scoffed. “Almost. If Liam hadn’t been so selfish and yelled at Julian, hurting his feelings, I wouldn’t have had to fake bankruptcy and a terminal illness to teach him a lesson.” “Julian has been enjoying himself abroad for five years. He’s finally in a better mood and agreed to forgive Liam. I’ll find the right time to stage a ‘miraculous recovery.’ Then Liam can have his life back. Consider it atonement for his selfishness.” Her friend hesitated. “ALS is incurable. Will Liam believe it?” My sister smiled with supreme confidence. “That idiot believes every word I say.” “He needed to learn that Julian, as the adopted son, needs more security. As the older brother, Liam should always yield. I did this for his own good. I’ll make it up to him later.” I lowered my head, tears falling silently. But Maya, we don’t have a “later.” Your terminal illness was fake. But mine is real. Chapter 1 The cold draft in the hallway cut through me. I stood frozen, a puppet with its strings cut. I was enduring the agony of five years of faith shattering into dust. Each revelation was a blade, carving out pieces of my soul. Maya’s friend, Sarah, sighed. “You’re ruthless. That’s your own brother. A genius at Columbia, and he dropped out just like that. He’s barely twenty, but he looks like an old man. Just a few days ago, he was short fifty bucks for your medicine and begged me for it.” Maya’s face darkened instantly. “Did you give it to him?” Sarah shook her head helplessly. “You gave strict orders. Would I dare?” “The kid knelt outside my door all afternoon. He fainted from low blood sugar, but I didn’t call an ambulance. He woke up and crawled away.” What Sarah didn’t say was that I had been desperate that day. Maya had been off her imported medication for a week. Without it, she would get worse. I had exhausted every option. Sarah had looked at me like I was a ghost and chased me away in a panic. It turned out she didn’t want to refuse me. She had to. Maya scoffed coldly. “Listen, everyone. Until I bring Julian back, no one helps Liam. He can kneel, beg, or die in front of you—ignore him. Julian is sensitive and prone to depression. I sent him abroad for five years to heal. If Liam’s punishment ends a day early, Julian might get upset again. Anyone who upsets my precious brother will answer to me.” Everyone looked at each other, the absurdity hanging in the air. Someone awkwardly ventured, “Maya, aren’t you afraid Liam will find out and leave you?” Maya burst out laughing. “Are you kidding? We’re blood. Even if you held a knife to his throat, he wouldn’t leave me. Besides, Julian suffered because he’s not blood-related. It’s only right I treat him better.” “But remember, if word of this gets to Liam, don’t blame me for cutting ties.” I leaned against the wall, my limbs numb. So, the five years I staked my life on were just a worthless joke. My life, my freedom, even my health—all sacrificed. Just because Julian felt “wronged.” It was all “trivial” to my sister. I wanted to laugh, but tears fell like broken beads. A phone rang in the private room, and footsteps approached the door. I turned to flee but collided with the manager rushing over. The bottle of vintage wine in my hand, worth thousands, shattered on the floor. The manager’s face turned black. He slapped me to the ground. Maya swept past us. Julian lunged forward and hugged her. “Why didn’t you let me pick you up? Are you tired? I booked a spa team for you at home.” Julian beamed. “I missed you, sis! I wanted to surprise you!” I knelt less than a meter away, mask on, daring not to move or speak. My red eyes stung from the glare of the diamonds on Julian’s watch. One diamond could buy a year’s supply of medicine for the sister I thought was dying. The manager hissed, “Ms. Sterling, I am so sorry this clumsy idiot disturbed your reunion. I’ll have more wine sent up immediately.” Chapter 2 Black high heels stopped in front of me. The manager, terrified of her temper, grabbed my arm and twisted it hard. “Ms. Sterling, this trash has no eyes. Can’t even hold a bottle.” The pain was nothing compared to the broken ribs from the debt collectors. But I shrunk back, feeling my insides twist into knots. Maya frowned impatiently. “Enough.” She pointed at me. “Since you broke it, pick up every shard by hand. If my brother steps on one piece, I’ll make you swallow it.” The hallway had thick, soundproof carpet. The shards were embedded deep. I crawled on my knees, feeling for the glass with my palms. Julian squinted at my back, then grabbed Maya’s arm, whining. “Sis, I’m tired. Let’s go, it’s dangerous here.” The black heels stepped onto the back of my hand, grinding down. Then she walked away, indifferent. I knelt there, staring at the glass embedded in my palm. I cried until I laughed. The manager was horrified. “What’s wrong with you? Why is your nose bleeding?” I staggered to my feet, wiping my face with my sleeve. “Maybe I’m dying.” I didn’t wait for his reaction. I let the blood drip all the way out of the club. When I pushed open the door to our rental, a crash came from the kitchen. Maya was struggling to get up from her overturned wheelchair. Seeing me, she flushed with embarrassment, like a child caught in the act. “Liam, I just wanted to make you some food…” “I’m useless! I’m just a burden!” Her speech was slurred, drool mixing with tears. She played the part of the paralyzed, helpless invalid perfectly. I suddenly remembered that before her “diagnosis,” Maya had severe OCD. She washed her hands twenty times a day. She couldn’t stand a speck of dust. Yet for Julian, she endured this filthy, squalid life for five years. For five years, I was trapped in her performance, living as a complete clown. I wanted to cut open her chest and see if there was a heart inside or just a stone. Seeing my silence, Maya hung her head. “Liam, do you hate me now?” “I’m just dragging you down. Leave me. Let me rot.” She sat amidst the mess, gripping the wheelchair armrest until her knuckles turned white, pretending she couldn’t get up. I walked over silently, righted the chair, and lifted her into it. I wet a towel and wiped her face and hands. I had done this every day for five years. It was muscle memory. She grabbed my wrist and saw the wound on my palm. “How did this happen? Who bullied you?” I stared into her eyes, looking for a crack in the concern. The bitterness in my throat was suffocating. “Yeah. Someone who looks just like you bullied me.” I looked straight at her. “At the Starfall Club.” Chapter 3 I watched her jaw tighten. I smiled again. “But I know it wasn’t you. My sister would never lie to me, right?” Maya looked guilty. She looked away, her voice unnatural. “Of course. You’re my only family. I would never lie to you.” I swallowed the agony threatening to spill over and pushed her out of the kitchen before the tears fell. When I came out with dinner, the living room was empty. I walked to her bedroom door and heard her hushed voice on the phone. “Be good. I’m planning the biggest birthday party for you. I’ll celebrate with you tomorrow.” On the other end, Julian feigned concern. “But tomorrow is Liam’s birthday too. Won’t he be mad if you’re not there?” “Silly, you’re my only baby brother. Your happiness matters most. Liam hasn’t celebrated a birthday in five years; he’s used to it. One more won’t hurt.” Julian cheered. “I knew you loved me best!” I stood there for a long time before taking off my apron and leaving. When Maya came out, I was gone. A bowl of soft noodles and a pill sat on the table. She knew I had a night shift. Thinking of the wound on my hand, my unnatural pallor, and my skeletal frame in the kitchen, she suddenly panicked. She couldn’t remember the last time she saw me smile or look vibrant. A sharp pang of guilt hit her. She picked up her phone and made a call. The next day, I took Maya for her checkup. Her doctor looked excited. “Mr. Sterling, great news! A private research institute in the UK has developed a cure for ALS. They’re looking for two subjects for clinical trials. I secured a spot for your sister.” I nodded calmly. “What are the chances of recovery?” “Eighty percent.” Maya wept tears of joy. “Liam, I can get better! I can be with you forever!” I forced a smile. “If only one of us can live, I hope it’s always you, Maya.” She froze. My seriousness seemed to scare her. She forgot her slurred speech. “Don’t talk nonsense! We’ll both live long lives. When I recover, I’ll rebuild the company. You’ll be the young master again.” But I don’t want to be the young master anymore. And I don’t want you anymore, Maya. I give it all to Julian. The doctor ushered me out, claiming the tests would take a long time. Before, I believed them. I would rush to my part-time jobs while she “tested.” Now I knew it was just an excuse to get rid of me. I stood in the empty corridor and watched Maya change clothes and hurry into the elevator. Downstairs, a luxury car was waiting. I walked into another doctor’s office. “Mr. Sterling, the tumor has grown too large. Surgery is no longer an option. If you had come two weeks ago, maybe…” He sighed. “You have a few days. Say your goodbyes.” I nodded slowly. “After I die, please cremate me immediately. Send the ashes to the Sterling Villa, to CEO Maya Sterling.” I left the hospital with my last few dollars. My phone buzzed. “Come to the villa.” It was Julian. I took a cab to the city’s most expensive district. Five years ago, this was my home. I thought it had been auctioned off. Now, it was decorated for a lavish party. Guests, luxury, light. A different world from the one I lived in. Julian, wearing a limited-edition watch and bespoke suit, stood beaming in front of a six-tier cake. Behind him was a wall of gifts. He clasped his hands and made a wish. “I wish to be my sister’s only brother forever. Her only family.” Maya pulled a velvet box from her pocket. When she opened it, my blood ran cold. Chapter 4 It was a jade amulet. When Maya and I were born, our parents had monks chant over two jade amulets for a year. They were engraved with our names. It was their blessing, their legacy. The only thing I had left of them. Even at my lowest, I never sold it. Now, Maya had carved Julian’s name over mine. In front of everyone, she placed it around his neck. “Wish granted.” I don’t remember leaving. My phone kept vibrating. “I recognized you at the club.” “See that?” “The amulet is mine. The sister is mine. You’re like a stray dog no one wants.” “You’re such a failure, you should just die.” When I didn’t reply, Julian sent one last text. “Brother, I asked Maya to bring you a birthday gift. Enjoy.” I wandered like a ghost until I returned to the rental. That’s when I found out what the gift was. The door was open. The room was trashed. Maya was pinned to the floor, like a dying animal. The scene was so familiar I started shaking. My old broken ribs throbbed with phantom pain. “Kid, long time no see. When are you paying up?” I was pale. “I paid everything off. I don’t owe you anything.” The leader spat on the floor. “I say you owe, so you owe. If you don’t pay… I wonder how many hits your crippled sister can take.” He tapped the iron bar on Maya’s back. “Liam, it’s my fault. Leave me. I’m just a cripple. Let them kill me. I don’t want to burden you.” The same lines. For five years. I looked at the thugs, then at Maya on the floor. Her eyes were clear, not fearful. I understood. It was funny that I only realized it now. They came countless times, but they never touched her. But I… to protect my lying sister… Broken ribs, lame leg, countless scars. I swallowed the lump in my throat. “What do you want?” The man laughed. “I don’t like your attitude. Tell you what. Crawl between our legs and bark like a dog three times. We’ll call it even for today.” Maya screamed, “No, Liam! Don’t do it!” I laughed numbly. The last bit of warmth in my heart died. “If that’s what you want, then we’re even.” I was speaking to the thugs, but Maya panicked. She wanted to say something, but remembered this was the “final lesson” she promised Julian. Just this one last time, and then she would restore my status. She thought she had a lifetime to make it up to me. She looked away and secretly took a photo of my humiliation to send to Julian. When they left, I lay on the floor for a long time before standing up. Maya crawled over, eyes red, ready to act pitiful. But seeing the dead look in my eyes, she choked. The next day, the “doctors” came to take her to the UK. She looked back three times. “Liam, wait for me. When I come back, you’ll be the young master again. No one will ever bully you.” I smiled and said nothing. After she left, I covered my mouth and coughed up blood. The doctor said when the tumor ruptured, it would be the end. Strangely, I wasn’t scared. I remembered how Maya used to be good to me. Feeding me candy. Staying by my side when I had a fever. She said, “When I grow up, I’ll make lots of money and give Liam the best of everything. I’ll make him the happiest prince in the world.” I swallowed my tears and typed a final message with trembling, bloody fingers. “Maya, I’m not waiting. My life is yours and Julian’s now. Burry me with Mom and Dad.” I sent it and closed my eyes. On the floor, the phone buzzed frantically.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387860”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

For Christmas, I spent hundreds of dollars on premium imported cherries for my parents. My younger sister ate a whole bowl, and no one batted an eye. I ate one bowl, and my mother started muttering passive-aggressively under her breath. “Says she bought them to be filial, but look at her, stuffing her face endlessly.” Usually, in situations like this, I would apologize and offer to buy more. But today, I suddenly felt exhausted. I wanted to see what would happen if I didn’t buy more. I wanted to see just how far Mom would go. Chapter 1 Before dawn even broke, my dad was shaking me awake. “Peach, get up and go buy another box of cherries. It’s not that much money. Don’t upset your mother during the holidays. She was crying last night because of you. You’re a good, dutiful daughter; you need to be more understanding of your mom.” I was groggy from sleep, but hearing my dad’s accusation, a wave of grievance washed over me. To make it home for the holidays, I had worked overtime for a week straight. And now, over a bowl of cherries, I was being kicked out of bed before sunrise to go buy more. Those cherries were expensive. I bought pounds of them. I ate one small bowl yesterday. It wasn’t even that much. My sister, Lily, ate a bowl too. Why was this still an issue? It’s been like this since I was a kid. I was used to backing down, retreating again and again. When we were poorer, we only had steak on holidays. At the dinner table, Mom would always say with a fake smile, “Steak is so expensive these days, but Peach loves it. What can I do? I’m her mom. Since it’s cooked, hurry up and eat.” I would only take a tiny piece. If I took more, Mom would start making snide remarks. “Always eating, eating, eating. Don’t you know how hard things are for the family right now?” She’d finish with a glare. So I would sit there, trembling, afraid to take another bite, thinking my parents had it tough and I should let them eat more. But no matter how much Lily ate, Mom never complained. All our relatives knew that Mom “spoiled” me, “doted” on me, and bought me whatever I wanted, even if money was tight. But Mom always used the excuse of buying things for me, only for those things to end up with Lily. Once, I tried to defend myself in front of relatives, and it was like poking a hornet’s nest. “Look at you all! When did I not buy her things? She didn’t like them so she gave them to her sister, and now she accuses us of favoring Lily!” Mom cried, looking so wronged. The relatives looked at me disapprovingly. I felt like a clown stripped naked, bowing my head to accept their judgment and criticism. Mom did buy me things, but they were always in colors and styles that Lily liked. Who could I tell my grievances to? In the end, I apologized to her. I apologized for three days straight before Mom finally calmed down. Mom and Dad always knew how to manipulate me. There were too many incidents like this. Sometimes I fell into a vortex of self-doubt. I never knew how to sweet-talk my parents like Lily did. I always thought if I did more, if I was more understanding, they would see my efforts. Family harmony is everything. But this “harmony” was always bought with my compromise. I suddenly remembered overhearing two mothers talking on the train ride home. “As parents, you have to elevate your status. Make them feel like nothing they do is ever enough to satisfy you. That’s how you control them.” “You have to use the right methods to manipulate them. That’s how you make them obedient.” I had been the obedient daughter for 28 years. Today, suddenly, I didn’t want to be obedient anymore. I wanted to rebel. I got up, locked my bedroom door, pulled the covers over my head, and went back to sleep. Sleeping fitfully, I heard voices in the living room. “So, is what you said before still true? When Lily marries my son, you’ll give this condo to Lily as a dowry?” “Of course it’s true. Lily is my favorite. When they get married, not only will we give this condo, we’ll also give a bank card with savings.” “Lily even bought imported cherries specifically for you guys. Take some home later.” Lying in my warm bed, my heart turned to ice. This three-bedroom condo my parents lived in—I paid the down payment, I paid the mortgage. They always said they were just living there, and when I got married, the condo would still be mine. But what did I just hear? They were going to give my condo to my sister as a dowry? I quickly got dressed, threw open the bedroom door, and stormed into the living room. “Mom, this condo is mine. I do not agree to give it to Lily as a dowry.” Chapter 2 The air in the living room solidified instantly. Mom, Dad, and Lily all looked at me in shock. Mom stood up abruptly. “Peach, didn’t you go to buy fruit? Why are you still home?” She winked at me frantically, signaling me to leave. Based on past experience, I had to make things clear right now. Otherwise, Mom would say later, “Didn’t you already silently agree?” I looked at Mom stubbornly. “Mom, this condo is mine. Why are you giving it to Lily as a dowry?” Dad pointed at me angrily. “We’re still alive! What is yours? This condo belongs to us old folks. We can give it to whoever we want, and you have no right to interfere!” A stylishly dressed woman among the guests stood up with a smile. “You must be Lily’s sister, Peach. I’m Lily’s future mother-in-law, you can call me Mrs. Chen.” “Your mother said Lily has been paying the mortgage on this condo. It’s not unreasonable to give it to her as a dowry, right?” Mom grabbed my arm hard, her nails digging deep into my flesh, ignoring the pain she caused, and dragged me out the door in one breath. She warned me in a low voice, “Today is the day we set the wedding date for your sister. If you dare ruin this, I’m done with you. Go buy cherries immediately, I need them later.” With that, the door slammed shut. I stood there in my slippers, without my phone or wallet. Only tears fell, unbidden, one by one. Since we were kids, any good thing I had, Mom decided to give to Lily. The fountain pen I won in a competition, Mom said let Lily use it for a couple of days. My scholarship money, Mom said let Lily hold onto it for a couple of days. New clothes bought for me, Mom said let Lily wear them for a couple of days. … Without exception, these things eventually became Lily’s. This time, they were giving my condo to Lily. Why were they so biased? And so self-righteous about it? I used to suspect I wasn’t their biological daughter, but every time they slapped me and then gave me a piece of candy, I convinced myself I was being petty and misunderstanding them. So I was constantly consumed by confusion, pain, and self-denial. But whenever they showed a tiny bit of concern, I would be overjoyed. I was immersed in negative emotions from the past, tears streaming down my face. I stood alone in the hallway, watching the elevator go up and down. At that moment, Lily opened the door and came out. She draped a down jacket over me, mumbling, not knowing what to say. When we were little, my sister and I were close. We talked about everything and promised to be best sisters forever. Maybe time moved too fast. We had long deviated from that path, drifting further apart on a road of comparison, jealousy, and fighting for parental affection. “Sis, Mom is just like that. She’s been this way her whole life, she won’t change. Just go along with her.” A wave of anger rose in my heart. “Lily, tell me, which item for the holidays wasn’t bought by me? Why can’t I eat some cherries I bought myself?” Lily quickly held my hand. “Sis, keep your voice down. Mom cares about face. She’s doing this so I have face in front of my in-laws. Sis, Mom doesn’t like being contradicted. Just buy a little more.” It all came back to me buying more. I wanted to see what kind of scene Mom would make if I didn’t buy cherries today. I pulled the door open forcefully, tossed the down jacket on the entryway bench, then washed the remaining cherries and sat on the sofa eating them from the bowl. Mom pointed a trembling finger at me. “You unfilial daughter, what are you doing?” I blinked innocently. “Mom, I’m just eating some fruit I bought. Is that a crime?” Seeing the tense atmosphere, Mrs. Chen and her family said sarcastically that they had things to do at home and would discuss the wedding date later. After Mom, Dad, and Lily apologized profusely and saw them off, Lily ran back to her bedroom crying. Dad kicked over the coffee table in front of me, snatched the bowl from my hands, and smashed it on the floor. Then slap, a hard slap landed on my face. “I’ll let you eat!” Dad was so angry he stomped on the cherries rolling on the floor one by one. “If you ruin Lily’s marriage, get out of my house!” Chapter 3 The crushed cherries bled red juice on the floor, looking like red flowers—just like my image in my parents’ hearts: a daughter they could trample on at any time. Mom cried uncontrollably, not forgetting to accuse me. “You’re just jealous your sister found a good partner. You can’t stand to see her happy, can you? You won’t be satisfied until you ruin her marriage, right? Just because your marriage is unhappy, your sister doesn’t deserve happiness?” I sat on the sofa, silent, tears flowing. What could I say? They never cared what I said; their eyes and hearts only held Lily. The resentment in my chest ran wild; I couldn’t suppress it anymore. “I’m jealous of her? Jealous that she barely got into a community college? Jealous that she makes minimum wage? Or jealous that she found a ‘good’ in-law family that demands a house as a dowry?” Dad squatted on the floor holding his head. When he looked up, his eyes were bloodshot. “Your sister wasn’t as smart as you growing up, and she doesn’t have as many schemes as you. Is it wrong for us to plan more for her?” “You went to a top university and got a good job, making good money. Can’t you stop calculating against your sister?” I looked down and sneered. “Dad, I wasn’t smart, I was desperate. Since I was little, you told me you guys were incapable, and if I wanted a good life, I had to study hard myself. I listened to you, so I studied desperately. Isn’t it natural that I tested well?” “I got severe gastritis at 28 because I didn’t eat on time while working myself to the bone. Do you think my salary comes easily?” Dad rubbed his face hard, his lips trembling. “But how did you raise Lily? You said the family only needed one hardworking sister, and the younger sister just needed to wait to enjoy the blessings.” I wiped my tears with my sleeve, but they wouldn’t stop. “Who caused my unhappy marriage? Was it me?” I pounded my chest, asking Dad with heartbreaking pain. The grievances and neglect my parents gave me over the years, the pressure and disappointments from work, all pressed down on me until I couldn’t breathe. I put on my down jacket dejectedly and walked out the door, feeling heavy. The streets were full of festive decorations, the holiday atmosphere thick. But my heart was a desolate wasteland. I walked aimlessly. The winter sun was warm. But my heart felt like it was soaking in an ice cellar; even in the sun, I couldn’t feel any warmth. I walked for an hour, but my chest still felt tight. Before, I could always coax myself into feeling better quickly, but this time, no matter how I made excuses for my parents, the resentment in my heart wouldn’t dissipate. Why? I wanted an answer too. Was it because I wasn’t worthy of eating the cherries I bought? Or because they broke our promise and privately gave my condo to my sister? Or because I finally realized they didn’t really love me that much? A burning pain came from my stomach, and I realized I hadn’t eaten breakfast. I bought a candied hawthorn stick (tanghulu). Sweet and sour. As I ate, I suddenly started laughing. Lily and I were so much like this treat! She was the sugar, I was the sour fruit. Looking red and round together. But people’s attention was always on the sweet part. My phone kept ringing. Without looking, I knew I was being denounced in the family group chat again. “Peach is too outrageous. Coming home only a few days a year and making her parents angry. It’s not right.” “It was just asking you to buy some cherries. How much could it cost? The richer she gets, the stingier she becomes.” “Lily usually takes care of your parents. You should be filial and buy things during the holidays. What’s the problem?” … I listened, burning with anger. My parents never explained the whole story, and those relatives loved to take things out of context. So I became the target of their criticism whenever they felt like it. They all liked to stand on the moral high ground and criticize me to gain a sense of presence as elders. In reality, in front of their own kids, they were all gentle parents who dared not breathe too loud. Chapter 4 I decided to reply. “Uncle Dave, why do I only come home a few days a year? I paid the down payment and the monthly mortgage for the condo my parents live in now. If I don’t work myself to death, are you going to pay the $6,000 monthly mortgage for me?” “I bought imported cherries, fifty dollars a pound. If my family eats them, I’ll buy as much as they want. But my parents wanted to give the cherries to Lily’s future in-laws. Auntie May, is it my place to pay for that?” “I bought the condo, I paid for the renovation and appliances. I pay for all of Mom and Dad’s medical bills, big and small. I give them a red envelope of over a thousand dollars every holiday. Even when their phone bill is due, Lily calls me to pay it. Auntie June, between two sisters, one pays and works, the other takes. Where did I go wrong?” Silence in the family group chat. An eerie silence spread. The frustration in my chest was finally vented. Did they not know these things? They were just used to dictating my life. Whichever child the parents loved, the relatives saw only that child. The unloved child was wrong in everything. For the next two days, Dad ignored me, Mom threw things around, and Lily looked at me hesitantly several times. There was no holiday atmosphere at home. They were all waiting for me to apologize, curry favor, and promise benefits. I wanted to try resisting until the end. Maintaining family affection solely through my compromise—would they change even a little because they loved me? On New Year’s Day, Uncle Dave treated us to dinner at a restaurant. The relatives greeted me warmly, telling me to eat more. Very rare. Halfway through, I went to the restroom and saw Mom, Auntie May, and Auntie June go into the fire escape stairwell. I followed quietly. “Give me some ideas. I already promised Lily’s in-laws that this condo would be her dowry when they get married. What if Peach doesn’t agree?” Auntie May said, hating iron for not becoming steel, “Are you confused? How many families around here give a condo as a dowry? Do you have multiple properties?” Auntie June also advised earnestly, “Between the two sisters, Peach is the capable one. If you break Peach’s heart completely, who will you rely on when you’re old?” Mom said aggrievedly, “Peach is capable and scheming, unlike Lily who is honest and kind. As parents, shouldn’t we take from the rich to help the poor?” My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an iron hand. It hurt. If I were truly “scheming,” would I be bullied by them like this? They could manipulate me at will just because they were my biological parents. Was it wrong for me to work hard and earn money with my own skills? Did it become their excuse to suck my blood? When I returned to the private room, I had no appetite. Uncle Dave got drunk and kept talking about “filial piety” to the younger generation. I knew he was saying it for me. Suddenly, Mom and Mrs. Chen pushed open the door and came in. As soon as Mrs. Chen saw me, she walked towards me enthusiastically. “Peach! We really are destined. We booked a room here too. We have a lot of young people there, come say hi. It’s good for young people to make friends.” Someone who starts plotting for her daughter-in-law’s dowry condo before the wedding can’t be a good person. Calling me so intimately? I made an excuse about a headache, refusing to go to their room. “You child.” Mom grabbed me. “What’s wrong with making more friends? Hurry up, give your Mrs. Chen some face.” She dragged me to Mrs. Chen’s room without explanation. And purposefully pushed me into the seat next to a balding man. I’ve been around the block; I knew exactly what Mrs. Chen was planning. Judging by how Mrs. Chen and her husband acted towards the balding man, they probably needed a favor from him and were offering me up as a sacrifice.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387859”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The day after we got our marriage license, I saw a trending post on a local subreddit. The poster, bragging with a photo of a marriage certificate, wrote: [Free gym membership acquired.] When users asked what he meant, he proudly shared his “wisdom”: [A marriage license is basically a free gym pass.] [Use the wife as a punching bag. Workout while you discipline. The more you hit her, the clingier she gets.] [You hit her, and her only request is ‘please stop hitting me.’ You don’t hit her, and she has a million demands.] [My biggest wish is to have a wife who won’t die no matter how hard I hit her. Bonus points if she makes good sounds when hit.] I was intrigued by his confidence. He gave off the vibe of someone who was begging for a beating. I created a burner account and DM’d him: [Bro, what kind of ‘hit sounds’ are good? Can you give us a demo?] He replied instantly: [Sure. I’m planning to practice on my new nurse wife tonight. I’ll record it for the boys!] After confirming the poster was my new husband, Mark, I had an epiphany. I crushed the thermos in my hand, cracked my knuckles, and got ready to go home for a “workout.” Chapter 1 In a short time, the post had accumulated 14,000 upvotes. It was hard to imagine so many people supporting such filth. There were even comments agreeing with him. [Agreed. Getting yelled at by the boss all day, nothing beats going home and smacking the wife around. Way better than boxing.] [Some women need to be taught a lesson. If you don’t hit them for a day, they think they run the place. They need to know who’s boss.] On my phone screen. The user “Master Wife Tamer” seemed to find his people and kept spewing nonsense. [Check out my taming tool. It’s a swing I customized for my wife.] [She doesn’t know it can be detached. I’ll tie her hands, hang her up, and she becomes the perfect punching bag.] [I calculated the rope length perfectly. Her toes will just barely touch the ground. It’s going to be great.] I stared at the photo, my blood running cold. The swing in the photo was identical to the one in Mark’s and my new apartment. The comments kept piling up. They even discussed the feasibility of beating a wife on the balcony. [OP, if you beat her on the balcony, won’t the neighbors hear and call the cops?] The poster replied smugly. [Way ahead of you. I installed blackout curtains and double-pane soundproof glass.] [Close the doors and windows, draw the curtains, and no matter how much she screams, no one outside will hear a thing.] I couldn’t believe I married such a thing. When I snapped back to reality, the thermos in my hand was crushed. After a brief moment of shock, I suddenly found it funny. I was born with abnormal strength and a touch of sociopathy. In elementary school, I crushed the testicles of a groper on the bus with one hand. It terrified the teachers and the police, and even made the local news. After that, my mom taught me that girls should be quiet and gentle. So I learned to camouflage. I went to nursing school and became a gentle nurse. “A marriage license is a free gym pass,” huh? “The more you hit her, the clingier she gets,” huh? Great. I don’t have to pretend anymore! I rolled my wrist, joints cracking lightly. Mark, since you want to play the taming game. I’ll play with you. Chapter 2 Immediately, I registered a male burner account named “Angry Little Man.” I used a meme as my profile picture. I messaged him: [Damn, bro! Honestly, my wife needs a lesson too, but I’ve been too scared to do it.] [Bro, can you teach me? I want to take back control of my house!] To show sincerity, I sent him a $200 digital red envelope and a fist-bump emoji. The fish took the bait. Mark took me for a fanboy and started sharing his “taming plan” without reservation. [Bro, the first time is crucial. You have to beat her into submission once and for all, and you need a ‘legitimate’ reason.] [I’m inviting my boys over for drinks in a couple of days.] [We’re going to throw sunflower seed shells, fruit peels, and cigarette butts all over the floor. Make a huge mess.] [When my friends leave, that woman will see the mess and definitely get angry.] [As long as she dares to complain, that’s disrespecting her man.] [Then, using the alcohol as an excuse, I’ll slap her silly and force her to clean it up.] Reading the text, I could almost see Mark’s smug face. Suppressing my disgust, I typed: [What about after? What if she makes a scene?] [Scene? Bro, you don’t understand women.] Mark replied: [After the beating, you act like you snapped out of it. Kneel in front of her and slap yourself.] [Say you love her so much, but you just lose control when you drink. Cry and beg for forgiveness.] [Then, a few days later, find an excuse to hit her again.] [Rinse and repeat. A slap and a sweet date. Slowly, you erode her boundaries until she gets used to being hit.] [Ever heard of Stockholm Syndrome and Pavlov?] [Don’t be afraid she’ll run away.] [Beating a wife is like training a dog. The more you hit her, the more she can’t leave you.] [My dad beat my mom her whole life. Not only did she stay, but she served him hand and foot.] I took a deep breath, trying to calm the rage in my chest. He spoke of gaslighting like it was a science. Turns out he learned it from his parents. I questioned: [Will this really work? What about the police…] [Don’t worry.] He was confident. [Haven’t you seen the news? In domestic abuse cases, the police rarely do anything until it’s too late.] [As long as you don’t cripple or kill her, it’s a ‘domestic dispute.’ Cops just mediate.] [Besides, I know where to hit. At most, it’ll be classified as a minor injury.] [I just love hearing women scream when they get hit.] [My biggest wish is to have a wife who won’t die, preferably one who makes good sounds.] Reading this, I couldn’t hold back a curse. I almost crushed my phone. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to calm down. [Bro, I learned a lot! But I’m curious, what counts as a ‘good’ hit sound? Can you give us a demo first?] Then, I sent him another $200. Mark replied quickly. [Deal! My boys are coming over tonight to celebrate my wedding. I’ll record it for you guys!] Putting down the phone, my eyes went cold. Mark, I hope your bones are as hard as your talk. Chapter 3 At 5 PM, Mark texted me. [Wifey, a few of my buddies are coming over tonight.] [They’re jealous I have such a pretty, virtuous wife who can cook. They insisted on seeing you.] [Buy some groceries on your way back, lots of meat. Show them your skills.] [It might get a bit loud. You know I care about face, so please bear with it. Hubby will make it up to you later.] He sent a $520 red envelope and a “cute cat heart” sticker. I looked at the screen and sneered. Make it up to me? With a belt or a fist? I replied with a cute cat emoji: [Okay, Hubby.] After work, I went straight to the wholesale market and bought the cheapest pre-made meals. Braised pork, sweet and sour ribs, spicy chicken… All heat-and-eat junk. Since you want to act, I’ll play along. Back home, I dumped the food onto plates and microwaved them. Soon, the house smelled of MSG and grease. Around 8 PM, the doorbell rang. Mark walked in with four or five men. They looked like thugs—the kind of friends I usually avoided. As soon as they saw me, Mark’s buddy, Blackie, whistled. “Yo, this is Mark’s new wife? Looking fresh!” “Smells good. What did you make, sister-in-law?” Blackie actually lifted a lock of my hair and sniffed it. “Let me guess… sweet and sour ribs, braised pork… did I get it right?” Holding back vomit, I stepped back. Mark, walking in last, slapped the back of Blackie’s head. “Watch how you talk to your sister-in-law.” “Wifey, don’t mind him. He’s just like that, no bad intentions.” They walked in without taking off their shoes, stomping mud onto the carpet. I wiped my hands on my apron and brought out the food. “Come in, food’s ready. Sit anywhere.” Mark looked shocked that I was being so accommodating. He winked at the others, signaling them to provoke me further. “Eight dishes in one afternoon? Mark is lucky, marrying such a capable nurse!” “Nurse sister, come drink with us.” I didn’t get angry. I smiled and seated them. Once the food was served, I retreated to the kitchen. “It’s a guys’ night, I shouldn’t intrude.” Mark found it incredible. I used to complain about how sexist his friends were. Now, I was playing the perfect traditional wife. He came into the kitchen. “Wifey, come eat with us. Have a drink.” “Are you mad about their jokes?” I waved him off. “You guys eat. I’ll grab a bite in here.” Once the door closed, I pulled out the seafood feast I packed from a five-star hotel. Who eats pre-made slop when you can have lobster? But since I didn’t go out, he couldn’t pick a fight. Soon, Mark knocked again. “Wifey, I dropped my chopsticks. Get me a new pair.” I opened the door with chopsticks and saw the living room was a disaster zone. Sunflower seed shells, peanut skins, and cigarette ash covered the floor. Blackie threw a chicken bone on the carpet and stomped on it. “Oops, sorry sister-in-law, slipped.” He grinned at me, eyes full of provocation. They all knew the plan. They were trying to trigger me. If I showed even a hint of displeasure, Mark would explode. Unfortunately for them, I disappointed. Not only was I not mad, I smiled brighter. Mark was cleaning this up later anyway. The messier, the better. “No problem, have fun. The carpet needed washing anyway.” Blackie froze. He didn’t expect that reaction. Mark’s face stiffened. His prepared script was useless. For the next two hours, I played the perfect wife. Pouring tea, cutting fruit, handing out napkins. No matter how much they trashed the place—someone even poured beer on the sofa—I kept smiling. “It’s fine, we can use a slipcover.” “Oh, we were going to replace that rug anyway.” My performance was flawless. Mark couldn’t find an excuse to rage. Even his scumbag friends felt a little bad. “Mark, your wife is amazing! Such a good temper!” “Yeah, I’d give ten years of my life for a wife like this!” When they left, they patted Mark’s shoulder meaningfully. “Mark, don’t go too hard later. Just a little.” Mark stood at the door, smiling awkwardly. He wanted to beat me for embarrassing him in front of his friends. But now everyone was praising me. If he hit me, he’d be the asshole without a cause. He closed the door. The room went silent. Looking at the mess and Mark standing awkwardly in the middle of it. I decided to help him out. I claimed a stomachache and went to the bathroom. I messaged him from my burner account. [Bro, how’s it going? We’re waiting for the show!] I attached a $200 red envelope and a starry-eyed emoji. Mark loved his ego. I knew he wouldn’t let his big talk fall flat. Seconds later, he replied. [Wait for it.] Just three words, but I could feel the grit in his teeth. I smirked. Mark, you asked for this. Don’t cry too loud later. Chapter 4 I heard smashing from the living room, followed by Mark’s intentionally loud cursing. “F*ck! Look at this mess! Annoying!” I flushed the toilet and walked out, pretending to be startled. In the living room, Mark had flipped the dining table. Red oil and soup soaked the carpet. He stood in the middle of the debris, chugging a beer, face flushed. Seeing me, he finally found his target. He pointed at the trash on the floor and roared: “What are you staring at? Can’t you see this mess? Clean it up!” He was shouting, spit flying. I stood still, watching his performance. “Are you blind or deaf? I’m talking to you!” Seeing no reaction, Mark got angrier. He undid his belt, advancing on me step by step. “Lynn, why did you smile at Blackie just now?” “I hate cheaters. You were making eyes at him right in front of me. Do you think I’m dead?” I couldn’t help but laugh. What a pathetic excuse. Seeing me laugh, he raged harder, smashing a vase with his belt. Crash! “Today I’ll show you who’s the man of this house!” “Who’s in charge!” He raised the belt and lashed it towards my legs. Fast and vicious. No mercy. A normal girl would be screaming in pain. Too bad he met me. Watching the belt whistle towards me, I felt no fear. Only excitement. I sidestepped, my right hand shooting out like lightning, grabbing the belt and yanking back. Snap! The buckle whipped back and hit him in the face. Mark froze, his drunken haze clearing instantly. He touched the welt on his face, then looked at his wrist, caught in my iron grip. He instinctively tried to pull back. Immovable. He used both hands, pulling with all his might, face turning red. I stood like a statue. I stepped closer, smiling. Then, I pulled a rope from behind my back, tied his hands together. With one hand, I lifted him and hooked him onto the swing mount on the balcony ceiling. “Hubby, you’ve been naughty. I told you not to hang out with those losers. Why don’t you listen?” “Also, I’m curious who’s in charge of this house.” “You can tell me all about it.” Then, backhand, I whipped him with his own belt. Workout time.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387858”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

At the award ceremony where my father received the Medal of Valor for his flood rescue efforts, our neighbor, Mrs. Miller, let something slip. “You don’t see selfless men like Captain Evans these days. He didn’t even save his own daughter first. The water hadn’t even reached the danger line when he sent the rescue boat to pick up my Bella.” I thought Mrs. Miller remembered it wrong. “Mrs. Miller, my dad is famous for being impartial,” I said. “I was trapped on the roof for three days. He made me wait for the unified rescue operation. How could he give special treatment? Everyone was rescued in order.” Seeing my disbelief, Mrs. Miller got anxious, ignoring the volunteers trying to pull her away. “Bella is just scared of water.” “Their house wasn’t even flooded yet, and your dad saved her.” “You were trapped on the roof with no food or water for three days. Wasn’t that more dangerous than Bella?” “And you don’t call that selfless?” I slowly turned to look at my parents. My father’s face was iron-gray. “Why are you looking at me? Shouldn’t I have saved Bella first?” “My daughter must have the spirit of self-sacrifice. Otherwise, she doesn’t deserve to be my daughter!” My blood froze. The despair of being trapped on that roof, starving for three days, clawed at my heart. “If you want to avoid suspicion so badly, let’s cut ties.” “From now on, pretend you never had me as a daughter.” Chapter 1 “Annie, what kind of nonsense are you spouting?” “Today is your father’s big day. Don’t be immature.” The applause died down, and all eyes in the banquet hall focused on our table. My father, David Evans, turned red, his body stiff. My mother, Linda, quickly stood up, forcing a smile to smooth things over. “Immature.” Growing up, whenever I expressed dissatisfaction, that was the word I heard. I looked at my mother’s face, but it felt like looking at a stranger. “I’m immature?” I let out a soft laugh, jarring in the silent hall. “Mom, during that flood, I was sixteen.” “I was trapped on the roof for three days and three nights, burning with a high fever.” “My leg was sliced open by rebar, turning white from soaking in the dirty water.” “I watched Dad’s rescue boat come and go three times.” “He took Bella Miller and her family. He even took their dog.” “I screamed until my voice gave out. Dad only looked back once.” “He told me to hold on, that the public had to go first.” “Did you ask me then if I was immature? Did you ask if it hurt?” My mother’s face went pale. She opened her mouth but said nothing. Mrs. Miller reacted first. Instead of guilt, she rolled her eyes. “Oh, Annie, you’re being ungrateful.” “Your dad is a hero. He sacrificed his family for the greater good.” “Bella was terrified and crying. Your dad was kind enough to save her first.” “Besides, aren’t you alive and well?” “You’re not missing any limbs. Why hold a grudge for so long?” “You’re his biological daughter. That’s why he trusted you to wait.” Because I’m his daughter, I deserve to be sacrificed. Because I didn’t die, I shouldn’t complain. I looked at Mrs. Miller, then at Bella, who was hiding behind her with innocent eyes. Bella was wearing a designer gown, a gift my father had someone bring from Europe last week to celebrate her getting a government job. And the dress I wore was a twenty-dollar clearance item. “Enough!” My father slammed the table, making the silverware jump. He pointed at me, his finger trembling. “Annie, how long are you going to keep this up?” “Today is the award ceremony. The leaders and the media are watching!” “Do you have to embarrass me?” “How can you be so narrow-minded?” “I’m the rescue captain. If I don’t save others first, people will say I’m abusing my power!” “You want to cut ties over this?” “Do you even respect me as your father?” His voice boomed, full of righteous indignation. Whispers started around us. “Yeah, it’s not easy being Captain Evans.” “The daughter is so immature, making a scene here.” “It’s hard being a hero. Families just don’t understand.” Hearing the murmurs, my father straightened his back. I looked at him, the last spark of hope in my heart extinguishing completely. I picked up the wine glass on the table. My father flinched, leaning back. But I poured the wine onto the floor. “Comrade David Evans, this glass.” “Is for the sixteen-year-old Annie who died in the flood.” “From now on, your Medal of Valor will no longer carry my blood and tears.” “And I will never again wrong myself for your reputation.” I slammed the glass down on the table with a crisp clack. I turned and walked away. Behind me, my father roared: “If you leave, don’t come back!” “I’ll pretend I never gave birth to an ungrateful wolf like you!” My mother cried out: “Annie, come back and apologize to your father!” Mrs. Miller shouted: “Spoiled brat! Let’s see how long she lasts out there!” I didn’t look back. I wiped the tears that fell the moment I turned away. This time, I really don’t want you anymore. Chapter 2 I walked out of the hotel doors. The cold wind outside cleared my head. My phone vibrated incessantly in my pocket. I took it out to see a barrage of WeChat messages from my mother. “Annie, you’re too willful!” “Your dad is so angry his heart condition is acting up!” “Come back immediately and apologize to Mrs. Miller and Bella, and we’ll forget this happened.” “Your dad did it for your own good. Why don’t you understand?” “You have no money. Where can you go? Stop being stubborn.” Looking at those words, I just found it laughable. For my own good? Letting me soak in floodwater until I developed chronic pain? Throwing away my GRE prep materials to make room for Bella? Using my scholarship money to buy her clothes? I turned off my phone. I took a taxi home only to grab my documents and essentials. I didn’t want to stay in that house a second longer. Pushing open the door, the house was quiet. They were still at the hotel cleaning up the mess. I walked into my room, a converted storage closet facing north. My original bedroom, the secondary master, was lent to Bella five years ago when she complained her house was too noisy. “Lent” meant forever. And I was squeezed into this tiny, cluttered room. I pulled out a suitcase and packed. A few old clothes, my ID, bank card, laptop. At the bottom of the drawer was an old photo frame. A picture of me and my dad when I was ten. In the photo, he held me high above his head, smiling brilliantly. Back then, he wasn’t a captain yet. He didn’t care so much about “reputation.” Looking at the photo, my heart stung. Smack. I placed the frame face down on the desk. I didn’t take it. Just as I zipped up the suitcase, the front door burst open. My father rushed in, followed by my anxious mother and the Millers. “You dare come back?!” My father pointed at me, chest heaving. “Put that down!” “I bought everything in this house. You’re not taking anything!” I looked at him coldly. “This contains my ID, my diploma.” “And the laptop I bought with my own wages. Which one did you buy?” “I gave you your life!” He rushed forward to grab my suitcase. “Dad!” I raised my voice sharply, staring him down. “If you dare touch my things.” “I will post online about how you withheld relief supplies to give to the Millers back then.” My father’s hand froze in mid-air. His pupils contracted, panic flashing across his face. “You… what nonsense are you talking about!” “I have proof.” I waved my phone, bluffing. “The warehouse manager back then was my classmate’s father.” My father withdrew his hand, his face turning green. “Fine. Fine, Annie. You’ve grown up. Learned to threaten me.” “Get out! Get as far away as possible!” “Even if you’re begging on the streets, don’t come to my door!” My mother wiped her tears on the side. “Annie, what are you doing? Does it have to be like this?” Mrs. Miller said sarcastically: “Linda, this is what happens when you raise an ingrate.” “Look at my Bella, so filial. She just said she wanted to buy supplements for Captain Evans.” Bella held my father’s arm, speaking sweetly: “Uncle David, don’t be angry. It’s not worth hurting your health.” “Annie is just confused right now.” Watching their display of paternal affection, I felt nauseous. “You don’t have to chase me. I’m leaving.” I grabbed my suitcase and walked out without looking back. Passing by Bella, I stopped. “Bella, in all these years, have you ever dreamed of your father, Mr. Miller?” Bella’s face changed, her eyes shifting. “Annie, what are you talking about…” “Nothing. I hope you two are locked together forever.” I strode out of the house. Behind me, the door slammed shut. I stood under the streetlight downstairs, looking up at that window. The lights were warm, and laughter drifted out. I took a deep breath and blocked all of them. Chapter 3 The first week after leaving home was surprisingly peaceful. I rented a small studio apartment near my office. Twenty square meters, but it was freedom. No more listening to Mrs. Miller’s noise, seeing Bella’s fake smiles, or dealing with my parents’ double standards. I poured all my energy into my work. I’m an architectural designer, and we were rushing a big project. Before, I always turned down overtime to help Bella edit her civil service essays or cook for the family, so my performance was mediocre. Now, I was the last one to leave the office. My boss looked at me differently, full of appreciation. However, the tree wants peace, but the wind won’t stop. On Friday afternoon, the receptionist ran over, looking at me weirdly. “Annie, someone’s downstairs looking for you. Says she’s your… mom.” I went down and saw my mother holding a thermos, standing in the corner of the lobby. She looked haggard, her hair messy, eyes dodging mine. Seeing me, her eyes lit up, and she walked over quickly. “Annie, Mom made you chicken soup. Your favorite, with cordyceps.” She held out the thermos, a fawning smile on her face. I didn’t take it, just looked at her coldly. “Mom, say what you need to say.” Her hand froze in the air, then awkwardly withdrew. “Child, why are you so distant? Mom just missed you and came to see you.” “Really?” I checked my watch. “I have a meeting in ten minutes. If you don’t say it, I’m going up.” Seeing I was about to leave, she panicked and grabbed my sleeve. “No, no! Annie, actually… there is something I want to ask you.” “Speak.” She rubbed her hands together, eyes shifting. “Well… Bella got into the civil service, right?” “But her unit is too far from home. Commuting takes two hours.” “She heard you rented a place near your company, so she thought… could she squeeze in with you?” “You’re lonely living alone anyway. It’s nice to have company.” “And Bella said she’ll pay for utilities.” I laughed in anger. “Mom, is your brain broken?” “I just cut ties with the family, and you want me to take in Bella?” “Do you think I’m cheap, or do you think I’m stupid?” My mother’s tears came instantly. “Annie, why are you so harsh? Bella is practically your sister, you watched her grow up!” “Besides, your dad is still angry about what happened.” “If you help Bella, your dad will be happy, and maybe he’ll let you come home.” “Your dad is a hero; he cares about face. Helping Bella gives him face.” Face again. Hero again. I shook off her hand. “Mom, go back and tell Dad, and Bella.” “Even if I raised a dog in my apartment, I wouldn’t let Bella live there.” “And stop kidnapping me with that ‘hero’s daughter’ standard.” “I don’t buy it anymore.” “Want me to come home? Keep dreaming!” My mother froze, seemingly not expecting me to be so resolute. Just then, a commotion erupted at the entrance. My father, wearing his rescue team uniform, marched in with Mrs. Miller and Bella behind him. Mrs. Miller was holding a silk banner. Eight gold characters were embroidered on it: “Selfless Dedication, Exemplary Parenting.” My colleagues poked their heads out to watch the drama. My father walked up to me and shoved the banner into my arms. “Annie, Dad was wrong before. My attitude was bad.” “Today, Dad brought a banner to your company to praise you.” “You are part of a rescue family. You need to have awareness.” “I already promised Mrs. Miller about Bella staying with you.” “Just consider it paying a debt for Dad.” “After all… I owe their family a debt of gratitude.” His voice was loud, ensuring everyone could hear. If I refused, I was unfilial, smearing my hero father’s name, lacking awareness. Bella chimed in pitifully: “Annie, I can sleep on the sofa. I won’t disturb you.” “I really need this job.” Colleagues started whispering. “That’s Annie’s dad? The flood hero?” “Wow, so touching. Making his daughter suffer a bit to repay a debt, what’s wrong with that?” “Annie is too cold-blooded. That’s her dad.” Hearing the chatter, a smug look appeared on my father’s face. I took the banner and looked at it. Then, in front of everyone, I threw it into the trash can. The crowd gasped. My father’s smile froze, then turned to rage. “Annie! What are you doing! That’s an honor!” I clapped my hands and looked at him coldly. “Honor? Dad, since you insist on making a scene, let’s talk about it.” “You say you owe their family. Is it gratitude, or is it guilt?” Chapter 4 The temperature in the lobby dropped to freezing. The word “guilt” exploded in the crowd. My father’s face turned white instantly, a flash of panic in his eyes. Mrs. Miller screamed: “You little brat, what nonsense! Your dad is noble!” “Guilt? I think you’re the one with problems!” I ignored her screaming and stared into my father’s eyes, stepping closer. “Dad, since you want to repay the debt, let me help everyone remember.” “Five years ago. That flood.” “Mrs. Miller’s husband, Bella’s dad… how did he die?” My father’s body shuddered violently. He instinctively took a step back. “You… why bring that up?” “Everyone knows he died saving people.” I sneered. “Really? That’s the official report.” “But why were you the only one with him?” “Why were you wearing his life vest?” “Why did he, a strong swimmer, drown in shallow water?” These questions had been buried in my heart for five years. Trapped on the roof, I saw it clearly. At the peak of the flood, my father and Mr. Miller went out together. When they returned, only my father was there, wearing Mr. Miller’s life vest, looking panicked. After that, he treated the Miller family ridiculously well. Prioritizing their rescue, funding Bella’s education, even giving up my room. He called it: Caring for a martyr’s family. But that care reeked of desperate fawning. “Shut up! Shut your mouth!” My father lunged at me like a madman, raising his hand to slap me. “Security!” I shouted. The company security guards had been watching and immediately rushed over to restrain him. “Mr. Evans, calm down! This is a place of business!” My father struggled in the grip of two guards, face red, neck bulging. “I’m her father! It’s my right to discipline my daughter!” “She slandered a hero! I’ll tear her mouth off!” Seeing this, Mrs. Miller threw herself on the floor, wailing. “No justice! Daughter hitting father! Bullying a widow and orphan!” “Everyone look! This is Annie Evans!” “Not only unfilial, but spreading rumors!” Bella cried beside her, filming me with her phone. “Annie, how could you say that about Uncle David?” “He values you more than his own life!” One good cop, one bad cop. One making a scene, one controlling the narrative. Watching this farce, I only felt sadness. This was my father. To cover a lie, he would destroy his own daughter. “Film it.” I smiled brilliantly at Bella’s camera. “Remember to use a filter.” “And make sure to get your mom’s tantrums in the frame.” “Also, I have an announcement.” I turned to face the onlookers, my voice clear and firm. “Starting today, I, Annie Evans, am formally suing David Evans.” “To uncover the truth of Mr. Miller’s death five years ago.” “I will request a renewed autopsy and search for witnesses.” “David Evans, if your Medal of Valor is stained with blood.” “I will personally rip it off you.” My father stopped struggling. He looked at me, fear in his eyes for the first time. Not anger, but the despair of a secret about to be exposed. “Crazy… you’re truly crazy…” He mumbled. My mother was stunned, collapsing on the floor, grabbing my pants leg. “Annie, stop… please stop…” “That’s your dad… you’ll ruin him…” I looked down at my mother, emotions churning. So, she always knew. She knew the ghost in my father’s heart, yet chose to help him hide it, helping him sacrifice me. In this family, I was the outsider. “Mom, he ruined me first.” I gently kicked her hand away. “Since he wants to be a hero so badly, I’ll help him go down in history.” Just then, the HR manager walked over, looking grim. “Annie, the boss wants to see you in his office.” I glanced at the Miller family still making noise and took a deep breath. “Okay.” I knew this battle had just begun. I faced not only a family break but also public opinion, and possibly losing my job. But I didn’t care. Because I had nothing left to lose. Except the truth buried in the mud.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387857”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel