After Lucas bailed me out of the police station and we were driving home, I asked for a divorce. “Maya, there’s a limit to being willful.” I looked at Lucas, who was focused on driving, and suddenly smiled. “I’ve thought it through.” “Lucas,” I turned my head, my gaze firm, “let’s let each other go.” Chapter 1 The Maserati pulled over to the side of the road. The atmosphere inside the car dropped to freezing point. “Reason.” Lucas gripped the steering wheel, his voice cold as ice. “Give me a reason why you’re making a scene again.” I looked at Lucas and suddenly felt it was all meaningless. I lowered the window and pointed at the car that had been secretly following us in the rearview mirror. “I bet, in less than ten seconds.” “Someone will come looking for you immediately.” I started counting down with certainty. “Ten.” “Nine.” “Eight.” Before I could reach seven, a beautiful figure got out of the Porsche behind us. The girl approached with red eyes. “Maya, I really didn’t mean to today. I only suggested picking up clothes because I had to accompany Lucas to the gala. I truly didn’t know you were sleeping at home, let alone that you’d mistake me for a thief and call the police directly.” “This is ultimately my fault. Please don’t fight with Lucas because of this. I beg you.” “If you’re really unhappy,” the girl grabbed my hand and aimed it at her own face, “hit me.” “Hit me to vent your anger.” My hand was being pulled. Just as it was about to hit her. Lucas shouted coldly, “Maya, where are your manners?” “Eaten by dogs?” I just found it laughable. See. I don’t have to do anything. Even if I just sit here passively accepting it, it becomes my fault. I pulled my hand back and turned to face Lucas. “Do you understand now?” “Lucas,” I seemed to have really stopped crying. It was as if the pain had numbed me to the point of having no emotions. I unbuckled my seatbelt and told him, “This is the reason.” “Lucas, let’s get a divorce.” I opened the car door. Under the shocked yet secretly delighted gaze of Lucas’s secretary, I smiled at her. “Congratulations. After inserting yourself into Lucas and my life all these years, you’ve finally made it.” “I don’t want Lucas anymore.” I turned to leave. Lucas hurriedly got out of the car and grabbed my wrist. “Maya, are you crazy? Do you know that because you called the police today, I missed out on a multi-million dollar project? Just because you said you were scared, I rushed to the police station like a madman, only to find you had my secretary arrested!” “I’ve put up with you for a long time.” “You target Bella at every turn, yet she keeps putting in a good word for you, asking me not to be angry with you and for us to get along! Don’t be so ungrateful!” My wrist hurt from his grip, pulling on the scar there, making it hurt even more. I frowned at my already reddened wrist. “Let go!” I yanked my hand away from Lucas, rubbed my aching wrist, raised my hand, and slapped Lucas across the face. “Lucas!” “I’ve put up with you for a long time too!” Lucas and I had been together for ten years. Even though we had fought, argued, and given each other the silent treatment, I had never embarrassed Lucas in front of outsiders like this. But I didn’t want to endure it anymore. I looked at Lucas and got straight to the point. “Let me tell you, when I was hospitalized with a high fever, you were with your secretary saving stray cats and dogs. When my car got rear-ended, you were stargazing with your secretary. Every time something happened to me, you chose your secretary! And today!” I looked at Lucas. “You told your secretary our home’s passcode. When I had taken medicine and was ready to sleep! You let your secretary break into our bedroom to get your stuff! After I called the police, you didn’t care about me, you just demanded I sign a settlement letter!” “Lucas!” “We are completely done!” Chapter 2 In a fit of anger. I ultimately couldn’t control my expression. My carefully maintained composure completely collapsed. I watched Lucas’s face change slightly, then turn to a guilty, subconscious explanation. “I didn’t know you were back from your business trip! How could I decline Chairman Zhang’s invitation? Letting Bella pick up the stuff was a last resort. Why do you have to blow this out of proportion?” “Maya!” Lucas looked at me with disappointment. “Since when did you become so jealous, seizing on shadows and refusing to let go?” “Maya, no man would like you like this!” I really thought I wouldn’t cry anymore. At least, from signing the settlement letter at the police station to sitting in the car with Lucas, I had maintained my dignity and the manners I should have. I had even replayed all the memories of Lucas and me in the car. In the end. I made a conclusion. I wanted a dignified ending. But tears still fell uncontrollably because of Lucas’s complaints and accusations, like pearls from a broken string, falling no matter what. “Yeah, no man would like me like this.” I choked out. “So, I don’t need your like either.” I wiped my tears and turned to leave, but Bella grabbed my hand. She cried with me, even harder than I did, constantly apologizing and saying sorry. “Maya.” “I really didn’t mean to. Please don’t be mad at Lucas anymore. I’ll resign tomorrow, I’ll disappear immediately! Lucas really loves you, please don’t make him sad, okay?” I hated Bella’s fake innocent act the most. Seeing Bella sobbing, my tears stopped instead. I forcefully shook off Bella and cursed. “Get lost!” Bella was thrown to the ground by me and looked up at me in shock. “Maya!” Lucas helped Bella up with heartache, looking at her scraped palm, and roared at me. “Are you crazy! Apologize to Bella!” “Keep dreaming.” “Want me to apologize,” I looked at Lucas, then at Bella, whose eyes flashed with triumph, and dropped a sentence, “If you don’t agree to the divorce, we’ll go through litigation.” I didn’t look back, nor did I care about Bella’s sobbing and Lucas’s voice coaxing her and calling me crazy behind me. Instead, I took a taxi straight to my best friend’s house. My best friend didn’t say a word. After taking me inside, she took out dozens of beers saved in the fridge and put them on the table, asking me just one question. “Enough?” I looked at my best friend, and my eyes suddenly turned red. She didn’t speak, just opened her arms to me and asked, “Hug?” I completely broke down, crying loudly in her arms. I cried until my voice broke, until my whole body trembled, until I threw up in the toilet. In the end, I told her. “I want a divorce!” “I want a divorce!” “I want Lucas to die a miserable death!” What is the end of love? It’s two people who were once so close they were willing to fight the world together turning into opponents wielding knives at each other, determined to fight to the death. It’s going from hoping to enter the tomb of marriage and let flowers of love grow from it, to finally realizing the truth that even roses wither. Chapter 3 I stayed at my best friend’s house for half a month. During that half month. I saw Bella updating her status on social media every day. In every post, there was a shadow of Lucas. [There’s a moon in the sky, and I have a star.] (Note: Lucas’s name contains “Xing,” meaning star.) The picture was a selfie of Bella, and in the corner, the back of Lucas taking a call in front of a floor-to-ceiling window. [Stars always shine, and I will chase the light.] The picture was a star ring on Bella’s hand, refracting a halo under the light, and a hand with distinct knuckles. It was Lucas’s. [Star taking me to see the world!] The picture was a first-class cabin. Bella smiling brightly, and a sleeping profile next to her. Item after item. My best friend jumped up in anger, pointing at Bella’s post and cursing, “Fck that btch! Is Lucas fcking blind? Can’t he see this slt has bad intentions? Even a dog wouldn’t believe it!” My best friend was furious. Instead, I seemed calm. I seemed to be almost out of the withdrawal period. Regarding my best friend’s rage, I commented calmly. “Lucas knows very well.” “Knows very well?” My best friend sat next to me. “What the f*ck, then why does he still say they’re innocent?” “In Lucas’s view, as long as two people haven’t slept in the same bed, they are innocent. After all, he always believes he hasn’t cheated.” Lucas always held onto that bottom line. So, whenever I threw a tantrum, he always had that line [Bella and I are innocent, it’s your heart that’s dirty! You see everything as dirty because your heart is dirty] and I would be rendered speechless. Now, looking back at these past events. I’ve let it go. I reminded my best friend, “The movers are almost here.” Lucas and I are getting divorced, and I’m moving out, so naturally, I have to go to the house and take what belongs to me. After all. My mother’s belongings are still there. “Good that you’ve figured it out.” My best friend followed me home and waited at the door. I watched Bella’s posts and knew Lucas was on a business trip these days. I thought Lucas and I wouldn’t meet, but unexpectedly, as soon as I opened the door, I smelled food from the kitchen. When I walked closer, I saw Bella sitting cross-legged at the dining table eating prawns at a glance. Seeing me. Bella’s expression froze, like a child who did something wrong, and immediately stood up to call me. “Maya.” I looked at Bella wearing my pajamas and slippers, then at Lucas bringing out a dish, his smile freezing, and then speaking stiffly to me, “Have you eaten?” I ignored Lucas’s gesture and walked to the bedroom. Suddenly, I froze. My figurines neatly placed on the headboard were all messed up, even the bed was a mess. The wardrobe had obviously been rummaged through, and even the safe in the back had been opened. My heart tightened, and I subconsciously checked the contents of the safe. “Maya…” The safe was empty. Bella stood at the door, her voice so weak I could barely hear: “Sorry, my luggage got lost on the way back with Lucas. He told me to come here and get some clothes to wear first.” “I accidentally… opened the safe…” My brain buzzed. I turned around and saw the jade fragments in Bella’s hand. My breathing stopped. “I really didn’t mean to.” “Maya, please!” Bella suddenly lunged at me, then knelt down with a thud in front of me, grabbing my arm, crying. “Please forgive me!” Chapter 4 “I didn’t know it was your mother’s keepsake! I didn’t know, I really didn’t know!” Bella grabbed my hand. “Hit me!” “Please!” “Hit me, make me feel better!” Bella was about to kowtow to me. Seeing her head about to hit the ground, suddenly a hand came between us. Lucas held her forehead, pulled up the trembling Bella, and looked at me lightly. “The dead cannot be brought back to life. Things are just inanimate objects. There’s no need to make things difficult for the living because of dead things. Bella already knows she was wrong.” Lucas’s tone was flat, as if this was a very, very small matter. And I was a very, very narrow-minded person. He protected Bella in a protective stance, telling me. “Stop making things difficult for Bella. Her psychological burden is already heavy enough.” I couldn’t say a word, didn’t even express an attitude. As long as Bella acted pitiful, everything was my fault. From Bella stealing my earrings, to Bella taking my paintings, to Bella smashing my wedding photo with Lucas, to Bella barging into my home, my territory, and now, breaking the last thing my mother left me. Lucas was still telling me to forgive, telling me to be magnanimous. My brain kept buzzing, my throat tightened, and the trembling of my fingertips betrayed my lack of calm. I turned to look at Bella, who was still shedding tears in Lucas’s arms, walked directly to her, and in front of Lucas, grabbed Bella’s hair and slammed her hard against the wall. Then, amidst Bella’s broken scream, I kicked her knee. She really knelt in front of me this time. “That’s not how you kowtow.” I stepped on Bella’s knee with one foot and grabbed her head with one hand, slamming it heavily on the ground. A violent impact sounded. I heard Bella scream, watched bright red blood seep from her forehead, and told her, “This is called kowtowing and admitting mistakes!” My eyes were red. I grabbed Bella’s head and was about to slam it down again, but Lucas grabbed my wrist. He forcefully stopped my movement and looked at me gloomily. “Let go!” “Dream on!” Lucas raised another hand to pin me down, then forcefully pried my fingers open. Watching my nails almost being broken, I frowned in pain, but he seemed unaware, still prying my hand open bit by bit, warning me. “Don’t go too far, Maya!” Too far? I looked at Lucas and laughed in anger, “Lucas, the difference between humans and animals is that humans can think and distinguish right from wrong. Humans have moral constraints, not just relying on passion to decide unconditional protection!” “Since you decided to protect Bella!” “Fine!” Ignoring my nails being broken and blood flowing from my fingertips, while Lucas was stunned, I endured the excruciating pain and scratched Bella’s face hard. Accompanied by my nail completely breaking. And the face of Bella that appeared in dozens of my social media feeds every day was ruined together. Bella completely broke down. I laughed out loud completely. “What is this!” “This is karma!” “Let me tell you, Lucas,” I looked at Lucas’s incredulous expression, then at Bella covering her face and screaming like a chicken, reminding him, “I’ve never been a kind person! You should have known!” “Lucas!” “You’ve completely pissed me off!” “Let me tell you!” “If I don’t ruin you! My name isn’t Lin!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387107”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Seven years after our divorce, I saw Sean Hughes again during an assignment on the border. I was a war correspondent. He was one of the expatriates being evacuated. Seeing my face covered in grime, he instinctively reached out to wipe it clean. I turned away, avoiding his touch, and gave him a polite nod. Sean froze, slowly pulling his hand back. A self-mocking smile touched his lips. “Ava,” he said, “you still resent me, don’t you?” I was surprised by his assumption, but I kept my tone courteous. “Not at all, Mr. Hughes. You’re overthinking it.” My own horizon was too vast to be bothered with the narrow patch of sky he occupied. 1 The hot, humid air, thick with sand, stung my nostrils. I didn’t have time to clean up before boarding the plane, and a fit of coughing left me apologizing awkwardly to the other passengers. A moist towelette appeared in front of me. “Here, clean yourself up.” Sean was looking at me, his expression a complicated mix of emotions. “I upgraded your seat. It’ll be more comfortable up front.” I thanked him calmly. “Thank you, but there’s no need. My colleague is sitting with me.” He hesitated, his eyes flicking to Leo, my cameraman. “What… what are you doing now?” “I’m a journalist.” Sean’s mouth twisted into a sad smile. “You were the star reporter at Momentum News. You never had to get your hands dirty like this…” “I love my work,” I said, my voice gentle but firm. “The plane is about to take off, Mr. Hughes. You should return to your seat.” He suddenly seemed aware of how out of place he was, standing alone in the narrow aisle. He said nothing more, just gave a silent nod and walked away. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Leo leaned in, his face alight with gossip. “Ava, new flame?” I raised an eyebrow. “You studied journalism and you don’t recognize him?” Seeing his blank look, I prompted him. “Sean Hughes.” Leo’s eyes went wide. “That’s Sean Hughes?!” “The whistleblower who exposed the Zenith Group’s dirty supply chain?” I smiled. “The one and only.” Before he made his fortune, Sean became an overnight sensation for exposing corruption in his industry. Everyone thought he’d be blacklisted, but he rode the wave of publicity, started his own company, and was now a leader in the field. “I remember that story! It was huge! The reporter who covered it became famous overnight, too. Her name was… Diana something?” He scratched his head. “Wait, Momentum News broke that story, and you used to work there. No wonder he knows you. Did you interview him back then?” I folded the towel the flight attendant had given me. “Of course,” I said with a small smile. “I was in charge of his story.” “That’s how we met. It wasn’t long before we got married.” Leo’s jaw dropped. “Then… what about now?” “We’ve been divorced for many years,” I said, my tone breezy and unconcerned. The announcement for takeoff began, and after a moment of weightlessness, the plane broke through the clouds. I rubbed my ears, which were popping from the pressure change. “But… wait a minute,” Leo said after a long silence. “I remember the byline on that story. The reporter’s last name was Zhou.” “Diana Zhou,” I said, the name feeling foreign on my tongue. “She was my mentor at Momentum.” 2 Most young journalists are full of fire. We worship the seasoned veterans—the ones with razor-sharp prose who can cut to the heart of any story. At Momentum News, Diana Zhou was the sharpest of them all. She lived up to her name, a force of nature. She had a sleek, short haircut and wore simple, understated clothes, with no trace of makeup or vanity. I used to call her my master, but she’d scoff and tell me she wasn’t some kung fu grandmaster, and to just call her by her name, or mentor. “Diana,” I’d said to her once, my voice hesitant. “That whistleblower… the one who exposed the dirty supply chain… he’s trying to start his own business now.” “Mm,” she’d replied without looking up from her desk. “Your initial report was excellent. I’ve edited it for publication tomorrow.” “Could we—could we maybe give him a few follow-up interviews?” I asked quietly. I expected an outburst, but instead, Diana looked up from her mountain of paperwork, her brow furrowed. “Why?” “He’s… he’s been blacklisted by the entire industry. I just think… he could use the publicity. Even a little bit.” I took a deep breath. “I know we’ve already gotten the core story, but… as journalists, we shouldn’t just stand by while a good man who did the right thing is ruined.” “I want to help him.” After some persuading, Diana finally agreed. As I celebrated my small victory, she sighed. “Fine. You can handle the follow-up interviews. I’ll publish the main story under my byline.” I thanked her profusely, not caring in the slightest about who got the credit. At the time, Sean and I weren’t together. I was helping him purely out of a journalist’s sense of justice. But over the course of those follow-up interviews, we were drawn to each other, and a relationship blossomed naturally. Sean’s story exploded. Everyone was talking about it. The initial hype wasn’t about him personally, but my subsequent interviews managed to keep a spotlight on him. It wasn’t enough to save him from the industry’s backlash, though. He worked day and night, desperate to build something new from the ashes. The winters in Brookhaven were brutal. I ached for him, working so hard, and he worried about me, chasing stories in the freezing cold. We’d often rush from our respective offices late at night, only to bump into each other halfway. He’d pull a warm paper bag of roasted chestnuts from his coat, and I’d hand him a steaming cup of coffee. We’d smile, then walk back to our small apartment through the gently falling snow, our footsteps muffled and slow. Later, when his business took off and he became the new titan of his industry, every news outlet clamored for an interview. He always gave Momentum News the exclusive. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have now arrived in Brookhaven. Please collect all your personal belongings…” I snapped out of my long-lost dream and looked out the window at the familiar city below. Leo volunteered to get our luggage. I waited for him by the arrival gate, already mentally outlining my next news report. “Ava Lin?” A familiar voice pulled me back to reality. I looked up. “Diana,” I said, a sense of understanding dawning on me. “You’re here to pick up Sean.” She smiled brightly. “It’s late. I came to take him home.” Looking at her, I felt a strange sense of detachment. Diana had grown her hair long, each strand falling in a perfect, glossy wave. Her bright red lipstick and pale green dress made her look delicate and captivating. Sean emerged before Leo did. “I just bought some flowers at the airport shop to take home,” he said, then his eyes met mine. “Ava… you haven’t left yet.” Diana linked her arm through his affectionately. “We were just chatting. Darling, look. Don’t you think Ava’s changed so much?” “…She has,” he said, his voice strained. “Her hair’s so short, and her clothes are so…” Diana giggled. “See? This is why we were mentor and mentee. She looks exactly like I did back in the day!” “Diana,” I said calmly. “You, on the other hand, haven’t changed a bit.” Her smile faltered for a second, then returned, tinged with a sigh. “Ava, you’re still holding a grudge against us.” “Not at all,” I said, smiling back. “It’s just… the thought of being exactly like you makes me sick.” I glanced over at Leo, who was standing nearby, his mouth agape, and nodded. “Let’s go.” 3 The station’s car was parked some distance away. Leo and I, laden with equipment, started walking. Halfway there, a Bentley pulled up beside us. Diana leaned out from the passenger seat. “Come on, Ava. We’ll give you a lift.” I was about to refuse, but seeing Leo struggling under the weight of the bags, I nodded. “Thank you. Just drop us at the next intersection.” The car was filled with the scent of citrus. I wrinkled my nose instinctively. Diana turned around, her face a mask of apology. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I just put on some perfume. I forgot you hate this scent, don’t you?” Before I could answer, all the windows rolled down. “Let’s get some air in here,” Sean said, his voice flat. Diana’s smile froze. Her eyes scanned our equipment. “Ava,” she asked casually, “Sean tells me you’re still working as a journalist?” She let out a small laugh. “The small-time papers out there aren’t like Momentum, you know. You have to hustle for every story, beg for every interview.” She pouted, her tone chiding. “Look at you. You should take better care of yourself. You’re over thirty, and you look so weathered.” Leo opened his mouth to protest, but a look from me silenced him. “We have an opening in our PR department,” Sean said suddenly. Diana’s face lit up. “That’s right! Someone just quit. Ava, you might be a little old to be starting over, but I’m the head of the department. I could save an internship spot for you. What do you think?” “No, thank you,” I said, rubbing my tired temples. “I wouldn’t want to take a job from someone younger. I’m quite happy where I am.” Diana just chuckled and didn’t press the issue. “We’re here,” Sean said quietly. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “If you ever need any help, you can come to us.” “Okay, thank you,” I said, treating it as a polite, empty offer. But as we got out, Diana jumped out of the car and grabbed my arm. “Ava, I know you blame us, but what’s past is past. Don’t be so proud. Look at what you’ve done to yourself, how you’ve let yourself go.” “Let herself go? Ava is—” Leo finally burst out, but I shot him a look that stopped him cold. I looked calmly at Diana. “Diana,” I said, “I remember your old dream. You wanted to be a war correspondent, didn’t you?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387106”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

A family photo I took for my ex-husband and his new family went viral online. Everyone was guessing what kind of trouble I, the crazy ex-wife, was about to stir up now. After all, five years ago, I’d done everything to keep him. I’d walked away with nothing. I’d even managed to get myself thrown in jail, torpedoing a brilliant legal career. The whole city knew the story. But even then, his heart was a stone. The day after our divorce was finalized, he married a sweet young thing seven years his junior. This time, however, there were no tears, no screaming matches, no desperate threats. Instead, I set up a small cart at the entrance of the university, selling fresh crepes. My first customer stood in front of my stand for ten solid minutes without saying a word. Finally, I pulled down my mask and offered him a small smile. “Long time no see, Mr. Heaton.” “Care for a crepe?” 1. Ethan Heaton’s voice was heavy when he finally spoke. “I thought you’d pretend you didn’t know me.” I stretched my lips into a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “No point.” “Why are you doing this? Running a food stand?” “To make a living,” I answered, my voice crisp. “A girl’s gotta eat, right?” To survive, I’d done just about everything these past few years. Even after he’d tried to ruin me, getting me blacklisted from nearly every firm in the city, I’d scraped by, working one odd job after another. He let out a soft sigh. “You used to burn water. How on earth can you manage this?” The bell rang, signaling the end of classes, and a tide of students began to pour out of the university gates. A young man ran up, a familiar grin on his face. “Ava! The usual, one with ham!” “Coming right up,” I called back, cracking an egg with practiced ease. Batter sizzled as it hit the hot griddle. With a flick of my wrist, I spread it into a perfect, golden circle. Ethan watched my fluid movements, a strange, distant look in his eyes, as if he were seeing a ghost. The students were a friendly bunch, gathering around the cart. “Hey, Ava, helping out Mrs. Gable again today?” one of them asked. I nodded. Mrs. Gable was a pro bono client of mine. This little cart was the only thing keeping her and her granddaughter afloat. Over the years, I’d helped countless people just like her. I hadn’t made much money, but I’d picked up a surprising number of skills. The line grew longer, a river of hungry students. I lost sight of Ethan in the bustling crowd. By the time I was packing up, I figured he was long gone. Just like old times, I walked into my favorite little noodle shop and ordered a bowl of soup. A familiar male voice sounded from behind me. “I’ll have what she’s having.” Ethan sat down across from me. With an old, ingrained familiarity, he wiped down my cutlery with a napkin and poured me a glass of hot water. He hesitated before asking, “How have you… how have you been?” “Fine. I’m doing fine.” My tone was flat. The noodle shop was a popular student hangout, and more than a few recognized Ethan. “Mr. Heaton!” “Professor Heaton!” Greetings echoed around us. You didn’t have to ask to see that he was thriving. By contrast, I looked simple, almost destitute. “When did you get back to the city?” he asked. “A month ago.” He paused. “The day you took that picture for us.” I didn’t deny it. I never thought the world could be so small. To run into him and his perfect little family right after I’d returned. I certainly never imagined that a simple family photo, taken for strangers whose faces I could barely see, would blow up my old social media circles and become the subject of so many bets. “Lily didn’t mean to post that picture,” he said. “And all those comments… don’t pay them any mind. It’s all nonsense.” I shook my head. “I don’t have time for any of that.” He was silent for a moment, then lowered his voice. “If you need help, I can—” “I don’t,” I cut him off. “I’m doing just fine.” It was the truth. But Ethan seemed to think I was just being stubborn. His brow furrowed, and his voice rose. “It’s been five years, Ava. Why can’t you just let it go?” “Do you have to degrade yourself like this just to make me feel guilty?” Through the rising steam from my noodles, I looked at his face, still young, still handsome. I could barely remember the hateful expression he’d worn five years ago when he forced me to sign the divorce papers. I looked away. “I let it go a long time ago.” “You…” Our food arrived, cutting him off. The owner of the shop beamed at us. “Well, look who it is! It’s been years since you two lovebirds came by.” Ethan froze. My expression didn’t change. “You must have us confused with someone else, sir.” “No, couldn’t be. I’ve had thousands of customers, but I’ll never forget you two. Always so… attached at the hip,” the owner muttered, scratching his head as he walked away. Ethan turned to me. “Why would you deny it? This was our spot. We came here on dates all the time.” I focused on my noodles. “Was it? I don’t remember.” He suddenly stood up and walked over to a wall covered in a dense collage of photographs. After searching for a long moment, he pulled one out, a triumphant look on his face. “See? Look, this is—” He stopped short, snatching the photo back as if it had burned him. But I’d already seen it. In the faded picture, Ethan was sitting to my left, his arm slung casually around my neck. And on my right, her hand clutching the hem of my shirt, was a shy, pretty girl. His now-wife, Lily. In the bottom left corner, a blurry date stamp read: six years ago today. 2. I was seven years his senior. We met when I returned to my old university as a successful alumna to give a guest lecture. He was the student representative chosen to ask the first question. I remember his eyes—sharp, ambitious. Even in a faded, threadbare shirt, his youthful fire was impossible to ignore. After the lecture, he boldly stopped me. He told me he’d attended every public talk I’d ever given, that I was the reason he was fighting so hard. I had no shortage of suitors back then and was used to the empty flattery of the corporate world. But his admiration was so raw, so intense, that it made my heart skip a beat. Still, I turned him down. Ethan was too young. It was probably just a fleeting crush. I never expected what came next. His pursuit was relentless, almost manic. Ethan didn’t have much money, but he’d use what he saved from his meal plan to buy me enormous bouquets of roses. He’d wait outside my office building late into the night, just to bring me a thermos of homemade soup to help with my hangovers after client dinners. No matter how many times I rejected him, he never backed down. Then one night, I was cornered by a senior partner at a work event. Ethan, who had been waiting for me, saw what was happening. He threw a punch, nearly destroying his own future in the process. I was furious, screaming at him with the harshest words I could find. But his eyes just sparkled as he took my hand. “When Ethan Heaton wants something, he doesn’t stop, even if it means breaking himself against a wall,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “Ava, I’m in love with you. You can reject me a thousand times, a million times, and I’ll still love you.” I gave in. For that fierce, youthful sincerity, I gambled everything. My parents didn’t understand. My friends warned me it would never last. There were times I doubted it myself. But Ethan kept his promises. At his graduation, in front of everyone, he got down on one knee. “Ava,” he’d said, his voice shaking, “I’ll spend the rest of my life proving you made the right choice.” After we were married, I used every connection I had to pave his way. He was brilliant and driven, and within a few years, he’d made a name for himself in the legal world, even opening his own firm. To the world, he was a high-powered attorney. But with me, he was still the same needy, possessive young man. At his insistence, I eventually left my high-profile job at the big firm. I wanted to pursue my ideals more purely, to help those who couldn’t help themselves. It was during that time that I met Lily. Her father’s domestic abuse case had just been thrown out. The moment they stepped out of the courthouse, her father grabbed the frail girl by the hair and began dragging her across the pavement. I ran in to stop him. I took a few punches meant for her and ended up in the hospital. Ethan was livid, but I insisted on helping Lily. She was homeless and terrified her father would come after her, so I let her move in with us. She was endlessly grateful, calling me her big sister. At first, Ethan was cold to her, often getting jealous of the time I spent with her. That changed when I asked him to take over her case. As he delved into her story, his prejudice faded, replaced by pity for the genuinely tragic girl. For a while, the three of us ate together, traveled together. I never once questioned anyone’s sincerity. I didn’t know that the human heart can change in an instant. It all came crashing down on my thirty-third birthday. I’d cut a business trip short to come home and surprise him. The first thing I saw in the entryway was Ethan’s belt, tangled with the little white dress I’d bought for Lily. A soft, intimate light glowed from under the bedroom door, accompanied by the sound of unrestrained, breathy moans. My world shattered the moment I pushed the door open. I grabbed the nearest heavy object from the desk and hurled it at the bed. “Ethan, are you even human? She’s only nineteen!” Lily looked up from his arms, her eyes swimming with tears. “Ava, I-I wanted this. We’re in love.” The pain in my chest was so sharp my voice came out as a ragged whisper. “What about me? What am I supposed to do?” Ethan wrapped the duvet tightly around Lily. After the initial flash of panic, his expression settled into a chilling calm. He slowly got out of bed, walked over to me, and lifted my chin. “You said it yourself. Lily is nineteen. But you?” “Ava, you’re thirty-three.” His eyes scanned my face, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to hide those crow’s feet around your eyes?” “When we’re out together, people think you’re my sugar mama.” My hands were shaking with rage. “Was I not seven years older than you when we met, Ethan?” “If you were so ashamed of me, why didn’t you say something sooner?” The smirk vanished. “You’re right. You didn’t do anything wrong. But you’re so… boring, Ava.” “Lily is young, vibrant. She looks up to me, depends on me.” “Just like you used to love the younger me, remember?” I listened to him, and a hysterical laugh escaped my lips, though tears streamed down my face. “Fine,” I choked out. “Fine… Let’s get a divorce.” But he just frowned. “A divorce? I’m not divorcing you. Not now, anyway.” “Let’s just call it…” He paused. “A way of honoring the promise I made to you all those years ago.” 3. I refused to be force-fed that bitter pill. The day after I discovered their affair, I sent an intimate photo of Ethan and Lily to a group chat for the entire legal industry. It was deleted quickly, but the damage was done. The next day, I threw all of Lily’s belongings out onto the street right in front of Ethan. “Get out.” Lily sobbed, clutching at Ethan’s sleeve. Ethan just gave me a cold look and made a phone call. Half an hour later, every single one of my bank accounts was frozen. On the third day, I went to his firm’s biggest client and informed them of his… moral failings. The client immediately agreed to reconsider their contract. That night, Ethan came home reeking of whiskey. He grabbed me by the back of the neck and slammed me down onto the desk. On it lay a freshly signed, three-year contract extension with that very same client. “Is that all you’ve got, Ava?” Ethan was right. He would do anything to get ahead. I was no match for his ruthlessness. So, I gathered evidence and filed an anonymous tip about his firm’s creative accounting. For good measure, I also paid a visit to Lily’s university advisor and laid out the facts of her situation. But all I got for my trouble was a notice that my own law license was under investigation and had been suspended. When I stormed into his office to confront him, he was feeding cherries to Lily. “Know when to quit, Ava,” he said, gently wiping a smudge of juice from the corner of her mouth. “You lay another finger on Lily, and I can’t guarantee you’ll ever get that license back.” In that moment, a profound sense of powerlessness washed over me. I finally understood just how vast the chasm of power between us had become. “Ava?” A soft voice pulled me back to the present. Lily was standing by our table, her hand resting on a small, round belly. She was dressed head-to-toe in designer brands, her makeup flawless, her cheeks rosy. She was clearly being well taken care of. “It really is you! Ava, I almost didn’t recognize you. For a second, I thought you were one of the waitstaff.” I stared at her, saying nothing. “What are you doing now? I heard you were running a food cart.” She put on a look of profound pity. “You were a legend back in law school. How did you end up like this?” Ethan frowned. “Lily.” “Oh, lighten up. I’m just concerned,” she said, playfully shaking his arm. “We’re all old friends here, why so serious?” I gave her a humorless smile. “Can you really call someone you have a blood feud with a friend?” The air crackled, the friendly pretense shattered. Five years ago, just as my war with Ethan had reached its exhausting peak, another tragedy struck. My mother, a surgeon, was stabbed by the family member of a former patient. I rushed to the hospital, my world spinning. When I got there, I found Ethan holding a trembling Lily, comforting her. “It’s okay,” he was saying. “It’s not your fault. You’re a victim, too.” That’s when I learned the attacker was Lily’s father. He had beaten his wife to death and blamed the doctors for failing to save her. He’d stabbed my mother right in front of them. They had witnessed the whole thing. I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. Ethan hesitantly placed a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you win this case.” I sued Lily’s father. But when the time came for her to testify as a witness, she disappeared. All she left was a text message, dripping with false contrition. [Ava, I’m so sorry. But he’s still my father. I can’t do it.] The case fell apart due to insufficient evidence. My mother was officially found liable for medical malpractice. She died not long after, consumed by grief and despair. Lily came to the funeral, crying harder than anyone. “I’m sorry, Ava, I’m so, so sorry…” I slapped her, hard. Then I lunged, my hands closing around her throat. “Why did I ever save you?” I shrieked. “Give me back my mother!” Ethan shoved me away violently. I stumbled backward, crashing into my mother’s headstone. “Have you lost your mind, Ava? Lily is innocent in all this!” I was shaking from head to toe. “What about me? What about my mom?” “Why is it that the good people are the ones who never get a happy ending?” Ethan’s gaze was like ice. To prevent me from “hurting” Lily further, he called the police. I was detained on assault charges. The next time I saw him was in a visitation room. He brought the divorce papers with him. “Sign this, Ava,” he said. “And we’ll be even.” My heart was a dead weight in my chest as I read the agreement. “…You want me to walk away with nothing?” Ethan showed me a picture of my family home, the front door splattered with red paint and vicious graffiti. “Lily’s mother’s death was partly due to your mother’s mistake in surgery.” “I don’t want you to live in fear. Think of this as… compensation for her.” “After you get out…” He sighed. “Make sure you take care of Mom’s final arrangements.” Tears fell like stones onto the paper. In that single moment, every vow, every promise Ethan had ever made to me, crumbled into dust. I signed the papers, just as he wanted. 4. “We never thought… we never imagined things would be so hard for you afterward,” Ethan said, his voice thick with something that might have been regret. He took a credit card from his wallet. “Take this. As compensation. The pin is your birthday.” Lily’s face tightened, but she forced a smile. “Ava, you really don’t need to treat us like enemies.” “Besides, it’s not like you have a man to take care of you, like I have Ethan. It can’t be easy for a woman your age, all alone…” “I’m not alone.” I cut her off, pushing Ethan’s card back across the table. As I moved, my sleeve slid up, revealing the simple diamond band on my ring finger. “I’m married. And I’m very happy.” They both stared, stunned into silence. Lily was the first to recover. “Oh, really? Well, congratulations, Ava.” A sly look entered her eyes. “So, your new husband… is he…” My phone lit up with a string of frantic calls from a certain someone, demanding to know when I was coming home. I declined the call and texted back a quick reply, answering her question without looking up. “He’s two years older than me.” Lily’s voice was laced with meaning. “Oh. I would have thought you were still into younger men.” “That’s enough!” Ethan’s face darkened. He looked at me, his eyes filled with disappointment. “Ava, do you have to degrade yourself like this?” “Marrying some old man? Making crepes to support him?” “Is this the life you really want? Have you forgotten who you were? You were one of the most brilliant legal minds of your generation!” I hit send and finally looked up at him. “You’re crossing a line, Ethan.” He faltered. “I just… I want you to have a good life.” “Don’t bother.” My voice was clipped and final. “Because I want you to have a miserable one.” I looked from him to Lily. “And I have never, ever forgiven either of you.” “I just decided to stop wasting my precious time on two rotten people.” “I’ve already paid my bill. I’ll be going now.” Without another word, I turned and walked away. Behind me, their hushed, angry voices followed me out. “What was that, Ethan? Are you trying to get back together with that old hag?” “For God’s sake, Lily, stop calling her that! She was like a sister to you!” “And you were like my brother-in-law! Don’t you forget you’re the one who crawled into my bed…” “Shut up and get in the car!” I didn’t slow down, heading straight for the door. Evening was falling, and the sidewalk was filled with people of all ages, coming and going. Time truly is the most impartial judge of all. No one stays young forever. And when a beautiful facade finally crumbles, the true ugliness of the heart is laid bare. I had just stepped out of the restaurant when I heard hurried footsteps behind me. Ethan caught up, grabbing my arm. “Ava, listen to me…” He was out of breath, his eyes gleaming in the fading light. “The truth is, when you left, I…” His words trailed off as a bright, childish voice rang out from behind him. “Mommy!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387105”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The moment the pregnant woman showed up at my door to stake her claim, I let out a slow, quiet breath. No one knew how long I had been waiting for this day. Her eyes, dripping with contempt, scanned me from head to toe. “Adrian loves—” I cut her off with a swift raise of my hand. “He loves you. I know.” In the next second, I pushed a wheelchair out from behind me. “Which is why she is now your problem.” The woman’s face went bone-white. “No! That’s impossible! Adrian told me his mother died years ago!” I waved a dismissive hand. “You misunderstand. This is his father’s mistress.” 1 The woman stared, utterly baffled. “Are… are you insane? What does his father’s mistress have to do with you?” I nodded in agreement. “You’re right, she has nothing to do with me. But now, she has everything to do with you.” I pulled the divorce papers from a folder and tucked them neatly into the collar of her shirt. “From now on, you’ll be responsible for this woman’s medical bills, caregiver fees, and living expenses. Oh, and child support for my daughter and me.” Without another word, I grabbed my packed suitcase and strode to the door. The pregnant woman was too stunned to even react. Ever since I’d found out about her, I’d been plotting my counterattack. His money? No, Adrian had moved all his assets long ago. His guilt? No, a man with no morals is incapable of guilt. “You stop right there!” she shrieked, finally finding her voice. “Why are you dumping his father’s old mistress on me?” “Because Adrian loves you,” I called back, my hand on the doorknob. “You won the prize. You’re the new lady of the house now!” The door slammed shut with a satisfying thud. I exhaled a long, heavy breath. The security lock on that door required a fingerprint to open from either side. She wasn’t getting out. She wanted to force me out? I just saved her the trouble. My phone buzzed the moment I stepped into the elevator. It was Adrian. I quickened my pace. I had just messed with his precious new love; he wouldn’t let this go. Over thirty missed calls. I answered none of them. A text message followed immediately: “You have thirty minutes to get your ass back home and give me a reasonable explanation!” An explanation? “There’s nothing to explain,” I typed back. “What goes around comes around. A stepmother is still a mother. It’ll be a beautiful story for the papers: your new love taking care of your father’s old love!” When we first got married, Adrian told me about his tragic childhood. His father’s mistress had moved into their home when he was fifteen, driving his mother to suicide. He swore he hated that adulterous pair with every fiber of his being. But fate has a way of balancing the scales. Less than two years later, his scumbag father died suddenly after a night of heavy drinking. And the stepmother, the one who had tearfully promised to take care of him, vanished overnight, taking every penny the family had. All that was left was the house that had belonged to his mother before the marriage. I thought my love could heal the scars of his past. Only now did I understand. He became the very man he swore he hated: his father. “What the hell are you talking about?” his angry reply came. “What does this have to do with Chloe? Why should she have to take care of that bitch?” His rage bled through every word. I replied instantly: “Because she loves you. Because she’s your soulmate. Because she isn’t with you for your money, she just wants a simple life with you.” If their love was that pure, what was a little sacrifice? I had once tearfully asked him why. Why, when he hated cheaters more than anything, was he walking down his father’s path? He was silent for a long time before delivering an answer that pierced my heart. “You’re a good woman, Ava. But Chloe… she makes my heart race. When I’m with her, I feel like all my hard work means something. I finally understand now that you can’t force love. I… I finally understand my father.” Looking at his shameless face, my world went dark. He said he understood his father. Understood the irresistible pull of “true love.” But he had forgotten his own mother, who had thrown herself from a building. Of course. A son can never truly empathize with his mother. But he will always find a way to excuse his father’s sins. Since you understand your father so well, Adrian, allow me to help you relive the pain you’ve so conveniently forgotten. 2 Adrian ran a small company. I had no idea what he actually earned. For the first few years of our marriage, he gave me a fixed amount for household expenses every month. But after that woman started working for him, he changed. He was constantly complaining about the business failing. He mortgaged our home—his pre-marital property—for $280,000 to get a cash injection. And I was the guarantor. It only got worse from there. Business was bad, so he canceled our daughter’s extracurricular classes. Business was bad, so he cut off all financial support for the family. “Business is bad” became his universal shield. And yet, his mistress was always dressed in designer clothes, a picture of wealth and leisure. Only my daughter and I were part of the slowly collapsing world he was leaving behind. I couldn’t just wait for the inevitable. One day, he would kick us to the curb. A plan began to form in my mind. It went more smoothly than I ever could have imagined. His father and the mistress had never officially divorced. After some digging, I found her. Seeing her in person was a shock. She was covered in a roadmap of strange scars, as thin as a skeleton. Her medical report listed a host of infectious and chronic diseases. It seemed her life after running away with the money hadn’t been easy. She studied me, a flicker of cunning in her clouded eyes. “You’re… you’re Adrian’s wife?” I didn’t answer. For women like her, I felt nothing but a deep, visceral hatred. Legally, she was Adrian’s stepmother. Matrimonially, she was his father’s spouse. So when the local social services agency failed to get a response from Adrian, they delivered the old woman directly to our door. I completed the paperwork as quickly as possible. The moment she was inside, her dull eyes lit up. She wheeled herself around the apartment, her gaze sweeping over everything as if she were already preparing to take her place as the new matriarch. What she didn’t know was that Adrian hadn’t set foot in this home in over six months. Still, I took excellent care of her. I raised money for her treatments. After all, the best punishment for a mistress is to let her reap what she sowed. She thought she was coming to claim her throne. She had no idea she was just coming to take out the trash. 3 I pulled out my phone and opened the live feed from the security cameras at home. Adrian was back. He looked completely bewildered. The pregnant woman was sobbing in his arms, while the woman in the wheelchair was wailing, slumped over the armrests. Adrian just kept pinching the bridge of his nose. Soon, a second text arrived: “Ava, don’t think you can control me by bringing this woman back. Drop your pathetic little schemes. I was going to give you a decent settlement, but now, I see you don’t deserve a damn thing.” A small smile played on my lips. “You’re overthinking it. We’ll talk about settlements later. For now, you need to pay off the medical and caregiver bills that woman has racked up. All the invoices are clipped to the divorce papers.” On the camera feed, Adrian slowly began to flip through the stack of documents. His expression twisted into a mask of rage. “Late-stage syphilis?” “AHH—” The woman beside him shot up from the couch. “What did you say? Who has late-stage syphilis?” Yes. That was the real reason social services had brought her to us. No nursing home would take her, the hospital wouldn’t keep her, and nine out of her last eight caregivers had quit. The only option left was direct family care. So, you see, I was looking forward to this day even more than she was. “All of your mother’s expenses during this time were covered by personal loans,” I texted. “The total is $12,000. Please settle it as soon as possible.” On screen, Adrian kicked the coffee table, sending it flying. Glass shattered. The two women shrieked in unison. The woman in the wheelchair flinched, and a dark puddle began to form beneath her, dripping down her pant leg. No one moved. The pregnant woman caught the smell, gagged, and threw up. A moment later, she grabbed her purse and ran. Adrian followed right behind her. I kept my eyes on the woman in the wheelchair. Just as I expected, she shakily pulled out her phone. The people from social services had instructed her very carefully. If her children refused to support her, she could call the police. The police would charge Adrian with abandonment. For the past few weeks, her threats were all I heard: “If you don’t get me the imported medicine, I’ll sue you!” “If you don’t hire me a caregiver, I’ll sue you!” “If you don’t cook me decent meals, I’ll sue you!” To prepare for today’s performance, I had catered to her every whim. The expensive supplements in her bowl, the gold jewelry on her wrists—all of it fed her confidence and her greed. “Hello? Police?” her voice crackled through the monitor. “My son and daughter-in-law have abandoned me, a sick old woman, to die at home! I want to press charges!” Two hours later, Adrian was escorted back by two police officers. The once proud and arrogant man now looked like a beaten dog. He collapsed by the door, digging his fingers deep into his hair. “Mr. Hayes,” one of the officers said sternly, “abandoning a seriously ill relative is a criminal offense. We expect you to resolve this family matter appropriately. If we receive another call, we will be forced to file a formal case.” And what about the pregnant Chloe? Legally, Adrian had no obligation to her. But this woman—the one who stole his family’s money and drove his mother to her death—he was legally bound to support her for life. That’s the law. I used his own weapon against him. I used his responsibilities to block his path to “true love.” He finally understood his father, did he? Then in the dead of night, he could explain to his mother’s ghost just how noble this inherited “true love” of theirs truly was. The wheelchair rolled over. The stepmother reached out a hand, her face devoid of any remorse. “Adrian, sweetie, why dwell on the past? Mommy’s back now, isn’t she? That Chloe girl, she’s not the reliable type. Listen to me, Ava is much easier to handle. You need to go get her back.” “Shut your mouth!” Adrian shot up. “When you ran off with all that money, did you ever stop to think if I would starve to death? Now that you’re sick and have nowhere else to go, you remember you have a son? Who the hell do you think you are to tell me what to do?” Seeing his resolve, the woman just shrugged. “Fine. If you want to disown me, I have nothing to say. But I’m still your mother. I raised you for two years, so you have to support me for life! I don’t like that Chloe bitch. Get Ava back here now!” She wheeled herself into the master bedroom and slammed the door. My phone buzzed again with a message from Adrian: “You brought her here, you deal with her! I don’t have time for your drama. This has nothing to do with Chloe. She has no obligation to be involved!” 4 See? That is the calculation of a scumbag. To him, marriage is a game to be exploited. He found the perfect loophole. Let Chloe, in the name of true love, enjoy all the benefits. And let me, in the name of duty, bear all the risks. Social services, just doing their job, delivered the foul-smelling woman right to my doorstep. The entire world seemed to be conspiring with him to screw over his wife. He wasn’t stupid. Not at all. He knew exactly how to use the shackles of marriage to legally plunder the person sleeping next to him. I sent him the $12,000 bill again. “Pay your debt. This was for your mother’s treatment.” His call came instantly. “I’ll say it again, that woman is not my mother! She’s a bitch, and I’m not paying a cent for her. You treated her without my consent, so that’s your personal debt!” He hung up. A ringing filled my ears. Fine. If that’s how he wanted it. I forwarded the recording of our call to his stepmother. “Mona, you heard him. Adrian refuses to acknowledge this debt. That means the $12,000 is on you.” She panicked. “Ava, you know I don’t have any money! If I had that kind of cash, I wouldn’t be in this mess…” I cut her off. “You’ve forgotten. When Adrian’s father passed, he left behind a house. You are the legal heir to 25% of it.” She was stunned. “A house?” “Yes. It was his mother’s personal property. After she died, Adrian and his father each inherited 50%. When his father died, his 50% was split between you and Adrian. That gives you 25% and Adrian 75%.” “Adrian would never recognize your share. You ran away with the money; to him, your claim is worthless. But if you sign that share over to me to cover the debt, it’s a different story. Not only will I continue to pay for your future treatments, but your current debt will be wiped clean.” She was silent. The only reason Adrian had held onto that old house was because his stepmother’s disappearance had made it impossible to finalize the inheritance. “Fine!” she texted back. “I’ll sign! But you have to put it in writing that you will be responsible for my treatment! Don’t let me end up homeless again!” “You have my word.” The next day, after dropping my daughter at school, I went back and she signed the Debt Assumption Agreement. The entire process didn’t require Adrian’s consent. That 25% property right was the first trophy in my war. It came from the hands of a woman I despised, but in that moment, I truly believed: the enemy of my enemy is my friend. However, the debt I incurred was still legally marital debt. Next, I moved Adrian’s stepmother into a new rental apartment. Her infectious diseases meant I had to keep her isolated to protect my daughter. This new rent, just like her medical bills, became another clear marital debt in Adrian’s name. After all, I was fulfilling his legal duty. Back at home, I began a systematic liquidation. I sold off any valuable items at a discount. The cash went to paying down the loans I’d taken out for her treatment. Then, I listed the apartment for rent. This house, which he’d bought before our marriage, brought in $4,500 a month—just enough to cover his mother’s ongoing expenses. My parents started helping with my daughter’s school runs. You see, sometimes fate has a bitter sense of irony. He thought he had set the rules of the game, and I was the player destined to be trapped. But he forgot that rules are a double-edged sword. He could build walls, but I could carve out an escape route. With these maneuvers, I had turned the pile of liabilities he’d left me into a self-sustaining system. After a few days of silence from me, he grew smug, assuming I had finally accepted my fate. Until he tried to open his front door and found his fingerprint no longer worked. A strange tenant answered. When he saw that every trace of me and our daughter had been erased from the home, real panic finally set in. He called me frantically, but my phone was turned off. Soon, a thick envelope arrived for him. The first document was the Deed of Gift for the 25% share of the ancestral home. I’d attached a sticky note: “Friendly reminder: No need to find her for a signature, the title has already been transferred. Awaiting partition. If you wish to sell, please consult with me.” Next was his stepmother’s one-year lease agreement for $36,000, attached with a doctor’s note recommending strict isolation. Then came the caregiver contract, for $12,000 a month. The notes section read: “Specialized care for infectious diseases, high-risk hazard pay included.” Finally, there was a meticulously itemized Summary of Advanced Payments: medical bills, living expenses, nutritional supplements… the total was staggering. He threw the documents to the ground and roared in public. “Ava! If I ever give you another damn cent, I’m a dog!” Finally, he sued me for damages to his property. He demanded I immediately cease my infringement and return his pre-marital property. He demanded I return all rental income. He demanded I pay all legal fees. I checked the court date. What a coincidence. His mistress was about to give birth. A true double blessing. Then let this trial be my wedding gift to them both.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387104”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Everyone in New York society knew my son and I were the darlings of Seraphina Keery’s world. If I wanted stars, she’d arrange a private meteor shower. When Leo loved a carousel, she built an amusement park named “Leo’s Land.” After our car crash, she flew in a world-class medical team—but only for me. Barely conscious, I begged her to save Leo first. She tearfully claimed he’d bled out on the way to the hospital. But waking later, I overheard her outside my door. A doctor asked, “Your son could’ve been saved. Why let him die?” Seraphina replied coldly, “Leo existed to save my son, Max. I’ve been good to Ethan all these years. It was his turn to repay me.” All her love was just the price for my son’s heart. The tragedy was her design from the start. If that’s what she wanted—fine. I’d give her exactly what she deserved. 01 From behind the closed door of the recovery room, I heard Seraphina laugh softly. “To protect his son, my husband suffered catastrophic injuries to his lower body. We had to sacrifice his ability to have more children to save his life.” The doctor sounded horrified. “Ms. Keery, you mean…” “Mr. Cole has already lost one child. You’re making it so he can never be a father again. Don’t you think that’s too cruel?” Seraphina’s tone remained flat. “I will only ever have one child in my life, and that’s Max. As for compensation, Ethan Cole will remain my husband forever. Get the surgery done as soon as possible. I need to go see Max. He and Julian need me right now.” She paused. “Oh, and be careful during the procedure. My husband is afraid of pain.” Her footsteps faded down the hallway as my consciousness drifted. My hands, clenched at my sides, were raw and bleeding, but I couldn’t feel them over the silent tears streaming down my face. The perfect wife, the perfect mother I had been so proud of—it was all a lie. Her love was a lie. The only truth was the six-year deception she had masterminded, culminating in a perfectly staged “accident” to steal my son’s heart. As the anesthesia seeped into my veins, my vision blurred. I felt the cold, indifferent touch of surgical instruments inside me, a chill that sent me spiraling into one nightmare after another. In my dreams, there was only darkness. Leo stood in the void, a gaping hole where his heart should be. He reached out to me, his small voice crying, “Daddy, it hurts so much, Daddy…” “Leo!” I woke with a start, my eyes meeting Seraphina’s, which were filled with concern. “Darling, you’re finally awake,” she breathed, pulling me into a trembling embrace. “Do you have any idea how terrified I was? These past two days, I thought I was going to lose you.” She clung to me tightly. “I’ve already lost our son. I can’t lose you, too.” My ear was pressed against her chest. The frantic beat of her heart almost made her words believable. “Ethan,” she continued, her voice soft, “the doctors said the accident… it damaged you. We might not be able to have any more children. But it doesn’t matter. As long as I have you, that’s all I need.” She spoke with such conviction. Before, I would have felt like the luckiest man alive to have married such a woman. But now, with my body scarred and broken, her flawless performance only filled me with disgust. I subtly pushed her away. “Where is Leo? I want to see him.” Seraphina froze for a second. She stroked the back of my hand, her voice dropping. “I’m so sorry, darling. I was afraid seeing him… seeing his body… would be too much for you. I had him cremated yesterday.” She wasn’t afraid of my grief. She was afraid I’d see the empty, butchered cavity in my son’s chest. I fought back the hatred burning in my eyes and glanced at her wrist. She was wearing the crooked little red bracelet Leo had made for her. Before the accident, Seraphina had been struggling with insomnia. Leo, worried about her, learned how to braid bracelets from his art teacher. He wove red string and calming lavender together and gave it to her. I remember the look on her face then—shocked, speechless. She stared at the imperfect little gift for a long time. It wasn’t until Leo called out “Mommy” again that she finally took it, carefully fastening it around her wrist. She hugged him and said, “Thank you, Leo. Mommy loves it.” Looking back now, I realize that while my son was worried about her sleepless nights, she was lying awake planning the car crash that would kill him. My gaze made her notice the bracelet. A complex emotion flickered in her eyes, and she quickly pulled her sleeve down to cover it. “Ethan, I promise you,” she said, “I will spend the rest of my life honoring Leo’s memory, just like you.” I lowered my eyes, saying nothing more. If there was any solace, it was that my son died believing his mother loved him. But that didn’t change the fact that she was his murderer. Leo, Daddy will get justice for you. And I will leave the monster who did this to us. 02 I hated the sterile smell of the hospital, so the next day, Seraphina brought me home. If you didn’t know the demon lurking beneath the surface, she was the perfect wife. She cooked for me, remembering every little thing I disliked. Worried that I was still haunted by the crash, she would give me foot soaks and massages every night. It wasn’t until the third day home that she finally made an excuse about work and left early in the morning. As she rushed out, I caught a glimpse of her phone screen. A message from Julian Hayes. [Seraphina, Max won’t stop crying for his mommy. I can’t calm him down.] Julian’s child needed his mother, so she dropped everything and ran to his side. My son died on his way to see his. I watched her leave in silence, then made my way to the third floor and stood before her study. For the five years we’d been married, she’d kept it locked with a passcode, insisting that even married couples needed their private space. I typed in the birthdays of Julian and their son, Max. The door clicked open. The large study was a shrine to them. The walls were covered with photos of her, Julian, and Max—a happy family of three. Her pregnancy, Max’s birth, his first tooth, his first steps… Seraphina had documented it all. But in the four years of my son’s life, from birth to death, there weren’t enough pictures of him to fill a single small album. I opened the journal on her desk. [May 20th. I told Julian I had a surprise for him. I expected him to be thrilled, but when he held me, shaking with joy, I couldn’t stop the tears from falling.] [January 23rd. I’m a mother. I named him Max.] [He’s so tiny. The moment I held him, I wanted to give him and his father everything I own. But then the doctor told me… Max inherited Julian’s condition. He was born with a congenital heart defect.] [September 30th. For Max’s sake, I got married today. The groom wasn’t Julian.] [Julian, I promise I will be a good wife and a good mother.] The last sentence was pressed so hard into the page it almost tore through, as if she was forcing herself to make a solemn vow. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. So, marrying me was a great sacrifice for her. No wonder. Five years ago, when I showed her the positive pregnancy test, bursting with joy, she just stared at it in silence for a long time. Then, as if completing a task, she simply said, “Thank you.” When Leo was born, she never even held him. The first time she saw him, she just calmly instructed the doctor to take him for a full physical exam. Especially his heart. On our wedding night, the room was dark. I could only see her face by the moonlight filtering through the window. I used to think she was just shy. Now I know it was because the man she wanted to marry wasn’t me. The face she wanted to see in the dark wasn’t mine. The journal was filled with entries, all of them about Julian and Max. The most recent one was from a week ago. [Maybe the lavender really does help with sleep.] [I slept so well. I even dreamed about…] She never finished the sentence, and I had no desire to read any more. I photographed the pages and sent them to the private investigator I’d hired, then placed the journal back exactly where I found it. As I was leaving the study, Seraphina returned. She saw me coming from the third floor, and a flicker of panic crossed her otherwise calm face. “What were you doing upstairs? Your injuries haven’t healed. You should be resting in bed.” I sidestepped her attempt to help me. “I got tired of lying down.” She studied my face, and seeing nothing amiss, seemed to relax. She held up a box. “Darling, I got you those pastries you love from the Eastwood Bakery.” It was true, I did love their pastries. But five minutes ago, Julian had posted a picture of the exact same box on his social media. The caption read: Max says he wants some, and a certain someone drives two hours just to get them. He used to post vague things like that all the time. Back then, I never would have imagined the “certain someone” was my wife. Where Seraphina couldn’t see, I liked Julian’s post. I just needed to wait, I thought. Just a little longer. Once I have enough proof, this charade between Seraphina and me will finally be over. 03 Just after I paid the private investigator’s final invoice, Julian contacted me. He wanted to meet at a villa on the outskirts of the city. The house was decorated in warm, inviting colors, nothing like the home I shared with Seraphina. She always said she preferred simplicity, so our house was a cold landscape of black, white, and gray. Julian sat on the sofa, leisurely sipping a cup of expensive tea. “So, you finally know about Seraphina and me.” Now that he had what he wanted—Leo’s heart—he wasn’t even pretending anymore. “Seraphina promised me. She’s going to bring Max and me home and tell everyone that he is her son.” I stared at him, my expression flat. “Is that all you brought me here to say?” My cold indifference wiped the smug look off his face. He shot up from the sofa. “Ethan Cole, who do you think you are talking to me like that? Seraphina’s husband? Don’t kid yourself! You think she actually loves you? She only married you for me and Max!” He caught himself before he could say more, but he couldn’t swallow his pride. “In love, the one who isn’t loved is the third wheel! And so is their child! My Max will be Seraphina’s only son! Everything she has will be his! As for your dead kid, you can light a candle for him when you’re feeling sentimental!” The mention of Leo ignited a fire in my chest. I wanted to smash my fist into his face, but my body was still weak. Julian easily grabbed my wrist, pinning me. He leaned in close, his voice a venomous whisper. “And you deserve this, for not being able to protect your own child.” Humiliation and fury surged through me, my eyes turning red. I used every ounce of strength I had to shove him away. But then he did something I never expected. He pulled my hand forward and punched himself in the face with it. He crumpled to the floor, looking up at me with wide, innocent eyes. “Ethan, I’m heartbroken about Leo too, but what did I ever do to you? Why are you treating me like this?” Before I could even process what was happening, a powerful force slammed into me from behind. My head cracked against the corner of the coffee table, and blood instantly started to flow. Seraphina didn’t even seem to notice. She rushed to Julian’s side, her voice laced with panic. “Julian, are you okay? Are you hurt?” He shook his head, but tears streamed down his face. “Seraphina, my head hurts so much.” Her brow furrowed, and she turned to me with a vicious glare. “Ethan, your son is dead, so you come here to take it out on him? What is wrong with you! Apologize to Julian, now!” I was so full of rage and hurt that I couldn’t hold back the tears. “Seraphina, get it through your head. My child was your son, too. He called you ‘Mommy’ for four years!” She flinched, her eyes darting to the bracelet on her wrist. In that instant, it seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. Her arm began to tremble, and she couldn’t meet my gaze. She turned away, her heart feeling like it was being crushed by an invisible hand, the pain making it hard to breathe. It was Julian’s soft whimper that seemed to snap her out of it, like a lifeline. She helped him up. “Julian, I’m taking you to the hospital.” She led him away, her steps quick and desperate. But as she passed me, she hesitated, her stride becoming heavy, as if she were wading through mud. The vast living room was empty again, leaving me alone. On my phone, I had the audio recording of the entire exchange, along with the complete file of evidence from the P.I. One of the files was a video. It showed Leo, lying in a pool of his own blood, reaching his small hand out toward Seraphina. “Mommy, save me… it hurts so much, Mommy…” But the woman just stood there, her face a cold mask, watching as his small hand slowly, so slowly, fell to the ground. I stared at Leo’s face on the screen, at the hope in his eyes turning to confusion, and then to utter despair. So, my son knew. Before he died, he knew his mother didn’t love him. What was he thinking in that final moment? Did I do something wrong? Why is Mommy doing this to me? Or maybe… Daddy, run… Pain, hatred, a storm of emotions made my entire body tremble. I heard footsteps behind me again. A boy, maybe five or six years old, stood in the bedroom doorway, his face pale. He was clutching a model airplane. He asked me, “Mister, who are you? Why are you in my house?” His face was so familiar. His heartbeat… that was familiar, too. I stared at his chest. Beneath his shirt, the heart that was beating belonged to my son. If it weren’t for Max, my Leo would still be alive. So why should Max be alive when Leo was dead? My expression turned to ice. As Max watched me with a puzzled look, I slowly knelt down. “Hey, Max,” I said softly. “Come home with me, kiddo. I’ve got lots of candy for you.” … On the drive to the hospital, Seraphina couldn’t stop frowning. The image of my tear-streaked face, my accusing words, played over and over in her mind. With each replay, another stone dropped into her heart, heavy and unsettling. Suddenly, her phone rang, shattering the tense silence in the car. On the other end, my voice was as calm and detached as a machine. “Seraphina, I have Max.” The car screeched to a halt at the side of the road. Seraphina’s hands clamped down on the steering wheel, her knuckles white. A terrible thought took root in her mind, growing with terrifying speed. Could it be… that he knows the truth?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387103”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 The day they found out I wasn’t the real heir, my wife filed for divorce. The real heir became her second husband. Five years later, I saw them again. They were having dinner with my child at the bistro where I worked. As they were leaving, Eleanor slipped a card across the table to me. “Frank,” she said, her voice low, “stop working here. You’re embarrassing our daughter.” The little girl beside her piped up. “And don’t go around telling people you’re my dad.” I gave them my best waiter’s smile. “Ma’am, if you’re ready to pay, you can do so at the counter.” Then I turned to the child, who was staring at me with pure disdain. “I don’t have a daughter. Who are you?” Eleanor’s hand shot out, grabbing my arm. “Are you still blaming me? For not saving your birth mother back then?” I said nothing. What was the point? Without the Ashworth name, I wasn’t even worthy of being her husband. What right did I have to demand anything? … I didn’t have time for this. I joined my coworkers, clearing the remnants of their meal from the table. I could feel their eyes boring into my back, but I didn’t turn around. When my shift ended at ten, my manager pulled me aside. He told me the restaurant had a new owner: Eleanor Hawthorne. He looked at me, his expression pained. “Frank, she wants me to let you go. But don’t worry, she’s giving you six months’ severance.” As I stepped outside, Eleanor emerged from the shadows beside her car. She walked toward me, sighing softly. “Frank, I’m just looking out for you. This work is grueling, and you’re here so late.” “Find a more respectable job,” she urged. “There’s no such thing as a job without dignity,” I replied flatly. “And for the ‘respectable’ ones you’re talking about? You need credentials.” She froze for a second, her lips pressed into a thin line. She’d forgotten, hadn’t she? She was the one who said I’d stolen twenty-three years of Ethan’s life. That my education belonged to the Ashworths, and I had no right to it. Once my name was stripped away, I was just a man with knowledge but no degree to prove it. The car window slid down, and the little girl’s head popped out. “Mommy, let’s go. Why are you talking to this old man?” she whined. “Daddy will get jealous if you keep talking to other men. Let’s go home.” Ethan, from inside the car, offered a token reprimand. “Tilly, don’t be rude. Frank is only twenty-eight, that’s not old. Your dad is twenty-eight, too. Are you saying I’m old?” Tilly immediately grabbed Ethan’s arm, her voice turning syrupy sweet. “Of course not, Daddy! You’re way more handsome than Chris Hemsworth!” She glanced back at me. “Look at him, he’s all sallow and pale. He probably can’t even make ends meet.” Ethan tweaked her cheek playfully. “My little girl has such a sweet tongue. You’ll get ice cream when we get home.” He then looked at me, his face a mask of apology. “Frank, I’m so sorry about that. Please don’t take it to heart.” “Seriously, though,” he continued, “if you can’t find a good job, you could come work at the estate as Tilly’s private chef. At least you wouldn’t have to deal with customers or work these insane hours. I didn’t even recognize you earlier. If I had, I would’ve insisted you sit down with us. Could have saved you a couple of hours on your feet.” Eleanor shot him a sharp look. “Ethan, that’s enough.” He mumbled, just loud enough for me to hear. “I was just worried you’d give him a hard time again. I’m not even mad that he stole my identity as the heir, but you just can’t let it go. Promise me you won’t bother him anymore.” Just as he was about to close the window, I jammed my hand in the opening. The glass bit into my skin, but I ignored the searing pain. Eleanor was instantly on alert, her hand clamping down on my shoulder. Her grip was as strong as ever, enough to take down a grown man. “Frank, what do you think you’re doing?” I ignored her, my eyes locked on Ethan, my voice pleading. “It was a fire at the hospital. The babies were swapped by mistake. No one stole anything from anyone. Can you please stop saying that? People who don’t know the whole story are still tearing your adoptive mother apart online.” “She’s so sick, Ethan. She really wants to see you, to apologize for messing up your life.” In truth, the life that was messed up was my biological mother’s—Ethan’s adoptive mother. After I found her, the neighbors told me the story. She’d rushed into that fire to save her son, and her face was badly burned. Her husband left her. She lost her job as a television host. She worked three jobs just to raise Ethan. But Ethan dropped out of school at sixteen to run with a rough crowd, wasting his nights in bars. Every time she got paid, he’d snatch the money to party with his friends. Right before the Ashworths came for him, my mother found out his friends were threatening to expose him—for bar fights, for three stints in juvie, for catching a nasty disease. She was terrified it would ruin his chance. So she gave them the two hundred thousand dollars she had saved for her own medical treatments, just to buy their silence. But as soon as the story of the switched heirs broke, everyone turned on her. Because she’d once been a minor celebrity, they accused her of orchestrating the whole thing. For five years, she was dragged through the mud online. Now she was so ill she couldn’t even get out of bed. All she wanted was to see Ethan one last time. From inside the car, Ethan just shook his head. “I’m not seeing that crazy woman.” 2 His refusal wasn’t a surprise. I had tried. It seemed my mother was destined to die with that final regret. I tried to pull my hand back, but the window was still clamped shut, my flesh throbbing and swollen. Seeing the angry red marks, Eleanor turned to the man in the car. “Ethan, open the window.” Only then did the glass retract. I snatched my trembling hand away. Ethan’s face was a picture of guilt. “Frank, I’m so sorry. Why would you stick your hand in there?” Eleanor reached for my hand, wanting to inspect the injury. I pulled away instinctively. There was a time when she was the perfect wife. She used to trim my nails, and if she accidentally clipped the skin, she’d look up at me with those wounded eyes and whisper she was sorry. My friends would laugh at me. “You got it made, man. Married the boss lady and now you can’t stop showing it off.” Then Ethan showed up. A DNA test confirmed it: he was the true Ashworth heir, and I was the fake. Eleanor had promised me then, “You may not be an Ashworth, but you’re still my husband. You’re still our child’s father.” Because of her, the Ashworths let me stay, grooming Ethan to take his place. Until the day I found them in bed together. In our bed. “Frank,” Eleanor had said, her voice hollow. “I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.” Ethan smirked at me from our marriage bed, a look of pure triumph on his face. The next second, he was on his knees, prostrating himself before me. “Brother, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have fallen for Eleanor, but I can’t help it. I love her.” I knew he was faking it. It was all a calculated move to destroy my marriage so the Ashworths would finally cast me out. I flew at him in a rage, tearing at his clothes, striking his face. How could he use someone as good as Eleanor? I had already told the Ashworths I wanted nothing from them, that their fortune was his. I had given everything back. Why did he still have to take her from me? I even broke the promise I’d made to my own mother, the one to keep Ethan’s disease a secret. I told Eleanor everything. But she didn’t believe me. She slapped me across the face. “You’re vile,” she spat. “You stole his life for twenty-three years, and now you slander him?” I was stunned. I couldn’t believe any woman would be so indifferent to something like that. “Frank,” she’d said, her voice cold as ice, “even if he is using me, I’m glad I can be used. I’m glad if it means he gets back everything that you stole from him.” When she said those words, I knew. This woman didn’t love me anymore. And I didn’t want her. All I wanted was my daughter. Eleanor had scoffed. “Are you trying to use our child to control me? To keep a connection? Frank, I will not let my daughter be raised by someone with your background.” I lost the custody battle. Without Eleanor, the Ashworths kicked me out for good. That day, my real mother, wearing a thin hospital gown under a bulky winter coat, was waiting for me outside the courthouse. Not long after, her health took a nosedive. She needed money for surgery. I went to the Ashworths, to the home I had lived in for twenty-three years. I knelt at their gate for six hours. No one came out. I had no choice but to go to Eleanor. She told me she would never help the woman who had tormented the man she loved. In the end, I turned to loan sharks and high-interest online lenders. Now, I’m drowning in over a hundred thousand dollars of debt. They say for an ordinary person with no assets, a number like that is a life sentence. If I still had my credentials, the kind of “respectable” job Eleanor talked about, the money wouldn’t have been such an issue. But the pay from my current job was a drop in the ocean. My phone rang, shattering the tense silence between the three of us. I answered it, and a panicked nurse’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Frank? It’s your mother. She’s crashing. We’ve moved her to the ICU. You need to get here now.” A sense of dread washed over me. I put the phone on speaker. Eleanor immediately wrenched open the passenger door. “Get in, Frank. I’ll drive you.” It was late and catching a cab would be impossible. I swallowed my pride and got in. From the back seat, Ethan’s voice trembled. “Eleanor… I’m scared that woman will hit me again.” Hearing that, a raw, protective anger surged through me. I whipped my head around to glare at him. “If she hadn’t knocked some sense into you back then, you’d have been sold for parts by those thugs you ran with! You think you’d be married to the biggest CEO in Port Crest?” 3 Ethan looked wounded, tugging on Eleanor’s sleeve. “Eleanor, just let me out here. I’ll take Tilly and give you two some space. Whether you believe me about those thugs… that’s up to you.” I saw him in the rearview mirror, holding Tilly, giving the child a subtle look. Tilly didn’t move, her eyes darting between him and her mother. Eleanor’s gaze met mine, and her face was etched with disappointment. “Frank, what isn’t yours will never be yours. You can’t get it back by tearing someone else down.” Seeing that her mother wasn’t rushing to Ethan’s defense, Tilly grabbed the heavy, steel toy car beside her and hurled it at my shoulder. “You’re a bad man!” she shrieked. “Stop saying mean things about my daddy! Stop yelling at him! I’ll hit you! Get out of our car!” A sharp, radiating pain shot through me, but the ache in my chest was worse. I thought the daily barrage of calls from debt collectors had numbed me to all feeling, but this… this still hurt. When this child was born, I was the one who cared for her day and night. Through the jaundice, through a bout of pneumonia, I never left her side. I used to hold her in my arms for hours, kissing her soft cheeks, my perfect child, the symbol of my love for the woman I adored. Eleanor slammed on the brakes. She snatched the toy car from the backseat, rolled down the window, and with perfect aim, tossed it into a nearby trash can. I said nothing, staring out the window. My own tear-streaked face was reflected in the glass, and my mother’s words echoed in my mind. “Frank, my baby, I’m so sorry. I let you wander into a palace by mistake. I let you taste riches only to be plunged back into poverty, to have you counting pennies for a cup of coffee… I was so stupid. I couldn’t even recognize my own son. I brought someone else’s child home, and I couldn’t even raise him right.” Once, crushed by the weight of my debts, I had screamed at her. “Yes! Your biggest mistake was running into that fire! You ruined yourself to save a man who abandoned you, a man who stole your real son’s wife and daughter!” She had sobbed, collapsing to her knees, her mind clouded, repeating “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” over and over. In the end, I held her and wept with her. I knew it wasn’t her fault. It could never be her fault that my wife and daughter didn’t want me anymore. We reached the hospital. “She keeps calling for her son,” the doctor told us. “‘My son, I’m so sorry.’ Maybe seeing a familiar face will help stabilize her.” I didn’t know which son she was calling for, but I grabbed Ethan and dragged him toward the room. No matter what, that poor woman had saved him from a fire and raised him for twenty-three years. The least he could do was see her one last time. On the bed, a frail, skeletal woman saw Ethan and her hand began to tremble as she reached for him. He hesitated for a moment, then took her hand in his. I stepped out, leaving them alone. Eleanor stood nearby, holding Tilly’s hand. She watched me for a long moment before speaking. “I paid a hundred thousand towards your mother’s hospital bill at the front desk.” I was stunned. Five years ago, I knelt before her for hours, and all she said was, “I will not help anyone who hurt Ethan.” Now I had no money to repay her, and she knew it. “What’s the condition?” I asked. “I can’t pay you back. You should go get a refund while you still can.” Her eyelashes fluttered. “You don’t have to pay me back. It’s my fault you can’t use your degree. If you could have, you would have made that much money easily in the last five years.” I let out a bitter laugh. So, it was guilt. I looked right at her. “For five years, every job I’ve had, I’ve been fired within two months. They always said the Hawthorne family told them to. Eleanor, are you finally letting me off the hook?” Her face went pale. “I never…” Suddenly, Ethan burst from the room, shouting, “Frank, it’s bad! Your mother… she’s not going to make it!” I rushed inside. The woman on the bed, nothing but skin and bones, saw me and reached out a trembling hand. Tears streamed from her eyes as she spoke, her words broken and ragged. “My silly boy… why… why did you lie to me all this time? You said you owned a restaurant…” “You… for me… you took out loans… a hundred thousand dollars… How will you live? How are you going to live now?” “I’m just destroying my children by being alive… I’d be better off dead…” After she spoke those words, the machines beside her bed began to shriek, a frantic, piercing alarm. Then, the line on the heart monitor went flat. Just like that, she was gone. The doctors tried for two hours, but they couldn’t bring her back. I didn’t understand. I had hidden the loans from her. How could she have known? My eyes found Ethan, standing in the distance, a picture of profound grief. Did Ethan tell her? Did he know about my debts? I didn’t know. But I knew my mother knew too many of his secrets. She had every reason to want him silenced. I walked over to him, my gaze boring into his. “Was it you? Did you say something to provoke her?” 4 Eleanor immediately stepped in front of Ethan, shielding him. “Frank, don’t be ridiculous!” I suddenly remembered seeing one of Ethan’s old cronies at the hospital a few days ago, a bleach-blond thug. He’d sneered at me. “Your mom’s a real idiot, you know that? She’s sitting on a murder weapon against that Ashworth kid and she’s not using it to get some medical money? And you, you’re even dumber. Letting some diseased punk steal your woman. Hell, he gave it to me, too.” I was stunned. Ethan was with men, too? Was it possible? Did Ethan blurt out the news of my debts to shock my mother into a fatal heart attack, to silence her for good? Eleanor’s voice was cold, laced with disappointment and pain. “Frank, you were once an Ashworth, raised in a respected family. When did you learn to stoop to blackmail and baseless accusations? Ethan didn’t even want to come. He came, your mother died, and now you blame him?” Ethan just shook his head. “Eleanor, don’t blame him. It’s hard to go from riches to rags. She told me… she begged me to take care of Frank. She was afraid he’d do something illegal to pay back the hundred thousand he borrowed to maintain his old lifestyle. I think the shock of it just… got to her.” He turned to Eleanor, his face earnest. “Eleanor, can we help him?” She looked at me with contempt. “I can’t believe what you’ve become. I was right not to give you the child.” Ethan then made a suggestion. “Eleanor, we need a house manager anyway. We’d pay someone else fifteen thousand a month, why not give the job to Frank? He can use the salary to pay off his debts. If he’s living with us at the estate, the collectors won’t be able to get to him, and he can get back on his feet. It takes time to adjust after losing everything. I was poor for twenty-three years. I can teach him how to live within his means, how not to let money destroy him.” Eleanor looked at Ethan, a soft smile gracing her lips. “You’re too kind. He accuses you of the most horrible things, and still, you want to help him.” Ethan managed a small, sad smile. “No matter what, she raised me. I can’t ignore her dying wish.” I ignored his saintly act. I had to prepare my mother’s body. She had been a TV host; she always cared about her appearance. Ethan followed me into the room and closed the door. I glanced at him. “Eleanor’s not here now, Ethan. You can drop the act. Why do you want me at your house? You’re not that charitable.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387102”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My mom is obsessed with those viral web series—the ones where a billionaire CEO pretends to be a broke nobody. When she was heartbroken that the hero couldn’t afford his grandmother’s medical bills, I pointed to the Patek Philippe watch he accidentally flashed on screen. “Mom, look. That watch could pay for grandma to live in a luxury hospital suite for the next twenty years.” When she sobbed through three handkerchiefs because the hero fainted from hunger after saving his breakfast money for tuition, I pointed to the Rolls-Royce Cullinan key in his hand. “Mom, see that? That car could buy him breakfast for the rest of his life.” To avoid being duped myself, I became an unwilling expert on luxury brands, studying every frame of my mom’s favorite shows. But every guy I’d ever met was disappointingly normal, giving me no chance to showcase my skills. Until my new boyfriend gave me a two-dollar ring, right after buying his childhood friend a two-million-dollar jewelry set. Until he showed up in a four-thousand-dollar t-shirt to borrow twenty thousand from me for his mother’s surgery. I immediately pulled out a flyer for a shady, back-alley clinic. “Babe, if we need money, we’ll earn it. One kidney goes for twenty grand. See? Your mom’s medical bills are covered.” I smiled sweetly. “I won’t even take the five-thousand-dollar finder’s fee. We can use it to buy supplements for your mom.” … Before my boyfriend, Brett, could even process what was happening, I dragged him to the nearest black-market clinic and signed the consent form for him. It all happened in a blur. By the time he snapped out of it, we were sitting outside the operating room. Brett’s face was ashen, and cold sweat soaked the collar of his deceptively simple, outrageously expensive cotton t-shirt. “Babe, I think we need to talk about this,” he stammered, his hand trembling as he clutched the organ donation agreement. I pretended not to hear him, leaning in closer. “What’s there to discuss? Your mom needs the money urgently, right? I already asked; the chances of finding a match for your kidney are high. Twenty thousand dollars, cash, deposited into your account the same day.” “Are you scared of the pain?” I patted his shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry, the nurse said it’s general anesthesia. You’ll just take a nap and it’ll be over. Look how professional this place is. They even have commendation banners on the wall.” I pointed to a banner that had clearly been photoshopped. Brett’s gaze followed my finger, and his mouth twitched. He lowered his voice, his tone urgent. “What I mean is, I can’t let you make such a huge sacrifice for me!” I blinked, my face a mask of innocence. “Sacrifice? Babe, you’re the one selling the kidney, not me. I just made a few calls.” His mind raced, desperately searching for an out. Finally, a new excuse burst forth. “The money! I got the money!” he shouted. “Just now! A buddy of mine, he heard my mom was sick and wired me twenty thousand, no questions asked! Look!” He fumbled for his phone, swiping frantically before shoving a chat history in my face. I smirked inwardly but kept my expression neutral, looping my arm through his and pulling him toward the exit. “However,” I said, stopping in my tracks and tilting my head up to look at him. His heart leaped back into his throat. “However what?” he asked, his voice tense. I counted on my fingers, my expression serious. “Okay, babe, let’s do the math. Your friend lent you twenty thousand for your mom’s surgery, right?” He nodded hesitantly. “But,” I continued, “when I signed the agreement, I promised the doctor that if we backed out, we’d have to pay a five-thousand-dollar penalty for their time and sterilization costs. How are we going to handle that?” His face fell again. Five thousand dollars was less than a dinner bill for him, but for his down-and-out persona, it was a fortune. He stammered, unable to form a single word. I sighed dramatically, pulling a crumpled fifty-dollar bill from my pocket and pressing it into his hand. “Don’t worry, babe. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. This is the last of my cash, but you take it. We’ll figure out the rest together.” He stared at the bill, his expression even more horrified than it had been outside the OR. “What are you doing?” “We’re a couple. Your problems are my problems,” I said, gazing at him with unwavering devotion. “I may not have money, but I have connections. I know a foreman at a construction site. They’re short on guys to haul cement. It’s three hundred a day, and they throw in lunch. We can pay off the debt in five months!” I grabbed his arm, giving him no choice but to follow me out of the hospital. “Come on, let’s go now. The sooner we start, the sooner we’re out of debt. Let’s do this, babe! For our future!” Brett’s body was rigid. He let me drag him a few steps before he violently shook my hand off. “That’s enough!” he growled. “I’ll figure out the five thousand! Just wait for my call.” With that, he bolted from the hospital without a backward glance. I stood there, watching him flee, a triumphant smile spreading across my face. I bought a cheap popsicle from the hospital’s convenience store and waited. Sure enough, less than half an hour later, he called. His voice was still a little shaky, but it had a newfound confidence. “I transferred the money.” I opened my banking app. Five thousand dollars, sitting neatly in my transaction history. I feigned utter astonishment, my voice jumping an octave. “Babe, you’re amazing! How did you solve it so fast?” There was a pause on the other end as he formulated his lie. “I sold the gold pendant I always wear. Money can be earned back, but I can’t let you suffer with me.” “Anyway, don’t worry about it. It’s over.” Listen to him. So moving. My tone became incredibly firm. “Brett Astor, that five thousand dollars is a testament to our love, and it’s our shared debt. I can’t stand by while you carry this burden alone. Starting today, I’m going to work with you to pay it back, until we’ve earned back the money for that… watch!” I didn’t give him a chance to object. “I’ve already found a job. I’ll call you after my shift!” Click. I hung up. At seven that evening, I took a cab to the city’s most exclusive karaoke lounge. The receptionist handed me a temporary staff badge, which I carefully pinned to my chest, ready to begin my shift as a janitor. I found the private room, and as I approached the door, I heard Brett’s voice from inside. He was surrounded by a crowd of rich heirs and scantily clad girls. “So, Astor, what’s with you lately?” one of them slurred, draping an arm around Brett’s shoulders. “Heard you’re slumming it with some girl from the sticks?” Brett sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “I was bored. Just looking for some entertainment. You should have seen her face when she thought I had to sell a kidney for twenty grand. Hilarious.” “You haven’t actually fallen for her, have you? I mean, she’s not bad to look at, got a decent body.” Brett roared with laughter, a harsh, grating sound. “Fallen for her? Me, an Astor, fall for some broke girl who reeks of poverty? Don’t be ridiculous. If you want her, I’ll pass her your way when I’m done.” He paused, adding, “Every young woman is a gold digger. I just want to see how long she can keep up the act.” I stood outside the door, listening to every single word. He was exactly the piece of trash I thought he was. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open. The noisy room fell silent. When Brett saw me, his smile froze, and a flash of panic crossed his eyes. “Babe!” I cried, my voice filled with delighted surprise as I looked straight at him. “You work here too?” He shot to his feet, giving his friends a frantic, subtle gesture. “Uh, yeah. I work here too.” Just then, a girl stood up from the sofa. She was more lavishly dressed than anyone else in the room. It was Veronica Vance, the heiress to the Vance Corporation. She sauntered over to me, looking me up and down before letting out a contemptuous laugh. “Cleaning toilets at your age in a place like this? Must be hoping to snag a rich guy, sell yourself to the highest bidder.” Veronica raised an eyebrow and pulled a thick wad of cash from her limited-edition handbag. “Look at you, all poor and pathetic. I bet you’ve never seen this much money in your life.” She fanned the bills out, shaking them as if offering scraps to a dog. “How about this: you get on your knees, lick my shoes clean, and then put on a little show for us. If we’re amused, this ten thousand dollars is all yours.” My eyes lit up. I stared at the cash. “Ten thousand? Would you pay more for a duet?” Before Veronica could answer, I grabbed Brett’s hand. I leaned in close, whispering in his ear, “Babe, we’ve got to do this! For the money!” Then, I pulled him into the middle of the room. In front of everyone, I started dancing to the music. My moves were comically clumsy, a clownish performance with no grace, only absurdity. I kept yanking Brett closer, grinding against him with a gross, greasy laugh. “C’mon, honey, shake it! You know how you move in the bedroom!” “Let’s go, babe! With this money, we can finally pay off our debt!” Brett’s face was thunderous. He had never been so humiliated in his life. Finally, he snapped, violently shoving my hand away with a force that nearly sent me sprawling. He stormed out of the room without looking back. I watched him go, then calmly bent down and scooped up the wad of cash Veronica had thrown on the floor, tucking it into my bag. Only then did I run after him. “Babe, where are you going? We haven’t earned enough yet!” I yelled, catching up to him, panting for effect. Brett stopped, his back to me, his body stiff. “It’s nothing. I just got called into the office for an emergency shift,” he mumbled, then walked away without another glance. I took out the stack of bills from the lounge and happily counted them as I got in a cab and went home. A few days later, I discovered that a video from the karaoke lounge had been leaked online. In it, my terrible dancing was a stark contrast to Brett’s furious expression. The headline was sensational: [NYC HEIR BRETT ASTOR’S WILD DANCE, FORCED TO PERFORM BY GIRLFRIEND!] The comment section exploded with mockery aimed at him. Before I could properly enjoy my victory, my phone buzzed. It was a series of texts from Veronica. “Zoe, you’ve got some nerve, humiliating Brett like that.” “I’m telling you right now, you will never marry into the Astor family!” “You want to be a socialite? Keep dreaming!” The next message was a photo of my father, sitting at his office desk, his face pale. “Your dad works for my family’s company. Well, he’s fired now. And he owes us a million dollars for breach of contract. That’s the price for embarrassing my Brett!” Another message followed, this one a video. My mother was at her small breakfast cart on the street. A group of thugs suddenly swarmed it, smashing everything to pieces. My mother tried to stop them and was shoved to the ground. My heart leaped into my throat. I opened the last image. It was a hospital report. Right arm: fractured. “Only I, Veronica Vance, am worthy of Brett!” Veronica’s texts oozed arrogance. “And you? You’re just some trash from the gutter! A parasite like you deserves to struggle in the dirt for the rest of your life!” My fingers turned white as I gripped the phone. I forwarded all the evidence to a specific number. Then, I hailed a cab to go see Brett. I was seething with rage, but the moment I saw him, my eyes welled up with tears. “Babe, our love is being tested! My family is in trouble, we need a lot of money. You have to quit your job so we can work more and earn it back faster!” I grabbed him and pulled him out the door. My grip was surprisingly strong. Maybe it was his guilt, or maybe his twisted game wasn’t over yet. He didn’t resist, letting me lead him to the construction site I had mentioned before. Brett’s face paled as he looked at the clouds of dust, but he forced himself to sound calm. “I’ll work with you. We’ll pay it all back.” I put him to work, laying bricks, hauling cement. Brett’s pampered face was soon streaked with sweat and grime. He had never experienced hardship like this. In just two days, he lost weight, his eyes were sunken, and his lips were cracked. Finally, on the fourth day, I received a notification: a one-million-dollar deposit into my bank account. And Brett finally broke. He collapsed onto a dusty cement bag, staring at the mountain of bricks before us. His hands trembled as he clutched at my sleeve. His voice was thick with tears. “Babe, let’s stop! Please!” I wiped the smile from my face. “We can’t. We haven’t paid off the debt. Are you tired, babe? Don’t worry, I found us a new job.” Brett’s eyes lit up. “It’s not manual labor, is it?” “Of course not!” I grinned. “We’re going to sell our blood. Then, after that, we can be human test subjects for new drugs. I have a list of dozens of clinical trials looking for volunteers. Once we finish those, all our debts will be paid!” At my words, the color drained from his face. Just as I was about to drag him to the clinic, he threw my hand off. “That’s enough! I’m Brett Astor, the sole heir to the Astor Corporation! I have money, I’ll give you whatever you want!” “Zoe, I can’t take it anymore. I’ll confess!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387101”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My wife showed up to finalize our divorce just as I’d finally managed to calm down her 18-year-old self. The moment she heard the word “divorce,” she exploded all over again. She started pacing, ready to charge out the door. “How dare she divorce my future husband! Who the hell does she think she is?” 1 I had to sneak away from the 18-year-old Celia to meet the 30-year-old Celia at City Hall to sign the papers. On the way there, the younger version must have woken up, because she called me. “Where are you?” I shot a nervous glance at the woman driving beside me and lowered my voice. “Just out buying something.” “Why didn’t you wake me? I’ll come find you.” “No, no, don’t! I’ll be back in a minute!” After a lot of back-and-forth, I finally managed to talk her down. “Who was that?” The Celia in the driver’s seat was tense, her lips pressed into a thin line. “No one. Can we speed it up? I’m worried there’ll be a line if we’re late.” The words had barely left my mouth when she slammed on the brakes. “Let’s just do it another day.” “Huh?” “I just remembered I have something to do. We can reschedule the divorce.” Are you kidding me? Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to get out of the house? 2 Celia was my first love. We dated for five years before getting married. Unfortunately, the marriage didn’t last. Last month, we decided to get a divorce. But then, out of nowhere, the 18-year-old version of Celia “time-traveled” into my life. She just appeared in my apartment, bold as brass. And with the supreme confidence of a girlfriend, she moved right in. At 18, Celia and I had just started dating. We were in the honeymoon phase, madly in love. So when she heard I was planning to divorce her future self, she lost it. “I’m going to find that old woman right now! Who does she think she is, divorcing my man?” “Don’t you worry,” she vowed. “I would sooner kill myself than let you suffer like this.” Even though I explained that it was an amicable split, she refused to believe me. “A day will come when I don’t love you? Impossible!” “You want a divorce? Fine. You’ll have to step over my dead body first.” From that day on, she initiated a full-blown surveillance strategy, shadowing my every move. Forget getting a divorce. I could barely even get a moment alone with the other Celia. I thanked my lucky stars that the older Celia and I were already living separately. If I had to deal with both of them under one roof, I’d have a complete breakdown. 3 The 30-year-old Celia had no idea about any of this. Frankly, I didn’t see the point in telling her. To me, the 18-year-old girl and the 30-year-old woman were two completely different people. One had eyes only for her work. The other had eyes only for me. When I got home, the young Celia was sitting on the sofa. The picture of aloof elegance. The moment she saw me, she pounced, sniffing me all over like a curious puppy. I dodged away, ticklish. “What are you smelling for?” “A woman’s scent.” Her eyes narrowed. “You didn’t go behind my back to divorce that hag, did you?” My heart skipped a beat. Her instincts were terrifyingly sharp. “Of course not. Didn’t I promise to give her a chance?” The younger Celia sighed. “You have no idea how hard this is for me, having to play matchmaker for my own husband and another woman every single day.” That night, while she was in the shower, I called Celia. I wanted to get this divorce over with as soon as possible. But a man’s voice answered the phone. “Mr. Hayes.” It was Celia’s assistant, Simon. “Where’s Celia?” “The Director is in the shower and can’t come to the phone right now. If you have a message, I can relay it for you.” I was about to speak when the bathroom door in my apartment creaked open. Guilt shot through me, and I instantly hung up. The young Celia stepped out, her hair still dripping, with nothing but a towel wrapped around her. Her 18-year-old body was… captivating. Even after twelve years with Celia, I wasn’t immune to that kind of visual assault. My expression must have given me away, because a smug smile played on her lips. She padded over to me, barefoot. “How do I stack up against her?” She was talking about her 30-year-old self. The older Celia stayed in shape, of course, but she was nothing like she was a decade ago. Besides, she was so busy… I couldn’t even remember the last time we’d been intimate. Seeing the complicated look on my face, her expression soured. “Is she… in really bad shape?” Before I could answer, her eyes widened in horror. “Don’t tell me… I let myself go? At thirty? I’m… out of shape???” Me: ? Her face crumbled. “Don’t say anything. I get it now. I finally understand why you want a divorce. I just… I need a minute to process this.” She trudged back to her bedroom, looking utterly defeated. For a moment, I honestly had no idea how to explain. My phone rang again. The caller ID said Celia. “Did you just call me?” “Yeah. I wanted to ask when you’re free to go to City Hall.” Before she could answer, my bedroom door cracked open and a small head peeked out. “Honey, where are my pajama pants?” I frantically covered the mouthpiece. “On the balcony.” “Oh. Okay.” The door closed. The woman on the other end of the line went completely silent. “Leo,” she finally said, her voice dangerously quiet, “we are not divorced yet.” “I know,” I snapped, my patience wearing thin. “That’s why I’m trying to schedule a time to sign the damn papers.” More silence. Finally, she spoke again, each word dripping with ice. “I would hope that until our marriage is officially over, you would maintain a basic level of respect for our relationship.” I thought of the male assistant who was at her place so late at night and let out a cold laugh. “Why don’t you take a look in the mirror before you lecture me.” 4 That call soured my mood completely. I lay in bed that night, tossing and turning, my mind replaying twelve years of history with Celia. Sleep was impossible. Finally, I got up. As I stepped out of my room, I saw the young Celia sitting in the living room. She looked up, startled. “Can’t sleep?” “No, just thirsty. Getting some water.” “You touch your nose when you lie.” She walked over to me. “You’re upset. Is it because of… that old woman?” This time, I didn’t answer. To my surprise, she puffed out her chest. “Go on. Hit me.” “What?” “Maybe you’ll feel better if you let it out on me.” She squeezed her eyes shut, ready for martyrdom. “Don’t worry. I’m young. I can take a punch.” I couldn’t help but laugh, giving her a light tap on the chest. Seeing me smile, she finally relaxed, grabbing my hand and pulling me into a hug. She mumbled into my shoulder, “I’m sorry, okay? I just don’t get how a gorgeous woman like me could suddenly, one day, just… let it all go…” She really thought that was the reason! I sighed dramatically. “I know, right? I was shocked too. I’ll buy you some workout equipment tomorrow. We’ll start you at 18. Maybe there’s still hope.” The look of utter devastation on her face was, I have to admit, immensely satisfying. Her presence had a way of soothing the anxiety of the divorce. It felt like I had traveled back to a time when Celia’s world revolved around me. She’d drop me off and pick me up from work, we’d go on dates, or we’d just spend the entire day at home, perfectly content in each other’s company. A few days later, a rumor started spreading around my office: a beautiful young woman was pursuing me. Eventually, the gossip reached the ears of the 30-year-old Celia. I was out to dinner with the younger one when she called. “I hear you have a new admirer.” I glanced at the girl across from me and stepped outside. “I do. So if you could please sign the papers and stop holding up my future, I’d appreciate it.” “You want a divorce because of her?” “No.” “Then why?” “Celia, don’t you think it’s a little late to be asking that question?” She didn’t ask when I first brought it up. But now that someone else is in the picture, she’s suddenly curious. She sighed softly on the other end. “Leo, how did we get here?” Yeah. How did two people who were once so in love end up like this? Just as I was about to answer, I heard Simon’s voice in the background. “Director, the meeting starts in five minutes. The team from Apex is already in the conference room.” “I took the liberty of swapping your usual coffee for barley tea, since I was worried about your stomach. I hope you don’t mind.” I hung up. I stood outside for a moment before going back in. When I did, I saw two young guys standing by our table, trying to get the young Celia’s number. “Sorry, I have a boyfriend.” “We just want your number. No harm in that.” She looked at them deadpan. “Not happening. My husband has a short leash on me. You should probably go.” She understood how to keep her distance from other men at 18. Why was it so hard for her 30-year-old self to do the same? I walked over. The two guys looked at me, surprised. One of them chuckled. “Come on, ‘boyfriend’ is just an excuse, right? This guy’s way too old for you.” The young Celia’s face darkened instantly. “You might be young, but you look old as hell.” She wasn’t done. She pointed to her chest. “You know what this is?” The guy just stared, shaking his head. “A heart that beats only for my husband!” Then she held up her right hand. “And you know what this is?” They both shook their heads again. She smirked. “A fist that’s about to rearrange your pretty face.” “Let me hear one more word against my husband, and I’ll knock you into next week.” The guys: … Me: … Long after they’d scurried away, she was still fuming, muttering under her breath. I tried to hide my smile. “I am older than you. It’s just a fact. No need to get upset.” “So what? I don’t care if you’re 18 or 80, if your hair is gray or you have no teeth left. You’ll always be my baby to spoil.” 5 I don’t know if her appearance had somehow rattled the older Celia, but she started contacting me a lot more often. Just trivial things. Asking if I’d eaten, what I was doing. I couldn’t remember the last time Celia had made small talk with me. It had been years. But now, her messages just felt… ironic. “Since we’ve already decided on a divorce, let’s cut back on the pointless pleasantries. The next time I hear from you, I hope it’s to tell me when you’re available to go to City Hall.” “So aside from that, there’s nothing else for us to talk about?” “You’re just realizing that now? We ran out of things to say to each other a year ago.” After I said it, a heavy silence fell between us. It wasn’t always like this. As her business grew, as she got busier, the space between us widened. Work during the day, overtime in the evening, client dinners at night… the man by her side for all of it was never me. After a long pause, she finally just said, “I’m sorry.” “Don’t be.” I didn’t think much of it, but a few days later, Simon showed up at my door. “The Director is in a meeting. She said she left a file at home and asked me to pick it up.” I wasn’t thrilled about him showing up unannounced, but I went to the study, found the folder, and handed it to him. He took it but didn’t leave. “Perhaps it’s not my place to say this, but as her assistant, I’m concerned about the Director’s well-being.” He looked me in the eye. “I heard you’re the one who initiated the divorce. Since you’ve made your decision, you should stop dragging it out and wasting everyone’s time. You’ve already found a younger woman, yet you keep stringing your ex-wife along. The Director is too decent to call you out, but you shouldn’t take advantage of her kindness.” “Who do you think you are, lecturing him like that?” I hadn’t even had a chance to respond before the young Celia appeared, a surgical mask covering her mouth. She glared at Simon. “You’re the help, not the boss. So mind your own business. Whatever is going on between my husband and his wife is none of your damn business. I’ve seen guys like you before. You’re just waiting for them to split up so you can make your move. Well, let me tell you something: a guy like you? I wouldn’t look twice at you in 12 years, or even 120.” The words shot out of her like a machine gun, relentless and brutal. Simon was stunned. “You two… are living together?” “Yeah, we are! What about it?” she snapped. “You want to go tattle to your boss? Then go! Stop loitering around here like a bad smell.” It was an overwhelming amount of information to process. Before I could react, she had slammed the door in his face. The next second, the fierce warrior was gone. She turned to me, her expression grim. “So, it’s because of him, isn’t it?” I froze. She pressed her lips together. “You want a divorce because of that man?” I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My silence was all the confirmation she needed. Her face clouded over as she turned to go back to her room. I didn’t understand why she was suddenly upset. “Shouldn’t you be happy about this?” She just scoffed. “Happy about what? That when I’m thirty, my eyesight will be so bad I’ll fall for a guy like that? I’d rather just be out of shape.” 6 The idea that her 30-year-old self had “cheated” seemed to be too much for her to handle. The young Celia was in a foul mood all day. That evening, her favorite drama came on, but she stayed in her room. That’s when I knew it was serious. What if she couldn’t accept it? What if she was planning on doing something drastic? I was about to knock on her door when my doorbell rang. It was Celia. Her face was flushed, her hair a mess. When she saw me, she mumbled my name, her voice hoarse. “Leo.” For reasons I couldn’t explain, I slammed the door in her face. The noise must have startled the girl inside, because her door creaked open. A small gap appeared. “Who is it?” “The power company!” The lie flew out of my mouth. “Oh,” she said, about to come out. I rushed to stop her. “No, no, stay in there!” Young Celia: ? “But… you said my show was starting…” “I’ll bring you the tablet! You can watch it in your room!” My brain was spinning. “I’m still mad at you! Mad that in 12 years you’re going to fall for another guy! I don’t want to see you right now!” She bought it. Her shoulders slumped even further. “This is so unfair. It feels like my future self chopped down a tree, and now I’m the one getting hit by the splinters.” Just as her door closed, there was another knock on the front door. Terrified she’d come out again, I flung the door open and hissed, “What are you doing here in the middle of the night?” “I missed you.” Celia’s eyes were glassy and wet. She looked so much like the girl in the other room it was unnerving. I sniffed the air. “Have you been drinking?” She didn’t answer, just tried to squeeze past me. I blocked the doorway. “What are you doing?” “This is my house! Why won’t you let me in?” she whined, pouting. “I want to come home! I want to go to sleep!” My temples throbbed. While I was trying to figure out what to do, she spotted a gap and darted inside like a rabbit, turning back to give me a goofy, triumphant grin. She was a completely different person from her sober self. There was no way I could kick her out now. I had to put her up for the night. I was never more grateful that when the younger Celia first arrived, I had insisted—on the principle of not corrupting a minor—that we sleep in separate rooms. Otherwise, this would be a whole new level of awkward. Celia stumbled into my bedroom and immediately sprawled out on my bed in a perfect starfish. Her eyes were fixed on me. I ignored her, grabbing a spare blanket, intending to sleep on the couch. But as I turned to leave, she rolled off the bed and wrapped her arms around me from behind. “I don’t want a divorce.” I froze. She rubbed her fluffy head against my back. “You’re living with her, aren’t you?” Ah. Now I understood. “Simon told you?” Celia nodded meekly. I didn’t know how to feel. “Celia, the person who’s been trying to have their cake and eat it too, this whole time, is you, not me.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387100”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Two years in a cell, sent there by my own wife. The moment I got out, I changed my name and fled the country. Seven years later, we met again before my sister’s gravestone. Our eyes locked. She froze, the cloth in her hand hovering over the cold marble. A storm of emotions I couldn’t decipher flashed across her face—shock, elation, guilt… “Paul,” she breathed. “I’ve been looking for you for years. I thought… I thought you were gone, too.” Her voice trembled. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you ever call me?” When I said nothing, she quickly dabbed the corner of her eye. “You’ve been avoiding me on purpose, haven’t you? You still hate me for what happened back then. But you have to understand, I had no choice.” I couldn’t fathom how she had the audacity to say those words in front of my sister’s grave. Not after she’d orchestrated my sister’s death, stolen her husband, and driven me to the brink of utter ruin. But love and hate are luxuries I can no longer afford. To me, she was nothing. 1 With a final, lingering look, Linda turned and walked away. I knelt, placing the bouquet of snow-white chrysanthemums before the headstone. In the photograph, my sister, Amelia, was forever twenty-five, her smile warm, her eyes clear and full of light. If she were still here, she would have been at the airport to pick me up today. She would have ruffled my hair, just like she always did when we were kids. “Hey, kiddo, why the long face?” No. If she were still here, she never would have let them bully me into leaving in the first place. I crouched lower, my fingertips gently tracing the curve of her smile etched into the stone. “Amy,” I whispered, “I have some good news…” Before I could finish, Linda returned, holding out a heavy-looking gift bag. “I promised you I’d make you a gift for your birthday, every single year,” she said, her voice soft. “I couldn’t find you, so… I saved them all.” Inside were an electric razor, the latest gaming console, a designer watch… I could tell she’d put thought into them. I remained unmoved. Her hand hung awkwardly in the air, a flicker of hurt and embarrassment on her face. “You don’t like them? I can have my assistant get something else. We could… we could have lunch?” “No, I have plans.” She started to protest, but her phone buzzed. “Linda, when are you coming back?” a man’s voice demanded from the speaker. “It’s our seventh wedding anniversary today. I’ve already booked the restaurant…” My fingers paused as I brushed a fallen yellow leaf from Amelia’s name. This, Amy, I thought, is the man you once saved, the man you gave everything for. You saw him all wrong. And I trusted him all wrong. A sudden tickle in my throat forced a pair of dry coughs from me. “Linda, where are you? Who is that? Is there a man with you?” She hung up without a word and pulled a disposable mask from her coat pocket, offering it to me. “Your allergy to the cold air… it always makes you cough in the fall. You should wear one of these.” I turned my head away. “I’m over it now.” After a final goodbye to my sister, I walked toward the cemetery gates. Linda hurried to catch up, her presence a clinging shadow I couldn’t shake. I didn’t understand. Seven years ago, she had warned me to never show my face to her again. Now, she was stuck to me like glue. A rack of city bikes stood by the entrance. I scanned a QR code and unlocked one. Just as I was about to push off, her Mercedes pulled up smoothly beside me. “Paul,” she asked, a fragile, hopeful light in her eyes under the autumn sun, “have you been alone all these years?” I nodded once, offering no explanation. The truth was, I’d come back to tell my sister that I was getting married. That was a joy I was willing to share only with her. “Paul, don’t try to be strong all by yourself out there. If you ever need anything, please, call me.” She rushed the words out. “My number is still the same. I never changed it. I was so afraid that if you ever wanted to reach me, you wouldn’t be able to find me.” A bitter smile tugged at my lips. Ironic, wasn’t it? The very person who had severed every tie between us, who had wished me out of her life forever, was now playing the part of a devoted, long-suffering lover. “No thanks,” I said, my voice flat. “I’m not interested in getting tangled up with a married woman.” I pushed down hard on the pedal, and the bike carried me away, down the long path paved with golden gingko leaves. The wheels rustled over them, a sound that echoed with ghosts of the past. I knew this path better than my own reflection. As kids, Amy and I would come here for morning runs, for bike rides. She was better than me at everything, except running. I would always slow down to let her catch up, and she’d mess up my hair, laughing as I pretended to be annoyed. She used to say that even when we were eighty, we’d still be here, arm in arm, walking this path and enjoying the sun. But now, I was two years older than she would ever be. 2 I rode all the way back to the old apartment building where my sister and I had lived. It had been empty ever since she died. The rusty security door groaned open, and a wave of stale, forgotten air hit me. On the living room wall hung a photograph of four people, veiled in a thick layer of dust. It had always been just me and my sister, two orphans against the world. Then, when I was sixteen, Linda burst into our lives. She said Amelia had saved her from drowning, had given her a second chance at life. She swore to be Amelia’s best friend forever. From the start, Linda and I were like oil and water, always bickering over the smallest things. That all changed on our senior trip, when a mudslide hit the resort. Our classmates were picked up by their parents, but my sister was away on a business trip, too far to reach me. A torrent of mud and debris swallowed the hotel. I was trapped under a collapsed beam, waiting for death to take me. But Linda, ignoring the chaos and the danger, ran back into the wreckage. She dug with her bare hands from dawn till dusk. “Paul, don’t be scared! I’m here!” She carried me on her back for what felt like an entire night. It wasn’t until we reached the hospital that I realized she’d lost both her shoes. Her feet were a mess of raw, water-logged cuts. Her perfectly manicured nails, her pride and joy, were broken and bloody. “You idiot, what are you crying for?” she had said, grinning through her exhaustion. “As long as you’re okay, I’d do it again in a heartbeat, even if it crippled me!” In that moment, her smile was brighter than any spring day. Then came Leo. It was New Year’s Eve, and the three of us were making dumplings when he showed up at our door, a wreck of a man. He was the son of an old neighbor; his family had gone bankrupt, and he was hiding from loan sharks. Amelia, ever the soft heart, remembered his family once giving us a bowl of hot porridge. Without a second thought, she took on all of his burdens. She quit her stable, respectable job and threw herself into the ruthless world of business, drinking herself into the ER with a bleeding stomach and cheating death more than once. In two years, she lost thirty pounds, paid off all of Leo’s debts, and won his heart. We raised our glasses together, the four of us, and swore we’d be a family forever, that we would never be separated. I was lost in the memory when the sound of a key turning in the lock jolted me back to the present. The door swung open, and there they were. Leo and Linda. I had forgotten. We each had a key to this place. “Linda told me you were back,” Leo said, forcing a smile. “We figured you’d be here. You should have told us you were coming; we would’ve picked you up.” He moved to clap me on the shoulder, but I sidestepped him. “You can’t stay here,” he continued, gesturing around the dusty apartment. “Come back with us. Our housekeeper is on vacation, so we have a spare room.” I looked down. My fiancée’s family lived right here in the city. I was only here to see my sister, and later tonight, I was meeting my future mother-in-law for the first time. I held out my hand. “The key.” This apartment was my sister’s, but the deed was in my name. It had nothing to do with either of them. Linda’s gaze flickered to the old photograph in my hands, her expression unreadable. “Paul, if Amelia were here, she would want to see the three of us getting along.” Leo looked away, unable to meet the eyes in that picture. Ignoring me, Linda walked in, took off her coat, and rolled up her sleeves. She grabbed a broom from behind the door. “Leo, go open the windows. Let’s get some air in here.” For a dizzying moment, it was like stepping back in time. The four of us, gathered here. Amelia would cook, Leo would help, and Linda would clean. I would be the one giving useless directions. The small apartment used to echo with our laughter. Now, only a heavy silence remained. I wiped down the table and carefully placed Amelia’s memorial portrait on it. In the photo, her smile was so gentle. I never imagined this would be how the four of us reunited. Suddenly, Leo lunged forward and slammed the portrait face down on the table. “What are you doing, putting that up for?” he snapped, his voice tight with panic. Seeing his frantic expression, a cold smirk formed on my face. So, he could feel guilt. He didn’t have the courage to face my sister’s clear, honest eyes. “Paul, Leo is just worried about you,” Linda said softly. “After all, someone… someone died here.” “And you two know better than anyone how my sister died, don’t you?” The broom clattered from Linda’s hand, the sound echoing in the dead quiet of the room, broken only by the wind whistling outside the window. The year after my sister and Leo got married, everything changed. 3 Amelia’s business was booming, and she was constantly flying all over the country. The day she secured her first round of angel investment, she was so ecstatic she took us all out for a celebratory dinner. Halfway through the meal, she got a call from Linda, who hadn’t joined us. “Amy, I’m in trouble,” Linda cried over the phone. “Some guys have me cornered at a bar.” Without a second’s hesitation, Amelia dropped her chopsticks and ran out. She never came back whole. Protecting Linda, Amelia was struck in the back of the head with a liquor bottle. By the time Leo and I reached the hospital, she had the mental capacity of a five-year-old child. She had forgotten everyone and everything, except me. Her little brother. My world collapsed. While grappling with my own grief, I tried to push Leo away. “When Amy was herself, she loved you more than anything,” I told him, my heart breaking. “She wouldn’t want you to waste your life on her now. As her brother, I’m making the decision for her. You two should get a divorce.” Leo gripped Amelia’s hand, tears streaming down his face as he shook his head fiercely. “I will never leave her. Never. Not even in death.” His devotion was absolute. In a moment of naive gratitude for his loyalty, I signed over all inheritance rights to Amelia’s company to him. Linda, consumed by guilt, locked herself in her room, drinking herself into oblivion. It was Leo who finally kicked her door down and doused her with a bucket of cold water. “If you want to make things right with Amelia,” he yelled, “then you’ll get your ass up and help me protect her company and this family!” From that day on, Linda became a different person. She joined the company and shouldered the burden of caring for us all. At the time, I was drowning in grief and uncertainty. Linda’s constant presence and support became my only lifeline. We got married, and by my sister’s hospital bed, she swore she would take care of me for the rest of her life, just as Amelia would have wanted. Linda’s phone rang, pulling me from the depths of my memories. Leo, as if desperate to escape the past, suddenly became talkative. “Don’t be mad at Linda,” he said, a smug tone creeping into his voice. “She’s the CEO of a publicly-traded company now. She’s a very busy woman.” He rolled up his sleeve, deliberately flashing a limited-edition vintage watch. “She got this for me last month for my birthday. Flew to an auction in Paris to get it.” Linda ended her call. “What are you two talking about?” Leo took her hand, his touch sickeningly affectionate. “I was just saying, Paul’s clothes look a little worn. I’ll pick out a few of my old suits for him later.” My voice was devoid of all emotion. “Don’t bother. I wouldn’t want anything you’ve touched.” Leo’s face turned ugly. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I met his gaze directly. “You know exactly what it means.” If it hadn’t been for that night, for that “accident,” it should have been my sister standing here now, successful and triumphant. Amelia’s descent into a childlike state was a wound in my heart that would never heal. But life had to go on. In the darkest hours of the night, I would find a sliver of comfort, thankful that Amelia had left me with two people who were closer than family. The night before I left for grad school, Linda promised me again and again that she would take perfect care of Amelia. Lost in despair, I clung to her words like a drowning man to a raft. I believed her. And at first, she was flawless. She seemed determined to give me all the love Amelia no longer could. Every two weeks, she would fly to my city, terrified I might be feeling lonely or neglected. “Paul,” she would say, her eyes shining, “the day the first snow falls, we’ll have our wedding. We’ll be the happiest couple in the world.” The city where I studied was known for its year-round warmth, but that winter was unusually cold. The forecast predicted the first snow in fifty years would fall on Christmas Day. I used the money I’d earned from a part-time job to buy a diamond ring. I secretly bought a ticket home, planning to surprise them. But when I opened the door to our home, the surprise was mine. There was my sister, chained to a radiator, emaciated and frail. And in front of her, on the floor, were two naked, writhing bodies. 4 A glacial cold seized me. I trembled, bile rising in my throat. I didn’t know what was worse: the fury over how they’d abused my sister, or the sickening sting of their betrayal. The two most important people in my life had betrayed me, together. My mind went blank. But Amelia, in her fog, saw me first. My sister, who had always been so meticulous about her appearance, was now filthy, her hair a matted nest. She held out a dirty, stale bread roll to me. “P-aul… eat…” The tears I’d been holding back for months finally broke free. I lunged forward, a guttural roar ripping from my chest, and swung my fist at Leo’s face with all my strength. He shrieked, scrambling to his knees before me. “Paul, I know I’ve wronged you! I’ve wronged Amy! But I’m not even thirty yet! I can’t spend the rest of my life tied to a… to an invalid!” But I had offered him his freedom. He was the one who had sworn he would never leave her. Did he think he could have it all? “Linda and I… we’re in love,” he stammered. “I won’t challenge your position as her husband, I swear. I’ll take good care of your sister, I promise. Just… just let me stay with Linda. The four of us can still be together, can’t we?” My sister had always shielded me from the world’s darkness. This was the first time I had come face-to-face with such vile, selfish treachery. I raised my hand to strike him again, but Linda slapped it away. Amelia, terrified by the commotion, began to wail. But a primal instinct took over. She threw her frail body against the iron chain, again and again, until with a sickening crack, her ankle snapped and she broke free. Dragging her broken leg, she threw her arms around me, shielding me with her own body. The wooden stool Linda hurled at me crashed down on Amelia’s head instead. Warm blood soaked my hands. Numb with shock, I fumbled for my phone to call for an ambulance. But Linda, now dressed, calmly walked over and crushed it under her heel. I had seen her mischievous, happy, and guilty. But this was the first time I had seen such cold, calculated cruelty in her eyes. “If you want this idiot to live,” she hissed, “you will shut your mouth. Your position as my husband is secure. I’ll even get the best doctors for your sister. But you will never, ever mention what you saw between Leo and me again.” My poor, confused sister didn’t understand what was happening, but she clumsily tried to wipe away my tears. “P-aul, don’t cry… Amy’s here…” I surrendered. After their initial panic, Linda and Leo became brazen. Rumors of their affair spread through our social circle. People called them ungrateful parasites. The scandal even threatened the company’s plans to go public. Then, the most important thing happened: Linda got pregnant. She came to me with a demand. She wanted a divorce, and she wanted me to publicly confess that my sister and I were the third parties who had ruined her relationship with Leo. “Paul, if you let your pride get in the way,” she threatened, her voice chillingly calm, “you will never see Amelia again.” She wasn’t bluffing. I searched everywhere, but my sister was gone. Defeated, I knelt before her like a stray dog. In front of countless media cameras, I bowed my head and confessed my “sins,” publicly apologizing to her and Leo. “It was Amelia who drugged Leo and seduced him. It was me who deliberately sabotaged their love…” As I read the confession they had written for me, a script full of twisted lies, my first instinct was to run. But Linda leaned in close and played a voice recording from her phone. It was Amelia, her voice weak and slurred. “P-aul… so cold…” I bit down so hard I thought my teeth would crack, and I read every last word. The crowd stared at me with contempt, disgust, and morbid curiosity. I don’t know how I left that press conference. All I wanted was to see my sister, to know she was safe. But a nurse at the care facility told me that Amelia had seen the video of me kneeling. She had become agitated, demanding to go find me, and had slipped away. The next time I saw my sister, she was a cold, lifeless body in the morgue. She was covered in filth, her body broken. Clutched in her hand was a crumpled paper airplane, a toy I had loved as a child. I beat the homeless men who had assaulted her until they were bloody, but it didn’t change anything. I would never hear her call my name again. I held her body and sobbed until I had nothing left. Meanwhile, my phone lit up with headlines celebrating the fairy-tale romance of tech-world darlings Linda and Leo. How could I not hate them? I arranged my sister’s funeral alone. With a fruit knife tucked in my pocket, I went to their company’s IPO ceremony, ready to take them down with me. I burst in, but I was too naive. Before I could even get close, security guards had me pinned to the floor. In front of all the cameras, I screamed the truth, crying out about their shamelessness, hoping to ruin them. But I was no match for them. “He’s suffering from a mental breakdown due to his sister’s passing,” Linda announced calmly to the press. “We are so sorry for the disturbance. I promise, we will ensure he never has the opportunity to harm anyone again.” They had all the power and resources they needed to crush a powerless orphan like me. I was charged with assault and sent to prison. When I was released two years later, the world had moved on. Linda was the revered CEO of a major tech corporation. I couldn’t even get past the front gate of her company campus, let alone get my revenge. Linda opened her mouth to say something, but my phone rang. “Paul, I’m here.” A warmth spread through my chest, and I jogged downstairs to meet her. As I led Maya up the stairs, I could hear arguing from inside the apartment. “Why? Why are you just giving him half the shares?” It was Leo’s voice, shrill with anger. “Your eyes have been glued to him since he walked in! Am I invisible to you?” “If you ever go near him again, I swear, I can have him thrown back in prison, and this time—” The sound of a sharp slap cut him off. “The company belonged to his sister in the first place!” Linda’s voice was laced with fury. “It was Amelia who took you in when you were homeless, who paid off your debts! Without her, you’d be rotting in a gutter somewhere! After everything we did to him, aren’t you afraid Amelia’s ghost will come back to haunt you?” Hearing them mention my sister filled me with a sudden, weary disgust. I pushed the door open. They both fell silent. Linda’s eyes fixed on the woman whose hand was intertwined with mine. Her voice was a raw whisper. “Who is she?” “My fiancée.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387099”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My brother stole my fiancé’s canary. My fiancé pressed a knife to my neck, his voice a low threat to my brother. “Send her back.” “Or you can come collect your sister’s body.” My brother didn’t even spare me a glance. “Oh.” “Then kill her.” The words shattered something inside me. My depression, a dormant beast, flared up in that instant, and I threw myself onto the blade. After I died, they all went insane. 1 The day I was trying on my wedding dress, my fiancé, Liam Blackwood, pressed a knife to my neck. “Caroline,” he murmured, his voice heavy. “I’m sorry.” Then, he made a video call to my brother, Caleb Vance. It took three tries before Caleb finally answered. Liam casually maneuvered me into the center of the frame, the cold steel of the blade a chilling line against my artery. His handsome face was a mask of cold, predatory cruelty. “Send her back,” he repeated. “Or you can come collect your sister’s body.” Her? Before the shock of Liam’s actions could even register, before the pain could set in, a girl’s face flashed in my mind. 2 Her name was Jenna Reed. Everyone called her Liam’s little canary. She’d shown up at my university once to confront me. “Liam and I have been together for three years. We’re going to get married eventually,” she’d sneered. “What’s the point of clinging to an engagement? Are you planning on sleeping alone for the rest of your life?” Her face was twisted with contempt as she spoke, and when she was done, she swept away. A sleek, black Cayenne was waiting for her at the curb. Quite the scene. I watched her go, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. She had it all wrong. It wasn’t me clinging to the engagement; it was Liam. He was the one who wanted to marry me. It wasn’t a new development. For the sake of the alliance between our families, I supposed. What other reason could there be? He couldn’t possibly still remember that I was his first love. That kind of foolish sentiment was probably something only I held onto. 3 Jenna’s words didn’t break me, but they sent my best friend into a fury. She called my brother, Caleb, hoping he’d stick up for me. But when the call connected, we heard Caleb’s voice mingling with Jenna’s. “Gave my sister a piece of your mind. Feel better now?” Of course. The Cayenne belonged to my brother. I hadn’t recognized it, probably because Caleb never, ever picked me up. Yes, Caleb was in love with Jenna, too. But he was more “noble” than Liam. He wanted Jenna to have a respectable, happy life. He had repeatedly pushed Liam to marry her and had always been against my engagement to Liam. A shame all his efforts were for nothing. This marriage was about the merger of our family empires. Not everyone was a lovesick fool like Caleb. Certainly not Liam. When the Vance and Blackwood families finalized our wedding date, Caleb had made a scene, demanding of Liam in front of our parents, “How can you do this to Jenna?” Liam had just smiled coolly. “Jenna who?” he’d said. “The only one I know is Caroline.” Liam always knew how to play the game, which was why my father favored him. But now… I never thought the ever-composed Liam could be so reckless. The moment someone snatched his precious canary, he didn’t hesitate to put a knife to his fiancée’s throat. 4 Jenna and I shared a striking resemblance. My best friend suspected Liam was indulging in some kind of replacement fantasy. I’d laughed so hard it hurt. Who would threaten the original for the sake of a replacement? There was a time when a simple paper cut on my finger would have Liam fussing over me for ages. Now, for Jenna, he held a blade to my throat. I closed my eyes, my heart turning to ash. Through the phone’s screen, my brother watched, a cold sneer on his lips. “Oh,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain. “Then kill her.” His complete indifference was nothing like that of a brother. I froze, the wound in my soul gaping wide. I stared at Caleb, my eyes wide with disbelief. He was my brother. My own brother. Tears finally escaped, trailing down my cheeks. On the other end of the line, Caleb’s gaze met mine, and his brow furrowed. A flicker of pain crossed his handsome face. For a heartbeat, I thought he might change his mind. But in the next second, he looked away. “Regardless, Liam,” he said, his voice flat, “I’m not giving Jenna back to you.” That was it. He had taken Jenna, and he had no intention of returning her. “You’re a real bastard, Liam,” Caleb continued, his voice sharp with accusation. “You’re about to marry my sister, yet you’re still trying to keep Jenna locked away. What do you think she is to you?” Every word was about Jenna, not Caroline. Not me. My heart plummeted into an abyss. I remembered when we were children. Mom was still alive then. She’d asked Caleb gently, “Will you protect your sister when you grow up?” “Of course, I will!” he had promised, full of boyhood bravado. “What if a bad guy tries to hurt her?” she’d asked. “I’ll hide her,” he’d declared without hesitation, “and I’ll go fight the bad guy.” The memory was a cruel joke now. My hands fell limply to my sides. The mental illness I’d fought for so long, the one I thought I had under control, suddenly erupted. A voice whispered from the depths of my mind. No one loves you. Your brother doesn’t love you. Your fiancé doesn’t love you. Just die. Death will end the pain. Go see your mother… “…Okay.” 5 All I wanted was for Liam to kill me quickly. To end it all. But then, with a soft thud, the knife fell from his hand, landing silently on the thick carpet. “I’m sorry,” Liam whispered. I didn’t hear him. It didn’t matter anymore. No apology from anyone mattered now. I just smoothed down the fabric of my wedding dress. They say you’re buried in a shroud. A shroud… it couldn’t be as beautiful as a wedding dress, could it? As I pondered this, Liam turned and left. He had to find Jenna. He couldn’t be bothered to finish me off. But at least he’d left the knife behind. The blade was sharp. I picked it up, whispering to myself, “It won’t hurt.” 6 They say a spirit first returns to a place it holds dear. So my soul drifted back to the familiar old villa. This was where I was born, where I lived until I was fourteen, with Mom always by my side. Being back felt good. I floated onto the large, pink canopy bed in my old room and settled into a peaceful pose. My life had been unhappy enough; I didn’t want to be a restless spirit. But a moment later… Click. The door opened. Strange. Who would come here? I opened my eyes and froze. A tall, imposing figure led a delicate one into the room. It was Caleb and Jenna. “This room is the biggest and gets the most sun. You can stay here,” Caleb said, pulling Jenna in by the wrist. He strode to the floor-to-ceiling windows and yanked the curtains open. A flood of bright sunlight poured in. I recoiled, scrambling under the bed as the light seared my ghostly form. Jenna stood silhouetted against the window, a living figure in a golden oil painting. Caleb stared at her, mesmerized. “Caroline?” he breathed. He said my name. No, I must have misheard. The noon sun was scorching, nearly burning me to ash. It hurt so much. 7 Luckily, the bright light seemed to bother Jenna’s eyes, and Caleb drew the curtains closed again. I could finally breathe. As I drifted out from under the bed, I saw Jenna’s high heels digging into my carpet. “This is your sister’s room. Won’t she be angry?” she asked. A cold laugh echoed in my spectral mind. Of course, I’m angry, you hypocrite. My mother had decorated this room for me with her own hands. The embroidery on the pillowcases—she’d stitched it herself. And tonight, Jenna would be sleeping on them. Jenna’s gaze fell on the photos on my wall, a flicker of envy in her eyes. “Your sister went to Europe when she was so young? She’s so lucky. People really are born different, aren’t they?” Caleb looked at her, his eyes softening with pity. After a moment’s thought, he reached up and took my picture down from the wall. “This is just our old family home,” he said. “She won’t be coming back here.” He paused, his expression darkening. “She has no right.” 8 So, Caleb had hated me all along. He’d been quiet about it for years, but that didn’t mean he’d forgotten. When Dad had his affair, I urged Mom to divorce him. I still remembered Caleb’s enraged shouts. “Mom has the softest heart! Dad already said he’s sorry, she would have forgiven him!” he’d screamed at me. “This is all your fault! You went to college and filled your head with all that nonsense just so you could tear this family apart?” His words had stunned me. I didn’t understand. Dad had hurt Mom. He made her miserable. Why shouldn’t she leave? Was a woman supposed to just endure a man’s betrayal in a marriage? All I wanted was for my mother to be happy, to stop crying in secret. To stop enduring. To stop yielding. But in the end… Mom never saw her new dawn. She died. And Caleb hated me for it. He called me a fool. “Mom was like a vine, Caroline. She couldn’t stand on her own,” he’d spat. “You killed her. All your crazy ideas killed her!” I didn’t know if I had done the right thing, but it was true that she died after the divorce. If she hadn’t left, maybe she would still be alive. The guilt gnawed at me. I told Caleb I would never speak out of turn again. He shoved me away. “It’s too late! Mom is dead! Do you think you can ever be happy again?” His words became a prophecy. I was never happy again. And from that day on, I buried my own nature. I endured. I yielded. Even when Liam paraded his affairs for the world to see, then came back and proposed to maintain the family alliance, I smiled and accepted, pretending nothing had happened. Like a doormat. My mother was dead. And I had become her. 9 Clutching the picture frame, Caleb was lost in those same memories. A storm of irritation and a strange, deep regret churned within him. Was Caroline really wrong back then? It was so long ago. He didn’t want to think about it. And what if she was? It didn’t matter. In her eyes, he was no longer the good older brother. Fine. That was fine. Jenna saw his silence and bit her lip. “Will your sister really be okay? With what Liam did?” she asked softly. “It’s my fault. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have had to make that choice. Liam… how could he hold a knife to his fiancée? He didn’t have to do that for me…” Her voice trailed off, her eyes welling up with tears as if she felt terrible for me. But her words made my spectral skin crawl. “Don’t worry. Even if the sky fell, Liam would never actually hurt her,” Caleb said, his expression flat. The flicker of worry he felt was gone as quickly as it came. “Oh, is that so?” Jenna’s eyes dimmed, and she muttered to herself, “He would never hurt Caroline… Right. I was overthinking it.” Caleb didn’t notice the change in her expression. His gaze drifted up to the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It seemed to sway slightly, as if someone were sitting on it. Heh. Impossible. He was just overthinking things. It must be because he was thinking of Caroline. She was so small as a child. Once, during a game of hide-and-seek, she’d climbed onto the chandelier and couldn’t get down, nearly falling. He’d asked her if she’d dare do it again. She’d tilted her little chin up defiantly. “I will next time! If you make me mad, I’ll climb up there and scare you to death!” Caroline had been fearless as a child, always ready to challenge him. They had been so close. He was the one who had changed. At that thought, Caleb’s fingers trembled. What was Caroline doing right now? Was she sad? Should he call her? They were siblings. It was only natural for him to care about his own sister. 10 I sat perched on the chandelier, looking down at Caleb. It had been a long time since I’d really looked at him. Our features weren’t that similar, really. Maybe he’d known all along we weren’t related by blood, and that’s why he’d started treating me so coldly. I swayed back and forth, watching him hand a tissue to a tearful Jenna, all warmth and gentlemanly concern. He looked just like the brother I remembered. Just then, the sound of fighting erupted from downstairs. Liam had found them. His security was clashing with Caleb’s. Caleb heard the commotion and strode out to the second-floor landing. He rested a hand on the railing, looking down imperiously. “Weren’t you supposed to be at a wedding shoot with Caroline?” he called out, his voice laced with sarcasm. “You really want it all, don’t you?” The veins on the back of his hand stood out as he gripped the railing. There was no one Caleb despised more than Liam. And yet, he had allowed him to marry Caroline. Liam had everything… why did he still have to come for Jenna? Anger simmered beneath Caleb’s calm facade. “Caroline won’t be happy about you being here.” Liam looked up, a disdainful smirk playing on his lips. “You’ve got a lot of nerve. You didn’t care about Caroline’s life, but now you care if she’s happy?” If he and Caroline were on good terms, Liam thought, he would have beaten Caleb to a pulp by now. Some brother. Seeing the enmity in Liam’s eyes, Caleb’s hands clenched into fists. “I’m not the one who held a knife to his own fiancée. Aren’t you afraid you’ll regret that?” Caleb cursed their father under his breath. The old man must have been blind to pick a man like this for Caroline. Caroline, who as a child had the courage to tell her mother to get a divorce. Why could she tolerate this man now? How much did she have to love him to forgive his endless transgressions? A sour feeling churned in Caleb’s gut. At the word “regret,” a strange tightness seized Liam’s chest. But the feeling vanished as quickly as it came. Caroline owed him this. He had nothing to be sorry for. Besides, he liked seeing her hurt by him. At least he could still hurt her, couldn’t he? A slow, cruel smile spread across Liam’s face. “I never regret anything I do.” 11 Listening to their barbed exchange made me sick. The afternoon air was hot and sticky. The old villa’s air conditioning was barely working. I huddled next to the refrigerator, the only cool spot. Someone had left the door ajar, and a stream of cold air washed over me. I never thought being dead would come with its own set of physical discomforts. Speaking of being dead… I checked the time. It had been half an hour. The bridal shop was one of Liam’s properties. Hadn’t anyone found me yet? I had been too impulsive. Using that knife… I hope I didn’t traumatize the staff. Why did I have to be a burden even in death? Sigh. I felt a wave of gloom. I wanted to go check, but I found I couldn’t leave the villa. So, I was forced to watch this drama of two men fighting over one woman. Liam was losing his patience. “Cut the crap, Caleb. Give Jenna back to me. Or else…” He hated having what was his taken from him. He clenched his fists, ready to fight for his possession, but then he paused. His hand felt empty. Something was missing. What was it? Liam’s handsome face suddenly crumpled, his eyes losing focus. It felt like he’d lost something vital. That’s right. The knife was gone. Had he brought it with him when he left the bridal shop? Or… had he left it there? In the dressing room. An image of Caroline’s fragile frame flashed in his mind. When he’d held the knife to her throat, he’d seen how delicate her neck was, the sharp line of her collarbones, her slender arms without a trace of excess flesh. Just how thin had she gotten? Did she even eat anymore? Liam suddenly remembered that he hadn’t made sure she ate her meals in a long time. The last time they’d eaten together, she’d suddenly gotten sick halfway through the meal. He’d been so furious he’d kicked the table over. But why had she gotten sick? His mind unwillingly drifted back to the reason they had fallen apart. The fact that Caroline had been with another man. His heart felt like it was splitting in two. What was he doing? He had left Caroline and a knife together in that dressing room. A wave of panic, sharper and more terrifying than anything he had ever felt, washed over Liam.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387098”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel