I suddenly started seeing numbers floating above the heads of everyone at my elite prep school. My fiancé, who treats me like I’m invisible? [99] My cold, aloof lab partner, the Campus King? [99+] As the designated “Villainess” of this story, I have plenty of self-awareness. Those numbers are definitely hate scores. That is, until the delicate “White Lotus” Heroine discovered I was secretly funding her tuition. The number above her head instantly exploded into a bright red [100+]. At the same time, a barrage of livestream comments—like a Twitch chat—detonated in front of my eyes. [Omg Wifey! She’s so good, so cute. Her skin is so pale, if you bit her it would stay red for hours, right?] [LMAO, our baby girl really thinks her fiancé likes the Heroine? That man has been down bad for Wifey since day one. Just touch his face, watch him melt.] I couldn’t believe it. I reached out and gently poked my fiancé’s cheek. The next second, the guy who usually has a temper like a stick of dynamite suddenly went silent. The number above his head glitched out like crazy. It finally settled on [∞]. [Hehe, Wifey knows what that symbol means, right? My love for you is infinite…] 1 When the numbers first appeared, I was begging Julian, the school’s golden boy, to tutor me. Even though this is a private prep school for the 1%, the academic pressure is insane. Most kids have been building their Ivy League portfolios since freshman year. If they’re staying stateside, they’re already doing college-level work. And then there’s me. The daughter of a “New Money” tycoon. My dad used his checkbook to brute-force my way in. I’m constantly drowning in coursework. I’m not exactly a genius, so I had to beg Julian—wealthy, brilliant, and untouchable—for help. Julian was in the middle of reading some obscure foreign medical journal. He frowned, his long, pianist fingers taking my tragic exam paper. He started explaining from the very first multiple-choice question. I was zoning out, listening to the whispers in the classroom. I couldn’t hear the exact words, but I knew they were roasting me. Julian’s dad is the Mayor. His grandpa is some retired D.C. bigshot. His mom owns a massive pharmaceutical empire. Julian himself already has patents pending. Nobody dares to disturb him when he’s reading. Except me, the tacky rich girl with nothing but money. I didn’t want to bother him. I actually tried to hire a few scholarship students to tutor me. I offered to pay for their tuition, living expenses, textbooks, and even nutrition supplements. All I asked was for them to explain a few math problems when they were free. My dad might be uneducated, but he respects smart people. He’s obsessed with my grades. But somehow, my private offer got leaked. The school Discord server tore me apart. Hundreds of messages. They said I had zero self-awareness, clinging to Julian. When he ignored me, I tried to buy the scholarship kids. The other rich kids called me condescending. “Who wants her charity? We all have money.” So, publicly, I announced I stopped the funding. But privately? I was still secretly sponsoring one girl who was in the same grade as me. 2 The noise in the classroom got louder. I felt eyes burning holes in my back. It felt like a physical heat. My neck prickled. My ears turned hot. Does everyone love Julian that much? I felt like I was about to spontaneously combust from the stares. Afraid of getting roasted online again, I hesitated. “Julian, maybe I should just study by myself…” I’d ask him later when fewer people were around. But the second I spoke, a bright [98] popped up over his head. I rubbed my eyes. “Julian, there’s a number on your head.” “If you don’t want to listen, just leave. Don’t make excuses,” Julian snapped, running a hand through his hair, revealing his perfect forehead. His side profile was sharp, nose straight—literally a masterpiece. “No, it’s not that I don’t want to listen, it’s just…” I grabbed his hand in a panic. I wanted to tell him I needed this. He’s the only one who explains things simply enough for my smooth brain to grasp. But his face flushed red, and he shook my hand off. His wet, puppy-dog eyes glared at me in disbelief. The number above his head flickered between [98-99]. “If you want someone else to teach you, then stop messing with me.” Am I that scary? I looked around. Everyone had numbers. 50, 82, 95… I went silent. I took a deep breath and awkwardly let go of Julian’s wrist. Okay, so the numbers represent Hate. Makes sense. Nobody here really likes me. I pouted. My mood tanked. Suddenly, a loud voice cut through the crowd. Chase was surrounded by his entourage. He was leaning back in his chair, uniform tie loose, looking like he didn’t care about anything. I let out a breath. Good, my “fiancé” didn’t see me. After my dad hit the jackpot, he somehow connected with the ultra-elite Sterling family. Chase Sterling. His name sounds preppy, but his personality is pure phosphorus—highly flammable and toxic. I know he looks down on me. He usually ignores me completely. When I first transferred here, I was eating instant noodles in the stairwell when I heard him talking. “Chase, I heard your fiancée, Winnie, transferred in. Want me to look out for her?” a guy asked. Through the crack in the door, I saw Chase leaning against the railing. His voice was deep, magnetic, and dripping with impatience. “Look out for what? Her dad put you next to her because he’s afraid she’s too dumb for the curriculum. She’s so high-maintenance.” “If I drove my car over 60 she’d probably cry. I’m gonna wreck this engagement sooner or later.” “If you want to babysit her, you can have her.” Excuse me? I was fuming. I leaned too close to the door. Creak. I stumbled out, crashing right into Chase’s line of sight. He had a cigarette between his lips, looking arrogant as hell. But when he saw me, he froze. I turned and ran. Behind me, someone laughed. “Who was that?” “Your fiancée, Mr. Sterling.” “Oh.” Chase held the cigarette until it burned his fingers. He flinched and tossed it in the trash. “I’m quitting.” She looked so small. Soft and pale. If we kissed, would the smoke make her cough? … Thinking about the trash he talked back then made me angry all over again. Dad said to wait a bit on the engagement. So, I kept my distance. Chase seemed bored until Claire transferred into our class. Suddenly, he was energized. She was the only girl he’d talk to. Right now, he had a [98] over his head as he glanced at me from across the room. His tongue pressed against his cheek, a sharp canine tooth flashing. I shivered. So scary. If he hates the engagement, why hasn’t he canceled it? Does he want to torture me first? … “Stop looking at her. Or I’ll gouge your eyes out.” Chase stared blankly at the girl in front of him. Her clothes were faded, but her vibe was clean and sharp. It was just her eyes—always looking at things she couldn’t have. “What’s wrong with looking?” Claire looked down at her worn-out sneakers, her tone light. “You’re jealous, aren’t you? She won’t even look at you, but she’s secretly sponsoring me. She texts me encouraging messages every night.” Chase thought about how Winnie sent Claire cute photos of her day. Meanwhile, Chase had been posting on his story for a year about being “lonely” and wanting a travel buddy. Winnie never liked a single post. She probably had him muted. He wanted to scream. 3 During the long break, I ran into Claire outside the bathroom again. She was washing her hands, head down. Long lashes, gentle almond eyes, loose strands of hair. She looked perfect. Almost too perfect. Like she was posing. Ever since she transferred to our class, I run into her every time I go to the bathroom. Once or twice is a coincidence. Every time? Is she blocking me? Because of Chase? I pressed my lips together and summoned my courage to stand next to her. Claire kept washing. Her movements got stiff. I washed faster. When she finished, she stood there, texting on her old phone. She sent a text. Ding. My phone buzzed in my pocket. She sent another. Ding. My face burned. Does she know? Claire transferred a year ago. She was one of the scholarship kids I targeted. Later, I set up an anonymous scholarship fund for the group, but I sponsored Claire directly. Her family situation was awful. She had a brother, and her parents treated her like dirt. I was terrified she’d drop out. Looking at the [98] hate score above her head… I wanted to pretend nothing was happening. Being sponsored by your love rival hurts your pride, right? I couldn’t ruin her focus. But then, Claire called my personal number. The one I gave her for “emergencies only.” She’d never used it before. My ringtone blasted through the silence. My scalp tingled. I felt Claire’s gaze burning into me. “Winnie, your phone is ringing. Aren’t you going to answer?” she asked, her voice thoughtful. I couldn’t hide anymore. I took out my phone with shaking hands. The moment I answered, the number above Claire’s head went berserk. [99]… [100]… [100+] [DING! Villainess System Online. Mission Activated: Please execute the bullying of the Heroine immediately!] Huh? My eyes widened. I hung up. The Villainess System explained that the numbers represent the intensity of the characters’ feelings toward me. The higher the excitement, the higher the number. As the villainess, I have to drive the plot. If I complete the missions, I get a “Clearance Gift Pack.” I asked weakly, [What happens if I don’t?] The System was ruthless: [Then the host receives the Death Gift Pack. Car crash? Cancer? Jumping off a building? It’s a random draw!] I clenched my tiny fist. I stood on my tiptoes and summoned all my strength to grab the Heroine by the collar. “Don’t leave after school… You stay… and h-help me… with my homework!” Since I offended Julian, and Claire is smart, maybe she can tutor me? “Meet me after school” was the most villainous line I could think of. TV dramas always use it. But I’m barely 5’1″. Claire is 5’7″. She towered over me. She stared at me, eyes calm, lashes fluttering. I panicked. I remembered the rumors. Even though Claire is a scholarship student at the bottom of the social food chain, the rich bullies leave her alone. Why? Because she’s a genius in the lab. Even the TAs respect her. And physically? She destroys people in P.E. She dominates every sport. I stared at her lean, muscular arms. She could probably fold me like a lawn chair. So, to boost my courage, I leaned in closer. Close enough to smell the lemon soap on her collar. Her eyes were amber? Wow. Main character energy. Even her pupils are pretty. Claire blinked. Her breathing slowed down. She whispered. “Okay. I’ll stay.” She seemed intimidated by my aura. She couldn’t even look me in the eye. Even the number on her head flickered in fear. I went to let go, but the bathroom door swung open. A girl walked in, saw us, and froze. She covered her face. “Sorry to interrupt!” Then she ran away, giggling manically. The System praised me: [The Heroine’s emotions are turbulent! Great start, Host!] I nodded proudly. That night, the school forum exploded. [BREAKING NEWS: Winnie from Class A was caught cornering Goddess Claire in the bathroom requesting a KISS?!] [OMG. Where are her morals? Where is the dignity? WHERE IS THE VIDEO LINK?!] Eh? I was confused. I thought I was playing the villain. Why do they think I’m a pervert? 4 With Claire tutoring me, my grades actually improved. She broke everything down step-by-step. It was way better than Julian’s abstract genius method. I finally enjoyed studying. After midterms, the System issued a new mission. [You are a Villainess! Why are you studying so hard? You should be punching the Heroine and stepping on rivals! Steal all the men!] It said the plot required the Heroine to be bullied so badly that the Second Male Lead (Julian) would pity her. His pity would make me jealous, leading me to force Julian to date me, isolating the Heroine further. I couldn’t imagine Claire crying and looking at the sky. She’d probably just dunk on someone and tell them to get lost. But the System said the core task was simple: [Date the Second Male Lead!] [Complete Phase 2 to unlock the Livestream Chat. The audience will drop plot hints!] I nodded. I’m rich, but I have no friends. I was a slow kid. I used to buy snacks for everyone to make them like me. They’d eat my snacks and call me “stupid cash cow” behind my back. Dad transferred me here hoping for better peers. Instead, they just called me “New Money trash.” I asked the System seriously, “Will the audience like me? Can I make friends?” The System looked at my small face and big eyes. [Guaranteed. If anyone roasts you, I’ll hack their account.]

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387325”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The Film Emperor, Julian Sterling, was getting dragged on social media for keeping his mouth shut during a kiss scene. The audience, looking pale and unsatisfied, commented righteously: [Zero chemistry. I felt nothing.] Being the messy person I am, I liked the post just to stir the pot. Suddenly, Julian posted: [Fine. Next movie, I’ll open it wide for you guys to see!] The comment section exploded with joy. I stood there, frozen. Wait a minute. Tomorrow, I’m the female lead in that “next movie.” 1 In the entertainment industry, Julian Sterling is known as the celibate, morally upright “good guy.” I, on the other hand, am known as the seductive vixen who flirts 24/7. I despise his fake persona, so I roast him online constantly. [Oh please, acting all cold and aloof, but behind those sunglasses, your eyes were practically crossing from staring at me.] He replied: [Sorry for the slow reply. It takes longer to type with my middle finger.] The comments were full of “LMAO,” used to our public beef. On the red carpet, I deliberately squeezed next to him. “Oops, my zipper feels like it’s slipping. Be a dear and zip me up?” Julian didn’t even look. He raised his hand—zip—done in 0.01 seconds. He didn’t touch a millimeter of skin. His other hand was even throwing up a peace sign for the cameras. I rolled my eyes. “So practiced. How many girls have you zipped up?” Julian looked down with a half-smile. I instinctively looked at his pants and understood immediately. “You pervert. One day I’ll expose your true face!” 2 Karma arrived swiftly. Julian was trending because he kept his mouth shut during a kiss scene. I lay on my couch, sipped my tea, and boldly liked the hate post. Then I commented: [If any of these comments hurt your feelings, let me know. I’d love to repeat them to your face!] Below me, the audience was united in their dissatisfaction. [The Film Emperor clearly has no game!] [Exactly. Zero immersion for us viewers.] [Don’t make us beg. Next movie, at the latest.] The next second, a new post refreshed. Julian: [Fine. Next movie, I’ll open it wide for you guys to see!] The fans went wild. The comments were celebrating like it was Christmas. I froze. Hold on. Tomorrow is our first scene together as leads. I took this role specifically to find evidence that he’s a fraud. I risked my own sanity for this. And now, the karma boomerang hit me right in the face. I frantically opened my phone. WeChat pinged. It was the director of Chasing Blossoms. Director: [Zoe, Julian wants to move the kiss scene from Scene 10 and the bed scene from Scene 20 to tomorrow.] Me: [You’re just gonna let him? That’s bullying, Director! Don’t let him win!] Director: [Julian’s dad is the main investor.] I went silent. But kiss Julian? I wasn’t going to make it easy for him! I raided my kitchen: garlic, onions, stinky tofu, fermented bean curd, durian. Heh heh. Just you wait. 3 The next day, before the kiss scene, I snuck into the changing room. I pulled a fresh green onion from my sleeve. Just as I was about to dip it in some bean curd, the door next to me opened. A tall man walked out, taking off his shirt. My eyes popped. Broad shoulders, narrow waist. Under the bright lights, every muscle was defined perfectly. Every curve was flawless. I screamed, covering my eyes. “Julian Sterling, you pervert! I’m exposing you on Weibo!” Then I peeked through my fingers. Nice body. Heh heh. Eight-pack abs. My face turned yellow with horniness. I completely forgot I was the one in the wrong changing room. Julian glanced at me coolly, didn’t say a word, and reached for his belt buckle. I gulped. “What are you doing? There’s an innocent maiden here! Are you blind?” Julian paused, amused. “Zoe Tao, didn’t you say you were a veteran of love, a flower in a field of men, a different guy every night? Why so shy over a belt?” Hearing that, I immediately feigned composure, crossing my arms. “That’s right. I’ve slept with more men than you’ve eaten hot dinners. Change. I’ll watch.” I stared at his knobby fingers as they unbuckled the belt. The suit pants dropped to the floor. And then… My face burned brighter than the sun. I couldn’t watch anymore. “Just you wait!” I fled the room. 4 Even while filming, the image of his defined muscles wouldn’t leave my head. “Zoe, what’s wrong? Why is your face so red?” I jumped up. “Nothing! Where’s my onion?” In the drizzling rain, Julian and I stood facing each other. “Gu Yebai, let’s just end it.” As the female lead, I dropped my arm in despair, gave him one last sorrowful look, and turned to leave. As we passed, a hand clamped onto my wrist. “I don’t agree.” That handsome face zoomed in. Lips pressed against mine, cold from the rain. Remembering his tweet, I clamped my mouth shut tight. No entry. Suddenly, a hand gripped my sensitive waist and pinched. “Mmph…” My mouth opened involuntarily. As our tongues tangled, he pulled me tight against his chest. His body was scorching hot. My fingertips tingled like I’d been electrocuted. I couldn’t breathe. Tears pricked my eyes. “Can’t handle a kiss?” He sighed lightly, chuckling into my ear. “Cut!” the director yelled. I tried to push him away, but my legs were jelly. I almost knelt. “It’s not New Year’s yet, Zoe,” he said, catching me effortlessly, grinning like a devil. “Don’t call me that.” I frowned. It felt too intimate. It made my heart feel weird. “Wait, bro, didn’t you taste anything?” I suddenly remembered I had chomped down on a raw onion right before this. “I tasted it. Very sweet.” Julian smiled at me, the mole under his eye dancing dangerously. I looked away. “You must be starving.” As for the bed scene, don’t worry about me. I have my own rhythm. I’ve filmed plenty of romance dramas. I am a pro… Wait, this kid can kiss. “Hey, where are you touching?” I pushed him weakly. My clothes slipped off my shoulder, exposing white skin. Julian’s hot breath sprayed across my neck, kissing down my collarbone. The camera zoomed in tight. Even his expressions of suppressed desire were captured perfectly. Under the covers, I took advantage of the chaos to grope his abs a few times. “Tsk tsk. Not bad.” Julian stiffened, then continued kissing me as if nothing happened.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387324”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After my grandmother secretly sold me to human traffickers, my mother went insane. My father spent the rest of his life resenting my brother for not watching me closely enough. My brother spent ten years searching for me alone. After traveling the length and breadth of the country with no hope, he slashed his wrists… My grandmother, along with my uncle’s family, seized our house and all our assets. I wanted to burn the house down with them inside. Instead, I was reborn. I was back to that day. I heard my grandmother take the money and tell the trafficker: [Take the girl. Leave my precious grandson for now.] 1 If I hadn’t been snatched by traffickers, I would have been the princess of the family. My dad, my mom, and my big brother adored me. But I was sold into the mountains. A high fever left me slow and “dull,” so the family that bought me sold me again because I was a “waste of food.” I was passed around like a bad penny. Eventually, no one wanted to buy me as a person. They said even if my brain was broken, my kidneys and heart were still good. So, I was stripped for parts and died on a cold table. Only in death could I finally go home. I learned that after I disappeared, Mom and Dad couldn’t handle the grief. They passed away one after another, leaving my brother, Leo, all alone. But Leo never gave up. For ten years, he carried my photo everywhere, asking strangers if they’d seen the little girl with the big eyes. “She’s my sister,” he’d say. “She’s very pretty and very good.” He wore shoes until the soles fell off. He starved himself, living on plain water and stale bread, crying himself to sleep holding my picture. When he finally heard news of my death, the last thread of hope snapped. He was just skin and bones by then. [Mom! Dad! Bella, wait for me. I’m coming to find you!] The blade sliced across his wrist… [Leo!] I tried to save him, but my ghostly hand passed right through his body. The grief and rage were overwhelming. Was I helpless? Was I forced to watch my family die because of me? Suddenly, a blinding light shot through the window. When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in the back of a truck that reeked of stale cigarette smoke. I stared at the man in the black leather jacket. Him. The trafficker. That bastard. He pulled a stack of red bills from his pocket and handed them to the woman opposite him. [Auntie, count it. Five hundred bucks. I hear you got two boys, too? I’ll pay triple for them.] 2 Five hundred dollars. That was the price of my family’s destruction. Through the haze of smoke, I saw my grandmother’s “kind” face. She stuffed the money into her pocket with a satisfied smirk. [Dream on. I’m not selling my grandsons.] A chill went down my spine. Tears welled up in my eyes. Why Grandma? Why would she sell me? The trafficker asked what I was thinking: [Auntie, aren’t you scared your youngest son will find out?] [You don’t say, I don’t say, nobody knows,] Grandma scoffed in her thick country accent. [Besides, what’s wrong with selling a girl? She’s just gonna be raised for someone else’s family anyway. If I don’t sell her now, she’ll just get married off later.] [His older brother got arrested and needed a thousand for bail. He refused to give it! Wouldn’t help his own brother but treats a useless girl like a treasure. Me selling his daughter? He forced my hand!] The trafficker laughed loudly. [Alright, Auntie. Call me when you have new stock.] [With this money, I can get my eldest son out!] Grandma added one last instruction: [By the way, take this girl far away. One less mouth to feed, and maybe my rich youngest son will finally give me more alimony!] Because of that one sentence, in my past life, I was sold to a deep mountain village in another province. I never saw the sun again until I died. This time, they will pay. The sedative in my system hadn’t worn off yet. I memorized the route, looking for a chance to escape. There was another child in the truck—a boy who looked like a porcelain doll. He was unconscious, probably snatched too. The truck stopped on a small country road. A woman in a hat leaned into the window and whispered: [Mike, you got a boy this time?] Mike, the trafficker, looked around cautiously and nodded. 3 [Yeah. Twelve hundred.] [Done.] The woman sighed in relief, excitedly handing him cash. She turned around to reveal a bamboo basket on her back. [Put the boy in here.] [Waaah… Mom, don’t leave me alone! Take me with my brother!] I struggled up, grabbing the woman’s sleeve. I knew this was my chance. [Why would I buy a girl?] The woman turned away, but her eyes flickered. The boy in the basket woke up. He didn’t expose me. Instead, he started crying for his “sister.” Mike seized the opportunity to upsell: [Buy her for company. Girls are cheap and can do chores. Sally, we go way back. I won’t gouge you. Seven hundred, take her.] The woman, Sally, was persuaded. I was tossed into the basket for a discounted price. The basket was covered tightly with a cloth. Sally, careless with two sleeping kids, set us down by the roadside while she went to the bathroom. [Stay put. There are bad people around here.] Once her footsteps faded, I shook the boy awake. [Want to go home?] The little guy nodded silently. [Then follow me. No crying. I’ll take you back. If you make a sound, I leave you behind.] I put on my fiercest face. We climbed out of the basket and bolted into the crowd. I didn’t go to the police. The local cops might be in on it. I couldn’t risk it. At the bus station, I used the single dollar in my pocket to buy two tickets. Back then, you didn’t need IDs for buses. The ticket lady looked suspicious, but I grabbed the boy’s hand and smiled sweetly. [Miss, we’re going to the county seat to find Mom. She’s waiting at the station for us.] We made it to the county town, but we had no money for train tickets to the city. So, I smeared dirt on my face and begged all the way. The little boy, whom I nicknamed “Bun,” had a stomach rumbling like thunder. He looked hungry, but he never complained. I was starving too. [We’ll be home soon.] When it got unbearable, we raided trash cans for leftovers. Finally, we scraped together enough for tickets. I spotted a woman boarding and tailed her closely, pretending we were her kids to sneak onto the train. 4 Just as Bun and I stepped onto the train, a group of people rushed the platform. Sally pointed at us and screamed: [My babies! Someone stole my babies!] She lunged to drag us off. Other passengers started pushing us from behind. [Kids, quit running around. Go home with your mom.] My heart hammered in my throat. Was there no escape? I remembered Leo slashing his wrists, clutching our family photo. I went feral. I bit Sally’s hand as hard as I could and wrapped my arms around a seat leg. [Liar! You’re not my mom! Help! She’s a trafficker!] Sally shrieked in pain and slapped me across the face. Crack. Her accomplice kicked me in the ribs. [You dare bite your mother?] I curled into a ball, gasping. The bystanders looked indifferent. Domestic dispute. Not their problem. Through the dizziness, I saw a college girl try to stand up, but her mother pulled her down. [Don’t meddle. It’s family business.] My scalp burned as someone grabbed my hair. The accomplice asked, [Sally, what about the girl?] Suddenly, a small body threw itself over me. Bun cried incoherently: [No… don’t take sister.] Sally scooped him up, her face instantly shifting to a loving smile. [Oh, my precious son. Come on, Momma’s taking you home.] The taste of blood in my throat woke up every nerve in my body. I looked up and screamed with everything I had left: [You don’t even know our names! My mom loves me! She would never hit me like that! You are lying!] Eyes turned toward me.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387323”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I was eating in the company breakroom. Suddenly, something slammed against my face. The herbal remedy I’d just placed in the company fridge this morning was now splattered all over my lunch. My colleague, Jenna, who was currently breastfeeding, was glaring at me, her face contorted with rage. “Willa, who told you to put this filthy concoction in the fridge? I told you, the company fridge is only for my son’s milk. Nothing else is allowed!” “Who knows what kind of disgusting disease your trashy medicine is for! If it infects my son, your life wouldn’t be enough to pay for it!” Her words sent a jolt of anger through me. I was ready to give her a piece of my mind. My coworker, Chelsea, quickly grabbed my arm. “Don’t, Willa. Her husband is Yax Croft, the heir to the Croft fortune!” “Our own boss has to suck up to her. If you go against her, do you even want to keep your job?” Husband? The Croft heir? I froze. The guy was wrapped around me just this morning. How was he suddenly someone else’s husband? … While I was still processing, Jenna had clearly overheard Chelsea. A smug, triumphant look spread across her face. “Hah. Scared now, are you? How dare you put your filthy, mystery medicine next to my breast milk?” Mystery medicine! This was a remedy prescribed by one of the country’s most celebrated physicians. Yax Croft himself had woken up at 4 a.m. to brew it for me. I shook off Chelsea’s hand and stood up to face her. “Jenna, this is a communal fridge, not your private property. I’ll put whatever I want in it, and it’s not your place to tell me otherwise.” “Besides,” I added, my voice rising, “the company provides a nursery with a dedicated refrigerator for you. But you use it to store your own snacks and drinks while you monopolize the public one. You’ve got some nerve!” A few colleagues around us nodded in silent agreement, clearly fed up with Jenna’s behavior. Anna, the new intern, looked like she was about to cry. Just last week, she’d put her lunch in the fridge, and Jenna had dumped the entire container over her head before screaming at her. I had wanted to stand up for her then, but she and the others had stopped me. I’d wondered why everyone was so tolerant. Now I knew. She was just a bully hiding behind someone else’s power. Jenna, however, showed no remorse. Her arrogance only grew. “So what? I even use Mr. Lewis’s private fridge in his office. Does he dare say a word? Who the hell do you think you are to challenge me? Go on, go tattle to the boss. Let’s see who gets fired!” At that, the murmuring colleagues immediately lowered their heads and fell silent. “What’s all this shouting about?” a stern voice cut in. It was our boss, Mr. Lewis. “Chelsea, you tell me.” After getting the gist of the situation, Mr. Lewis’s brow furrowed. He didn’t say a single word of reprimand to Jenna. Instead, he turned to me with an exasperated look. “Is that all this is about? Willa, honestly. Jenna’s situation is special. As a woman, you’ll be a mother one day yourself. Can’t you show a little empathy for her struggles?” “Let’s do this. You apologize to Jenna and pay her two thousand dollars for her trouble. We’ll call it even.” I almost laughed in his face. “I apologize? And pay her? Mr. Lewis, are you joking?” His face darkened. He shot a look at his male assistant, Mark, who was standing nearby. Mark quickly pulled me aside. “Willa, listen to me,” he whispered. “Don’t be stubborn. You really can’t afford to cross Jenna. Her husband is Yax Croft. The boss is hoping she’ll be his connection to the Croft family.” I let out a cold laugh. “What makes you all so sure her husband is Yax Croft?” Mark pulled out his phone and showed me Jenna’s social media feed. “Look, she’s been posting about it for a month.” The screen was filled with a month’s worth of Jenna’s ostentatious posts. Designer bags, expensive jewelry, you name it. And in every single post, there was a picture of her posing intimately with an older couple. The caption read: “Another day of being spoiled like a princess by my new family~ So grateful. You only know true happiness when you marry the right man and your in-laws adore you.” The older couple in the photo were Yax Croft’s parents. They were legends in the business world, their influence spanning countless industries. After seeing it, I didn’t say another word. I immediately called Yax. No answer. Just then, a flurry of footsteps sounded behind me. I turned to see Jenna grabbing her bag and rushing out the door. Confused, I walked over to Chelsea. “What’s going on?” She whispered, “Jenna just got a call. Sounds like something happened to her baby.” The mention of the child silenced me. Jenna was an awful person, but her baby was innocent. Still, I had to get to the bottom of the so-called “in-laws” on her social media. I kept messaging Yax, but by three in the afternoon, I still hadn’t heard back. Suddenly, our work group chat exploded with notifications tagging me. I opened it to see Jenna, on another rampage. She had posted a picture of her son’s cheek, on which there was a tiny red dot. “Willa, it’s all your fault! Your filthy medicine contaminated my milk and now my son has a rash! I’m telling you, my son is the future of the Croft family. If anything happens to him, your pathetic life and your family’s lives combined wouldn’t be enough to pay for it! You just wait, this isn’t over!” I stared at the picture. The dot was so small you could barely see it. I couldn’t help but laugh. I replied: “Jenna, I suggest you make an appointment with a psychiatrist.” Almost instantly, Mark messaged me privately. “Willa, get some flowers and a gift card ready. You’re going to the hospital with Mr. Lewis to visit Jenna’s son. You’re paying, as a show of goodwill.” Pay for a gift for the person who was slandering me? Not a chance. “Not going. No money.” “The boss said if you don’t go, you can forget about your salary and bonus.” Ha! As if labor laws were just for decoration. Besides, I didn’t really care about the money. “Whatever.” After sending the message, I remembered the photos from her social media feed. I had to figure this out. So I asked Mark, “Is her husband at the hospital, too?” He replied quickly. “Of course. That’s the only reason the boss is going.” Fine. I was going to see for myself who this “Yax Croft” really was. “I’ll go. But forget the flowers and gift card.” When we got to the hospital, the man was nowhere in sight. Mr. Lewis looked even more disappointed than I was. When Jenna saw me, her eyes were like poison darts. She ignored the fruit basket Mr. Lewis offered and shot a look at the nanny beside her. “Take the baby out for some fresh air. We don’t want him breathing in contaminated air from unsanitary people.” Then, her cold gaze fixed on me. She nodded to the two bodyguards at the door. “Hold her.” Before I could react, my arms were pinned behind my back. I couldn’t move. “Jenna, what do you think you’re doing!” I shouted. Mr. Lewis stood by, his lips moving, but not a single word came out. Jenna walked up to me. “What am I doing? I’m teaching you some manners!” Without another word, she raised her hand and slapped me hard across the face. My cheek burned with a fiery sting. “That was for running your mouth. You were so tough in the group chat. What are you now, huh? Nothing!” I slowly turned my head back, my eyes locked on her face. “Jenna, you. Are. Going. To. Regret. This.” Just then, my phone rang. The caller ID read “Husband.” Jenna snatched the phone from my pocket. Her eyes darted around as a sinister smile spread across her face. She crooked a finger at the terrified Mark. “You. Come here.” Mark, completely bewildered, walked over. Jenna whispered something quickly in his ear. His eyes went wide with a mixture of terror and reluctance. Jenna’s glare hardened. Mark glanced nervously at me, then gave a stiff nod. He answered the call and put it on speaker. At the same time, a bodyguard clamped a hand tightly over my mouth. “My love.” Yax’s voice came through the phone. “I was in a board meeting, my phone was on silent. I just saw your texts. Some colleague’s baby? I honestly have no idea what’s going on, are you—” “Your wife’s in the shower,” Mark interrupted, his voice loud and forced, following Jenna’s instructions. “Man, your wife is incredible. Married women are something else, so wild! She said you can’t satisfy her, that I’m the best she’s ever had! So just get used to those horns, buddy!” The line went dead. “Hahahahaha!” Jenna shrieked with laughter, doubling over. “See? So much fun! Now even your own man doesn’t want you. A slut is a slut!” I closed my eyes in despair. She was done for. Absolutely, utterly done for. I had known Yax since we were kids. I knew him better than anyone. He would have already figured out I was in trouble. Anyone who had ever hurt me before had learned what he was like when he was angry. He was like a force of nature. He wouldn’t stop until he had destroyed them, ruined their families, left them with nothing. And he was definitely on his way to the hospital right now. He had secretly installed a GPS tracker on my phone. I’d always known, I just never said anything. When Jenna finally finished laughing, she turned to the bodyguards. “Alright, I’ve had my fun. Strip her clothes off and throw her outside!” “Stop! Don’t you dare!” I struggled with all my might, my eyes darting from one person to the next. “I am Yax Croft’s wife! Any of you who touches me will regret it!” The room fell silent. “Hahahaha! You’re Yax Croft’s wife? Willa, did you get scared stupid? Are you daydreaming now?” Jenna howled. “I am the Croft family’s daughter-in-law!” Mr. Lewis scurried over, his voice placating. “Willa, stop talking nonsense! Just get on your knees and apologize to Jenna. Maybe she’ll let this go!” “Apologize for what!” Jenna snapped, cutting him off. “I’m not accepting any apology from this little bitch. I’m going to have her clothes ripped off and have her thrown out on the street. She’s going to learn what happens when you cross me!” At her command, the two bodyguards slammed me against the wall. They started tearing at my coat and the collar of my shirt. I fought back, kicking and struggling, but the difference in strength was too great. In that moment of chaos and desperation, a voice cut through the noise. “Stop!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387322”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My phone buzzed during a board meeting with a notification from the kindergarten parents’ group. The teacher had tagged me: “Mrs. Daniels, your daughter is expelled. Pick her up now.” I typed, “Why?” “Leo’s Mom” replied arrogantly, “Your daughter didn’t call my son ‘young master.’ Isn’t that reason enough? My husband is Liam Gomez, brother of the richest man, Miles Gomez. Got a problem?” Before I could respond, the teacher apologized to her: “Mrs. Gomez, I’m sorry I scolded Leo when he hit your daughter. My mistake! I’ll award him in class tomorrow.” The chat flooded with fawning praise. Someone posted a photo of my bruised, tearful daughter, tagging me: “Being beaten by the wealthiest man’s nephew is a blessing. Don’t be ungrateful.” My blood ran cold. Liam Gomez was my brother—but he died ten years ago. I ended the meeting and raced to the kindergarten, messaging my legal team: “Find who’s impersonating my dead brother. My daughter was assaulted there. Bring a team—make them pay.” 1 When I pulled up to the kindergarten, I saw her immediately—Leo’s Mom, holding court by the school gate, surrounded by a gaggle of other parents. “Mrs. Gomez, you’re so modest! If it weren’t for this, we would have never known your husband was Miles Gomez’s brother.” “Exactly! The moment I saw you, I knew you had an air of nobility about you. It’s that Gomez family aura!” “We’re here to support you today. Your Leo is the little prince of our class. We can’t have him being bullied by just any riffraff!” “That’s right! Any child who makes the young master resort to violence must be trash. I’ve already told my son to be Leo’s loyal follower and protect him at all costs!” Even my daughter’s teacher was there, bowing and scraping before this woman. “Mrs. Gomez, the Daniels girl was insolent. She deserved to be beaten and expelled. Your Leo is a brave and powerful boy, unafraid to express his emotions. I will hold him up as a model for all the other students!” “Also,” the teacher added, her voice dripping with sycophancy, “if you could send me a list of Leo’s favorite foods, we will adjust the entire kindergarten’s menu to his tastes.” Leo’s Mom preened under the flattery, a proud peacock puffing out its chest. My brother, Liam, had been a humble, kind, and decent man. We were inseparable, working side-by-side to build the Gomez Group into the empire it was today. But the work took its toll. He fell ill and passed away far too young. I honored his wish for a quiet, private funeral, then channeled my grief into my work, determined to fulfill his dream of making our company number one. Now, after ten years of my relentless effort, my success had become this woman’s social capital. I was furious, and utterly bewildered. Who was this man, this impostor, who had given her the audacity to act with such impunity and to allow my daughter to be so brutally bullied? When the group of parents saw me approaching, their fawning smiles vanished, replaced by scowls of disgust, as if I were something vile they’d scraped off their shoes. The teacher marched up to me, her face a mask of contempt. “The director himself ordered your daughter’s expulsion. I suggest you learn to control her, and teach her to know her place.” I stared at her, my voice dangerously low. “My daughter was assaulted in your school. Instead of seeking justice for her, you expel the victim to curry favor with the powerful?” The teacher scoffed. “This is an elite kindergarten. We prioritize the status of our students. The Gomez family is not someone a low-life like you can afford to offend.” My expression hardened. “I suggest you do your research and find out exactly who I am.” Before I could say more, Leo’s Mom stepped forward and slapped me hard across the face. “Who the hell do you think you are,” she sneered, “to talk about status here? No matter who you are, you’ll never be more important than my husband.” 2 The slap stunned me. The other parents erupted in jeers. “Hilarious! A member of the Gomez family is right here, and this nobody dares to talk about status?” “She’s probably so low-class she doesn’t even know what the Gomez name means.” “Being beaten by Miles Gomez’s nephew is an honor for trash like her. I don’t know what she’s complaining about.” They spat insults, some literally spitting in my direction, telling me I was worse than garbage. I took off my jacket—a custom piece worth a small fortune—and tossed it into a nearby trash can. Then I faced Leo’s Mom. “First, your son assaults my daughter, and now you assault me. Are you not afraid of the law?” She laughed as if I’d told the world’s funniest joke. “You really have no idea how powerful the Gomez family is, do you? My husband is Miles Gomez’s brother. Do you think the law can touch me?” She held up her designer handbag. “See this? A gift from my husband. The silk scarf tied to the handle is worth more than you and your daughter’s lives combined.” I looked at the bag. It was indeed priceless, but for some reason, it looked familiar. “That’s strange,” I said, my voice deceptively calm. “I had no idea Liam Gomez was married, let alone had a child. Why don’t you call your husband over? I’d like to meet him.” My brother had been dead for a decade. How could he have a five-year-old son? I was going to find out who dared to impersonate him and unleash this monstrous woman and her child on the world. Leo’s Mom threw her head back and laughed. “My husband’s marriage is not something a bottom-feeder like you needs to be informed of. And you want to meet him? On what grounds?” “On the grounds,” I said, my voice ringing with cold authority, “that I am Liam Gomez’s sister. My name is Amelia Gomez.” 3 The crowd erupted in derisive laughter. Leo’s Mom glanced at the car I had arrived in and sneered. “You drive that piece of junk and dare to call yourself a Gomez? Are you delusional from poverty?” She laughed again. “I’m Miles Gomez’s sister-in-law. You think I wouldn’t recognize his own sister?” The other parents followed her gaze to my car, their mockery growing louder. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in a trash heap like that!” “Look at her, poor and pathetic. No wonder her daughter is such a brat. They both deserve a good beating!” “Why do poor people like her even try to get into a school like this? It’s disgusting.” My car was, indeed, a ten-year-old domestic model. But it was a rare, custom-built vehicle, far from cheap. Its understated design meant few recognized its value. And now, it was the reason they refused to believe me. “Today, I’ll teach you the price of impersonating a Gomez!” Before I could say another word, Leo’s Mom picked up a brick from the side of the road and began smashing my car with a vengeance. Windows, headlights, hood—she didn’t spare a single inch. The other parents, caught up in the frenzy, joined in, grabbing whatever they could find and laying into the vehicle. They shattered the windows, then reached inside to slash the leather seats and destroy the interior. In moments, my pristine car was a wreck. “Look! She’s got stuff in the trunk!” one of them yelled after prying it open. Leo’s Mom sauntered over, pulled out a scroll painting, and scoffed, “A piece of trash driving a trashy car, pretending to be a collector. How sophisticated.” With that, she tore the ancient painting to shreds. Everything in the trunk was from a recent auction, priceless antiques I hadn’t had time to move to storage. “I hope you’ll be as enthusiastic when it’s time to pay for that,” I warned, my voice dangerously quiet. She just laughed in my face. “What could a low-life like you possibly own that’s of any value? A pile of fakes, not even worth the price of my lunch! Besides, with the Gomez family’s connections, no court in this city would dare make me pay.” She then proceeded to destroy the rest of the antiques. The other parents, emboldened by her, joined in the rampage. I watched the lawless mob and calmly took out my phone. “Where are you? I want you here in three minutes.” Before the person on the other end could reply, one of the parents snatched my phone and smashed it on the ground. “Still trying to call for backup? You’re really committed to this act, aren’t you? Think you’re some big shot? You’re probably just calling a bunch of beggars to come and play along!” The laughter and insults started again. There’s no reasoning with fools on a path to self-destruction. All I wanted was to see my daughter. I ignored them and walked toward the school entrance. The director came out to block my path. “A low-life like you is not welcome here.” My eyes were like chips of ice. “I want my daughter.” “She’s been expelled,” he sneered. “A teacher will bring her out.” Just then, the front door opened, and my daughter was thrown out, her little backpack flying after her. She landed hard on the pavement and burst into tears. I rushed to her, scooping her into my arms. I turned to the director, my voice shaking with rage. “Is this how you treat your students?” He looked at me with utter contempt. “A piece of trash born from a poor bitch. Does she deserve to be a student here? We’re just throwing out the garbage. What’s the problem?” 4 The other parents applauded. “Well said, Director! Fair and just!” “This is an elite school, not a place for stray dogs.” “Why does trash need an education anyway? She’ll just end up selling her body or picking through garbage. You should teach her how to scavenge. Maybe she’ll find something more valuable than that wreck of a car!” Leo’s Mom grew even more arrogant. “People of your class should know their place. You are destined to live at the bottom, despised by all.” The insults washed over me. The more they screamed, the wider Leo’s Mom smiled. The director took the opportunity to grovel. “Mrs. Gomez, if you are satisfied with how this was handled, perhaps you could do us a small favor. As you know, we are planning to expand, but the surrounding land is all owned by the Gomez Group…” Leo’s Mom crossed her arms, looking down her nose at him. “Don’t worry. I was very pleased with your performance today. I’ll have a word with my husband. He’ll gift the land to you.” The director beamed. “Thank you, Mrs. Gomez, thank you!” The other parents swarmed her, offering gifts and begging for favors. Business deals, partnerships, unlimited gift cards for luxury stores—they showered her with offerings, some even stuffing bank cards into her purse. She reveled in it, basking in their adoration. She walked over to me, her voice dripping with condescension. “Do you feel it? The gap between people in this world is greater than the gap between a person and a dog. Trash like you will never experience what it’s like to be worshiped. But I, as a Gomez, can enjoy a glory you can only dream of.” She leaned in, her voice a venomous hiss. “I’ll give you one day. Take your little garbage daughter and get out of this city. If I ever see her polluting my son’s sight again, I’ll bury the little mutt alive.” My daughter trembled in my arms. “Mommy, I’m scared,” she whimpered. “It hurts…” Her voice was filled with a terror that tore at my heart. I looked closer and saw them—thin, red lines crisscrossing the skin beneath her torn clothes. Knife cuts. My vision went red. “Did your son do this?” I demanded. Leo’s Mom glanced at the cuts and shrugged. “What’s the big deal? She was lucky he didn’t kill her for upsetting him.” The moment the words left her mouth, I slapped her. Hard. It was a blow fueled by all my pent-up rage. She staggered back, stunned. Before I could strike again, one of the other parents grabbed my hair and threw me to the ground. They descended on me like a pack of wolves, kicking and punching. “How dare you touch Mrs. Gomez, you worthless bitch!” “Your little mutt isn’t dead yet! Are you in a hurry to join her?” “Being disciplined by the young master is an honor for that trash! What good could come from a low-life like you? She deserves to be beaten to death!” Even the director kicked me. “Don’t hit my mommy!” my daughter cried, trying to intervene. A fat boy—Leo—shoved her to the ground. The director patted Leo’s head. “What a good boy, punishing the wicked. Tomorrow, I’ll give you a special award in front of the whole school!” Leo grinned. “I’ll beat that little piece of trash every time I see her!” I lay on the ground, bruised and bleeding. I looked up, my eyes burning. “You will all regret this.” They howled with laughter. “Did you hear that? The low-life is making threats!” “She really thinks she’s someone, doesn’t she? With Miles Gomez backing her, Mrs. Gomez could crush this bitch like an ant!” “All she has left is empty rage! Pathetic!” They held me down, showering me with insults. The crowd of onlookers jeered, calling me a fool. Leo’s Mom, triumphant, ground the heel of her stiletto into my cheek. “Regret?” she crowed. “I’ve never regretted a thing in my life. I can’t wait to see how a piece of trash like you is going to make me regret this!” Just then, a roar of engines filled the air. A convoy of over a hundred black luxury cars, each bearing the Gomez family crest, sped down the street and screeched to a halt in front of the kindergarten. The doors flew open, and an army of men in sharp, tailored suits poured out.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387321”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I have a normal personality type. So when the System told me I was the long-lost daughter of a wealthy family, it was a little confused. [Your birth parents favor the fake heiress. Shouldn’t you be furious?] “That’s pretty normal. People get attached to a puppy or a kitten, let alone a person they’ve raised for eighteen years.” [Your fiancé can’t stand the sight of you. Shouldn’t you be filled with resentment?] “That’s pretty normal. I’d be pissed too if someone told me I had to marry a complete stranger.” [Your classmates are mocking your English accent. Shouldn’t you want to burn the world down?] “That’s pretty normal. I hear myself talk and I want to laugh. Why can’t they?” The System short-circuited. [I can’t work with this. I really can’t. Who programmed a saint into this role?!] 1 On my eighteenth birthday, my uncle told me I was the real heiress, switched at birth with the daughter of a powerful family. On the car ride to my new home, a ding sounded in my head, and the System came online. It told me that when I got home, my parents would be cold and distant, treating me like a weed in their perfectly manicured garden. My fiancé, destined for me since birth, would despise me and make my life a living hell. Crushed by despair, I would develop stomach cancer and die filled with regret. Only then would my parents and fiancé realize their mistake and be consumed by remorse. [To help you rewrite your destiny, become the ultimate main character, and conquer your family, I will provide full support to guide you to the pinnacle of life!] I leaned against the car door, half-asleep. “Oh. Thanks.” The System paused. [Aren’t you excited? Thrilled? This is life-changing! It’s a cheat code! …Are you, like, dead inside?] I let out a silent sigh. “If you had to get up at four every morning to cook, do laundry, clean the house, and slop the pigs, then walk to school at six-thirty, skip lunch, and work for two hours washing dishes at a diner after school… you’d want to be dead too.” The System was impressed. [Worthy of a main character! To endure all that and not even curse someone out?!] I gave a weak smile. I’d spent the last sixteen years cursing the heavens, but when I realized the heavens weren’t listening, I gave up. It wasn’t that I stopped fighting. It was that I had no fight left in me. 2 We chatted on and off like that, and at some point, I drifted off to sleep. When I woke up, the car was gliding through the grounds of a mansion so vast I couldn’t see the end of it. The driver opened my door. “Miss, we’re home.” Three people stood beside the car: a distinguished-looking middle-aged couple and a girl so beautiful she looked like a princess. The System informed me they were my father, my mother, and Phoebe, the girl who had been raised in my place. After a brief, slightly awkward greeting, they led me inside. The dining room table was groaning with a feast. My stomach was already rumbling, and my eyes were glued to the glistening roast, the platters of crab legs, and the crispy chicken. After dinner, my mother had a maid show me to my room on the second floor. The moment the door closed, I dove face-first into the soft duvet. It was so comfortable I felt like I was floating on a cloud. I had barely started to float when the System’s voice exploded in my head. [I AM FUMING! FUMING! THIS IS UNFORGIVABLE! Host, just give the word and I will go zap your parents!] I poked my head out from under the covers, completely bewildered. “Huh? Why?” [WHY?!] the System shrieked. [Weren’t you paying attention just now? During dinner, your parents kept putting food on the fake heiress’s plate, but they didn’t give you a single piece!] I thought about it and scratched my head. “That’s pretty normal. My own plate was already piled so high there was no room for more.” [And what about how they barely said a word to you? They were so afraid of upsetting the precious fake heiress that they didn’t even ask if you were tired from the trip!] “That’s pretty normal, too. I was too busy eating to talk anyway. Even if they’d asked, my mouth was full.” [But the worst part! Your room is only a third of the size of hers! There’s a much bigger room right next door, but they put you in here, obviously because they’re scared of upsetting Phoebe’s delicate feelings!] I rolled over on the massive, comfortable bed. “I think it’s great. If the room was any bigger, it would take forever to get to the bathroom.” Besides, I used to sleep on a sofa. Now I had my own private room in a house that looked like a castle. What more could I ask for? Suddenly, I smelled something burning. I shot up. “Is something on fire?!” The System ground its digital teeth. [It’s fine! That’s just the smoke coming out of my ears!] I ignored the fuming System, took a long, luxurious bath in the en-suite bathroom, and slept soundly from ten at night until seven in the morning. Waking up, I felt like I’d gone to heaven. “So this is what it feels like to be well-fed and well-rested!” [Pathetic,] the System muttered. I decided to ignore it, not wanting to trigger another explosion. After tidying my room, I went downstairs. The living room was empty. I wandered outside and found the butler watering the flowers in the garden. “Miss, you’re up so early,” he greeted me with a kind smile. “You must have been exhausted yesterday. You should have slept in.” I helped him move a heavy pot. “I’m a good sleeper. One hour for me is like three for anyone else. This is actually late for me.” We chatted while we worked, and around nine, the housekeeper announced that breakfast was ready. My parents came downstairs, but Phoebe was nowhere to be seen. Noticing my questioning glance, my father explained, “Phoebe’s a little sleepyhead. She won’t be up before ten-thirty.” I sipped the rich milk and ate the sweet bread, feeling so happy I could fly. I barely registered his words, just nodded cheerfully. [I CAN’T WITH YOU!] the System erupted again. I jumped, spilling a few drops of milk. [What are they bragging about?! While their precious fake daughter is snoozing in bed, you would have already slopped the pigs twice!] I tried to soothe it mentally. Calm down. Everyone has different habits. Some people are early birds, some are night owls. You could pump me full of sleeping pills, and I’d still be wide awake by now. My parents saw my hand tremble and exchanged a look, their expressions shifting slightly. My mother peeled a hard-boiled egg and placed it by my hand. “Iris,” she said softly, “did you sleep well? Is there anything you’re not used to? I noticed your clothes seem a bit small. How about I take you shopping today?” I looked down at the sleeves of my shirt, which barely reached my forearms, and answered her questions one by one. My father handed me a credit card. “This is for your allowance. Buy whatever you like.” I nodded, about to thank them, when Phoebe came downstairs. She stumbled down, half-asleep, and threw her arms around my mother’s neck. “Mommy, my head hurts.” My mother immediately pressed her forehead against Phoebe’s. “Oh dear, you’re burning up! You must have a fever. I told you not to wear that little dress yesterday. Now you’ve caught a cold.” Phoebe just blinked her big eyes and whined, “It hurts so much.” My father stood up and bent over. “Come on, Daddy will carry you back up to bed. We’ll have the doctor come over.” Phoebe climbed onto his back without a second thought. My mother hovered nervously, steadying her as they went back upstairs, murmuring to each other. [SEE?! LOOK AT THAT MANIPULATIVE LITTLE… Your parents finally talk to you for two seconds, and she immediately steals them away! This is outrageous… ARE YOU STILL EATING?!] I was starting to get used to the System’s constant state of alarm. I calmly finished my breakfast and took my plate to the kitchen. “That’s pretty normal,” I said, rinsing the plate. “She has a fever. People are vulnerable when they’re sick. It’s natural to want your parents close.” [But you never had your parents with you when you were sick!] the System retorted. That was true. My adoptive parents had died in a car crash when I was five. It wasn’t that they didn’t want to be there; they couldn’t be. I dried the plate and put it away. “I have a strong constitution. I rarely get sick. And when I do, I recover quickly. I don’t need anyone to look after me.” 3 With Phoebe sick, my mother couldn’t take me shopping. So I went to the mall by myself, with the System acting as my fashion consultant. As I paid, the System sounded surprised. [I didn’t expect you to shop here. I figured you’d go to a wholesale market and buy a dozen five-dollar t-shirts.] I had already changed into one of the new outfits. The fabric was crisp, the cut was elegant, and it made me look surprisingly refined. Clothes really do make the person. “It’s not that cheap clothes are always bad, and it’s not like I’m a pauper who suddenly struck it rich and lost her mind,” I said, tapping the credit card in my phone case. “Even a wealthy family wouldn’t just hand a kid a million-dollar line of credit for fun. My parents are making a gesture. If I took all this money and still dressed like a scarecrow to fish for pity, it would just make them feel awkward and make me look pathetic. That would be insane, right?” [You…] The System stammered. “What?” [You’re… not a complete idiot after all.] “…” I pursed my lips. “Wow. Thanks for the compliment.” 4 When I got home, there was a young man sitting on the living room sofa. He turned his head at the sound of my arrival. [Julian Croft. The male lead of this story. Your official fiancé.] This wasn’t the era of arranged marriages anymore. And even if it were a strategic alliance between families, Phoebe was, for all intents and purposes, the Landon family heiress. They had grown up together, a perfect match. What was I, some kind of homewrecker? The fact that they merely disliked me was, frankly, quite polite of them. I was about to just nod and head upstairs, but Julian spoke first. “Uh… hello.” [? Why is he blushing like a teapot?] the System wondered. [In the original story, he hated you at first. He thought you looked poor and tacky. It wasn’t until your and Phoebe’s birthday party, when you showed up in a stunning gown, that he…] The System stopped. [I get it now.] “Get what?” [You’re wearing new clothes. You look good right now. Men are so shallow!] Julian cleared his throat, his composure returning. “And you are?” “Iris.” The name was all he needed. His expression immediately turned cold. [Okay, what is wrong with him? He changes his mind faster than you can flip a page.] “That’s pretty normal. Finding out your fiancée is suddenly being replaced with a stranger? Anyone would be upset.” Finding someone attractive is one thing. Realizing that attractive person might completely upend your life is another thing entirely. Love at first sight requires the other person to be non-threatening. I wanted to tell Julian that I had zero interest in him and that he and Phoebe could live happily ever after, but it wasn’t my place. I was about to turn and go upstairs when Phoebe’s sweet voice called out. “Julian!” She came running lightly down the stairs. [What the hell! Wasn’t she so sick she needed to be carried just this morning? Now she’s running and jumping!] “Some people have very strong immune systems. They recover quickly.” […] 5 Phoebe ran over and tugged on Julian’s sleeve. “I’m ready. The concert is about to start. Let’s go.” Julian’s gaze lingered on me for a second. Phoebe followed his eyes and her expression immediately became timid. “Iris, do you… want to come with us?” I smiled and declined. “No, thanks. I’m not a big music fan. I’d just fall asleep. You two go have fun.” [What an act! Concert tickets like that usually have to be bought in advance. What if you had said yes? Would she have given you hers? Or would she have awkwardly said no and embarrassed you? So fake!] As I walked upstairs, I found the System’s constant outrage kind of amusing. “Why are you always so ready to explode? She was just being polite. What was she supposed to do? See me standing there and just ignore me as they walk out holding hands? That would have been way more awkward.” [I just can’t stand people like them!] the System fumed. [Why can’t they just be direct? All these little mind games, treating everyone else like an idiot! Doesn’t it piss you off? If it does, I can go zap them for you.] I pressed my palms together. “Please, I’m begging you. If you keep getting this worked up, you’re going to deplete the Earth’s energy reserves. I’m not pissed off at anyone. It’s perfectly normal for people to be on guard when their world is suddenly turned upside down.” [Hmph. I think you just have a classic people-pleaser personality.] “And I think you have a classic warmonger personality.” [You’ve only got nerve when you’re talking to me!] I hung up my new clothes and sat on the floor. “Okay, look. Stop getting so angry all the time. Your motherboard has already overheated a few times, right? Is it really okay to keep doing that?” The System ignored me. I thought for a moment. “How about this? I’ll tell you a riddle to help you cool down.” The System took the bait. [What does a riddle have to do with cooling down?] “You’ll see.” I asked, “What’s green, fuzzy, and would kill you if it fell out of a tree?” [You’re not allowed to use your data banks. Think about it.] The System mulled it over. [I give up. What is it?] “A pool table.” […] [I feel much cooler now. Thank you.] “You’re welcome.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387320”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The day I completed my mission, the System asked me how I wanted to die. “I want to die saving Stella,” I told it. “And I want them all to watch.” When we were children, Stella saved me from a fire. For that, my family adopted her. But the love they once had for me, their own daughter, slowly transferred to her, until she was the sun they all revolved around. I became a ghost in my own home, forced to yield at every turn. Even Ethan, my childhood sweetheart and fiancé, sided with the supposedly fragile, “depressed” Stella. I watched them laugh together as they set my wedding dress aflame. In the roaring light of the fire, Ethan’s words were the same ones I’d heard a thousand times before. “She saved your life, Sophie. Is it so hard to just let her have this?” “Never forget, Sophie. Without Stella, you’d be dead.” Well, the mission was over. It was time for me to go. And now, I would make them see me give that life back to her. This time, I would be the one to say, “Without me, she’d be dead.” 1 The System informed me that a violent riot would break out during the grand parade at Everland Amusement Park. Stella was there right now. “The timing is perfect,” it buzzed in my mind. “Take the knife for her, and the mission will conclude.” When I arrived at the park, I saw them. My father, who was supposed to be on a business trip. My mother, who had a conference. My brother, who was working late. All of them were there. They had lied to me, all to celebrate Stella’s birthday together. Watching them from a distance, a happy, perfect family, I suddenly remembered. Today was my birthday, too. There was still some time before the chaos would begin. I bought the smallest cupcake I could find at a dessert stand and asked for a single candle. Finding a quiet bench, I sat down and lit the wick. The tiny flame was almost invisible in the bright afternoon sun. I closed my eyes and made a wish. My first wish: to return to my own world, where the System would use its power to cure my real mother’s illness. Three years ago, my mother had fallen gravely ill. That’s when the System found me. The price of her cure was twenty years of my life in another world. The mission was simple: make all the key figures in this new life either love me or despise me, unanimously. At first, when Stella, the orphaned daughter of our late chauffeur, was adopted for saving my life, I thought it was the ultimate proof of my parents’ love for me. But that love soured. “Stella saved you. You need to be grateful.” “What’s the big deal if you just let her have it? Without her, you’d be dead, Sophie!” Those words had been my cage for twenty years. My spot at a prestigious university? I gave it up for her. The promotion to director I worked my fingers to the bone for? Hers. And then last night, using her depression as a shield, Stella had taken a pair of scissors to my wedding dress, cutting it to shreds just for the fun of burning it. Ethan had stood right beside her, bending down to light the match. I had stared at him, my voice hollow. “We’re getting married tomorrow, Ethan. Why?” His eyes, for the first time, held no trace of the conflict or pain I used to see. They were just cold. And for the first time, he was the one who said it. “Never forget, Sophie. Without Stella, you’d be dead.” In that moment, the System’s voice chimed. 【Mission Complete. Emotional link confirmed for all targets: Despise.】 A tear escaped from under my closed eyelid. I remembered a time when I was the center of their world. “Sophie is the light of our lives!” “Three cheers for our birthday girl!” “Your family will always be here to catch you, sweetheart.” But the mission was complete, and the ending was not the one I had so naively expected. Everything had changed. I made my second wish: Please, let it be quick. I hadn’t even finished the thought when a hand slapped the cupcake from my lap. It tumbled to the pavement, smearing a sad swirl of buttercream across the dusty concrete. 2 I opened my eyes. It was my brother, Larry. His brows were furrowed in anger. “Sophie! What are you doing here?” he hissed. “Did you know it was Stella’s birthday? Are you here to cause a scene?” His first instinct upon seeing me was to accuse me of trying to hurt Stella. Had I really become that person in his eyes? I couldn’t understand it. This was the brother who used to let me ride on his back, playing knight and princess. Now, he looked at me like I was the dragon. I stared back at him, my eyes burning, stubbornly refusing to let the tears fall. My birthday cake was ruined, my second wish left unspoken. Taking a deep breath, I knelt down, blew out the sputtering candle, and then, without a second thought, I scooped up the gritty, ruined cake and shoved it into my mouth. I chewed on the mixture of sugar, dirt, and my own crushing despair, as if I could swallow all the bitterness down. Larry was stunned. “What are you…?” Passersby were starting to stare. His face flushed with embarrassment. He grabbed my arm, yanking me to my feet. “What do you think you’re doing? You’re embarrassing the family!” I wrenched my arm free, my voice a raw rasp. “What am I doing? I’m eating my own birthday cake!” I screamed, my voice cracking. “It’s my birthday too! Did you even know that?” Larry froze, the anger on his face faltering. After a few seconds of silence, his tone softened slightly, but his words were still sharp. “Even so… you can’t make a scene like this.” I said nothing. I walked to a trash can and threw away the last of the mangled cake in my hand. Then I turned to him, my voice unnervingly calm. “Don’t worry. You won’t have to be embarrassed by me much longer. After today, I won’t be a part of this family anymore.” “Today,” I said, looking him dead in the eye, “I’m giving my life back.” He didn’t seem to process it. “What are you talking about?” “Sophie!” Another familiar voice. It was Ethan. He strode towards us, a shopping bag in his hand, the same wary suspicion in his eyes as Larry. His first words were an echo of my brother’s. “What are you doing here?” He was so predictable. Just like the rest of them, he was terrified I might do something to upset his precious Stella. The irony was suffocating. They knew how much they favored her, and that was why they were so afraid of me. As he got closer, his eyes caught the smudge of frosting at the corner of my mouth. He paused. Almost instinctively, he reached into his pocket for a handkerchief to wipe it away. I flinched back, dodging his touch. The lingering habit was disgusting. I looked at him, and a wave of pure hatred washed over me. I hated him most of all. We had grown up together, and he had always been my staunchest defender, my shadow. I truly believed I was the only one he saw. But when Stella graduated from college, he’d hired her as his personal assistant, a move that broke all company protocol. I saw them laughing together by his car one day, and a chill went down my spine. When had they become so close? Maybe I had been the outsider all along. And last night, he had stood by and helped her burn my wedding dress. With that act, the System had confirmed it. No one loved me. He had, in a twisted way, helped me complete my mission. But the truth was simple. Ethan was the one who broke me. Twenty years of lies, deceit, and betrayal. I had lost everything. Ethan, I despise you. My gaze fell to the beautifully wrapped gift bag in his hand. I forced a smile and reached for it. “Is that for me? A little party favor?” He jerked his hand back as if I’d tried to burn him. His expression soured. “Of course not. This is for Stella.” Then he added, with a cold dismissiveness that cut deeper than any knife, “Today’s not a special day for you, Sophie. Why would you get a gift?” 3 Beside me, Larry shifted uncomfortably. I looked straight at Ethan, my voice so steady it surprised even me. “It’s my birthday, Ethan.” He was stunned into silence. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Finally, he managed a clipped, awkward response. “Right. I’ll… I’ll make it up to you later.” “There is no later,” I told him, my voice flat. “I’m going to die today.” His brow furrowed, his expression shifting to one of weary annoyance. He clearly thought this was just another desperate bid for attention. “Sophie, that’s enough,” he said, his voice low and strained. Larry jumped in, trying to diffuse the situation. “Sophie, just go home. What if Stella sees you and has a panic attack? You know she can’t handle being upset!” Can’t handle being upset, or can’t handle me? We all knew the answer. When I was valedictorian, she had a breakdown. When I got a promotion, she fell into a deep depression. When Ethan and I were about to get married, her “illness” conveniently flared up again. And every single time, I was the one to blame. My achievements, my career, my entire life had to be sacrificed at the altar of Stella’s fragile mental state. “Stella!” A sharp cry from behind us. It was my mother. Stella had seen me. She clutched her chest and swooned dramatically into my father’s arms. My mother rushed over, her finger pointing accusingly at my face. “Sophie! It’s Stella’s birthday! Why did you have to come here and ruin everything? You’re bad luck!” She turned her back on me, fussing over Stella, cooing at her with a tenderness she hadn’t shown me in years. I watched her, my heart a block of ice. “Mom, it’s my birthday too.” She froze. Her eyes darted away, unable to meet mine. She stammered, but the words “happy birthday” never came. My father’s voice boomed, full of rage. “Your birthday is the real curse! If you hadn’t insisted on lighting so many candles all those years ago, the fire would never have started! You nearly killed us all!” That fire. The anchor of the “debt” I’d carried for twenty years. It was the weapon they all used against me. I let out a bitter laugh. “That’s a lie. Stella was the one who knocked over my cake. The candles lit the tablecloth on fire! It was never my fault!” It wasn’t my fault. So why did I have to pay for it? From my father’s arms, Stella opened her eyes, tears welling up beautifully. “But sister… I saved you… Isn’t that enough?” That day, Stella had been screaming and clawing her way out of the fire. But a clasp on her hair had snagged on my dress. My legs were trapped under a fallen beam, the bones fractured. She’d had no choice but to drag me with her, cursing me to die the entire way. Her words were like a trigger. Larry immediately stepped in front of her, shielding her. “It doesn’t matter how it happened, Sophie. Stella saved your life! That’s a fact!” Ethan moved to his side. “Soph, she gave you your life back. Can’t you just cut her some slack?” My father’s face was purple with rage, his finger trembling as he pointed at me. “She gave you that life! Without her, you’d be dead! How did we raise such an ungrateful daughter?” “She saved you!” “You owe her your life!” “Just let her have it!” “You have to be grateful!” The familiar litany washed over me, a tide of guilt and obligation that had been drowning me for two decades. My entire life had been a prison built of their morality. And then, the System’s voice in my head. 【Riot commencing in one minute.】 A real smile spread across my face. I looked at their angry, accusing faces. “Well,” I said, my voice light. “Look how the tables have turned.” I stepped forward, bent down, and seized Stella’s wrist in a death grip. Leaning in close, I whispered, every word dripping with ice. “All those things you just said? In a little while, it’ll be my turn to say them.” 4 Stella shrieked as if I had burned her, dissolving into a fresh wave of tears. The others immediately swarmed around her. “It’s okay, Stella, don’t be scared!” “Sophie, let her go!” I was shoved aside. My parents, my brother, my fiancé—all of them circled around her like a protective wall. Just then, the parade began. Cheerful music swelled as costumed characters danced down the main street. The host invited guests to join them on the main float. My family must have arranged it beforehand, because Stella was chosen instantly. Wiping her tears, she was escorted onto the float like a princess. The mascots all crowded around her, a perfect picture of adoration. Stella twirled and danced, a radiant smile on her face. Ethan watched from the crowd, his eyes filled with a mesmerized haze. “She’s so beautiful,” he murmured. Thirty seconds until the riot. I walked up beside Ethan. “Ethan,” I asked softly, “if I died today, would you ever miss me?” He sighed, the spell broken. “Don’t be so dramatic, Sophie. You’ve been living on borrowed time for twenty years. Do you really have the guts to die? Stop making empty threats.” Empty threats? The words had barely left his lips. “Aaaahhh!” A collective scream tore through the crowd. The riot the System had predicted began, right on schedule. Several men with knives rushed into the crowd, slashing wildly. The parade float was their primary target. People scattered, their screams mingling with the stench of blood. In the midst of the chaos, I turned to Ethan and gave him a brilliant smile. Then, without a second’s hesitation, I ran straight into the heart of the chaos. He finally reacted, his voice a shredded, desperate roar. “SOPHIE! COME BACK!” Stella, at the center of the float, was the main target. She was paralyzed with fear, her face pale, her screams piercing the air. My parents and brother were on the ground below, yelling frantically. “Protect Stella!” “Save my sister! If a single hair on her head is harmed, I’ll have your jobs!” Security guards rushed in, tackling most of the assailants. Only one remained, his eyes wild with bloodlust. He raised his knife and lunged toward Stella, who was cowering in a corner of the float. “STELLA!” Ethan’s entire world was focused on her as he tried to push through the panicked crowd. But he was too late. Like a phantom, I appeared from the side. And placed myself directly in the path of the blade. Shhhlick. The sound of the knife entering my body was a dull, wet thud. A bloom of warmth spread through my chest. Time seemed to freeze. All the noise, the screams, the music—it all faded away. I saw them. My parents’ eyes, wide with horror. Larry’s mouth, hanging open in disbelief. And the look on Ethan’s face as his entire world shattered. In the next instant, all of them were running. Running towards me. And then, I fell. As my consciousness faded, the last thing I heard was the cold, clinical voice of the System. 【Congratulations, Host. Detachment successful.】

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387319”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I got sucked into a horror game, but here’s the kicker—I’m only three years old. While other players were running for their lives from creepy NPCs, things were a little different for me. The Nurse of Blood was wiping my sticky hands with care. The Killer Surgeon was giving me a piggyback ride. And the Final Boss? He picked me up by the scruff of my neck, stared at the birthmark behind my ear, and narrowed his eyes. “Hey, rugrat. Who’s your daddy?” I raised my chubby little hand and declared proudly: “Mommy said my daddy went straight to hell!” Later, the Final Boss claimed he was my dad. I patted my flat little tummy, eyes welling up with tears. “Daddy, I want my baba!” The Final Boss: ??? 1 [You have entered the Horror Instance: The Asylum of No Return] [Difficulty: SSS Class] I adjusted my tiny backpack and looked at the blue screen floating in front of me, totally confused. “Tim, what’s dis?” “Lily can’t read.” The live chat exploded. [OMG, who put a toddler in a horror game?! Isn’t this supposed to be 18+?] [And it’s an SSS-rank dungeon that nobody has ever cleared. I bet she doesn’t last a minute. RIP.] The System that pulled me in was sweating bullets. It re-read the rules, its mechanical voice trembling. It didn’t even correct me for getting its name wrong. “Um… Lily, sweetie, how old are you?” I seriously counted on my fingers, the little bunny charm on my hair buns bouncing. Then, I proudly announced: “I’m free!” (Three) The System’s heart—if it had one—shattered. Help. It’s my first day on the job and I’ve already messed up big time. 2 I puffed out my round cheeks, ready for battle. Tim (the System) told me that once the fog cleared, I’d be playing a game inside a hospital. He said there were bad guys in there—criminals and liars. I couldn’t trust anyone. “Lily, if you can survive for ten days, the System will grant the wish you made before coming here,” Tim said. “Just follow my instructions, hide in safe spots, and don’t break the monster’s rules.” I nodded obediently. “Tank you, Tim!” “…It’s System.” I tilted my head. “Sis… Tim?” The System looked at my baby teeth and sighed. Forget it. I’m doomed anyway. Soon, the game started. The fog lifted. I was sitting on a hospital bed. My role was “Patient.” There were several adults in the room—the other players. The walls were peeling, covered in dark, blood-like stains. Very spooky. A girl in a school uniform on the next bed hugged her knees and started crying. “Sob… I just finished my SATs… I don’t want to die.” “Shut up! Stop crying!” A burly man near the door spat on the floor. “Damn it, an SSS-rank dungeon? We ten players need to stick toge—Holy crap, is that a baby?” Everyone stopped talking and looked at me. I gave a shy smile. I waved my chubby hand at them. “Hi evewybody! I’m Lily. I’m free years old!” [Awww, she’s so polite! My heart!] [Sigh, what a waste. She’s definitely going to be cannon fodder.] The girl in the uniform stopped crying. Looking at me with pity, she handed me a candy. “Lily, here’s a candy. It’s yummy.” “Eat it quickly. You won’t be able to eat it after you… you know.” [Player Tina has gifted you a B-Rank Lucky Candy] [High chance of blocking one lethal attack.] I was just about to say thank you when Tina put a finger to her lips. Shhh. The ward door creaked open. Nurse Bloody Mary walked in, looking gloomy. Blood was weeping from her three eyes. She dragged a massive syringe behind her. Her voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard. “All patients. Blood draw. Now.” “Prepare for surgery. Tomorrow.” The other players turned pale. The chat went wild. [GG. Encountering Nurse Bloody Mary right at the start? It’s a team wipe.] [Yeah, if you touch her blood, you die. If the needle pokes you, you die. Game over.] Tim whispered instructions in my ear: “Lily, stay away from the blood she’s dripping. Do NOT touch it! If she tries to poke you, hide under the bed. Her vision is based on movement.” I nodded obediently. But suddenly, the Nurse went berserk. Blood gushed from her face as she summoned hundreds of floating needles. She stared at the spit stain on the floor, her three eyes scanning the players viciously. “Who spat? Who dirtied… my ward?” “Unforgivable!” The players scrambled. The burly man, Mike, gulped. The Nurse’s gaze locked onto him, a needle aiming for his neck. He gritted his teeth and used a “Redirection” item. As he ran for the door, he yelled: “It was the brat! The kid spat on the floor!” The Nurse’s gaze snapped away. Tim screamed, “Run! She has a hygiene trigger! Lily, hide!” But the bed was too high. I was swinging my little legs, trying to get down, but I couldn’t reach the floor. I looked up to find the Nurse standing right in front of me, all three eyes staring. “It’s a pwetty lady!” My eyes lit up. I batted my long eyelashes and lifted my round face toward her. “Lily wants a hug!” “…Pretty… lady?” The Nurse froze. A blush crept onto her face, making the blood flow faster. Some of it splattered onto my hand. I rubbed the red sticky stuff on my fingers curiously. Then, I pulled a Band-Aid out of my backpack. I reached out with my chubby hand, trying to stick it on her bleeding face. “Pwetty lady, Lily fix it! Mommy says if you put a sticker on it, the pain flies away!” [It’s over. The kid touched the blood.] [What kind of useless item is a Band-Aid? Trying to talk to an NPC? She’s asking for a quick death.] But the next second… The blood that had been flowing from the Nurse’s face for eternity… stopped. She crouched down, pulled out some gauze, and wiped my hands. Her voice turned gentle. “Lily is a good girl. Hands dirty. Blood bad.” 3 The live chat went silent. [WTF? Am I seeing things? The Boss NPC is cleaning the kid’s hands?!] [Nurse Bloody Mary is a top-tier monster. Normal items don’t work on her. What kind of Band-Aid stops a ghost’s bleeding?!] Tim was dumbfounded. Nobody else could see it, but he knew. That boring-looking Band-Aid was a Super Rare S-Rank Item! It could heal any injury. And I had a whole stack of them in my backpack. “Lily… where did you get all this stuff?” Tim asked, shocked. I scratched my head, confused. “I dunno. The stickers were always in my bag.” Nurse Bloody Mary lifted me off the bed. Now that she wasn’t bleeding, she spoke clearly. Her face looked kind and peaceful. “Thank you, Lily.” The child in front of her had big black eyes and skin like porcelain. A soft little dumpling. She was a billion times cuter than those demon babies in the nursery. Plus, the S-Rank item stopped the pain she had felt since she died. She felt warm all over. The Nurse couldn’t help herself. Her voice went up an octave. “Can Auntie give you a kiss?” “Okay!” I tilted my cheek and puffed it out. “But only one kiss, okay?” The Nurse held my face and smooched me several times, pinching my cheeks while her three eyes glowed with excitement. I sighed like an old man and told Tim: “Sigh. Being this cute is hard work. The burden of beauty.” “By the way, Tim, what did you say I needed to hide from?” Tim: “…” Never mind. While other players were running for their lives in the corridors, Nurse Bloody Mary held my hand and teleported me to the Nurse’s Station. This was her turf. No other monsters dared to come here. It was totally safe. “As long as we don’t run into that pervert Dr. Butcher from upstairs, you can just hang out here for ten days and win.” The Nurse crossed my name off the surgery list. “Now… time to punish the rude patient.” Thinking of Big Mike, she smiled a terrifying, toothy grin. Then, remembering I was watching, she quickly switched back to a gentle face. “Lily, don’t run off. Auntie will be right back.” She gave me her ID badge, marking me as under her protection. [Player Big Mike has been eliminated.] [Players remaining: 7] Seeing the notification, Tim felt numb. This isn’t a toddler. I kidnapped a VIP. But jinxes are real. While I was happily munching on cookies at the Nurse’s Station, a group of players burst in. Chasing them was a terrifying figure surrounded by black smoke—Dr. Butcher. Just as the Doctor was about to throw a scalpel, the leader of the group saw me and turned pale. “Lily! Move!” It was Tina, the candy sister. She wasn’t looking weak anymore. She drew a long katana from her waist and blocked the attack. Her arms and legs were covered in cuts. I panicked. “Tim! What do I do? I wanna save the Candy Sister!” “Mommy taught me to always pay back kindness.” Tim tried to comfort me. “It’s okay. Tina is actually a Top 10 player. She pretends to be weak. She should be fine.” I didn’t understand rankings. I just knew she was hurt. Remembering the safety device Mommy told me about, I took the pendant off my hair bun and squeezed it in my palm. I gathered my courage and ran out into the middle of the fight, stomping my little feet. “Bad ghost, freeze!” “Stop fighting right now!” 4 Dr. Butcher froze like someone hit the pause button. What is this power? Why does it feel like… the Big Boss’s energy?! He looked down at the little radish standing in front of him. She was cute. Like a doll with big eyes. Running around on short legs, trying to protect people. Soon, the item’s freeze duration ended. Tina propped herself up with her sword, shielding me. “Lily, I’ll hold him off. You run with the others…” Tina choked on her words. Because I walked right up to the monster, held up my pendant, and commanded: “Bad ghost, I want a piggyback ride!” Then, the unthinkable happened. Dr. Butcher actually squatted down and let me climb onto his shoulders. He even held my legs so I wouldn’t fall. What level is this item?! It can command a Ghost General?! Tina was flabbergasted. Seeing the greedy looks from the other players hiding in the shadows, she knew this was trouble. But the next second, Dr. Butcher vanished with me. I was having fun riding the giant, but in a blink, I was in an office upstairs. Dr. Butcher looked human on the outside, but inside his white coat, his torso was hollowed out. “Hey, aren’t you scared of me?” He opened his coat to show his missing organs and made a scary face. I didn’t cry. He circled me, fascinated. “I… I’m not scared!” I gulped, clutching my pendant. Dr. Butcher laughed. “That item only controls me for a minute. Use it three more times and it breaks. But kid… where did you get it?” I answered honestly. “Mommy made it for me. She said it makes bad guys… um, bad ghosts listen to me.” “Mommy?!” Dr. Butcher jumped. WTF? The Big Boss hates women. When did he have a secret child?! Unsure. Need to verify. Just as he leaned in to inspect my face, the door was kicked open. Nurse Bloody Mary stormed in and kicked him aside. “You organ-harvesting pervert! Don’t touch my Lily!” Dr. Butcher rubbed his butt. “I didn’t touch her! She was riding on my head!” “Give her to me. Go do your job.” The Nurse put her hands on her hips. “You’re clumsy. You dropped your intestines on the floor last week. I’ll take care of her!” “Bah! Your nurse station is crawling with players. My office is safer!” Before they could fight, the landline phone on the desk rang. Both monsters froze. They answered it, trembling. “You two. Abandoning your posts during work hours. You will be punished.” A cold, majestic voice came from the phone. “Also… bring that brat to the Penthouse.” 5 In the elevator. Dr. Butcher looked like he was attending his own funeral. “It’s over. The Boss is awake. He’s gonna kill us.” Nurse Bloody Mary was nervous too. She couldn’t disobey the Boss. She whispered to me: “Lily, be smart upstairs. If He tries to hurt you, tear my ID badge. It will teleport you away.” Black fog began to fill the elevator as we went up. The livestream signal cut out the moment we entered the elevator. Even Tim, the System, started glitching in my head. “How is it HIM?! He controls all the horrors. He’s the Final Boss. Everyone who sees him dies!” “I… I need to apply for an emergency exit card!” Tim went offline. Ding. The doors opened. Even I, who was usually brave, felt a little scared. The Penthouse was where the King lived. The elevator buttons only appeared if he allowed it. The room was shrouded in thick black mist. It felt dead. A man in a sharp suit leaned against a sofa, swirling a glass of red wine. He was handsome, but looked very gloomy. When I walked in, he froze. Whoosh. He teleported right in front of me. He picked me up by the back of my collar, staring intensely at the birthmark behind my ear. “Hey, rugrat. Who’s your daddy?” 6 Draven (the Boss) had never felt this before. This human child was soft and tiny. He could crush her with a finger. But instead of killing intent, he felt… a desire to protect. For a monster born of slaughter, this was weird. He looked down. That crescent-shaped birthmark behind her ear… it radiated the same dark energy as him. Could it be… from that year…? Draven got lost in thought. His grip tightened unconsciously. Dangling in mid-air, I was about to cry. I flailed my arms and legs but couldn’t escape. Lily is gonna be washed away! I tragically hid the control gadget Mommy made in my paw. Then I raised my chubby hand and shouted proudly: “Mommy said my daddy went straight to hell!” While the Boss was stunned, I activated the item. “Super Duper Bad Ghost, I command you to put me down!” Silence. The Boss didn’t move. He just stared at me. Huh? Broken? I pressed it a few more times. Suddenly, he gently supported me with his arm, bringing me to eye level. He looked nervous. “Kid… this item…” “Did Luna give it to you?” Hearing the familiar name, my eyes lit up. I tilted my head. “Bad Ghost, you know my Mommy?” Draven gritted his teeth. Know her? Three years ago, he hid his identity to date her online. When they met, he let Luna tie him up in a dark room and do whatever she wanted. He let her study him, experiment on him to make items. Then one day, he woke up alone. Dumped. The note said: You’re bad in bed. Humans and ghosts don’t mix. She said she went back to the real world and found a new boyfriend. She broke the communication device. He never expected to have a child with her. Draven cleared his throat. First things first. “I’m not Bad Ghost. I’m Draven.” His voice was raspy, softening. “…I’m your father.” He looked at me with expectation. “Hmph! Lily isn’t stupid.” I put my hands on my hips, looking at this weird ghost who tried to trick a three-year-old. “You don’t even know my name. And you’re mean.” “Uncle Wayne next door is way better suited to be my new daddy!” Draven’s face turned black. He laughed in anger and pinched my cheek. “Lily! I! Am! Your! Dad!” My lip quivered. Waaaaah! I cried. Huge tears rolled down. My sonic scream filled the penthouse. “Waaaah! Lily hurts! The Big Bad Ghost is bullying me!” Draven panicked. He had never comforted anyone in his life, let alone a milk-powered siren that exploded at a touch. My face was turning red from crying. He quickly lowered his head, apologizing and trying to explain: “Lily, Daddy didn’t mean to pinch hard. But I really am your dad. I just… got lost when you were born.” He summoned a small cloud of black fog. The fog nuzzled my hand affectionately. “This is my source energy. You have it too.” I touched it skeptically. The birthmark behind my ear got hot, and a tiny black cloud—the size of a bean—popped out of my hand. Oh. He really is my dad. Looking closer… he’s kinda handsome. “…Okay. Lily accepts you.” After crying, I felt hungry. I patted my flat tummy, looking at my new dad with teary eyes. “Daddy, I want my baba (bottle)!” Draven: ???

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387318”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I loved cake. Every day, Dad would bring a small slice home for me after work. Mom, on the other hand, bought a brand-new stand mixer, baking pans, a whole arsenal of tools, and patiently taught herself how to bake for me. I used to think I was the luckiest girl in the world. Then came the day my parents got divorced, and the woman who came to pick up my father was the owner of the bakery. My mother’s head snapped toward me, her eyes bloodshot. “This is your fault! If you hadn’t been so obsessed with that damned cake, your father never would have met her!” She held out her hands, the backs of them a roadmap of pale, puckered scars from the oven racks. Her voice was a hysterical shriek. “I burned these hands for you, trying to make you happy! But it was never good enough, was it? You both just had to have what was out there!” The metal edge of a baking sheet slammed into my back. I bit my lip to keep from crying out, the coppery taste of blood filling my mouth. That night, Mom brought another little girl home. Ignoring the throbbing pain in my back, I knelt on the floor and begged for my mother’s forgiveness. “Mommy, I’m sorry. Please don’t send me away! I’ll never eat cake again, I promise!” She slapped me, once, twice, three times across the face. Still not satisfied, she dragged me to the kitchen and shoved me into our large, walk-in oven. “Don’t you call me that. I’m not your mother!” “You love cake so much? Then you can stay in here and think about what you’ve done! You and your worthless, cheating father both deserve to die!” The heavy door slammed shut. A moment later, the little girl skipped into the kitchen. She peered through the glass, a triumphant little smirk on her face, and her small finger confidently pressed the ‘On’ button. “From now on,” she chirped, “your mommy is my mommy.” The oven hummed to life, a low, predatory sound. The air began to shimmer with heat. And I smiled. Maybe this was for the best. Maybe now, Mom could finally be happy. 1 Inside the oven, heat pressed in from all sides. The metal walls glowed with it, searing like a fire. I pounded on the thick glass door, my palms turning a painful, angry red. “Mommy! Lily knows she was wrong!” “Help me! I’m so hot! I want to get out!” Sobbing, I stumbled and my arm brushed against the interior wall. A white-hot lance of pain made me snatch it back. Molly pressed her face close to the glass, her expression smug. “You were always bragging at school about your perfect mommy. Well, look now. Your mommy doesn’t want you anymore.” “She’s only going to buy dresses for me from now on. She’s only going to love me.” “No, Mommy is mine…” I cried until my throat was raw and my voice was just a rasp. Sweat and tears hit the hot floor of the oven, vanishing instantly with a sharp hiss. Molly watched me, a delighted smile spreading across her face, before she turned and ran out of the kitchen. I could hear her voice from the living room. “Mommy, Lily is saying bad things about you in the oven! She said if you don’t let her out right now, she’s going to find the bakery lady and make her her new mommy!” No, Lily didn’t say that. Mommy, please don’t believe her! But a second later, I heard my mother’s voice, sharp with rage. “She can stay in there as long as she wants! God, she’s so spoiled!” “Come on, Molly. Mommy will take you to buy a new dress.” Slam. The front door closed, leaving only the low hum of the oven. It was so hot. Everything was hot. So hot that my hands and feet felt like they were on fire. The little gold heart charm on the bracelet Mom and Dad gave me for my first birthday was starting to burn my wrist. Mom said if I wore it, I would always be safe and sound. It was too hot. I wanted to take it off, but my fingers froze. I couldn’t. It was my fault Mom and Dad were apart. If I took off their gift, Mom would be even sadder. I curled into a ball, my head spinning. “Mommy, why aren’t you coming to save me…?” “Mommy, do you really not want Lily anymore? I miss you so much…” I clenched my body tight, the world fading into a dark, roaring haze. Mommy, Lily will be a good girl from now on. … When I opened my eyes again, I was floating, weightless, in the living room. From the kitchen, the big oven was silent. The glass door was smudged with dirty little handprints. I drifted closer and peered inside. There was a small, dark shape curled up on the rack. Was that me? Just then, Molly’s excited voice came from my bedroom. “Mommy, is this pretty room going to be mine now?” “And all the little dresses in the closet, can I wear them?” My mother glanced instinctively toward the kitchen, her brow furrowing for a split second. But just as quickly, the moment passed. She turned back to Molly, her face arranged into the same gentle smile she used to give me. “Of course, sweetheart. Everything in this house is yours now. Anything you want, you just tell Mommy.” Molly’s face lit up with the pure, unadulterated triumph of a victor. It was quickly replaced by a mask of concern. “But what about Lily? Won’t she be mad?” The smile on my mother’s face froze, then curdled into disgust. She snorted. “What right does she have to be mad? Staying in there this long… she’s just learned how to throw a tantrum.” “Are you hungry, Molly? Mommy bought you something good to eat.” Mom led Molly to the dining table, laughing and talking as they sat down. All the while, no one went to the kitchen. No one opened the oven door to take a look. The table was covered with steaming containers of pasta and garlic bread. But my gaze was pulled, irresistibly, to a small strawberry cupcake sitting at the corner of the table. A strawberry cupcake! My favorite. Mom used to always buy them for me. A tiny, fragile flicker of hope ignited inside me. Did… did Mom buy that for me? Maybe she wasn’t angry anymore. Just then, Molly, after taking a large bite of pasta, noticed the cupcake too. 2 She immediately started whining, tugging on my mother’s arm. “Mommy, Molly wants that strawberry cupcake, too!” My mother’s hand froze mid-air. Her voice was stiff, laced with some kind of internal struggle. “That cupcake is…” Her words trailed off, as if a hand were squeezing her throat. She closed her eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. When she opened them again, she forced a tired smile. “Okay. Mommy will open it for you.” Molly let out a cheer of victory. And I, standing in the empty space between worlds, felt a sharp, acidic pain where my heart used to be. This agony was a thousand times worse than being burned alive in the oven. Mommy, you said it was because I was greedy, because I loved cake so much that you lost Dad… Then why? Why would you buy a cupcake for her? Molly ate the cupcake, her face a picture of contentment. She saw Mom staring off in the direction of the kitchen, lost in thought, and put on a show of being a good, thoughtful child. “Mommy, should we go ask Lily to come out and eat? She’s probably hungry, too.” The words were like a needle, popping the fragile bubble of my mother’s composure. Her gaze snapped back, her voice suddenly shrill. “Forget about her! She’ll come out when she’s hungry! Does she think she’s a queen who needs a special invitation?” The more she spoke, the more agitated she became, her voice rising as she turned to scream at the kitchen door. “You ungrateful brat! Are you playing dead in there? You’re just as good at playing games as your worthless father!” “Why don’t you just stay in there forever! Don’t expect me to come begging for you to come out! Why don’t you and your father just go die!” But Mommy, I’m already dead. My mother’s emotions completely shattered. After her screaming fit, her body was still trembling violently. She lost her balance, swayed backward, and fell to the floor in a dead faint. I rushed forward in a panic, trying to catch her, but my hands passed right through her body. I could only watch, helpless, as she lay there, unconscious. Lily really is a bad girl. When I was alive, I made Mommy miserable. Now that I’m dead, I still make her sad. The sudden turn of events startled Molly, too. She stared for a moment, then scrambled to grab the phone and dial 911. The paramedics arrived quickly and carried my unconscious mother away on a stretcher. The house fell silent. My gaze landed on the dining table again. Half of the strawberry cupcake was left, sitting alone on its paper plate. The bright, sweet red of the strawberry frosting looked like a single, perfect drop of blood that had hardened on the plate. I felt a phantom urge to gag. I will never eat cake again. I’m sorry, Mommy. … When my grandma heard that Mom had collapsed, she rushed over to take care of her. After Mom came home from the hospital, she would walk past the kitchen door countless times, but she never once pushed it open. She wouldn’t let anyone else go near it, either. Seeing my mother in this state, Grandma tried to gently persuade her. “Sarah, honey, let the child out.” “What happened between you and Mark… you can’t put all the blame on a little girl.” Grandma softly rubbed my mother’s back. “She’s still so young. Don’t let her get sick in there.” Mom stood frozen, her body as rigid as a statue. She stared at the kitchen door, her lips pressed into a thin, white line. I knew she was still angry with me. But Mommy, Lily is already dead. A dead little girl can’t open the oven door and say she’s sorry. Seeing my mother was unmoved, Grandma let out a deep sigh. She reached out, her hand closing over the kitchen doorknob, and spoke softly to the room inside. “Lily? Grandma’s sweet girl, come on out now. Don’t be afraid, Grandma’s here.” The only reply was a dead, suffocating silence. Grandma frowned and slowly turned the knob. The door opened a crack. An indescribable smell instantly snaked out from the opening. It was the smell of me, after being cooked at a high temperature for hours, then left to rot in a sealed space. The color drained from Grandma’s face. 3 My mother, her face still flushed with anger at Grandma for daring to open the door, rushed over. “Mom, don’t bother with her! I want to see how long she can—” Her voice cut off abruptly. She had smelled it, too. Her eyes locked onto the large oven against the wall. A thick, viscous, yellowish fluid was seeping from the crack at the bottom of the oven door. The fluids from my decaying body. I thought Mom would be scared, or shocked, or that she would finally understand. But she didn’t. After a moment of stunned silence, her face was consumed by a tidal wave of rage. She pointed a trembling finger at the puddle on the floor. “Lily! Ann! Peterson! I told you to stay in there and think about what you did, and you… you went to the bathroom in there just to disgust me?!” “How can you be so vile, so shameless?!” No, that’s not it, Mommy. I hovered around her in a desperate, frantic circle, trying in vain to explain. Mommy, I didn’t want to make you sick. I’m just dead. I wanted to tell her the truth, but my mother couldn’t hear me. I looked at her twisted, furious face, and a wave of grief and despair so vast it felt like a physical ocean washed over me. Even my death was just another disgusting thing in my mother’s eyes. Mom turned and stormed away. Grandma glanced at the oven, then sighed with resignation. “Lily, you were really too stubborn this time. How could you make your mother this angry?” “Be a good girl. Come out and apologize to your mom, and this will all be over.” Seeing no movement from the small figure inside the oven, Grandma sighed again and closed the kitchen door. I remained where I was, an infinite sadness soaking into my soul. Lily has said sorry so many, many times. But a dead little girl can say sorry forever, and Mommy will never hear it. I drifted out of the kitchen and followed my mother as she stormed into her bedroom. She unlocked a small chest on her dresser. Mom once told me that’s where she kept her most treasured possessions. She threw open the lid. Inside were all the gifts I had ever given her for Mother’s Day and her birthdays. A card made from flower petals I had carefully glued into the words “I LOVE MOMMY.” A crayon drawing of our family, the three of us with lopsided, beaming smiles. A friendship bracelet I had spent hours braiding for her from colorful embroidery floss… I never knew she had kept them all so carefully. But now… Like a madwoman, she tore the cards and drawings into tiny pieces. Colorful scraps of paper rained down onto the carpet. I cried, sinking to the floor, trying to gather the pieces and fit them back together. Mommy, don’t tear it. Lily worked so hard on that… When I’m dead, I can’t make you any more presents. But my mother, her face a cold mask, picked up a pair of scissors and, without a moment’s hesitation, snipped the braided bracelet in two. The colorful threads sprang apart, like the connection between my mother and me, severed completely. I collapsed onto the floor, listening to her hysterical screams. “She’s just like her heartless father! Neither of them deserved anything from me!” “I lock her up for one night, and this is the tantrum she throws? This is how she defies me? And I was supposed to take her to the park? Let her rot in there!” I rested my translucent head against my mother’s hand, pretending she was stroking my hair. But Mommy, I am dead now. If you knew, you would be so happy, wouldn’t you? My mother stared at the wreckage on the floor, and her gaze suddenly fell on my class photo in the corner. In the picture, I was wearing a princess dress, standing in the middle of all the other children. My face was radiant with the kind of pure happiness that only comes from being completely loved. Suddenly, her phone buzzed. In the parent group chat, my teacher had posted a notification: “A reminder that Lily Peterson’s birthday is next week. Parents are welcome to bring in a cake to share with the class.” The message had barely been sent before the chat lit up. “Last time, Lily shared her strawberry cupcake with little Jack when he fell. She’s such a thoughtful child.” “Yes, let’s do strawberry cake again for her birthday! The kids all love it.” The words “strawberry cake” were like daggers to my mother. She let out a cold, harsh laugh, her fingers flying across the keypad. “To all the parents, this is Sarah Peterson, Lily’s mother. It breaks my heart to inform you that her father and I have divorced. This is all Lily’s fault. For a piece of strawberry cake, she pushed her own father into the arms of another woman.” I spun in frantic circles. Lily didn’t! That’s not what happened! But my mother couldn’t hear me. She kept typing. “A child who would trade her father for a bite of dessert… I simply don’t know how to raise a child like that anymore.” The group chat exploded. The same parents who had been praising me moments before changed their tune instantly. “She gave up her dad for cake? That’s horrifying!” “If she’s that selfish at this age, imagine what she’ll be like when she grows up.” Reading the accusations against me, I felt a thousand tiny needles piercing my soul, a dense, sharp pain that went straight to my core. That’s not what happened. Lily didn’t trade her dad for cake. Mom put down her phone and turned to gently hug Molly, who was standing beside her. “Don’t be scared, sweetie. From now on, Mommy will only love you.” I watched Molly sink into my mother’s embrace, and my own heart shattered into a million pieces. Mommy, do you really not want Lily anymore? Molly stiffened for a second, a flicker of panic on her face, before it was replaced by a sweet smile. Just moments before, when my mother had stormed out of the kitchen, Molly had looked terrified. She must have been afraid Mom would discover my body. But seeing that she hadn’t, she nestled into my mother’s arms and rubbed her head contentedly against her shoulder. “And Molly will always love Mommy.” I hugged myself, trying to imagine it was me my mother was holding. Mommy will always love Lily. And Lily will always love Mommy. Suddenly, the doorbell rang, sharp and urgent. 4 When Mom opened the door, two police officers were standing there, along with my father, who I hadn’t seen in what felt like forever. Dad’s face was a thundercloud. The moment he saw my mother, he lunged forward. “Sarah, what the hell are you saying in the parent group chat?” “And the preschool called. They said Lily hasn’t been to school in days. Where is she? What have you done with her?” Seeing my father, all the old wounds and fresh betrayals erupted. “Mark, you have the nerve to call the police on me?” “Are you two in this together now? Did you team up just to humiliate me?!” The lead officer cut my mother off, his expression grim. “Ma’am, we need to ask you some questions regarding your daughter’s disappearance. When was the last time you saw her?” She stormed past them into the house, screaming toward the kitchen. “Lily, have you had enough of this game? Get out here right now!” “You brought your father and the police here to make a fool of me! Are you happy now?!” Mommy, Lily isn’t hiding. The police officers exchanged a look and began to search the house. They checked every corner, every closet, but there was no sign of me. Finally, only the kitchen was left. My mother stood with her arms crossed, her voice dripping with disgust. “I told you, she’s hiding in there! Fine! She can stay in there for the rest of her life for all I care!” A female officer was about to enter the kitchen when Molly suddenly stepped forward and timidly tugged on her sleeve. “Maybe Lily went to a friend’s house to play. Mommy has been very sad these last few days. Could you please not upset her anymore?” As she spoke, she subtly shifted her body, as if to block the path to the kitchen. “Please step aside, little girl.” The officer ignored her, gently moving Molly to the side and walking straight into the kitchen. A moment later, a muffled, horrified gasp echoed from the room. “Captain! In the oven…”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387317”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Part I: The Request You work in Corrections long enough, and you stop seeing men. You start seeing files. You see sentencing dates, parole hearings, commissary balances, and disciplinary write-ups. You learn to turn off the part of your brain that wonders why they did it, because if you stare too long into that particular abyss, you’ll never sleep without a bottle of bourbon on the nightstand again. My name is Sergeant Ellis, and I’ve been wearing the gray uniform for the Louisiana Department of Corrections for seven years. I work the “Old & Infirm” block—officially the Special Needs Unit—at a facility that sits smack in the middle of a swamp, about an hour outside of Baton Rouge. The humidity here is a physical weight. It hangs on you like a wet wool blanket, smelling of mud, diesel, and industrial cleaner. The inmates in my block are usually the ones the world has forgotten. The wheelchair-bound, the senile, the ones whose bodies have been ravaged by decades of hard living and harder drugs. They are “The Recovering,” in prison parlance. Most are harmless. Burnt out. But some… some are just waiting. Ray Kincaid was one of those ghosts. Ray was doing a seven-year stretch for distribution—methamphetamine, mostly, with a side of possession with intent. He was forty-two but looked sixty. He had that hollowed-out look of a man whose bones had been brittle-fied by chemicals. His teeth were a wreck, his skin like old parchment. In the unit, he was a non-entity. He never fought, never joined a gang, never raised his voice. He was invisible. That invisibility ended in the summer of 2021. It started on a Tuesday, visitation day. The air conditioning in the visitation room was broken, rattling uselessly against the ninety-degree heat. I was posted by the door, watching the families. You get to know the regulars. Mothers crying, girlfriends looking defiant, kids looking confused. Ray didn’t get many visitors. But that day, his sister, Jenny, had come down from their hometown in the northern part of the parish. I watched them. Jenny looked like a woman holding on by a thread—tired eyes, nervous hands. She and Ray didn’t have a good relationship; you could see it in the way she sat, arms crossed, defensive. She was there to talk business. Their parents’ old farmhouse, a decrepit structure rotting away on family land, was finally up for demolition and redevelopment. The parents were kicking and screaming about it, but the money was necessary. I couldn’t hear everything, but I saw Ray’s demeanor shift. He leaned in, his forehead pressing against the plexiglass. He wasn’t talking about the house or the money. He looked desperate. A kind of frantic, pathetic pleading that I’d seen a hundred times when a junkie needs a favor. “The attic,” he whispered. I caught that much. “The south room. Under the bed.” Jenny looked annoyed. She shook her head. Ray kept pushing. “Just get rid of it, Jen. Please. It’s just junk. Don’t open it. Just take it to the river and sink it. For me. Please.”. I saw Jenny sigh. It was the sigh of a big sister who had spent her entire life cleaning up her little brother’s messes. She nodded, stood up, and left. Ray watched her go, and for a second, I saw something in his eyes that I couldn’t place. I thought it was relief. I was wrong. It was terror. Part II: The Attic Jenny didn’t go straight home to her own place. She drove out to the old Kincaid property. It was a failing structure, choked by kudzu and weeping willow trees, the kind of place that looked like it was bruising under the purple twilight sky. She told us later that she was angry. She felt used. Here she was, trying to save their parents’ retirement fund, and Ray was worried about some box of trash he’d left behind three years ago. But the conditioning of childhood is strong. When Ray begged, she acted. She climbed the narrow, creaking stairs to the attic. The air up there was stifling, trapped for years, smelling of sawdust and rat droppings. She went to the south room, just like he said. She got on her hands and knees and swept her flashlight beam under the rusted iron bedframe. There it was. A large, black, hard-shell suitcase. She dragged it out. It was heavy. Absurdly heavy. The wheels squeaked in protest, cutting tracks through the thick layer of dust. Ray’s instructions had been clear: Don’t open it. Throw it in the river. She dragged it to the top of the stairs. She stopped. The weight of the thing bothered her. What kind of “junk” weighed this much? Old tools? Stolen copper wire? Drugs? If she was going to risk a felony by dumping it in the river, she deserved to know what she was carrying. She sat on the top step, sweating in the heat, and stared at the zipper. She decided to take a peek. Just a quick look. She unzipped the main compartment. The zipper was stiff, corroded by time and humidity. It gave way with a tearing sound. The smell didn’t drift out; it punched her. It was a physical wall of stench—a thick, sweet, cloying rot that instantly coated the back of her throat with the taste of grease and copper. It was the smell of bad meat, magnified a thousand times. Jenny gagged, covering her nose with her shirt, but she didn’t look away. Not yet. She pushed the lid back. Inside, the contents were wrapped in layer after layer of industrial cling film. But the plastic was transparent enough. And time had done its work. What lay inside was a soup of organic decay. A slurry of dark, greenish-black fluid pooled at the bottom. In the center of the mess was a shape that was undeniably human. A skull, grinning through the slime. A ribcage, collapsed in on itself. The flesh had mostly liquefied or turned to a wax-like substance, but the bones remained, curled in a fetal position. Jenny screamed. She scrambled backward, crab-walking away from the open case, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. But in that split second of horror, her brain registered something else. Something that made no sense. The adult skeleton was curled up, yes. But tucked underneath the pelvic bone… sitting in the sludge near the thigh… was another set of bones. Tiny bones. A skull the size of an orange. Ribs like toothpicks. There were two bodies in the box. Part III: The Transport The call came into the prison the next morning. The local Sheriff’s department had secured the scene, but given that the primary suspect was already in state custody, the investigation required coordination. Detective Miller, a homicide veteran from the parish seat, was running the show. He needed Ray Kincaid brought to the county holding facility for interrogation. As a Sergeant in Ray’s unit and a former intake officer, I was assigned to the transport detail and to act as a liaison. I walked Ray out of his cell in cuffs and leg irons. He looked smaller than usual. He didn’t ask where we were going. He knew. The drive was quiet. Ray stared out the window at the passing cypress trees and the endless green monotony of the cane fields. “You talk to your sister lately, Ray?” I asked, watching him in the rearview mirror. He didn’t blink. “She opened it, didn’t she?” “Yeah, Ray. She opened it.” He just closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the cage. When we arrived at the county station, the atmosphere was frantic. Detective Miller met us at the sally port. Miller was a big man, balding, with a permanent coffee stain on his tie and the exhausted demeanor of a man who had seen too much evil to be surprised by it anymore. “Sergeant Ellis,” he grunted, shaking my hand. “Welcome to the freak show.” “How bad is it?” I asked. “Bad,” Miller said, lighting a cigarette despite the ‘No Smoking’ sign. “We got the preliminary look from the coroner. The bodies have been in that box for over a decade. The heat in that attic… it basically pressure-cooked them. We’re dealing with soup and bones. DNA is going to be a nightmare. We tried to get a sample from the rib cartilage, but it was too degraded. We’re sending a femur to the state lab, but it’s gonna take time.” “Two bodies?” I confirmed. “Yep. One adult female. One infant. The baby was tucked right up under her.” Miller took a long drag. “We need him to talk, Ellis. Without a name for the victim, we’re just guessing. We can pin abuse of a corpse on him, maybe, but we want a murder charge. And for that, we need to know who she was.” “He’s a ghost,” I warned him. “In the prison, he doesn’t say a word to anyone. He might just clam up.” Miller smirked. “Everyone talks eventually. Especially when they think they’re smarter than you.” Part IV: The Hoodoo Man The interrogation room was cold, a sharp contrast to the sweltering heat outside. Ray sat handcuffed to the table, shivering slightly in his orange jumpsuit. Miller didn’t waste time. He threw photos of the suitcase on the table. Glossy 8x10s of the horror show Jenny had found. “You want to tell me about your roommates, Ray?” Miller asked. Ray looked at the photos. He didn’t flinch. “I didn’t kill ’em,” he said. His voice was like grinding gravel. “Is that right?” Miller sat down. “Hard to argue with the fact that they were under your bed.” “I know they were there,” Ray said. “I put ’em there. But I didn’t kill ’em. I bought ’em.” I stood in the corner, arms crossed, listening. This was a new one. “You bought them?” Miller raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. Look, you know I used. Back then… 2007, 2008… I was using heavy,” Ray began. He started spinning a story that was so bizarre, so specifically Southern, that it almost sounded plausible. Ray claimed he had gone down to the bayou to score off some drifters—two locals, heavy into the occult. He said they were “Root Doctors” or something similar. They got high together, and these dealers told Ray he had a black cloud over him. Said he was leaking luck, that death was stalking him. “They told me I needed a ‘sink’,” Ray explained, his hands shaking. “Something to catch the bad spirits. A vessel. They said the best vessel is a ‘Gris-Gris Girl.’ A fresh corpse.”. Ray claimed he was terrified. He was a superstitious man—a lot of these rural guys are. They grow up hearing stories about hants and curses. He told the dealers he couldn’t kill anyone. “They laughed at me,” Ray said. “Said they had plenty. Said their product was the best because it was grown on ‘human fertilizer.’ They offered to sell me one.” . According to Ray, a week later, they delivered the suitcase. They told him it contained a “charmed” female corpse. “They gave me rules,” Ray whispered, leaning forward, eyes wide. “They said, ‘Don’t open it.’ They said if I opened it, the worms inside would crawl out and eat my eyes. They said I had to sleep on top of it. Said if I dreamt of a woman talking to me, the luck was changing.” . “You paid for a dead body?” Miller asked, incredulous. “Two thousand dollars,” Ray said. “Half-price, they said. A favor.”. “And the baby?” Miller pressed. “Did you buy a two-for-one special?” Ray paused. He looked genuinely confused. “I don’t know about no baby. They just sold me the girl. I never opened the box. I just did what they said. I put it under the bed and I slept on it.” Miller stared at him for a long time. Then he stood up and walked out. I followed. In the hallway, Miller rubbed his temples. “You believe that horse manure?” “The part about the occult dealers? No,” I said. “But the superstition? Ray believes it. Or he’s convinced himself he believes it. He’s playing the insanity card without saying the word insanity.” “It’s a stall,” Miller spat. “He thinks if he claims he bought the body, we can’t prove he murdered her. Without a name, without a cause of death… he might skate on the homicide charge.” We needed to identify the victim. And we needed to know whose baby that was. Part V: The Bloodline The investigation split into two tracks. Miller’s team started digging into Ray’s past, looking for missing women. I went back to the prison records, pulling every file from Ray’s previous incarcerations—1998 for burglary, 2003 for assault. We were looking for a gap. A time when Ray wasn’t locked up, but someone else was missing. A week passed. The heat wave broke, replaced by torrential rain that hammered the metal roof of the station. Then, the lab called. They still couldn’t get a clear profile on the woman. The DNA was too degraded. But the infant? The infant’s bones were more protected, encased deeper in the biological matter. They got a profile. Miller called me into his office. He looked pale. “We got a hit on the baby,” he said. “It’s a familial match.” “To who?” “To Ray.” I felt the blood drain from my face. “The baby in the box is Ray’s?”. “His biological son,” Miller confirmed. “Which means the woman in the box isn’t just some random body he bought. It was someone he was sleeping with.” The horror of it settled over the room. Ray Kincaid had been sleeping on a mattress for years, supported by a suitcase containing the rotting corpse of his girlfriend and his own son. My mind immediately went to the dark places. The “Hoodoo” story. Was it possible? Did he sacrifice them? “How?” I asked. “Ray swore he bought the body. He swore he didn’t know about the baby.” “There’s something else,” Miller said, pulling out a file. “We found a witness. A landlord.” Miller had tracked down the owner of a run-down apartment complex in the next parish over. The landlord remembered Ray from back in 2001 and 2002. He remembered Ray wasn’t alone. He had a girlfriend. A girl who ran away from home to be with him. The landlord couldn’t remember her name, just that she was young and looked tired. We needed a name. Miller went back to Ray’s family. The parents were useless—screaming that their son was a saint, that the police were framing him. But Jenny, the sister… she was the weak link. Miller brought Jenny in again. He played “Good Cop.” He sat her down, gave her a coffee, and told her, “Jenny, we know the baby was Ray’s. We know the woman was someone he loved. You have to tell us who she was.” Jenny broke down. She admitted she knew Ray had a girlfriend back before his second stint in prison. A girl named Sarah. Sarah King. “I thought they broke up,” Jenny sobbed. “Ray never talked about her after he got out in ’06. I just assumed she left him.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387316”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel