The first time I came home after we remarried and received another one of Xander’s “sister-friend’s” jokes… I didn’t lose my mind. I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. Instead, I followed her instructions. I placed a packet of condoms on the nightstand beside my and Alexander’s bed. I arranged a heart on the silk sheets with rose petals. And then, with the thoughtfulness of a concierge, I vacated the apartment for the two of them. When I walked through the door the next morning, I brushed past his sobbing “sister-friend” in the hallway. And then I was hit by the full, icy force of Alexander’s stare. 1 Alexander sat rigid on the living room sofa, a storm gathering in his dark eyes. When he finally spoke to me, his voice was soft, laced with an exhaustion he couldn’t quite hide. “Maya and I genuinely don’t have that kind of relationship.” “I’ve told you countless times, our dynamic is like siblings. She just has a bizarre sense of humor and loves pushing boundaries.” When had the normally reticent Alexander, a man whose words were usually rationed like gold, become this verbose? I was busy wiping off my makeup, offering a casual, noncommittal reply. “Oh. I know.” “Snap!” The packet of condoms was thrown with force onto the coffee table, scattering a few wilted petals. “Then what is this?” His voice was low, strained. “Are you doing this just to deliberately punish me?” He buried his face in his hands, visibly struggling to maintain control. I managed a small, weary smile. You punish someone because you either love them or you hate them. I was already past both. I just didn’t want any trouble. I pulled out my phone and showed him the message Maya had sent me yesterday. “Mama’s back. Better clear out the place so I can make magic with my big boy. Don’t forget the condoms and rose petals, babe, I have standards.” Alexander’s expression froze. He stammered, annoyance overriding his previous control. “And—and if she acts out, you just… follow suit? Are you humoring her?” I almost laughed out loud. Last year, when I went to pick up a drunken Alexander from a night out with Maya, I was chastised because I hadn’t brought one of the cheap toys she’d requested as a gag gift. What had he said then? “Maya just likes to joke. Why can’t you just play along with her?” Now that I was actually playing along, he was upset. But, whatever. I’d promised myself: After the divorce, don’t invite unhappiness back into my life. I yawned, feigning boredom, and managed to paste a fake smile onto my face. “Okay, honey, I got it. I promise I’ll remember. You should get some rest now.” Alexander didn’t move. His gaze was searching, as if trying to drill through the blank façade I’d put up. Finally, he stood, an edge of frantic anxiety in his movements as he tried to pull me into a hug. He buried his head in my neck and murmured. “Avery, please, stop joking like this, okay? I hate it. I don’t want anyone but you.” Sensing the shift to desire, I deliberately misinterpreted his words and pushed him away, firmly. “You can’t? What do you mean, you can’t? You’re so young! Go to bed and rest up, then.” Alexander’s hands, which had been fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, froze. A storm was brewing. The sound of his ringtone cut the tension. Seeing the caller ID, Alexander instantly snapped back to attention. He almost instinctively shielded the screen and walked toward the balcony. His tone was instantly soft, indulgent, and completely devoted. “I’m sorry, alright, my queen? I’m coming now to beg your forgiveness.” Before stepping out, Alexander suddenly turned back. “Take your pills.” Under his intense, unyielding gaze, I obediently shoved the handful of pills into my mouth. Sweet slumber. One deep, dreamless night. 2 I woke up at ten p.m. Alexander had climbed into bed next to me at some point, his voice thick with disappointment. “I texted you. Why didn’t you respond?” “I was sleeping too deeply. Didn’t see it. What’s up?” I casually scooted toward the edge of the bed, only to have Alexander’s arm wrap around my waist. “Nothing. Just wanted to ask: How should we celebrate our anniversary?” I answered without thinking. “Let’s go to that trendy new seafood spot. I heard their Lobster Thermidor is incredible.” A flicker of genuine pain crossed Alexander’s face. “I’m allergic to shellfish, Avery. Did you forget?” Right. He had a sensitive system. Besides shellfish, he couldn’t eat nuts or most gluten products. Because of this, for every anniversary before the last few years, I’d always prepared a massive, elaborate meal myself. But ever since his “sister-friend” came back four years ago, those meals had ended up feeding the trash bin. I stretched lazily, as if nothing was wrong, slipping free of his grip. “Then you’ll have to suck it up and watch me eat.” Alexander’s smile was bitter. His hand reached for me again, but this time only gently stroked my hair. He said, “Fine.” He was being so agreeable. It wasn’t like him at all. On our actual anniversary, the traffic was terrible. As Alexander kept rushing me via text, I scrolled through social media. Maya had posted a photo: She was helping Alexander decorate a private room. The caption: “Playing good little helper for my big boy, helping him trick his wife. Ugh, some women are so high maintenance.” The picture itself showed her sitting intimately on Alexander’s lap. Suddenly, I felt like this whole charade was pointless. I pulled over. The sunset was perfect outside the window. Across the square, a handsome, blonde-haired young man was feeding the pigeons. He noticed me looking, and held up the feed, waving enthusiastically. I was twenty minutes away from meeting Alexander, who was still texting to ask if he needed to send a car. I replied No need, turned off my phone, and walked toward the boy. I got home well past midnight. Alexander was sitting on the sofa, radiating fury. “Where were you?” I answered honestly. “Feeding pigeons.” Alexander shot to his feet. “Feeding pigeons? I booked out an entire restaurant. I waited from five o’clock until closing. And you were feeding pigeons?” “And that’s not all…” He furiously threw a stack of photos at my feet. “Does feeding pigeons require this level of intimacy?” The photos showed me laughing and wrestling playfully with the blonde young man. I just shrugged helplessly. “We were just messing around. If you insist on reading too much into it, there’s nothing I can do.” The entire scene had a bizarre, familiar quality. Two years ago, when I confronted him with photos my friend had sent me—pictures of him and Maya kissing—he had replied with the same exasperated dismissal. “It was just a dare. A stupid game. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?” It was a shock to me then that the normally reserved and dignified Alexander would play such childish, idiotic games. But that was all history now. I waved my hand, indicating I wasn’t going to bother explaining anything further. Alexander clenched his fist and slammed the gift box on the table to the floor. A cup tumbled out. It was a limited-edition handcrafted piece I’d spent months trying to track down. While Alexander stormed out to the balcony to smoke and cool off, I quickly picked up the cup to inspect it. Tsk. What a shame. A chip was gone from the rim. I was a little annoyed. So, I decided to go out and make myself happy. 3 At the high-end lounge, I sipped my drink. I began dramatically recounting the whole story of me and Alexander to the eighteen male models I’d hired for the night. Originally, I truly believed Maya was just Alexander’s “bro.” So, when she’d made sexually suggestive jokes to Alexander right in front of me, I’d just laughed along. When she’d gotten inappropriately handsy with him, I believed Alexander when he said she was just being uninhibited because she’d lived abroad for so long. But her jokes became increasingly excessive, flagrantly provocative. It escalated until Alexander’s birthday. She left her worn, intimate underwear as a “gift” and put it on my side of the bed. That was when Alexander and I had our first explosive fight. In my mind, that action severely crossed the line of friendship. It was a direct, aggressive insult. But Alexander only rubbed his temples with irritation, playing it down. “She’s always been like this, Avery. Free-spirited. What do you expect me to do?” I recognized the absolute tolerance in his tone. Tears welled in my eyes as I pleaded. “At least… you could choose not to associate with her.” Alexander, who was usually gentle and affectionate with me, immediately changed. “Avery, you’ve gone too far. You have no right to interfere with my social life!” In that moment, I understood that this so-called “sister-friend” held more weight than me, his wife of five years. He suffered severe motion sickness, yet he accompanied her to amusement parks for rides that left him violently ill. He was meticulous about his work, yet he ditched a crucial, high-stakes meeting just because she’d asked him to watch a meteor shower that might happen. I cycled through constant questioning, screaming, and even begging. All I got in return was Alexander’s growing perfunctory attitude and his increasing tendency to walk out on me. Our arguments became more frequent. I lost control of my emotions more and more often. In our most intense fight, I even grabbed a knife. My love was desperate. Even my threats were directed at myself. As I started to slip, Alexander firmly grabbed the blade with his bare hand. He let his flesh be torn and bloody rather than allow the blade to touch me. My heart softened. I repeatedly told myself, Maybe I’m the one being too paranoid. Xander loves me. I must be misunderstanding him and Maya. Another year, another Alexander birthday. The party was set for the rooftop of a downtown restaurant. Before leaving, I carefully placed a positive pregnancy test into a gift box—my ultimate surprise. I hoped this baby could repair the rift between us. Surprisingly, Maya didn’t cause any trouble before the party started. Everything seemed to be moving in a positive direction. Until I stepped into the elevator that led to the rooftop. The elevator reached the top floor, but the doors never opened. The emergency button, coincidentally, was broken. I have severe claustrophobia. The elevator cab was small, stiflingly hot, and pitch black. Within minutes, I was struggling to breathe, near total suffocation, my body slick with cold sweat. I frantically tried to call Alexander. All I heard was a busy signal. Maybe it’s too loud and he can’t hear it, I tried to reassure myself. I tried to control my breathing, my mind racing to find a way to save myself. But the next second, the elevator suddenly plunged. I screamed, shrinking into a corner in pure despair. I thought I was going to die. And in my heart, I was still regretting that I wouldn’t get to see Alexander one last time. The elevator stopped smoothly only when it reached the sub-level garage. The doors opened. I raised my head, dazed, but instantly understood everything when I saw Maya’s openly triumphant face. Alexander was standing right next to her. Seeing me drenched in sweat, his expression flickered. “That joke went too far, Maya.” Maya punched him lightly, dismissively, on the arm. “Daddy was just getting revenge for your birthday, remember? Don’t you get it?” She pointed to Alexander’s right hand, which was wrapped in a thick bandage. “Look at what this bitch did to your hand! If you don’t teach her a lesson now, she’ll think she can walk all over you.” Shaken to the core, I stumbled out of the elevator. On a monitor to the side, a recording played back every moment of my humiliating panic attack in the elevator. Alexander had known. He had allowed it. Alexander walked toward me, reaching out to steady my trembling body. I pushed him away with all my strength. Maya grumbled, annoyed. “Stop being such a drama queen. It’s pathetic.” I slapped her across the face. She screamed, turning on Alexander with a look of pure rage. “Are you going to control your crazy wife or not?” Alexander pulled me tightly into his embrace. “Enough, Avery. Let it go. Don’t think about it. Maya didn’t mean anything by it.” He didn’t even suggest that Maya apologize. The miscarriage report came out the next day. The divorce papers landed on Alexander’s desk the day after. This time, no matter what he said, I only had one cold reply: “Sign them.” Three months later, tired of the endless argument, Alexander slapped the signed divorce papers onto my desk. I got what I wanted. I took another sip of my drink, pausing the story. It was strange. Those memories, which had once been so agonizing, now felt distant, like watching a stranger’s story through glass. The young male models, however, were teary-eyed, wiping their faces and loudly indignant. “That guy is the absolute worst! You’re amazing, Miss, and he didn’t deserve you.” I nodded in agreement. “He really was the worst. Now, come on, let me feel those abs.” “BANG!” The door was kicked open. Alexander walked in, his face absolutely livid.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387654”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The system girl appeared in my boyfriend’s life. She meticulously orchestrated a damsel-in-distress scenario. On the route she knew my boyfriend, Cameron, frequently took, she arranged for two creeps with bad dye jobs to drag her into an alley. “Help! Please, somebody help me!” She screamed and struggled, desperately calling out in Cameron’s direction. The guys walking with Cameron Walker immediately rushed in, one by one. But Cameron, my boyfriend, held my hand and stayed put. He didn’t move an inch. 1 “Aren’t you going to help?” I looked at Cameron, feeling a mix of nervousness and confusion. After all, in the dream I’d had last night, he was the first one to charge in. But right now, he was staring into the dim alleyway and simply shook his head. His expression was so calm it bordered on cold: “I don’t think so.” The scene from my dream had turned into reality, yet Cameron’s reaction was completely different. My mind was a mess. I was about to say more when I saw the two creeps throw the girl aside and curse as they ran deeper into the alley. Cameron’s friends and the girl emerged. Under the faint yellow glow of the streetlights, I finally got a clear look at her face. I froze. Stunned. She looked exactly like the system girl from my dream! Tears streamed down her delicate face. When she looked at Cameron, the drops fell even faster. “Cam, thank you for sending your friends to save me.” Cameron tightened his grip on my hand, scanning her with a blank expression. “I didn’t. You’re thanking the wrong person.” The smile on her face instantly froze. She seemed completely blindsided by his bluntness. She saw my hand laced with Cameron’s and slightly frowned. Then, she bypassed me and thanked the others. They all waved it off carelessly. “No sweat, we were just passing by!” “Yeah, those trash bags, I’d take them down any time.” “Hey, are you the new art student? I think I saw you when I went to meet Amelia.” The one who spoke was Cameron’s friend, Liam Perry. Amelia was his girlfriend. The girl raised a hand to wipe her tears, her eyes red, and offered Liam a small smile. “Yes, I am. Thank you, I’m Savannah Monroe.” My heart plummeted again. Even the name was the same as the girl in my dream. Could this really just be a coincidence? Was the dream really just a dream? Scenes from the previous night kept flashing through my mind, and I couldn’t stop staring at Savannah. The wind swept her hair around her face. She tucked a stray strand behind her ear and spoke again. “It was so lucky you guys were there. “Could we exchange numbers? I’d like to treat you all to dinner sometime.” Exactly. Every step of the development was the same as the dream. But there was a difference, too. In the dream, Savannah only added Cameron’s contact info. Right now, I watched her unlock her phone and open the QR code. As she held it out, she hesitated for a brief second in front of Cameron. Then, she quickly moved it, holding the phone out to Liam. Liam eagerly scanned the code, hit ‘Add,’ and wiggled his phone at her. “Make sure you accept, Sav.” Savannah nodded and then offered her phone to the other guys, one by one. Only after everyone else was done did she look up at Cameron. She tried to appear composed. “Cam, you should add me too.” My heart leaped into my throat. In the dream, after they exchanged numbers, Savannah began her determined pursuit of Cameron. He went from polite refusal to genuine annoyance, and finally, to cold dismissal. Until our wedding day, when Savannah showed up to stop the ceremony. She said she would die without him. In the end, Cameron let her pull him away, running out of the venue right in front of all our guests. 2 The wind picked up, scraping harder against the street. I held my breath, waiting for Cameron’s reply. A moment passed. Cameron raised the hand that was tightly laced with mine, his voice glacial. “How do you have the audacity to ask for my number right in front of my girlfriend?” Savannah’s smile evaporated. She clearly hadn’t anticipated such a direct, humiliating rejection. She bit her lower lip in embarrassment, the hand holding the phone trembling, but she didn’t lower it. “Cam, I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just…” Before Savannah could finish, Cameron’s gaze had already coldly passed over her. He turned to face me, his expression softening instantly. “Are you cold, Syd?” As he spoke, he reached out a hand and gently adjusted the scarf around my neck. I shook my head, gazing up at the man standing so close to me. Even though he was right there, I felt a strange sense of déjà vu, as if I was seeing him from a lifetime away. After fixing my scarf, Cameron tenderly ruffled my hair. “We’ve wasted too much time. You must be hungry, let’s go eat.” His cool, large hand took mine and pulled me forward. My feet followed him automatically. In a daze, I couldn’t tell the difference between the dream and reality anymore. We’d only walked two steps when the person beside me stopped again. He didn’t turn around, only tilted his head to call back to Liam and the others. “Are you guys coming or not?” The group finally snapped out of it, bustling to catch up. Only Savannah was left standing there. We had gone quite a distance, but I still felt a gaze boring into the back of my head. I turned around and met Savannah’s eyes directly. It was a look full of resentment, unwillingness, and suppressed fury. The next second, the look vanished. Savannah gave me a sweet, brittle smile. Looking at her beautiful, perfectly innocent face, I had to wonder if I had imagined the look moments before. Once we reached the restaurant, everyone gradually forgot the little scene, chatting and laughing. But Liam kept his head down, scrolling through his phone. He seemed to be looking at someone’s social media feed, occasionally zooming in on a picture, a soft smile playing on his lips. If I had to guess, it was Savannah’s feed. I thought of his girlfriend, Amelia. If she saw her boyfriend intensely scrutinizing another girl’s profile, looking so clearly smitten, her sensitive and reserved nature would probably be devastated. For some reason, I felt an intense empathy for her, as if her pain was my own. I was debating how to subtly bring it up when Cameron’s voice cut through the air first. “Liam, what are you looking at?” Liam quickly hit the lock button and looked up, smiling sheepishly. “Nothing, just casually scrolling.” Cameron’s eyes darkened, his face growing serious. “Don’t forget you have a girlfriend.” Liam paused, then gave an awkward chuckle. “I—I know, man. I just added her, so I was flipping through her feed to get an idea of who she is. No big deal.” I couldn’t help myself, the words tumbling out. “If you know you have a girlfriend, why did you add a random stranger?” In my peripheral vision, the hand Cameron was using to ladle soup suddenly gave a tiny, almost imperceptible tremor. 3 My question made Liam squirm. He shuffled his feet and stammered out a reply. “Syd… Look, the girl asked me herself. It would have been rude to refuse.” Listening to his weak excuse, I felt a surge of sympathy for Amelia. I frowned and began to speak. “Liam, no girl is going to be okay with her boyfriend…” Before I could finish, Liam interrupted me, embarrassed and annoyed. “Okay, okay, I get it. Just… don’t get involved, alright, Syd?” “Liam!” Cameron’s face hardened, his cold stare pinning his friend down. “What kind of attitude is that?” Sensing the displeasure in Cameron’s voice, Liam panicked. “Cam, I…” Cameron reached for my hand under the table, holding it tight. His thumb gently rubbed my palm in a soothing gesture. He looked directly at Liam, his gaze deep and sharp. “Sydney’s right. “You are not single. Maintaining clear boundaries with other women is basic respect for your girlfriend.” Liam’s face flushed red, then pale. He opened his mouth, stopped, and finally spoke, offering me an apology. “Syd, I’m sorry.” He then picked up his phone and, in front of Cameron, announced his actions. “I get it, Cam. Deleting her right now.” The others, sensing the tension, quickly tried to smooth things over. “Let’s just eat, guys. The food is getting cold.” Dinner ended quickly. Soon after, Cameron drove me home. I sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window. The neon lights streaking past the long street felt like the quick, blurred slideshow of last night’s dream. Each scene was illusory, yet profoundly real. The physical and emotional exhaustion from the dream felt as if I had truly lived it. Without realizing it, the car pulled up in front of my house. Cameron got out, circled the car to open my door, and placed his hand above the frame to shield my head—the same thoughtful, gentle gesture as always. I unbuckled my seatbelt and stepped out. I said goodbye and took a step toward the door. Cameron reached out and caught my wrist. “Syd, wait a second.” “Hmm?” I stopped, following the pull of his hand. I turned back and was caught by his intense, deep-set eyes. After a moment, Cameron lifted his hand and cradled my cheek. His voice was cool, yet laced with gentle concern. “You’ve been acting strange all day. Is something bothering you?” I froze. He had noticed. Of course. Our families were old friends, and we’d been inseparable since childhood, over two decades. I could read the slightest difference in his expression. Naturally, he could tell something was off with my words and actions. I thought for a moment. Then, I looked up, meeting Cameron’s gaze directly. “Cameron, I had a dream last night.” 4 I recounted the dream’s events slowly, reliving them. The tears that felt so real, the profound, gut-wrenching pain—telling the story now felt like wading through a river of heartache. I stared blankly at Cameron, still bewildered. “Why did the system girl have the exact same look, the same name, as the one in my dream? “But why is your reaction completely different?” Before I could fully register Cameron’s expression, he pulled me into a fierce embrace. “Syd.” I felt something cool and wet land on the top of my head. Is it raining? I tried to pull away from Cameron’s chest, but he only held me tighter. After a long while, I heard his voice, muffled and tight, full of suppressed emotion. “Syd. “It was a dream, just a dream. “Dreams are often the opposite of reality. That’s why my reaction is different.” The winter night was sharp and cold. Nestled in Cameron’s warm embrace, I asked in a choked voice: “Really? “But I just feel like the dream was so real. It felt like I lived through it.” Cameron’s whole body tensed for a split second. I couldn’t see his face, but I felt the arms encircling me tighten further, as if he were trying to press me into his very being. “It is. Trust me. “In this lifetime, I will only ever love Sydney Pierce. I won’t be swayed by anyone.” Hearing the strong, steady beat of his heart against my ear, I still felt strangely uneasy. Promises made in youth are beautiful but uncertain. Like the moon reflected on the water. The gentle touch of fate’s hand can ripple the surface and shatter the silver into countless broken pieces. I went inside. After greeting my parents, I walked upstairs to my room. Pushing the door open, I automatically went to the window. Through the sheer white curtains, I looked down. Cameron’s car was still parked outside. He leaned against the car door. The black tailored wool coat made him look tall and elegant. The streetlight cast small, scattered bits of light on him. The night wind was biting. He stood there in the wind, hands buried in his coat pockets. Head bowed, lost in thought. My hand unconsciously clenched the curtains. I wondered when his promise would change. I slept restlessly that night. The next morning. My driver dropped me off at the university. As I stepped out of the car, I saw Savannah and Cameron standing together. 5 Savannah’s face was bright with a cheerful smile. She extended a delicate paper bag towards Cameron. “Cam. “I woke up early just to make you this sandwich.” As if to prove her point, she gestured to a nearby Liam. “Liam and the others have one too. You should try it.” Liam was nodding eagerly, chewing on a bite and showering her with compliments. “She’s not just pretty, Cam. She can cook too. “You have to try it, it’s really good!” Cameron’s hands remained buried in his coat pockets. He didn’t even glance down at the paper bag. He looked at Savannah with impatience, his voice cold and faintly annoyed. “No, thank you.” Savannah’s smile faltered. She pushed the bag forward, trying to force it. “Cam, it’s just a nice gesture…” “Move.” Cameron’s face darkened, his patience clearly gone. Savannah’s face went white, and her eyes welled up instantly. “Cam…” She seemed poised to say more, but Cameron walked around her, striding directly toward me. He had seen me the moment I stepped out of the car. Savannah hadn’t. She quickly rushed forward, extending her arms to bravely, yet cautiously, block his path. Students walking by slowed down, whispering amongst themselves. Savannah took a deep breath, her eyes fixed on Cameron. “Why won’t you take my sandwich, Cam? “Do you have a problem with me, or do you just… hate me?” Cameron’s eyes were devoid of warmth. He didn’t want to waste another word. “Yes.” The unambiguous, blunt answer made Savannah’s face burn crimson. The knuckles of the hand gripping the sandwich bag were white. The onlookers whispered and exchanged knowing looks, enjoying the drama. Tears gradually filled Savannah’s eyes. She bit her lip, stubbornly staring at Cameron and pressing the question. “Why? “What did I do to offend you, Cam? “I just wanted to thank you, so I made some sandwiches for breakfast. “It’s not just for you. I made some for Liam and the others too.” Cameron looked down at Savannah, his gaze sharp and indifferent. “Thank me for what?” Savannah froze, her brave facade faltering slightly. “Thank you for… for saving me.” Cameron’s voice was detached. “I told you yesterday, you’re thanking the wrong person.” Savannah’s extended arms trembled, but she still tried to explain. “You were there yesterday, so I included you. It didn’t take much extra time.” “Did it?” Cameron looked at her, his eyes piercing. “My girlfriend was there too. Why didn’t you make one for her?” Savannah instantly went rigid, her face turning ashen. She opened her mouth, trying to find an explanation. “I…” Cameron didn’t spare her another glance. He bypassed her completely and walked toward me. 6 The north wind howled. Withered leaves rustled down from the trees. Cameron walked against the wind and quickly reached me. Naturally, he pulled open his coat and wrapped me inside. “Waiting so long, are you cold?” His warm body heat wrapped around me, a comforting, continuous embrace. I should have felt happy and cherished. But for some reason, a tiny thread of bitterness unwound in my heart. “Cameron…” I murmured his name, my throat tightening. Hearing the tremor in my voice, Cameron quickly lowered his head to look at me. “What is it, Syd?” My tears broke loose, falling one after another. “You accepted it, in the dream, you accepted her breakfast…” Cameron’s body jerked. His voice was laced with panic. “Syd…” In his tone, there was a rare mix of nervousness and fear. He gently patted my back, trying to calm me down urgently and tenderly. “Syd, that was just a dream, only a dream. “Look, in reality, I didn’t take it at all, did I?” My vision was blurred by tears. I closed my eyes, wanting to nod, but unable to. I just felt like everything was unreal. Neither fully a dream nor fully awake. After a long time, I composed myself, and Cameron and I started walking toward the campus buildings. Savannah was still there, hunched on the ground, hugging herself. Her whimpering sobs were carried away by the wind. Liam was crouched beside her, comforting her with worried, pained urgency. In the back of my mind, I felt that something had changed. The days flowed by slowly. Savannah rarely appeared in front of us anymore. Occasionally, we’d run into her on campus. She would look at Cameron, and her eyes would fill with tears. Cameron would always look straight ahead, pulling me along and walking right past her. Until Cameron’s birthday, when a group of us were celebrating at a private club. Halfway through the party, Savannah showed up. When she walked in, Cameron was putting a peeled shrimp on my plate. Savannah’s gaze caught the gesture, and a look of sadness flashed across her face. Soon, she forced a smile and offered Cameron a beautifully wrapped gift box. “Happy Birthday, Cam.” It was obvious she had put effort into her appearance today. Her makeup was light, her face slightly pale without blush, lending her a fragile, heart-tugging appearance. She was wearing a white tailored wool coat, a style very similar to Cameron’s usual black one. It looked almost like a couple’s outfit. Cameron didn’t take Savannah’s gift box. He slowly raised his eyes to her. “How did you get in here?” The private club was members-only. Savannah couldn’t have gotten in on her own. “I used Liam’s membership card,” Savannah managed a smile, staring intently at Cameron. “I just… wanted to wish you a happy birthday in person.” 7 A tense silence fell over the private room. No one knew how to react. Savannah stood there, looking mournful and forlorn. Anyone would feel a pang of sympathy for her. Especially Liam. His girlfriend, Amelia, was sitting beside him, yet his eyes hadn’t left Savannah since she walked in. “Cam, I let her in. “She’s genuinely nice, man. It’s your birthday, just let her stay and celebrate with us.” I instinctively glanced at Amelia. She was biting her lip, staring blankly at Liam. For some reason, I felt a rising sense of dread. The scenes from my dream began flashing again. In the dream, Savannah also came to Cameron’s birthday. He had rejected her pursuit before, but he didn’t reject her presence. He had simply told her to sit wherever she liked, a complex emotion clouding his brow. But now. Cameron’s eyes held a blatant, undisguised look of annoyance and disgust toward Savannah. “I don’t need your blessing or your gift.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “I love my girlfriend deeply, and I will only ever love her. “So I hope you stop bothering me, and stop doing things that are frankly shameful.” Savannah’s face instantly flushed a deep red. The overhead crystal chandelier caught the glint of tears in her eyes. She quickly wiped a corner of her eye, choking up as she asked Cameron: “Not even as just a regular friend?” “I’m sorry,” Cameron’s voice was ice-cold. “I don’t need a friend like you.” Savannah couldn’t hold back her tears anymore. She covered her mouth with a hand and ran out of the room, sobbing. “Savannah!” Liam cried out, jumping up, desperate to chase after her. But Cameron grabbed his arm. “Liam, don’t get involved where you don’t belong.” To my surprise, Liam roughly shook off Cameron’s hand, looking upset. “I don’t know why you’re so cold-blooded! “I just don’t get it, she’s a perfectly decent girl, she hasn’t done anything out of line, but you’ve hated her since the day you met her!” Liam grew more agitated. “Humiliating her in front of everyone—does that satisfy your ego, Cameron?” Cameron’s eyes narrowed, clearly angered. But he still tried to be patient. “Liam. “I’m telling you this as a friend: don’t be led astray by a moment of fancy. “She is not as innocent and pure as she seems. “Besides—” He gestured to Amelia. “Your girlfriend is right here. Are you going to break her heart for a girl you barely know?” Liam finally looked at Amelia. Seeing her red-rimmed eyes, he impatiently ran a hand through his hair. “Mia, don’t think too much of it. I just can’t stand Cameron targeting a younger girl.” He looked toward the door, anxious to get to Savannah immediately. “Wait here, I’ll just go check on her and be right back!” With that, he ran out of the room. Amelia watched his urgent, retreating back, and tears began to fall. My heart ached for her, too. Maybe it was a kinship between women. Maybe it was because in my dream, I, too, had watched Cameron’s back disappear. I reached out and took Amelia’s hand, wanting to offer some comfort. Just then, a commotion erupted in the hallway outside. “Someone’s going to jump! Hurry, hurry!” Everyone in the room was startled. They immediately stood up and rushed out. A horrifying thought flashed through my mind. Could it be… Savannah? Amelia was also panicked. She gripped my hand. “Syd, we should go look.” 8 When we reached the club’s rooftop, we saw Savannah sitting on the waist-high ledge. Her frame was thin, and her hair was wind-whipped and messy. Her legs dangled in the air, looking as if she might fall at any moment. Liam stood pale-faced a short distance away from her. He held out a hand toward Savannah, his voice trembling with fear and anxiety. “Sav, don’t scare me. Please, just come over here, okay?” Savannah turned her head to look at him. Then, she saw Cameron in the crowd, and tears instantly streamed down her face. She gave a desolate smile. “Cam, do you worry about me too?” Cameron frowned, gripping my hand tightly, and remained silent. The onlookers watched the spectacle, whispering and pointing. Savannah ignored them, her eyes locked onto Cameron. Her face showed despair and utter recklessness. “Cam. “I love you. I love you so much, and it’s not just because of the task. “I approached you, got to know you, learned to make sandwiches to please you, manufactured chances to ‘run into’ you, and knitted a scarf to give you.” “But no matter what I did, you never once looked at me properly. My favorability rating is stuck at zero.” Tears dripped from the corners of her eyes. She looked like a broken doll. Liam clenched his fists, shouting in a pained, desperate voice. “Sav, get down first, then we can talk!” But Savannah didn’t seem to hear him. Her gaze remained fixed on Cameron. “Cam, why can’t you just look at me? Why can’t you like me, even just a little? “What do I lack that Sydney doesn’t have? Is it just because she met you first? “I’m the one who loves you the most. I came to this world for you. I’m the one who loves you the most in this entire world.” Savannah’s smile was heartbreakingly tragic. “Cam. “Did I ever tell you that the System assigned you as my target? “If I fail my task, I will die.” Tears still flowing, she repeated the line. “I will truly die without you.” I instantly froze. A thunderous boom went off in my head, like a sudden lightning strike. I remembered. I remembered everything. It wasn’t a dream after all. It wasn’t a dream. It was my previous life.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387653”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

A Christmas yacht party. Dean’s “Girl-Bro” had just lost a round of high-stakes truth-or-dare and was down to a string bikini. This was Skylar Wells, the girl who usually slammed tequila shots and swore like a sailor, now dramatically clutching her chest, tears streaming down her perfectly contoured cheeks. Dean wrapped Skylar in his own bespoke cashmere overcoat, then laughed, a casual, dismissive sound as he pushed me toward the circle of trust fund brats. “What’s the fun in watching the guys strip when you can watch the little ingénue type do it?” Huddled in Dean’s embrace, Skylar smirked, her voice syrupy sweet as she addressed the onlookers. “Guys, this is Will, the girl who works the front desk at my dad’s office. You know how those people are—flash enough cash, and they’ll play any game you want.” Dean leaned in, his breath hot against my ear, the intimacy sickeningly fake. “Skylar’s the CEO’s daughter, Will. Can’t risk her image. Think of this as… doing the company a favor. I’ll make sure you get a generous bonus.” He had no idea. I was the real heiress. The ‘receptionist’ gig was just a clause in my grandfather’s insane, iron-clad inheritance wager. As the most notorious ‘Black Sheep’ in The Circle—the one everyone secretly called the Vicious Princess—no one, and I mean no one, had dared to play games with me in years. 1 Jax Ryker, the ringleader, exhaled a plume of smoke directly into my face and slammed a heavy-duty revolver onto the mahogany table. “Front Desk Girl,” he sneered, his eyes hard. “Can you actually afford to play? Lose, and it’s not just about taking off clothes.” I raised an eyebrow. The last time I’d heard that tone from him was two years ago. Jax and his crew had cornered me on a winding Malibu canyon road, insisting on a street race. The memory of having ten of them dangling over a sheer drop—terrified, humiliated, and unable to climb the hill for a year—warmed me. At least he had some guts this time. But the lack of perception was insulting. I’d grown my hair out, traded smoky eyes for a minimal look, but still. None of them recognized Willow Lockwood. Seeing my silence, Skylar started whining, practically jumping up and down in Dean’s arms. “Dean! You gonna let her ruin your old man? She won’t play, which means I have to strip again!” Dean stepped in front of me, his voice low, measured, and utterly certain. “Will. You walk out now, and we’re done. We break up.” For a year, the mere threat of a breakup had been his ace card; I’d always folded instantly. He was convinced I was desperately in love, yet he didn’t know breaking up was one of the few things that could void my inheritance wager. I pushed back my sleeve and glanced at my watch. Three hours left. “Fine. What’s the game?” Jax crushed the cigarette butt against the table, his gaze dropping suggestively to my chest. “Debt first. Peel something off.” I looked at Dean. He averted his eyes, pulling Skylar tighter, unwilling to intervene. My grandfather had always said I had the ruthlessness but lacked the judgment to pick allies. I guess he wasn’t wrong. I tossed the cashmere wrap onto the deck, revealing the silky chemise beneath. Jax licked his lips. “Russian Roulette. Six chambers, one bullet. We take turns, pulling the trigger. Skip your turn, and you strip.” He then demonstrated, raising the gun to his own temple and pulling the trigger, which was met with a roar of cheers. He was waiting for me to cry, to beg, to be humiliated. Too bad. Jax was still playing in the dirt when I was pointing a gun at a cartel leader’s head. I snatched the gun, spun the cylinder, then slammed it shut. Without hesitation, I pointed it at my temple and pulled the trigger. Dean instinctively shielded Skylar with his coat, as if afraid my blood might stain her. Jax was genuinely stunned. “You’re the second woman who’s ever dared to play that.” A flicker of an old shadow crossed his eyes, then vanished. We went back and forth, turn after turn, until only one chamber was left, and it was my turn to pull the trigger. “Front Desk Girl, game over,” Jax growled, a hideous grin stretching across his face. From the moment I first held that gun, I knew Jax’s trick. A specialized revolver—the round was resting firmly in the sixth chamber. But, he was about to be disappointed. I hooked a smile and, amidst the drunken chants of, “Strip! Strip! Strip!” I pulled the trigger. Everyone gasped, eyes clenched shut. Even Jax looked panicked; he just wanted a show, not a homicide. The air remained still. I stood there, untouched, a cold, mocking smile playing on my lips. “Well, well. Jax Ryker, the big shot, using blanks to scare a girl? You’re a coward.” I’d palmed the real bullet and flicked it discreetly into the dark water. Jax’s face flushed scarlet as the eyes of his friends turned on him. He opened his mouth to protest, but I cut him off. “Strip, Jax. I won’t hold it against you.” Knowing no one would believe his denial, and unwilling to look like a chicken in front of his crew, Jax ripped off his shirt. “Again!” he snarled. A large, iron cage was brought up, covered by a black tarp. When they pulled it off, my composure finally slipped. Jax was pushing his luck—he’d stolen Kaa, my pet Burmese Python. His easy access to the Lockwood estate confirmed my suspicion: he was working with Eliza, my stepmother. “Front Desk Girl, one python each. First one bitten loses.” Skylar, who’d just been muttering about my “beginner’s luck,” brightened up and grabbed the only vial of anti-venom. Jax was clearly comfortable with his snake; it settled placidly on his shoulders. He scoffed, certain of my refusal. The python in the cage hissed and showed its fangs toward me. “Oopsie!” Skylar chirped, the vial slipping from her hand and shattering on the deck. She watched me, a triumphant, venomous glint in her eyes. “I suggest you strip, Willow. Getting to please Jax is the best option you’ve got now.” Dean stepped in front of her. “Will, Skylar didn’t mean to. Just give in, alright? You don’t have to do this.” I gave a cold, sharp laugh and opened the cage myself. Kaa lunged straight for my neck. Everyone gasped, expecting the strike, but instead, the massive snake settled around my shoulders, circling me like a beloved scarf, and went still. Everyone, including Jax, was speechless. I whistled—a high, clear note. The python wrapped around Jax, which had been docile, suddenly writhed, coiling tighter and tighter, crushing the air from his lungs. Jax shrieked in genuine terror. The snake opened its mouth, ready to strike. “I forfeit!” Jax tore off his swim trunks, leaving him completely naked, his face a sickening green. “Are you really just the damn receptionist?” I noted the time—two hours left. I offered him a wide, innocent smile. “Of course. I grew up on the property’s edge—lots of snakes in the foothills.” My cover story was simple and believable enough to calm the crowd’s suspicions. “Jax,” I said sweetly. “Any more death-defying games you want to try?” Embarrassed, he cleared his throat. “Violence is boring. Let’s relax. Something else.” He gave a signal to one of his lackeys, who brought forward a small, dark green vial. “It’s a Pentothal derivative,” Jax explained. “Used for international interrogations. The third game is simple: drink it, answer truthfully. Refuse to answer, and you strip.” I took the vial and drank the whole thing. Skylar stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with malice. “Jax is losing his edge. I’ve got this, godmother.” She glanced at the onlookers. “I’ll get her stripped for you.” Jax lit a cigarette and let her take over. “First question. Did you have an ulterior motive for being with Dean Abbott?” The serum was potent; the truth slipped out before I could even process it. “Yes.” Dean’s face crumpled. “I knew it! You’re just after my money, aren’t you? You never loved me.” Not your money, you idiot. The wager. Skylar pressed on. “What motive?” I can’t say that yet. Without hesitation, I stripped off my chemise, revealing the bikini top. Jax’s eyes widened, and he signaled for Skylar to continue. “Have you ever compromised yourself with older men for money?” “Yes.” “How many ‘older men’ have paid you?” “Eighteen.” A collective gasp went around the deck. “I can’t believe this girl is so trashy for money!” Dean was white with fury, his fists clenched. “You have the nerve to admit that!” What’s the big deal? They were family elders, sending money to the heir. But on this yacht, in this context, let them think what they want. Skylar changed course. “Have you ever harmed a child?” “Yes.” Five years old. Forced my stepmother to terminate the pregnancy she was using to usurp me. Skylar had clearly been coached by Eliza. My grandfather’s wager was known only by the inner circle: Be stable. Keep the boyfriend. Become Chairman. “Have you ever physically harmed an elderly person?” “Yes.” Ten years old. The old man my stepmother abandoned me with in the hills. He wanted to assault me. I broke his skull. Dean was livid. “I can’t believe I mistook you for a decent person! You didn’t even spare a child or an old man.” I didn’t spare my own friends either. Twelve years old: My best friend took a hundred grand from Eliza to push me off a mountain during a trip. I strangled her. Fifteen years old: My childhood friend tried to inject me with drugs for Eliza’s five percent company shares. I shipped him to the Golden Triangle. Skylar dabbed at non-existent tears, leaning into Dean. “Dean, she’s so cold, so unaffected by her own monstrosity. She doesn’t deserve you.” Jax, spurred on by the crowd, grabbed my bikini strap and crushed his cigarette butt, hard, right onto my shoulder. “Stop pretending to be the little damsel, Will. I wouldn’t even play poker with someone as dirty as you.” I smiled, brushing the ash away. Patience. I’ll get that serum into every one of them. We’ll see who’s ‘dirty’ then. The insults rained down, yet I kept answering Skylar’s questions. “Have you ever been unfaithful to Dean?” I nodded. “Yes.” Skylar delivered the final, calculated blow. “Do you have a child that does not belong to Dean Abbott?” I was genuinely shocked Skylar knew this. She’d been laying a trap. “Yes.” The word was barely out when Dean lunged, slapping me across the face with brutal force. “Bitch! We’re done! We are breaking up right now!” My watch flashed: One hour until the year is up. I spat out a mouthful of blood and forced the rage down. My voice was calm, almost conversational. “I do have a son. He’s not yours, Dean, but here’s the kicker: he’s five years older than me. I’ve never been unfaithful to you.” The deck was suddenly quiet. They knew the serum guaranteed truth. Dean and Skylar were utterly confused. Dean’s rage instantly dissolved into relief. I looked at him, forcing a few well-placed tears to my eyes. “Our anniversary is in one hour. Please, don’t end things now. I promised I’d tell you who he is at the one-year mark.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387652”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On Christmas Eve, I received a very peculiar commission request. The client was in a rush. She said money was no object and ordered five matching couple avatars in one go. I agreed immediately. I figured if I pulled an all-nighter, I could finish them by tomorrow morning. Then, I could surprise my boyfriend of five years, Liam, with a spontaneous trip to Aspen to see the snow. But when I opened the reference photos, my blood ran cold. The man in the pictures was Liam. The woman? I recognized her, too. It was Amber, the admin of Liam’s biggest fan page, back from when he first started gaining traction as a pro tennis player. I stared at the photos, zooming in and out, praying my eyes were playing tricks on me. The next second, my phone lit up. A text from Liam. “Chloe, the sponsors are insisting on a dinner to discuss the new contract. It’s looking unlikely I’ll make it home tonight.” “But you just focus on getting ready for our New Year’s wedding. Wait for me. Love you.” I stared at the screen. The wedding? Yeah, that was definitely going to be missing a key element now. I called my brother in Germany. “Ryan,” I said, my voice trembling but cold. “I need to prepare a big gift for Liam for New Year’s Day.” 01 I hung up the phone. I clicked on the client’s—Amber’s—social media feed. She hadn’t blocked me. Her latest post was from thirty minutes ago. [Christmas Eve wish: To be with my Hubby forever!! ❤️❄️] The photo showed her and a man passionately kissing in the snow. The location tag: Aspen, Colorado. I would recognize that man even if he turned to ash. There was a jagged scar on the webbing of his left hand, between the thumb and index finger. It looked like a蜈蚣 (centipede). He’d gotten it during a training session when a racket snapped. Someone else in the world might have a hand scar, but not that exact shape. And then I saw the comment underneath. Liam_Tennis: [Growing old together with wifey.] I switched back to my texts with Liam. Ten minutes ago, he told me he was at a business dinner. My hand, usually so steady when holding a stylus, was shaking uncontrollably. It felt like a knife was twisting in my chest. A sudden wave of nausea hit me. I ran to the bathroom and hugged the toilet, retching until my eyes watered. So, the “sponsors” were just a cover. He was in Aspen. With her. I video-called him. He declined instantly. A second later, a text popped up. Liam: [Chloe, is everything okay?] Liam: [Can’t video chat right now, babe. The sponsors are making toasts, it’s rude to be on my phone.] Liam: [I’m sorry, sweetie. I know I’ve been busy. I’ll make it up to you when I get home, okay?] His words seemed so sincere. A week ago, I would have been moved to tears by his dedication. Now, I knew the truth. He was cheating. One week before our wedding. I didn’t know if Amber hired me on purpose or by accident. My own profile picture was literally a drawing of me and Liam. I switched back to the chat with Amber. I put on a mask. Me: [Wow, you and your boyfriend look so perfect together! I’ll definitely make these look amazing for you.] Amber took the bait. She started gushing about how they met. But I caught the slip-up: she mentioned they had been together for two years. Then she cut the convo short. “Hubby cooked dinner for me. Gotta go eat!” She sent a photo. A man wearing an apron, peeling shrimp at a dining table. It was Liam. 02 Two years? I did the math. Two years ago, Liam had just started making a name for himself on the circuit. He was handsome, played an aggressive game, and gained a lot of female fans. For a while, he kept talking about this one “superfan.” I asked who she was, and he brushed it off. “Just a devoted fan, Chloe. She runs the fan club.” Eventually, I got annoyed, and he stopped mentioning her. I thought he was respecting my boundaries. Turns out, they were just taking it underground. I stopped replying to her. I sat down at my tablet. My time is expensive. Rush orders are expensive. Whether Liam was cheating or Amber was taunting me, money was money. Who holds a grudge against cash? I painted through the night. By dawn, I sent the files. Amber paid immediately. I looked at the bank notification, counted the zeros, and finally went to sleep. When Liam came home, I was still in bed. He brought the cold winter air in with him. I woke up because his hands were wandering under the sheets. I grabbed his wrist. “Cold.” He paused, clearly surprised I was awake. He touched his nose sheepishly and smiled. “Hey, sleeping beauty.” “I rushed back to spend Christmas morning with you. I even got you a gift!” “Are you happy, babe?” His tone was expectant, cheerful. But all I could see was him kissing Amber in the snow. I forced a smile and hugged him. “Since you’re back, go shower first,” I said. “Wash off the travel fatigue. Just like we promised.” “Okay!” He agreed. It was a rule we made years ago: wash away the bad vibes from the outside world before getting into bed. Really, I just wanted him to wash off the smell. That cloying lily perfume he reeked of was giving me a migraine. While he showered, I checked my phone. Liam had changed his WhatsApp profile picture. I checked Amber’s. They were matching. It was one of the pairs I drew last night. I laughed, a dry, humorless sound. We’ve been together five years, and he doesn’t even recognize my art style? Using a portrait I drew of him and his mistress as his profile picture? Is he stupid, or just cruel? Liam walked out, drying his hair. He saw me staring at his phone. Panic flashed in his eyes, but the lie came smooth as butter. “Babe, don’t overthink it! I just found this online. The guy looks just like me, right?” “You never want to use matching avatars with me, so I had to find my own.” “If you don’t like it, I’ll change it.” Even when caught, he tried to make it my fault. My heart still ached, but my resolve was hardening. 03 I took a deep breath to steady my voice. “Where did you find it? It’s crazy, it looks exactly like you!” “I don’t think I could even draw you that accurately.” Liam was about to reply when his phone rang. He answered, glanced at me, and immediately put on a worried face. “Slow down. What happened to the team?” “Do I really have to be there?” “Did the coach approve this?” Three minutes later, he hung up. He looked at me with pained eyes. “Chloe, I’m so sorry. I have to bail on you again…” I looked at him calmly. “What happened?” “Training camp. There’s a match in Seattle today, and a teammate injured his wrist. Coach needs me to fill in.” “It’s Christmas… I’ll make it up to you in a few days, I promise.” He was already changing his clothes. “I left your gift in the living room. Open it carefully, I spent ages picking it out!” He checked his phone, sent a text, kissed my forehead, and left. Smooth. Practiced. Usually, he would beg for my permission. Today, he didn’t even wait for a response. He didn’t know that the walls in the hallway aren’t soundproof. I heard him on the phone as he walked to the elevator. It wasn’t the coach. It was a woman. “I miss you, Liam. I hurt my wrist playing tennis… it hurts so bad.” It was Amber. I watched him perform his little play and felt nothing but disgust. Five years of love, destroyed by the excitement of a fling. My stomach cramped again. Wait. The nausea. I ordered a pregnancy test via instant delivery. Ten minutes later, I was staring at two red lines. Just then, Amber messaged me. 04 Amber: [Chloe, oh Chloe. You really are naive, aren’t you?] Amber: [Did you seriously not recognize the man in the drawings?] Amber: [Liam has been home for less than two hours. I just used a little trick, and he’s already running back to me.] Amber: [Men are simple. If you service them well in bed, their hearts stay with you. Did you ever wonder who he’s thinking about when he sleeps with you?] I felt the blood freeze in my veins. She knew. She hired me on purpose. She sent a video. Five seconds long. Filmed from a second-story window. Liam, holding a takeout bag, running desperately from his car toward the building. Amber: [I’m pregnant. Almost four months.] She was laying her cards on the table. She wanted me to quit so she could take the spot of Mrs. Bai. I didn’t reply. I muted her notifications. I touched my flat stomach. I booked the earliest appointment for an abortion. This child was innocent, but I had no choice. I would not tie myself to this man forever. I opened social media to take down the pinned photo of me and Liam. Then I saw Amber’s new post. [Loving the Christmas gift from Hubby! My favorite!!] It was a photo of a luxury jewelry set. Next to it was an ultrasound. I zoomed in. Four months. Then I saw her comment below it. Amber: [It’s a pity the silk scarf that came with the set got lost. Hubby said he lost it! So annoying!!] Amber: [But he said it was just a free gift with purchase anyway. He promised to buy me a designer one next time! Hehe, love him.] The scarf was lost? I remembered Liam telling me to “open the gift carefully.” I walked to the living room. My hands trembled as I lifted the lid of the box he left. Inside lay a silk scarf. I laughed out loud. A harsh, broken sound. So this was what five years of love amounted to? I was the trash can for his mistress’s free gift with purchase.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387651”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Christmas Eve fell on a weekend this year. Except for the senior class, the entire campus had emptied out for the holidays. That day, I watched the Dean’s profile picture in the school group chat turn pitch black. I watched my classmates die in front of me, one by one. I felt like I was dead, yet somehow, I was the only one still breathing. There was no peace on this Silent Night. Our prep school had become a living hell. 1 Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way. “Who’s damn alarm is that? Turn it off, seriously!” Brock rolled over in his bunk, sat up, and shouted at us, his voice thick with sleep and aggression. “I didn’t set one, man. Kyle, is it yours?” Chase didn’t even look away from his gaming monitor, tapping furiously at his keyboard. “Not mine, Chase.” Kyle flashed a sycophantic grin before turning a glare on me. “Why do you have an alarm set in the middle of the day? You woke up Brock. Turn it off, idiot.” “It’s almost three in the afternoon…” I whispered. “So what? If Brock wants to sleep, he sleeps. You got a problem with that?” Kyle kicked his chair back and stood up, puffing his chest out. I held up my phone with trembling hands. “No… no problem. It’s not… it’s not an alarm. It’s a notification from the Grade Group Chat. As soon as I opened it, the music started playing.” “You’re the only loser who actually pins the school chat. It’s the weekend, what could they possibly want?” Brock scoffed, pulling the duvet over his head. The noise broke Chase’s concentration. A massive GAME OVER flashed on his screen. He slammed his headset onto the desk. “Alright, alright. We’re all roommates here, let’s not kill each other. Liam, read the message. What’s so important?” I knew the drill. If I didn’t read it with the right tone, Chase would take his frustration over the lost match out on me. My arm, still throbbing under the scab of a fresh cigarette burn, shook as I lifted the phone. The account that posted the announcement had a Santa Claus avatar and the name Saint Nick. The subject line was five bold, blood-red words: CHRISTMAS EVE RULES OF CONDUCT Christmas trees are green, not red. If you see a red Christmas tree on campus, lower your head immediately. Do not look at the top of the tree. Candy found on the ground is not real candy. No matter how delicious it looks, do not eat it. Dining Hall Hours: All students must eat dinner between 6:00 PM and 7:00 PM. You must be back in your dorms by 9:00 PM. The only meat served is Roast Chicken. If the lunch lady serves you anything else, no matter how good it smells, ask for an exchange immediately. The only dessert is Pudding. Pudding does not speak. If your pudding speaks to you, eat it quickly. The Campus Store has Apples. These are not for sale. If you want to gain His favor, giving Him an Apple is never a mistake. If a Stocking appears by your bed, do not be afraid. A Long Stocking is a gift from Santa; keep it on you, but keep it hidden. If it is a Short Sock (Ankle Sock), find the Housemother immediately. He may already be watching you. The Housemother hates Christmas. If you see her wearing a Santa hat, she is not the real Housemother. Do not trust her. Lights out after midnight. If you need light, use a candle, though it carries its own risks. If you see Santa Claus on campus, stop, make eye contact, and smile while saying, “Merry Christmas!” When a Christmas Carol plays, freeze and close your eyes until the song ends. You may make a wish. Perhaps Santa is listening. Reindeer are Santa’s eyes. Remember, there are no live reindeer on campus. If a reindeer nuzzles your hand, run. No matter what happens, remember: There is no real Santa Claus. 2 I finished reading. The dorm room fell dead silent. “Who the hell posted this prank? Hacking the school chat? That’s psycho behavior.” Brock cursed, grabbing his phone, clearly awake now. “Probably some senior cracking under the pressure,” Chase said, unbothered. “But…” I stammered, “Only admins can post announcements. Dean Miller is the only admin.” A chill crawled up four spines simultaneously. Kyle suddenly pointed at his screen. “Guys, look! There are two admins now!” “It wasn’t Dean Miller who posted it!” “I clicked on the profile. It’s blank. No bio. Just… a background image that says: Welcome to Santa’s World in red letters.” Chase leaned in, intrigued. Then he scoffed. “It’s just a hacker script. Some edgy kid trying to scare people with bloody fonts.” Another notification pinged. Santa Claus has been removed from the group chat. “See? Dean Miller handled it. Just a prank. Childish.” Chase smirked, reaching for his headset again. Brock, now fully awake, looked at Chase. “Jump on a lobby with me?” “Wait… no, wait! Look!” Kyle screamed. “That Santa account… he’s back!” “The Dean…” I gasped. “Dean Miller’s profile picture just turned black.” A new message popped up. From Santa. “The admin didn’t seem to like Santa very much. That’s okay. I sent him to hell early.” An image loaded. It was Dean Miller. He was kneeling in a pool of dark liquid. A silver carving knife was buried in his chest. Written on the floor beside him, in blood, were the words: Merry Christmas. “To all the students in the chat: You don’t want to end up like this, do you?” “I am very reasonable. Just follow the rules.” “Welcome to Santa’s World.” “Let the festivities begin!” 3 “AHHHH!” Kyle threw his phone across the room. “Is… is that picture real?” “He killed the Dean! He actually killed him!” “Calm down! Everyone shut up!” Chase’s face was pale, but he tried to maintain his cool leader persona. “I’m calling the Dean’s office.” He dialed. His fingers were shaking. Beep… Beep… Beep… “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed does not exist…” “Does not exist…” I stood up so fast my chair screeched against the floor. “It’s real. He’s dead.” A single tear rolled down my cheek. I leaned against the wardrobe, my legs giving out. “Stop crying, you wuss! Use that useless brain of yours to think!” Brock’s voice was hoarse, masking his terror with anger. “Call 911! Call the cops!” Kyle yelled, scrambling for his phone. “No signal,” Chase said, staring at his bars. “I checked the hallway. The guys next door saw the message too.” “Someone from the track team tried to make a run for the main gate. He said it’s locked. It’s pitch black outside the perimeter.” “Another kid tried to climb the wall. He threw a rock over to check the drop… he never heard it hit the ground.” Chase looked at us, his eyes dark. “The school is an island now. Nobody gets out.” He took a deep breath. “Follow the rules. Pray you get lucky.” I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I broke down sobbing. They thought I was crying out of fear. After all, I was the dorm’s punching bag. The coward. None of them knew. I wasn’t crying because I was scared. I was crying because I was excited. 4 I came from a dead-end town in the middle of nowhere. Parents dead. Passed around by neighbors until my Uncle took me in. When I got the scholarship to the city prep school, the whole village came to see me off. “Liam, you’re a smart kid. A good kid,” the old mayor told me. “Make something of yourself.” I hugged him and promised I’d pay everyone back one day. My Aunt and Uncle couldn’t have kids. They treated me like their own. Even when business was bad, they made sure I had the best textbooks, the best uniform. “We can’t let you look less than those city kids,” my Aunt would say, smoothing my collar. I studied until my eyes bled. I got into the most prestigious private high school in the state. I chose to live on campus to save them money. I applied for every grant, every meal voucher. The day I left, my Aunt packed two huge bags for me. “Don’t save money on food, okay? Take care of yourself.” She choked up. Uncle wrapped his arm around her. “Liam’s a tank. He’s going to the Ivy League. He’s our pride and joy.” I held back my tears. I swore I’d get a high-paying job. I swore I’d buy them a big house. I walked through those iron gates full of hope. I didn’t know I was walking into a slaughterhouse. 5 It started with Brock. Brock was a varsity athlete, a legacy admission. His dad donated a new wing to the library. He skipped class, partied, and treated the school like his playground. “Hey, Scholarship. I got practice. Do my history paper.” “I know you’re broke. Here, catch.” He’d throw a crumpled ten-dollar bill at my face. “Idiot tax. Don’t thank me. Just make the handwriting look like mine.” I thought of my Uncle bowing to customers. I thought of my Aunt’s rough hands. “…Okay.” I swallowed my pride. Then, Brock demanded I help him cheat on finals. “There are cameras! If we get caught, I lose my scholarship!” I pleaded. “Relax. Dean Miller is on my dad’s payroll. He won’t do a thing.” Brock smirked. I realized then that the system was rigged. The Dean and the bullies were on the same team. “Just do it. Or do you want your Aunt to find out you got expelled for ‘stealing’?” I had no choice. I thought that was the bottom. I didn’t know that once you open the door to evil, it floods in until you drown.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387650”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On Christmas Eve, my husband wanted a thrill. He snuck his childhood sweetheart into my high-security research lab for a tryst, using my credentials to override the locks. She went rogue, touching things she shouldn’t have, and smashed a vital piece of containment equipment. The result? A catastrophic virus leak. Seventy-two researchers trapped inside, infected, and left to die. But when the dust settled, everyone pointed the finger at me. My husband, Mark, stood tall on the moral high ground. “Even though you’re my wife, Sarah, I can’t protect you. How could I face my dead colleagues? They were brilliant minds, patriots!” His mistress, Chloe, chimed in with a tearful plea. “Sarah, making a mistake at work isn’t shameful, but this is seventy-two lives! You have to turn yourself in. Stop running from responsibility.” I tried to explain, but I was drowned out. The furious families of the victims surrounded me. I felt the cold steel of a knife, once, twice… over twenty times. As I lay dying on the cold floor, my vision fading, I heard Mark whisper to Chloe: “Good thing I used Sarah’s badge to get you in. Since it’s her login, she takes the fall.” Then, darkness. When I opened my eyes, I was back in my office. It was the morning of Christmas Eve. Chloe had just broken into the lab. 1 “Sarah! How can you just sit there drinking coffee? Do you realize you’ve killed everyone in the containment wing?!” My husband, Mark, kicked open my office door. He stormed in, launching immediately into a tirade. My colleagues jumped, exchanging bewildered glances. “The containment wing? Killed who?” I sat perfectly still in my ergonomic chair, taking a slow sip from my mug. “I’ve been sitting here all morning. I haven’t stepped foot near the labs. What does any of this have to do with me?” “You’re still lying!” Mark screamed, veins bulging in his neck. “You tampered with the equipment! You caused a malfunction that led to a Level 4 leak! The whole building is contaminated!” It was the exact same script as before. I laughed internally. In my past life, Mark cheated on me with Chloe. To spice up their affair, he gave her my clearance badge. She broke a centrifuge, triggered a leak, and they framed me. Last time, the moment I heard “virus leak,” I panicked. I ran to the lab, desperate to help. My anxiety looked like guilt. This time, I was the calmest person in the room. “A virus leak? If it’s that serious, why aren’t you initiating lockdown protocols instead of screaming at me? Seems like you care more about pinning blame than saving our colleagues.” Mark choked on his words. His face flushed a deep, ugly red. “Don’t change the subject! The access logs show only you entered the lab this morning. Who else could it be?” He found his footing again, pivoting to attack. “You’re the culprit. You should be down there fixing this, not hiding in here while they die!” He lunged forward, grabbing my wrist to drag me out. “Come with me to the main lobby. You need to answer for what you’ve done!” My colleagues were getting restless. The accusation was too serious to ignore. I yanked my hand back. His grip left a red welt on my skin. “I can walk,” I said coldly. “I’ll go. Not to confess, but to prove I didn’t do a damn thing.” Mark sneered. “Still stubborn? Wait until you see the families.” We arrived at the lobby of the Science Complex. A crowd had already gathered. Chloe was there, blending in with the terrified staff. When I appeared, the atmosphere shifted. Dozens of eyes locked onto me. They had already been told I was the “Patient Zero” of this disaster. Someone spoke, voice trembling. “Sarah… did you really cause the leak? Is that why the hazard signs are up?” I looked at the yellow tape blocking the corridor: BIOHAZARD. DO NOT ENTER. “I didn’t cause the leak,” I said loud enough for everyone to hear. “But I did put up the sign.” Mark’s eyes flickered with surprise, but he covered it quickly. “See? She admits she put up the sign! If you’re innocent, why seal the area? You’re trying to cover up your mistake by burying everyone inside! You’re trying to silence the witnesses!” 2 The crowd murmured. Doubt was spreading like the virus Mark claimed was loose. “He’s right… there are a dozen people on the night shift we can’t reach.” “If she sealed the doors, they’re trapped.” “My God, a Level 4 breach kills in hours.” Before I could speak, the sound of rushing footsteps echoed from the entrance. The families. Many lived in the nearby company housing. They had heard the rumors. “What is going on?!” a woman screamed. “Why isn’t my husband picking up his phone?” “Is there a leak? Is my son inside?” An elderly woman grabbed the arm of a junior researcher. “Please, tell me the truth. Is it safe?” “We… we don’t know,” the researcher stammered, looking at the ominous warning tape. “It might be critical…” A wail of pure anguish pierced the air. People tried to rush the tape. Security guards held them back, struggling against the tide of desperate relatives. “Let me in! My wife is in there!” It was chaos. Mark watched the scene, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his face. He turned on me, raising his voice to be heard over the sobbing. “Sarah! Look at this! Are you still going to deny it? If you hadn’t messed with the pressure valves, none of this would be happening!” The families froze. Slowly, they turned their heads toward me. The elderly woman who had been asking questions let go of the researcher and grabbed me. Her hands were shaking. “Director Sarah… is it true? Did you kill my son?” I supported her trembling frame. “Ma’am, it wasn’t me. I swear, I didn’t do this.” That’s when Chloe stepped out from the crowd. She put on her best ‘concerned citizen’ face. “Sarah… please stop lying,” she sobbed softly. “I saw you running out of the lab at 8:00 AM when I was bringing Mark his breakfast. You looked so guilty. I know work is stressful, but… these are human lives!” Mark nodded vigorously. “Exactly! The digital logs confirm it. Only Sarah’s ID badge was used at 8:00 AM. There is no other suspect!” It was a perfect pincer movement. Just like last time. They riled up the crowd until logic didn’t matter anymore. Last time, the grief-stricken families beat me to death before I could utter a complete sentence. I saw the hatred kindling in their eyes. They began to close in, forming a tight, suffocating circle. Mark seized the moment. Smack! He slapped me across the face. “You incompetent bitch! It wasn’t enough to screw up the experiment? You had to cover it up? These people are patriots! They are fathers, mothers, sons!” “How do you sleep at night? Do you hear their screams?” “Look at these families, Sarah! Look at them!” He was conducting them like an orchestra of rage. “You murderer!” a mother screamed, shoving me hard. “My son praised you! He trusted you! You monster!” “My dad promised he’d be home for Christmas dinner!” “Die! You should just die!” They were on me. Hands clawing, fists flying. I fell to the linoleum floor. The air was thick with the smell of sweat and fury. Mark stood back, looking righteous. “Confess, Sarah! Even I won’t protect you. You need to pay for this with your life!” I curled into a ball, protecting my head. Just as a boot was about to connect with my ribs, a booming voice echoed through the lobby. “POLICE! EVERYBODY BACK UP!” 3 The motion stopped instantly. Through the gaps in the crowd, I saw a squad of uniformed officers swarming the lobby. The lead officer held up his badge. “We received a call about a riot in progress.” He looked at me—hair messed up, cheek swelling, uniform torn. “Did you call 911, ma’am?” I coughed, pulling myself up. “I did.” Mark’s face paled for a fraction of a second before he switched tactics. He pointed a shaking finger at me. “Officer! You have to arrest her! She committed an act of bio-terrorism! She caused a massive virus leak due to negligence and killed everyone in that wing!” “She’s a murderer! She has the audacity to call the police? Take her away!” I knew Mark’s game. He wanted the police to arrest me, remove me from the building, and officially charge me. Once I was in the system as the suspect, the narrative would be set. I took a deep breath. “They are framing me. I didn’t kill anyone.” Mark got in my face. “How dare you lie to the police!” He turned to the officer, putting on his best grieving hero act. “Officer, she sabotaged the lab to hide her incompetence. Dozens are dead. My colleagues…” The crowd surged again. “Arrest her!” “Justice for our families!” “She’s a devil!” The officer looked disturbed. “Is this true? Are there casualties?” “Yes!” Mark shouted. “It’s a massacre! Check the logs! Only she went in!” Chloe chimed in, “Officer, please, just take her. She needs to pay.” The officer reached for his handcuffs. “Ma’am, given the severity of the accusation, we need to bring you in for questioning.” I clenched my fists. “I said, I didn’t hurt anyone.” I turned to the elderly woman who had grabbed me earlier. “Ma’am, your son is David, right? David Liu?” She nodded, tears streaming down her face. I pulled out my phone. “Officer, before you cuff me, let me make one call.” Mark laughed nervously. “Stalling? The virus kills in hours. David is probably already dead or in a coma. He can’t answer!” I tapped the screen. Video call. Ring… Ring… Click. David’s face filled the screen. He was smiling, holding a sandwich. Behind him, people were laughing and walking around. “Hey, Director Sarah! What’s up?” The lobby went silent. “David,” I said calmly. “Where are you right now?” He looked confused. “Uh, we’re at the Annex. You told us the main lab was undergoing maintenance this morning, remember? So the whole night shift crew came over here to do inventory on the mice. We just finished up.” The background was clearly the Annex building—miles away from the “contaminated” lab. 4 David’s mother let out a strangled cry and lunged at my phone. “David?! David, is that you?” “Mom?” David frowned on the screen. “Why are you at the Institute? Why is everyone crying?” “You’re alive… oh thank God, you’re alive!” she sobbed, sliding to her knees. The other families rushed forward. “Is my husband there?” “Is Jessica with you?” “Get my dad on the phone!” A few moments later, a team of Hazmat workers walked out of the “sealed” lab, pulling off their hoods. They looked confused to see the crowd. “What’s going on? We just finished the fumigation. The building is empty.” At the same time, David panned his camera around. Every single “missing” researcher was at the Annex, eating lunch, completely safe. The relief in the lobby was palpable. It washed over the crowd like a wave. Then, the wave receded, leaving something else behind. Anger. The families turned. They wiped their eyes and looked at Mark and Chloe. “You liar!” David’s mother screamed. “You told me my son was dead!” “You said they were trapped!” “You almost made us kill an innocent woman!” The police officer lowered his handcuffs. He looked at Mark, his expression turning icy. “Sir? You said there was a massacre. Making a false report of a bio-terror incident is a federal felony.” Mark was sweating profusely. He backed away, bumping into Chloe. “I… I…” He stammered. “It must have been a mistake. The alarm went off… I thought…” “A mistake?” I stepped forward. “You were pretty sure a minute ago. You said I killed them. You rallied a lynch mob.” I looked at the officer. “I’m pressing charges. Slander, filing a false report, and incitement to violence.” Mark looked trapped. Chloe tried to slink away into the crowd. “Where are you going, Chloe?” I called out. The crowd blocked her path. “Don’t let them leave!” someone shouted.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387649”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On Christmas Eve, my stepmother prepared two apples for my sister and me. Mine was large, red, and beautiful. My sister, Bella, who was usually the spoiled favorite, received a small, lopsided apple. When she cried and threw a tantrum, she was scolded and told to let me have the better one “just this once.” Then, my stepmother looked at me with a loving, almost hypnotic gaze. Her voice was soft, like she was coaxing a small animal into a trap. “Stella, honey, your sister has always been in poor health. If you had the chance, would you be willing to give your health and safety to her?” I agreed on the spot. But, terrified that she would change her mind and beat me later, I secretly gave the big apple to my sister to eat. My stepmother gave me a special apple for three days in a row. For three days, I gave them to my sister. On the third night, a mechanical voice rang in my ear: “Life force transfer successful. Stella has acquired five years of Bella’s lifespan.” From the master bedroom next door, my stepmother screamed in horror: “Why did Stella get it?!” Chapter 1 “Stella, I’ve prepared an apple for you and Bella for Christmas Eve,” my stepmother said, handing us two gift boxes. My box was noticeably larger, wrapped beautifully with a silk ribbon. In contrast, Bella, who was usually showered with affection, received a plain, tiny box. Bella pouted immediately. She tore her box open, revealing a small, bruised, and lopsided apple. She froze. Then she snatched my box and ripped it open. Inside sat a massive, crimson apple—perfect and shining. “Mom!” Bella exploded. “Why are you being so unfair?!” My stepmother snatched the big apple from Bella’s hands and placed it firmly in mine. “Bella! Your sister always yields to you. Can’t you let her have this one thing on Christmas Eve? Is that how I raised you?” “I don’t want it!” Bella slapped her small apple off the table and ran to her room. My stepmother didn’t seem to care. She turned to me, her expression shifting to a loving warmth that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Stella, Bella has been sickly since she was a baby. If there was a way, would you be willing to share your own health and luck with her?” It was a strange question, but she always demanded I be good to Bella. Sharing some “luck” didn’t seem like a big deal. I nodded without hesitation. “I am.” Her smile deepened, looking incredibly satisfied. She lifted the apple in her hands. “Good girl. Now, eat the apple. Eat it all.” Something about her expression terrified me. I was afraid that if I ate it, she might regret giving me such a nice thing and beat me later when Dad wasn’t looking. I rolled my eyes, thinking fast. “Denise, I’ll eat it in my room.” “Make sure you finish it, you hear?” Her phone rang at that moment, distracting her. “I will, I promise,” I nodded vigorously. I was always obedient. I never dared to go west if she said east. So, she let me go without suspicion and answered her call. Back in my room, I didn’t take a bite. Instead, I waited until Bella was getting ready for bed and snuck into her room. I pulled the warm apple from my hoodie pocket. “Bella, I didn’t eat it. Here.” Bella’s anger vanished instantly. “At least you have a conscience. Thanks, Sis.” I patted her head. “Can you finish it all?” Bella’s health was fragile. She took a small bite and nodded. “Yeah. Wow, this apple is so good. I’ve never tasted anything like it. It melts in my mouth like cotton candy.” I found it funny—how could an apple taste like cotton candy? I watched her eat the entire thing, bite by bite. I was surprised she finished it, and worriedly touched her stomach. Strangely, despite the size of the fruit, her belly didn’t bulge at all. “I’m going back to my room. Don’t tell Mom you ate it, okay?” Bella, being her usual proud self, nodded. “Of course. I ate it, so I won’t tell. If I do, she’ll hit you.” Maybe it was the lighting, but Bella’s face seemed to drain of color the moment she finished the last bite. It wasn’t like her usual sickness. It looked as if her very essence had been siphoned away. “Sis, I’m sleepy,” she mumbled, lying down weakly. “Okay, go to sleep. I’m leaving.” I tucked her in. In that short span of time, she was already asleep. Her lips, usually pink, were pale despite having just eaten a red apple. It was like she had suddenly… withered. Chapter 2 When I left her room, Dad had returned home. He and Denise were talking in their bedroom. I thought about telling Dad, but I figured there was no point in mentioning that I gave the apple to Bella. Denise would just find a reason to punish me for it. I went to sleep. In the middle of the night, I realized Denise had come into my room and taken the empty gift box away. The next morning, I went to wake Bella, but she wouldn’t stir. She had a high fever. “Denise! Bella is burning up!” Denise was making breakfast. Dad had already left for work. She rushed into the room, saw Bella’s flushed face, and panicked. She scooped Bella up, then turned and saw me standing there. “What are you standing there for?! Go get the documents!” She freed a hand and slapped me hard on the back. The force knocked me to the floor. My hand scraped the ground, stinging sharply, but her tone was far scarier. “Hurry up! Stop dawdling! If anything happens to your sister, I won’t forgive you!” I was used to this. She always hit me on my back, my butt, or my legs—places where bruises could be hidden by clothes, places that hurt a lot but healed fast. Denise came into our lives when I was three. Bella was born when I was four. Dad was busy with work. It was just Denise, me, and sickly Bella. Whenever Bella got sick, Denise got anxious, and I became her punching bag. I told Dad once because it hurt so much. But there were no marks, and he didn’t believe me. Denise punished me for days for being a “tattletale.” Since then, I learned to be quiet. I scrambled up and ran to their bedroom to grab the insurance cards and medical records. I knew the drill. We went to the hospital so often the doctors knew us by name. At the hospital, Bella was put on an IV drip. The ward was empty; she was the only patient. Denise sat by the bed, crying, her eyes swollen. I heard her muttering through her sobs: “Bella, just wait… just wait two more days… just wait… don’t scare Mommy…” I didn’t understand what she meant by “wait.” That night, despite her grief, Denise gave me another apple. It was identical to the first one—huge, red, and beautiful. She pulled it from her bag, shoved it into my hands, wiped her tears, and forced a smile. “Stella, here. You didn’t eat breakfast. Have an apple.” I held the apple, sensing she intended to watch me eat it. Her expression was intense, terrifying. Luckily, Bella woke up, and Denise rushed to call the doctor. Bella saw the apple. “Sis, why do you have another big apple?” Her voice was weak. I looked at the fruit, then at my sister. “Do you want it? Denise gave it to me.” She wanted it. She ate it quickly, just like the night before. Again, her stomach didn’t bulge. After eating, she fell into a deep sleep immediately. This time, she didn’t wake up for the rest of the day. Chapter 3 Denise was so worried she couldn’t eat. Her mood was explosive. Any small movement I made resulted in a curse or a slap on the back. Dad came to the hospital that night and took me home. Denise stayed overnight. The next morning, Dad dropped me back at the hospital. “Stella, stay with your sister for a bit. I have an emergency at work. Your stepmom will be here soon.” He was rushing. It should have been his job to stay while Denise went home to change, but he had to go. “Okay, Dad.” Then, Dad pulled out a red apple. “This is a reward from your stepmom. She said you’ve been working hard helping with Bella.” The third apple. “When did she buy this?” I asked. “She gave me one yesterday and the day before.” Dad looked puzzled. “I don’t know. She always manages to find high-quality stuff. Just eat it. I didn’t have time to get you breakfast.” Right then, Denise called Dad. I could hear her asking urgently if he had given me the apple. “Yes, yes, I gave it to her. Don’t worry, it’s in her hand right now,” Dad reassured her. She told him to make sure I ate it. He agreed, but the moment he hung up, he pushed me into the ward. “Watch your sister. Don’t go out until Denise gets here. Call the nurse if anything happens.” He was in a rush. “I know. I’ll watch her,” I promised. Dad left. I sat there holding the apple. It smelled incredibly sweet. I swallowed. I actually wanted to eat it this time. While I stared at it, Bella woke up again. “Sis?” Her voice was barely a whisper. She looked even worse than before—like a ghost. All her vitality was gone. I forgot about the apple and grabbed her hand. “Bella, do you hurt anywhere? I’ll get the doctor.” “Don’t go,” she stopped me. Her hand brushed against the apple on the bed. Her eyes lit up. “It’s that yummy apple.” This time, I didn’t want to give it to her. “Bella, let’s not eat this. I think… I think the apples are making you sick.” She didn’t believe me. “Mom gave them to us. Why would she give us something that makes us sick?” She sat up, struggling, and grabbed the apple with both hands. This one was the reddest of all. It looked like the poisoned apple from a fairy tale. I felt a sudden panic. “Bella!” She looked at me blankly, but didn’t stop. She took a bite. She kept eating, entranced. I tried to take it away, but she held on with surprising strength, chewing mechanically. I was terrified. I ran to get the nurse. By the time the nurse arrived, the apple was gone. Fortunately, Bella didn’t faint this time. She finished her IV drip and was discharged that afternoon. Denise was ecstatic. She cooked a huge dinner and kept piling food onto my plate, smiling at me like I was her favorite person in the world. That night, as I was drifting off to sleep, a voice spoke clearly in my ear. “Ding! Life force transfer successful. Stella has acquired five years of Bella’s lifespan.” It sounded like the automated voice at the vending machine Dad used. The moment the voice faded, a scream tore through the apartment from the master bedroom. “Why is it Stella?!” Denise shrieked. Chapter 4 Even through the wall, I could hear the horror in her voice. Hearing my name made my heart pound with fear. The bedroom door slammed open. Before I could sit up, Denise was at my bedside, hauling me up by my collar. “Stella! Did you eat the apples?!” Her face was twisted, monstrous. She was on the edge of insanity. I was shaking. I nodded frantically. “I ate them…” “You ate all three?!” She choked me, shaking me violently. I couldn’t breathe. My vision started to go black. “What are you doing?! Star did nothing wrong! You’re choking her!” Dad rushed in, prying her hands off my neck. Denise collapsed, wailing. “Her! Bella! My Bella!” She scrambled out of the room and ran to Bella’s bedroom. Dad smoothed my collar and patted my back. “Stella, what happened?” I shook my head, coughing too hard to speak. From the other room, Denise screamed. “Bella!” “Bella, don’t scare Mommy!” The grief in her voice froze us both. Dad dropped me and ran. Bella had gone into shock. The ambulance came. Denise cried until she nearly passed out. She rode in the ambulance. Dad and I followed in a taxi. At the hospital, Bella was still in the ER. When Denise saw me in the hallway, her eyes were filled with pure hatred. “Stella! You didn’t eat the apples, did you?!” She lunged at me like a wild animal. I scrambled back, terrified. “Dad!” Dad blocked her. “Calm down! What apples? What is wrong with you?” Denise looked like she wanted to tear my throat out. I was cowering in the corner, sobbing. “I’m sorry, Denise. I didn’t know… Bella didn’t have an apple, so I gave mine to her. She’s sick… I wanted her to have the good food.” It wasn’t the whole truth—I gave them to her because I was scared of Denise—but I couldn’t say that in front of Dad. Denise went rigid. Her face contorted into a mask of despair and fury. “You… it really was you. I gave those to you! You ungrateful wolf!” Her eyes were bloodshot, practically bleeding. She stared at me, unblinking. “You! You!” “Stella!” She screamed my name like a curse. Then, her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387648”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On Christmas Eve, my three-year-old son, battling cancer, took a turn for the worse. His only wish was for “Santa Daddy” to bring him a gift. I called my husband, frantic. But he just yelled at me in annoyance. “Why are you calling me all the time? I’m just helping Emily find Bubble! Why do you have to make a scene?” “If Bubble is gone, Emily will be devastated!” Bubble? His high school sweetheart Emily’s dog? I swallowed my rage and told him our son, Winter, might not make it through the night. He just laughed. “Stop being dramatic, Claire. I know you. Winter is just acting out because you taught him to.” “If he hadn’t kicked Bubble, the dog wouldn’t have run away! Tell Winter he needs to apologize to Emily tomorrow!” I hung up and spent my son’s last Christmas by his side, tears streaming down my face. The next day, my husband’s social media was full of posts about a lost dog. Mine was an obituary for my son. Ten years of marriage, gone like melting snow. It was Christmas Eve. The doctor called me, his voice urgent. “Mrs. Miller! Winter’s condition has deteriorated. We’re rushing him to the ICU! Mr. Miller isn’t picking up. You need to get here now!” I dropped everything and ran to the hospital. Usually, I’m the one by his side, but tonight I just stepped out to make Winter some soup… Tonight was supposed to be Liam’s shift. He promised! Where the hell was he?! I called Liam over and over as I drove, but it went straight to voicemail. Shaking with rage, I texted him: Liam! You promised! Winter is in the ICU! When I got to the hospital, I sprinted toward the emergency room. The doctor intercepted me, his face grim. “Mrs. Miller… you need to prepare yourself.” I pushed him away, shaking my head violently. “No! That’s impossible! He was fine yesterday!” The doctor held my shoulders firm. “Mrs. Miller… Winter’s condition was always unstable. The monitors help, but having a parent there to catch the early signs is crucial. Tonight, no one was with him… We were too late. I’m so sorry.” I collapsed to the floor, clutching my phone until my knuckles turned white. My heart felt like it was being crushed. “Liam!” I don’t know how much time passed before the lights in the ICU turned off. The surgeon walked out. “Family of Winter Miller… you should go spend this Christmas Eve with him.” Christmas Eve… How did it end up like this? Back in the hospice room, Winter opened his eyes weakly. He looked around. “Mommy… Daddy promised he would dress up as Santa and bring me presents… right?” I held his hand tight, choking back a sob. “Yes, baby. Santa Daddy is coming…” I looked down at my phone. Still nothing from Liam. Until I opened Instagram. Emily had a new post: Bubble is missing. I feel like I can’t breathe… Bubble, where are you? The photo showed a festive, snowy street. And there was Liam, looking anxious, searching for the dog. Bubble. Emily’s dog. The irony was suffocating. Our son was dying, and he was out looking for his ex’s dog. I typed a furious comment: If Winter dies, I will never forgive you two! Winter squeezed my hand. “Mommy, why are you crying?” I looked up, realizing my face was wet. Guilt, grief, hatred for Liam—it was all mixing together. But I had to smile. For Winter. I turned off my screen and wiped my face. “Mommy is just so happy. It’s Christmas Eve. We’re all safe and sound.” Less than a minute later, Liam called. For Winter’s sake, I answered. Liam sounded angrier than I was. “Claire! Watch your mouth on social media!” I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. I turned away from the bed and whispered, “Liam, Winter is dying.” Silence on the other end. Then, a scoff. “What is your problem? One second you’re raging on Emily’s post, the next you’re using Winter for sympathy?” My blood ran cold. The pain and anger were a physical weight in my chest. I looked at Winter, terrified to raise my voice. “Liam, I’m begging you…” The tears wouldn’t stop. I asked a nurse to watch Winter and ran into the hallway. “Get to the hospital! You promised Winter you’d be Santa!” I screamed into the phone. “I’m busy!” he shot back instantly. “I’m helping Emily find Bubble. She’s upset.” Then he added, “Christmas is tomorrow. You just want me there because you’re jealous.” I closed my eyes. Ten years. I finally realized that to him, Winter and I were worth less than a dog. I took a breath. “Liam, you were supposed to be with him tonight. If you hadn’t left, Winter might not…” “Enough,” he interrupted, impatient. “I checked on him. He was fine.” “Besides, Emily was nice enough to visit him, and he kicked Bubble…” “What?!” I roared. “Winter is terrified of dogs! You let her bring a dog into his room?! Are you insane?!” Silence. He must have forgotten Winter was allergic to dander. Maybe the sudden decline was triggered by that. In the background, I heard Emily’s voice, soft and cloying. “Liam, maybe Claire really needs you. I’ll… I’ll find Bubble myself. It was the first gift you gave me… even if we aren’t together, seeing him reminds me of you…” “You run a company, you’re tired. I don’t want to add to your stress. If Claire won’t give you space, you should go.” Liam comforted her. “Ignore her. She always uses the kid to manipulate me.” I laughed, a broken sound. He wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore. “Liam! You killed Winter. You’re going to regret this!” I yelled. I hung up. My chest ached as I walked back to the room. I couldn’t let Winter leave this world disappointed. I searched the floor until I found a doctor about Liam’s height. I begged him to help. An hour later, dressed in a rented Santa suit and holding Winter’s favorite model kit, the doctor walked into the room. Winter cried tears of joy. “I knew Daddy wouldn’t leave me…” I covered my mouth and hugged him tight. The nurse took a picture of us. A few hours later, Winter passed away as the snow fell outside. I called my brother, my only family, who lived overseas. Then I took Winter to the crematorium alone. Winter was six. I used to be so proud that he was tall like his father. Now… he fit in such a small urn. I hugged the urn close. “Winter always wanted to see the ocean. Mommy will take you there, okay?” This world was too cruel for him. I preferred the deep, quiet sea. When I walked out of the funeral home, the sun was rising. Half an hour ago, Liam had posted another “Lost Dog” alert. I posted Winter’s obituary. Before blocking Liam, I sent one last text: We’re getting a divorce. My brother, Mark, was waiting at the airport. When he saw the urn, he broke down. In the car, after a long silence, he said, “Don’t worry. I won’t let Liam get away with this.” I nodded. I stayed at Mark’s villa, planning to scatter Winter’s ashes the next day. The next morning, shouting woke me up. I looked out the window. It was Liam. He was yelling at the housekeeper. “Tell Claire to get out here!” “Mr. Miller, you are not welcome here,” the housekeeper said firmly. “I need permission to see my wife?!” He looked up at the house. “Claire! I know you’re in there! You flew halfway across the country to cheat on me? Have you no shame?” “Come out! Bring my son out!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387647”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

To surprise my boyfriend for Christmas, I custom-ordered a scandalous, three-piece Santa-themed lingerie set. I planned to gift myself to him on Christmas Eve. But the day the package arrived, I received a text from his “one who got away.” It was a mirror selfie. She was wearing the lingerie I bought, wrapped tightly in Lucas’s arms. “Hey sis, sorry I messed up your place. You don’t mind cleaning up, do you?” That night, when I got home, Lucas pulled out a velvet box, dropped to one knee, and looked at me with eyes full of devotion. “Chloe, you are the only woman I have ever loved. Will you marry me?” I accepted the ring with a smile full of joy. Once he fell asleep, I summoned the System. “In seven days, send me back to the real world.” 1 The System was surprised, its mechanical voice tinged with mockery. [Didn’t you just throw a tantrum about staying in this world to marry Lucas? If you change your mind now, you’ll take the penalty for nothing.] I gave a bitter laugh. I didn’t have the energy to explain. The System sighed, compromising. [Fine. The extraction process takes a minimum of seven days. Use this week to say your goodbyes.] Goodbyes? I looked at Lucas, sleeping peacefully with his arms locked around me like a vice. Subconsciously, I reached out and brushed his eyelashes. Sensing my touch, he woke up. His deep voice was thick with concern. “Chloe? What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick? I’ll take you to the hospital right now.” I interrupted him, shaking my head as I turned over. “Lucas, let’s move the wedding up. Let’s do it on Christmas Day.” He pressed against my back, wrapping me up again. His warm breath tickled my neck as he chuckled. “Christmas is only seven days away. You’re that eager to be Mrs. Miller? Alright. Whenever you say. I’m stuck with you for life anyway.” Lines I had heard a thousand times suddenly tasted like ash. A wave of nausea hit me. I cut off his whispering. “Did you see my package? I bought some clothes. The tracking said delivered, but I can’t find it.” Lucas stiffened. He instinctively loosened his grip. “I didn’t see it. If it’s lost, just buy another set. Your husband is rich now; don’t be afraid to spend money.” He tried to deflect with a joke, but I was done playing along. “But the concierge said you signed for it personally. Maybe it’s just misplaced. I’ll check the security cameras tomorrow.” “Don’t!” As expected, he panicked. He climbed over me, nuzzling his face into my collarbone like a puppy. “Okay, Chloe, look… I saw the package. I threw it away.” “I promised you. You are so pure, so perfect. I swore I wouldn’t touch you until we were married.” “Besides, your health has been fragile. The priority is getting you healthy, then we can do… other things. Be a good girl, okay?” I nodded blindly, but my mind was stuck on that photo. In the picture, Lucas’s eyes were heavy with lust. One hand gripped Bella’s bare waist, the other choked her neck. It looked intense. Once upon a time, I loved Lucas to the point of madness. I took the System’s punishment, accepting a body riddled with chronic illness just to stay in this fictional world with him. But in just a few days, he had cheated, brought a woman into our home, let her wear my clothes, and lied to my face. Earlier today, I had secretly gone for a treatment. While at the hospital, I received that explicit photo from Bella. The shock and grief nearly killed me right there on the table. Now, looking into his “deeply affectionate” eyes, I kind of wished I had just died on that table. Six days left. The first thing I did was go to the company to liquidate my assets. As a “Player” in this world, I had the advantage of future knowledge. In just five years, I had turned Luxe Inc. into the city’s leading conglomerate. I had made Lucas a king. Originally, Lucas was just a tragic background character. I chose him. I saved him. I gave him luck, strategy, and power. My love had nothing to do with the System’s mission. I just wanted him to be happy. But now? He didn’t deserve it. I drafted a donation agreement. The moment I left this world, every cent of the company’s assets would be donated to local orphanages and nursing homes. Nothing would be left. As I was signing the papers, Lucas appeared at my office window, briefcase in hand. When our eyes met, his smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. He walked in and kissed my forehead naturally. I smirked, a little maliciously, and handed him the contract. “Don’t you want to see what I came in to sign?” He didn’t even glance at the text. He flipped to the last page, put the pen in my hand, and wrapped his fingers around mine to guide the signature. “Chloe, you’re my lucky star. With you by my side, I can’t fail. I trust you.” He was right. I was his lucky star. I was willing to do anything for him. But that era was ending. He held my hand as we walked through the building. Employees whispered about what a perfect power couple we were. If this were yesterday, I would have believed them. Then, Lucas’s phone buzzed. I saw the screen. It was Bella. Two words: “You coming?” Lucas kissed my cheek and grabbed his jacket. “Chloe, finish up here. I have to go home to prepare a surprise for you. I’ll send the driver to pick you up later.” Thirty minutes later, I accessed the hidden cameras in our villa. Some surprise. Bella and Lucas were tangled together on the balcony, naked, indulging in the thrill of being caught. “Lucas, who do you like better? Me or Chloe?” He didn’t answer, just covered her mouth roughly. Bella broke free, turned around, and lit a cigarette, leaning against the railing. “If you won’t say you like me, we’re done.” Lucas glared at her. Then, Bella transformed into a clingy bunny, rubbing against him. “Break up with her. Marry me. I’ll do whatever you want. Chloe is practically an invalid; can she even handle you?” Slap. Lucas struck her across the face. “Shut up. You don’t deserve to say her name.” Yet, even as he defended my honor, he flipped her over and pressed against her again. I watched the whole thing as the sky turned dark. When cars started passing on the road below, Lucas finally got dressed. There was a fresh burn mark on Bella’s lower back. Lucas had pressed her lit cigarette into her skin. He said, “Chloe hates the smell of smoke. Don’t smoke here again.” Bella laughed, triumphant. “Lucas, I’m your first love. Your white moonlight. I’ll get rid of her eventually.” He didn’t look back. “You’re a rotter, Bella. Black to the core. You’re no moonlight.” As he kicked her out of the villa, naked, he warned her: “If you let Chloe know about this, I will make you beg for death.” A second later, I received a photo from Bella. A close-up of the cigarette burn. “Sis, your fiancé is so rough. It hurts~ But you probably wouldn’t understand. It’s a kink. You should try it sometime.” I took a screenshot, saved it to a hidden folder, and went back to watching the feed. The maid cleaned up the mess. Lucas showered, put on an apron, and started making a stew for me. When I got home, his text arrived: “Babe, come home for dinner.” It was the first time he’d ever cooked for me. I had once mentioned wanting a domestic husband, so he learned. The table was full. But I couldn’t eat. Bella texted again. “Sis, Lucas’s cooking is delicious. We’re having the same dinner tonight!” He had sent a portion to her. The woman he called a “rotter” was eating the same meal prepared by his hands. I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to get out of here. When Lucas came out of the kitchen, he saw me standing there with a suitcase. Panic flooded his eyes. “Chloe? Where are you going?” I stared at him. “My mom misses me. I’m going to stay with my parents for a few days.” It wasn’t a lie. I was going home. He hugged me. He smelled like soap. His hands were shaking. “I’ve never met your parents. We’re getting married… let me come with you.” I pushed him away. “Luxe Inc. shares are tanking. You need to stay here and fix it.” Without me, the business was crumbling. He couldn’t leave. On Christmas Eve, there was a crucial negotiation. He had to be there, or the company would go under. He hesitated, but eventually let go. “Okay. Come back soon. I’ll be waiting at the altar, wifey.” That last word dripped with deep affection. I felt nothing. I checked into the Presidential Suite at a five-star hotel nearby. It was the same hotel where our wedding was scheduled in six days. Lucas had rented out the entire top floor for a week. The Christmas decorations were already up. It was beautiful. What a waste. I blocked Lucas. Christmas Eve arrived. The city was glowing with red and green lights. By now, Lucas should be at the negotiation table. I lay in the bathtub by the floor-to-ceiling window, looking at the fictional skyline one last time. My phone buzzed. It was Bella. “Chloe. Before you leave, let’s talk.” I frowned. She set the meeting at a noisy bar near the hotel. “Aren’t you supposed to be with Lucas at the business dinner?” I asked as I sat down. My assistant had told me Lucas brought Bella to the event. They looked like a power couple. But without my intel, Lucas was eaten alive. He was kicked out of the deal in the first round. Bella smirked. “You don’t care about that. I’ll tell you the truth if you drink with me.” It turned out Bella was a Player too. This was a high-freedom sandbox world. She had chosen Lucas, a target I had already “conquered,” because she was lazy. “I know you cancelled your residency here,” she said, her eyes full of ambition. “But why leave him empty-handed? The company is tanking. He can’t run it.” “You leave, I step in. I run the business, I get the guy, and you… well, your body is failing anyway. Why not let us be happy?” I realized why she was desperate. If Lucas failed, she got no rewards from her System. She was a leech, and her host was dying. She stood up, pointing a manicured finger at me. “It’s your fault! You’re ruining him! You can’t just leave!” I was about to laugh at her delusion when the world spun. Drugged. Before I blacked out, I felt her heel crushing my hand. “You think you’ve won, Chloe?” “I have one chance left. If Lucas chooses to save me over you today, your mission fails. You get wiped from existence.” “The extraction portal takes seven days. It’s only day six. You’re not going anywhere.” I woke up in the hotel penthouse. I was naked, bound with rope, with a black bag over my head. Two small holes were cut for my eyes. In front of me was a massive screen showing a video call. On one side was Bella, also naked and masked. On the third screen was Lucas. He looked haggard, sitting in a bar, drinking alone. A digitally altered voice boomed. “Lucas Miller. Sign over Luxe Inc., or one of these women dies tonight.” Lucas didn’t hesitate. “Impossible. That company is Chloe’s legacy. I won’t give it up.” Then he squinted. “Why are you torturing women? Let them go.” Suddenly, seven or eight men rushed into my room. A hand choked me. Pain exploded all over my body. “Mr. Miller, we heard you have high stamina. So we prepared a show. Two women. One is your fiancée. One is your mistress. Fate is funny, isn’t it?” Lucas scoffed. “My Chloe is a saint. She never goes to bars. She’s with her parents. You grabbed the wrong girl.” The voice continued. “They are in the penthouse suites. Room 888 and Room 999. In two minutes, the bombs strapped to them will detonate. Pick one.” Lucas frowned. “I’m calling the police.” “Lucas! Help me!” Bella screamed on her feed. “It’s real! I don’t want to die!” Lucas looked away from her and stared intently at my screen. “Chloe? Is that you?” He had never seen my naked body. He didn’t know it was me. I tried to scream for help. “Lucas…” But my voice was a ruined, guttural rasp. The drug had burned my vocal cords. Lucas sighed in relief. “I knew it. Chloe wouldn’t be here. She’s safe.” I struggled violently, biting at the bag, trying to rip it off. Just as I managed to tear the mask, Lucas’s phone dinged. Someone had used my stolen phone to text him: “Babe, wait for me. I’m coming home for Christmas Eve.” Lucas looked down at his phone with a smile, missing the moment my face was revealed. By the time he looked up, the bag was back over my head. Beep. Beep. Beep. One minute left. “Lucas! I’m in 999! Save me!” Bella shrieked. Lucas finally realized this wasn’t a prank. He started running up the stairs. On screen, I saw him torn. He hesitated between the floors. But then, the signal jammers kicked in. He realized he couldn’t call for help. I lay in the dark, listening to the countdown. My System was silent. I used the last of my strength to croak out, “Lucas… help…” Lucas stopped in the hallway outside my door. He tried to kick it open. It held. “Miss,” he shouted through the door. “I am sorry you got dragged into my business war. If you die, I promise I will take care of your family.” Lucas, you are my only family here. “Bella is… she’s my woman. I have a duty to save her. I’m sorry.” Footsteps faded. Then, a crash on the screen as he broke into Room 999. Bella threw herself into his arms, sobbing. Three seconds left. Bella looked at the camera and mouthed: I win. The kidnapper ripped the bag off my head. In the final second, I looked into the camera. I saw Lucas’s eyes widen in absolute horror as he recognized me on the screen. He screamed, a sound of pure agony, and sprinted back toward my room. 3… 2… 1. The Christmas bells rang. Fireworks exploded outside the window. A wave of heat swallowed me. Darkness took over.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387646”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Chase and I met on Christmas, we got married on Christmas, and today marks exactly seven years. But on this special day, he brought his high school sweetheart home for dinner. They walked in wearing matching outfits, looking like the perfect couple, while I stood there in my apron, looking like the hired help. “Babe, it’s the holidays,” Chase said, breezing past me. “The more the merrier, right?” Without waiting for an answer, he pulled Sierra to the table and sat her down. Chase, who usually has a memory like a steel trap, stared blankly at the cake that read “Happy 7th Anniversary.” He had forgotten. Ever since Sierra came back into town, I’ve become invisible. I watched him take the wedding ring off my finger—claiming it was “too tight” on me anyway—and slide it onto Sierra’s finger to show her the design. I looked at Chase. And I smiled. “Happy 7th Anniversary, Chase. I want a divorce.” 01 “Hazel, what the hell was that? You’re throwing away our marriage over a joke?” Chase had just dropped Sierra off at her place. The moment he walked back through the door, the accusations started flying. I didn’t say a word. Just looking at his face made me sick. When I didn’t respond, he assumed I was feeling guilty and doubled down. “We were having a nice holiday, but you had to be petty. You just had to make a scene. Now look—Christmas is ruined, and everyone is miserable.” He conveniently forgot that he was the one who brought Sierra here. He was the one who forgot our anniversary. He was the one who brought a guest to our romantic dinner without asking. “I’m being petty?” I scoffed. “Do you hear yourself? It’s laughable.” I finally snapped. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. Chase flared up. “Laughable? You’re the one being childish! You don’t just throw the word ‘divorce’ around! You upset Sierra so much I had to spend half an hour apologizing to her. You need to call her and apologize, too.” I let out a cold laugh. Why should I apologize? I cooked a full Christmas feast. I baked the cake. I cleaned the house. And I’m the one who needs to apologize? Seeing my reaction, Chase pulled the ring out of his pocket—the one I had handed to Sierra. His tone was nasty. “Take care of the things I give you. A wedding ring isn’t something you just hand to a stranger.” I didn’t take it. I stared at the ring. It had always been a little tight on me, choking my finger. But on Sierra? It fit perfectly. When I didn’t move, Chase frowned deeply. “Hazel! That’s enough!” “That’s enough? Chase, do you even respect me? Who brings another woman home on their wedding anniversary?” I stood up, glaring at him. A flash of guilt crossed his face, but he buried it under defensiveness. “It’s Christmas, Hazel. Sierra is all alone in the city. Inviting a friend over is normal! I didn’t think you’d be so insecure.” I looked at him and felt my heart turn to ash. A week ago, he left me stranded at a party to pick her up. He didn’t notice then, and he doesn’t notice now. The line between love and indifference is crystal clear. He cares about Sierra. Way more than he cares about the woman who has stood by him for seven years. And honestly? I don’t want to do this anymore. 02 I didn’t argue. I just reached out and brushed the collar of his grey wool coat. Chase looked confused. We were in the middle of a fight, and I was grooming him? He didn’t pull away, though. I bought him this coat. The light grey fabric shows everything. Including the faint, red smudge I just found. Lipstick. Not my shade. Chase followed my gaze and saw it. His face fell. Once your heart completely breaks, you don’t feel anger anymore. You feel a strange, detached calm. I gestured at the stain. “Next time you’re fooling around, try to clean up better.” “Excuse me? Why do you have to be so disgusting?” Chase exploded, pointing at the stain. “I brushed against her by accident! Is that a crime?” “It’s because it was an ‘accident’ that I’m pointing it out. I’m saving you the trouble of me asking questions later. Look, Chase, if you and Sierra are soulmates, go for it. But don’t insult my intelligence.” I kept my face blank. I’d heard the excuses before. I used to force myself to believe him. But tonight, my patience hit zero. His heart has tilted so far toward Sierra that he’s forgotten I’m his wife. Ever since she came back a year ago, everything changed. Sierra was his high school sweetheart. She went to Europe after graduation, and they drifted apart. Chase and I met in college. We fell in love, got married, built a life. Three years dating, seven married. That’s a decade. But Sierra has been back for one year, and she’s already torched ten years of history. People change. Betting on a man’s loyalty is a losing game. The “Seven Year Itch” isn’t just a saying. Chase always calls me petty. But he’s the jealous one. If I bump into a male friend and say hello, I get the third degree. But if I ask him who he’s texting? World War III. He screams about “privacy” and “personal space.” The double standards are exhausting. He lets her eat takeout in his car and leave crumbs on his desk. But if I eat a cookie in the passenger seat, I get a lecture. Thinking about it made my blood run cold. Chase glared at me for a long time. Seeing that I wasn’t going to back down or cry, he sighed, defeated. He reached out to hug me. “…Babe, can we please stop fighting?” 03 “It’s a holiday. I lost my temper, okay? I was wrong. Can we drop it?” I stood stiffly in his arms. My chin rested right on that lipstick stain on his collar. Chase didn’t notice my resistance. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I’m sorry I forgot the anniversary. Work has been insane. I was just worried about a friend, but I swear, Sierra and I aren’t like that.” I inhaled. Underneath his usual cologne, there was a sweet, floral scent. Her perfume. He kept talking. “Yeah, we had a thing when we were kids. But we’re adults now. I’m over thirty, Hazel. I’m not that immature. Can’t you just trust me?” Then, the tone shift. The gaslighting. “Besides, were you being rational today? You took off your ring, handed it to a guest, and demanded a divorce. You humiliated me in my own home. Do you blame me for getting mad?” I pulled away from him. I knew exactly what this was. “Right,” I said, my voice flat. Chase relaxed, thinking he had won. He took my hand gently. “Sierra is an old friend. She won’t hold a grudge. Let’s take her to lunch tomorrow, clear the air. You can buy her a little gift, apologize, and we can move on.” I didn’t answer. The audacity was breathtaking. He thought my silence was agreement. He leaned in to kiss me. I turned my head. His lips hit my cheek. His face darkened instantly. Before he could snap at me, his phone rang. He pulled it out. I saw the screen clearly. Sierra. As if to prove he had nothing to hide, he answered it on speaker right in front of me. Sierra’s voice, dripping with helpless distress, filled the room. “Chase? Are you home? I… I hate to bother you, but my fuse box just sparked and there’s a weird smell. I’m really scared. Can you come over?” I smirked. Classic. Chase’s face went pale. “I’ll be right there.” He hung up and looked at me, guilt flashing in his eyes. “Hazel, look, I just need to go check. It could be an electrical fire. Safety first.” He didn’t wait for my permission. He just left. Slam. The door closed. And so did my heart. Once again, when forced to choose, he chose her. I watched from the window as his car sped out of the driveway. I opened my laptop, downloaded a divorce agreement template, and filled it out. I sent a copy to a lawyer friend for a quick review. I was just about to email it to Chase when my phone rang. It was him. “Hazel! What the hell is wrong with you?!” I frowned. “What now?” “Don’t play dumb! Did you call Sierra while I was driving over here? You are vicious! Two-faced!” “Chase, what are you talking about?” “She’s threatening to kill herself, Hazel! Because of you!” 04 “What? Suicide? Why would she…” My confusion was drowned out by his screaming. “Shut up! I never should have trusted you. You never change, Hazel. Sierra’s call log shows your name right before I got here. Don’t lie to me!” “You toxic, jealous… I never should have married you. How can you be so heartless? You know she’s fragile!” He didn’t let me get a word in. He hung up on me. When I tried to call back, he sent me straight to voicemail. I sat there, stunned. Tears pricked my eyes, hot and angry. Seven years of devotion, and he doesn’t believe a word I say. He trusts her blindly. Once the crying started, it wouldn’t stop. But eventually, the tears ran dry. I booked a train ticket out of town for the next morning. I was done. I wasn’t going to explain myself. It was such a clumsy, obvious lie, but Chase was the only idiot falling for it. If he had an ounce of trust in me, he’d check the number. He’d ask me calmly. But he didn’t. He just attacked. I didn’t sleep that night. Around 2 AM, I saw a post on Sierra’s social media. A picture of the night sky, two silhouettes. I recognized Chase’s posture instantly. Caption: Thankful for the one who stays. I blocked them both. I finally fell asleep as the sun came up. My dreams were a montage of every fight Chase and I ever had. I woke up at 9 AM, printed the divorce papers, and packed my bag. When I walked into the living room, Chase was standing there. He looked awful. “Where were you?” he barked. I ignored him. He grabbed my arm and started dragging me toward the door. “I booked a table. You’re coming with me to apologize, and we are ending this drama right now.” “Let go of me! Chase, stop!” I tried to shake him off, but his grip was iron. He dragged me all the way down to the car before releasing my bruised wrist. “Get in. You agreed to this last night. Stop being difficult.” I rubbed my wrist, took a breath, and pulled the papers out of my purse. I slapped them against his chest. “Chase. I want a divorce.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387645”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel