The memorial service my best friend arranged was utterly destroyed. Trolls swarmed the funeral home, livestreaming with their phones. “Serves her right,” they chanted. The comment section flooded with messages: Is she really dead this time? My ex-husband and his lover celebrated on a yacht for a week straight, champagne in hand. It seemed everyone believed I deserved to die early. Until one day, my diary was made public. And everyone finally learned the truth. That in my entire life, I had only been happy for a single, fleeting moment. 1. On the talk show, the host suddenly veered off-topic. “Rick, Mr. Brown. Your ex-wife recently passed away from an illness. How did that make you feel?” Rick Brown, the A-list actor, just scoffed. “I felt nothing. I heard her memorial service was trashed. Good.” The host smiled, lowering his gaze. “You don’t mind if we talk about your ex-wife, do you? After all, her death is a very hot topic right now.” If he were trying to capitalize on anyone else’s death, the backlash would have been merciless. But it was my death. And no one online cared. “Ask whatever you want,” Rick said. “I’m curious,” the host began. “Everyone says Zara Hale was a terrible person. So why did you two get married in the first place?” The superstar fell silent. He probably couldn’t remember why himself. The host chuckled. “Well, as it happens, we have a copy of Ms. Hale’s diary right here. You wouldn’t mind if we shared it with everyone, would you?” Rick smirked. “A high school dropout? Did she even know how to write? Go ahead. I couldn’t care less.” But when the slightly worn diary was opened for the cameras, a hush fell over the studio. The handwriting was neat and elegant, not at all what you’d expect from the madwoman the media had painted me as. “Well then,” the host said with a smile, “allow me to read.” 2. October 3rd, 2020 I’m getting married today! And who’s the groom? My Rick, of course. Who else would I ever want to marry? And who else would he ever dare to marry? If he tried, I’d tear him limb from limb. We’ve been together for six years. Today, I finally married the boy I fell in love with when I was eighteen. Oh, Diary, you should have seen how nervous Rick was when he put the ring on my finger. The tips of his ears turned bright red, and his eyes weltered up immediately. It’s true what they say… a man’s tears can make a woman’s heart soar. Seriously, I couldn’t stop smiling. But, Diary, I’m not afraid to tell you the truth. Later, when Rick was drunk and collapsed into my arms, I was the one who cried even harder. He whispered in my ear, “Zara, I love you. I love you so, so much.” “Thank you for being my wife.” Honestly, I’m the one who should be thanking him. Because of him, for the first time in my life, I felt like I belonged somewhere. At the wedding, Rick’s mom gave me a hug. As she held me, my nose started to sting. It was the first time an elder had ever hugged me. So, this is what a mother’s love feels like. Growing up in an orphanage, I never knew what a hug was. For us orphans, it didn’t matter how good you were; no one was going to hug you. When we cried, we just lay on the mats on the floor until we stopped. At school, our teachers always said we were such well-behaved kids. The truth is, we learned early on that crying got you nothing. And just being quiet never earned you a hug. So, we learned to hide what we felt. It wasn’t until I met Rick that I learned I could just be myself. And he would still love me. Now, Rick and I finally have a home. We’re broke, sure. But things will get better. I told him, “This is the happiest moment of my life.” He held me tight, his voice thick with emotion. “What do you mean, the happiest? From now on, every day will be happy.” Getting married is the best. I have someone to share my life with. I have a family. I’m not alone anymore. P.S. Here’s a wedding photo. It’s small, only a 5×7. I’m wearing a twenty-dollar tulle skirt I bought on Amazon, and Rick’s in the only decent suit he owns. Our clothes are simple, but our smiles are the brightest you’ve ever seen. Rick promised me. When he makes it big. He’ll take me to the beaches of Bali for a proper wedding photoshoot. The host finished reading and took a deep breath. No one had expected that I, the venomous villain, could have shared memories like these with Rick. The words on the page were playful, sweet. Anyone could see how happy I was back then. There’s nothing more devastating than a love that’s expired. Rick stared, stunned, for a long moment. Those memories had been buried for so long. Back then, marrying me had felt like the greatest victory of his life. He had forgotten all of it. The viewers were confused, too. This was nothing like the vicious Zara Hale they knew. “Reading this, she just sounds like a normal girl in love.” “It’s gotta be fake. That handwriting doesn’t look like hers.” “So she was an orphan. No wonder she had no class.” The host turned to Rick. “Mr. Brown, it sounds like you two were very happy when you got married.” Rick seemed to snap out of his trance, a bitter, self-mocking smile twisting his lips. “She used to be a good person, yes. But you can never truly know what’s in someone’s heart.” The host smiled thinly. “Perhaps. Let’s move on to the second page, shall we?” “Honestly, I’m quite curious myself to see what happened to turn Ms. Hale into the monster everyone despises.” 3. January 6th, 2021 Sorry for ignoring you, Diary. I’ve been busy working as an extra. But I need to ramble today. How do people make a lot of money? What if I started spending ten dollars a day on a lottery ticket? A meal on set costs ten dollars. If I skip dinner, I can save that much. What if I actually won? I know I shouldn’t be fantasizing about winning the lottery, Diary. But I’m just so broke. I can’t ask Rick for money, though. He’s already under so much pressure. He’s filming late into the night, every night. And during the day, he takes on freelance editing jobs to make extra cash. He’s so exhausted, but he always pretends to be fine, telling me, “Don’t worry, baby, I’m not tired.” It breaks my heart. I’ll figure something out on my own. Attached photo: Rick’s perfect sleeping face. Something to look at when the days feel hopeless~ The host paused. “Mr. Brown, I have to ask. Did you know Zara was so desperate for money at this time?” Rick shook his head. “I was her husband. If she needed money and didn’t tell me, it must have been for something shameful.” “Then again,” he added with a sneer, “it’s no surprise, considering all the disgusting things she did later.” “She’d do anything for money. It’s pathetic.” The host sighed and continued reading. 4. January 10th, 2021 Diary. My best friend is dead. We spent more than a decade together in the orphanage. And now she’s gone. All because we couldn’t scrape together five thousand dollars. I told her I’d find a way. I told her to just hold on. I would have delivered food, done anything to get the money for her treatment. But while I was on set, she pulled out her own oxygen tube. She left me a voice recording. “Zara,” she said, “we were abandoned as kids. Most of us aren’t very healthy. I’m just happy I made it to 25.” “Don’t be sad for me. Maybe in heaven, I’ll finally get to meet the parents who threw me away.” “I’ve got a bone to pick with them.” “You and Rick need to be happy together.” “And hey, remember to get regular check-ups. People like us can’t afford to get sick.” I cried until I couldn’t breathe. We were so close. If she had just waited a little longer, maybe I could have earned it. Diary. Why is life so unfair? Today on set, I heard the producers gave the lead actress several handbags that were each worth over five thousand dollars. A single handbag could have saved my friend’s life. Writing this reminds me of something. When I was little, I had another friend at the orphanage. Her name was beautiful, Maeve. She had a round face, and when she smiled, her eyes curved into beautiful crescent moons. Compared to the rest of us, she just radiated life. She was so bright that when she was eight, a wealthy family adopted her. I was so happy for her when we said goodbye. But a year later, she came back. She was so much thinner. And she never smiled anymore. Worst of all, she couldn’t speak. She wrote on a piece of paper and told me what had happened. She had been subjected to unspeakable abuse for a year. Her adoptive parents were afraid she would tell someone. So they cut out her tongue. I ran to the director of the orphanage, trying to get help, but he beat me half to death. He had taken money from that family to keep quiet. Maeve… she killed herself not long after that. And now my other friend is gone, too. There aren’t many of us left from the orphanage. Diary, I want so badly to tell Rick all of this. But when I look into his tired, smiling eyes… I just can’t. I’ll wait until things get better. I don’t want to be another burden for him. Goodnight, Diary. I hope I wake up to news about my audition. The host’s voice trembled as he read. Online comments flooded in. “So she needed the money for her friend.” “Forget that, what the hell kind of orphanage is that? Someone needs to investigate.” “This feels like a PR stunt to make her look good. But you can tell she was just a jealous person, getting angry over a five-thousand-dollar bag.” The host sighed and looked at Rick. “Mr. Brown, did you know your wife needed five thousand dollars?” “You were both 25 by then. Did you really not have that much in savings?” Rick’s pupils constricted. His mouth moved, but no sound came out at first. “That year… we had saved ten thousand dollars together. I had promised her I’d buy her a gold bracelet…” “But… at the end of the year, my mom got really sick.” “It took every penny we had…” “After that… she never mentioned the bracelet again, and I never bought it.” Rick’s voice grew quieter as he lowered his eyes. The comment section exploded. “So you’re telling me Zara gave all her savings for her mother-in-law’s treatment, and then had nothing left for herself?” “What are you talking about? When you’re married, you’re family.” “If she’d had that gold bracelet, maybe she could have sold it and saved her friend.” The truth is, Rick didn’t tell the whole story. His mother had insurance, which covered most of the medical bills. When the reimbursement check came, I didn’t see a cent of it. When my friend got sick, I gathered my courage and asked my mother-in-law for help. I offered to borrow the money, but she just ridiculed me. “Marrying you was the greatest charity we could offer.” “And you have the audacity to ask me for money?” “You’re an orphan. You have no one to stand up for you.” I stood there, frozen. My ears were ringing. The woman who, at my wedding, had promised to treat me like her own daughter, was now looking at me with pure contempt. We never had a real wedding, just a small gathering of friends and family. I didn’t get any jewelry, no dowry. And in the end, I didn’t even get respect. I learned later. Once a wife moves in, everyone’s true colors come out. Especially a wife with no one in her corner. The pain that never made it into my diary was far greater than anything Rick knew. 5. The host gave a bitter smile, tinged with sarcasm. “So, the reason Zara had no money was because she gave it all to pay for your mother’s medical bills, correct?” The question was sharp. The online comments devolved into a screaming match. Some people were starting to realize something was wrong. The feed was scrolling too fast to read. Rick’s face stiffened. He unconsciously tugged at his tie. “That’s right. And if she hadn’t… if she hadn’t done all those disgusting things later, I would have paid her back, of course.” His voice grew louder, more self-righteous with each word. The host just smiled. “Is that so?” “Then I’ll keep reading.” “Let’s see how Zara ‘changed.’” 6. May 20th, 2021 Diary! I have great news. I passed my audition! I got the role of the fourth female lead in the big-budget production, Veil of Smoke! It’s my first time in a major production! But when I went to share the happy news with Rick… I found him sitting on the edge of the bed, his face clouded with worry. When he saw me, his expression turned guilty. “Zara… we were supposed to make a down payment on a house next month. I don’t think we can anymore.” “I failed another audition. They wouldn’t even take me for a supporting role.” “I think… I think I’ll have to go back to being an extra.” His eyes were red, filled with uncertainty about the future. In that moment, I remembered four years ago. When we first broke into the industry. His eyes were full of stars, burning with passion for what was to come. Now, failure was extinguishing that fire. My heart ached for him. I wrapped my arms around him and told him everything would be okay. The news about my own successful audition stayed locked inside me. Maybe the house we wanted wasn’t that great anyway. Maybe my role wasn’t as good as I thought. Maybe something better was just around the corner. I never doubted my Rick. He’s so talented. Sooner or later, he’ll be the brightest star of them all. As the host read this entry, the screen filled with question marks. Rick’s expression froze. Because everyone knew. The actress who became a star playing the fourth female lead in Veil of Smoke wasn’t me. There had been rumors that I was originally cast, but everyone had laughed them off, assuming it was just a story I had paid to have planted in the tabloids. No one had ever imagined. I had been so close to making it. 7. May 25th, 2021 Veil of Smoke is about to start filming, but the actor cast as the fourth male lead was just exposed in a scandal. A lightbulb went off in my head. My Rick. Maybe this was his chance. I stayed up all night putting together a reel of his best performances, and first thing in the morning, I sent it to the director. Diary, you have no idea how nervous I was. The moment I hit ‘send,’ my whole body was shaking. That same day, Rick got a call for an audition. But after he finished… The director pulled me aside. He looked uncomfortable. “Zara, we’re very impressed with Rick, the actor you recommended.” “But… you and Rick are with the same agency. And as you know, for a hit show like this, the number of slots per agency is strictly limited.” “Your agency only gets one actor in this show.” He looked at me, his gaze heavy. “To be honest, the reason I’m asking you is because I think you’re the more talented one.” Diary. What was the director even talking about? Was this even a choice? Of course I gave the role to Rick. I’m talented. I’ll get another chance. But my Rick… he needed this confidence boost more than I did. When Rick found out he got the part, he picked me up and spun me around and around. My Rick was back. When he’s happy, I’m happy. Hearing this, Rick’s eyes widened in disbelief. “That’s impossible… my role… how could it…” The internet went into a meltdown. “HOLY S**T, RICK’S CAREER TOOK OFF BECAUSE OF VEIL OF SMOKE.” “Wait, so the key point is, Rick’s big break only happened because Zara gave up her spot for him?” “This has to be fake. I’m going to go dig up the old gossip threads right now.” The host looked at Rick. “Mr. Brown, is there anything you’d like to say now?” Rick’s throat worked, but it was a long moment before he could speak. “She… she really was a good person back then. But…” He didn’t finish the sentence. But I knew what he wanted to say. He wanted to say: But what happened to you? How did you change? 8. June 13th, 2022 Diary. Am I being too sensitive? Veil of Smoke was a massive hit. Rick became a star overnight playing the fourth male lead. His character in the show was just so perfect. His tragic, unrequited love for the fourth female lead made countless viewers cry their eyes out. A lot of people started ‘shipping’ them in real life. I’ll admit, even I shipped them when I was watching. But… seeing Rick and Delilah working so hard to sell their fake relationship… I still got a little jealous. Oh, well. I’m a generous person. I’m not going to get mad. After all, if Rick is famous… I’m even happier. Oh, and Diary! I’m auditioning for the second female lead in a small web series tomorrow. Wish me luck! Attached news clipping: “Hmph. Rick is smiling so sweetly at Delilah in this picture.” “If he doesn’t smile at me that sweetly from now on, he’s going to get an earful.” 9. June 14th, 2022 Diary! Today was an amazing day! I passed my audition! I’m the second female lead in Dream’s Darkest Shore! The second lead! I have so many scenes! I was going to tell Rick the Cabbage first. But he’s been secretly having dinner with Delilah behind my back. Attached photo: Paparazzi shot of the two of them. One looking shy, the other’s ears bright red. They look so perfect together! Hmph. A man who doesn’t respect himself… Is like a rotten cabbage. I’m not going to be the one to tell Rick the Cabbage my good news. He can see it for himself when the studio makes the official announcement. Although… If he explains himself today… Maybe I’ll tell him. Fine, I’ll give him three days. After the host finished, the tide of public opinion began to turn. “Okay, does anyone else find this really cute?” “Am I the only one who finds this heartbreaking? They were so sweet back then. How did it end with them never speaking again?” “She’s faking it.” Rick stared at the screen, lost in a daze. He had never realized. Back then, I had really, truly loved him so much.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386996”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was at my poorest when I met the city’s most notorious playboy. He’d already burned through thirty-five girlfriends; I was number thirty-six. He asked me out three times, and I said no. The fourth time, I threw myself into his arms and sobbed, “It’s you I like, not your money.” Asher Wolfhard held me, deeply moved. But in private, he complained to his friends, “I’ve seen all her tricks before. I’m just playing along because I’m dying to get in her pants.” When I overheard that, I went to bed with him without a word. Unsurprisingly, he dumped me right after. A few days later, my roommate became his thirty-seventh girlfriend. Everyone laughed at me, but I didn’t care. Not long after, Asher was diagnosed with HIV, and I found out I was pregnant. Suddenly, the child in my belly became the most precious treasure of the Wolfhard family. 1 Every Friday, a spectacle unfolded at the gates of Northwood University. A fiery red Maserati would roll up, dropping off a different beautiful woman each time. The car’s owner was Asher Wolfhard, Northwood’s most infamous playboy heir. Every woman who slept with him was said to be left utterly obsessed. But he never went back for seconds, never lingered on any woman for a moment longer than necessary. He would conquer one and, without missing a beat, move on to the next. Three months into the semester, he’d already had thirty-four girlfriends. Number thirty-five was my coworker at the bubble tea shop, Felicity. The moment she got the invitation text, she quit her part-time job on the spot and rushed off to a salon to get her hair and nails done. “Oh my god, my golden ticket finally landed on me,” she said, changing her clothes. “Thank you, universe.” “Willa, seriously,” she went on, “you should buy some nice clothes, maybe get a haircut. Your bangs are too long; they’re hiding your supermodel good looks. That’s why Asher hasn’t noticed you yet.” “If he saw your face and knew you were hiding a rare 36D under that jacket, he’d fall head over heels for you.” I just smiled and said nothing. After she left, I bent down and picked up the panda hair clip she’d dropped. The soft white fuzz trembled in the breeze, just like my restless heart. I was so poor. I’d never owned a single nice piece of clothing in my life. My father was a simple farmer who knew nothing but the soil. My grandmother was sick and needed medicine constantly. My mother… she had left a long time ago. She went to find work in the city, met a construction worker, and never came home. Since I was a little girl, the weight of money had been suffocating me. Now in college, while everyone else was enjoying campus life, I was constantly scrambling for part-time jobs just to eat. The first time I heard the name Asher Wolfhard, a plan began to form in my mind. The Wolfhard family was influential in Northwood City. His mother was a famous entrepreneur, his father a distinguished university professor. Asher was their only child, born late in their lives, and they had spoiled him rotten. A purely physical relationship with him would be fleeting, and I’d be forgotten. Any payout would be minimal. So I waited, biding my time, observing, looking for a better opportunity. The next day, that fiery red Maserati pulled up in front of the tea shop. Felicity got out, dressed in a Chanel knockoff and carrying a designer bag, but her expression was anything but bright. After the car sped away, she grumbled, “I can’t believe it. I didn’t even get his number.” I recalled the fleeting glimpse I’d caught through the car window. “Whose? Asher’s?” “Yes! He slept with me, gave me ten thousand dollars and this outfit, and that was it. The girl from the dance department got twenty thousand! What, am I not as good as her?” I had no answer for that. Felicity sat and fumed for a while longer before her anger finally subsided. “Damn it, I’m so pissed. I need to go get something nice to eat,” she said. “Whatever. With this ten grand, at least I don’t have to work for the rest of the semester. I’ll figure out the rest later.” She smiled at me. “Willa, I’m not trying to lead you astray, but you really don’t have to make things so hard on yourself.” “Just lie back, have some fun, and make some money. What’s so bad about that? It’s a hell of a lot better than shaking bubble tea until your arms fall off for less than three thousand a month.” 2 I didn’t close the shop until 11 PM. On the way back, Felicity’s words echoed in my head. Was I making things too hard on myself? Everyone else was taking shortcuts. Why shouldn’t I? If I couldn’t lock down Asher as a long-term investment, I could just find someone else. At least I could get a quick ten thousand to solve my immediate problems. My head started to ache. I almost laughed at myself. Willa, Willa, you’re getting desperate. The thought of killing the goose for a single golden egg was something I was actually considering. As I turned down a small side street, I saw a car stopped by the road, smoke pouring from the hood. It had crashed into a guardrail. The driver was slumped over the steering wheel, unconscious. I ran to the driver’s side and saw it was Asher Wolfhard. There was no time to think. Terrified the car might catch fire, I started pulling him out. I wasn’t strong enough. It took all my strength to drag and haul him to a safe distance. While I was on the phone with 911, Asher started to come to. He looked at my face, a flicker of surprise and awe in his eyes. “You…” I quickly pressed him down. “Your head is bleeding. Don’t move.” I used my handkerchief to apply pressure to the wound. Soon, the paramedics arrived and loaded him onto a stretcher. I used his phone to contact his family, then turned and walked back to campus. A few days later, as I was leaving class, Asher blocked my path, holding a bouquet of flowers. He still had a bandage on his forehead, and his lips were pale, but his eyes were shining. “You were the one who saved me the other day, right, Willa?” I nodded. “It was nothing. Don’t worry about it.” “How could I not? You saved my life. I’m a pretty big deal, you know. So what you did was a pretty big deal, too.” He thrust the flowers into my arms and then held out a credit card. “There’s ten thousand on here as a thank you. I was wondering if you’d do me the honor of having dinner with me tonight?” He was asking me out. I looked into his charming, almond-shaped eyes, a thousand thoughts racing through my mind. But after a few seconds, I shook my head. “I can’t have dinner with you. I have to go to my part-time job.” “What’s so great about that job? I’ll just give you the money.” “No, thank you. I have hands and feet. I don’t need to take advantage of you.” I fought to keep my racing heart in check, coolly rejecting his offer before turning to leave. I knew he was watching me, probably seeing right through my act. But I was playing the long game. Even if the chances were slim, I had to try. 3 Sure enough, at 7 PM, Asher showed up at the bubble tea shop where I worked. He’d probably never been rejected by a woman before, and he didn’t look happy about it. His face was a thundercloud when he saw me. “You turned me down to work in this dump?” he sneered. “How much do they pay you an hour? Twenty? Thirty? Fifty?” My expression turned even colder than his. “That’s none of your business. Either order something or get out. I don’t have time to play games with you.” Asher was taken aback. He took a deep breath. “I’ll give you one last chance. Ten thousand an hour. Are you coming with me or not?” My face was a mask of indifference. “Get. Out.” Furious, Asher spun around and stormed off. But he only made it to the door before whirling back. He slammed a card on the counter, followed by his hand, slapping it down with a sharp crack. “Everyone in here gets the most expensive drink on the menu. My treat.” “You like shaking bubble tea so much? Tonight, you can shake until you drop.” He was ruthless. For two straight hours, I made over 180 drinks. My hands were trembling, but I didn’t say a word. His face grew darker and darker. When he saw me shaking as I tried to carry in a new container of toppings, he blocked my path. “Fine, that’s enough. Stop.” “There are still three drinks left on your order.” “So I’m canceling them! Just stop, damn it. I’ve never seen anyone so stubborn.” Asher turned and left, and this time, he didn’t come back. Not only that, but he had tipped five thousand into the shop’s account. The ten-thousand-dollar card was still on the counter. On my way back, I stared at the card, a storm of emotions churning inside me. So this was what a shortcut felt like. The money came so fast. What had I been doing all those years, working myself to the bone? Just then, I saw Asher sitting on a bench on the side street. The late autumn night was cold, and he was still in his hospital gown, his head bowed. I had already walked past him, but I hesitated, then turned back. “Here,” I said, holding out the card. “You forgot this at the shop.” Asher looked up, his face deathly pale. “It’s for you.” I pushed the card back into his pocket. I started to walk away but couldn’t stop myself. “What’s wrong? Are you not feeling well? Do you want me to take you to the hospital?” Asher stared at me for a long time. “I’m fine. Just a headache.” He pursed his lips, looking unhappy. “Leave me alone. You don’t have to care. It’s not like anyone cares if I live or die.” What a load of crap. His parents doted on him, and he had a legion of girlfriends who would have done anything for him. I didn’t argue. I just moved behind him and started gently massaging the back of his neck. “It’s a side effect of the accident. You should be resting, not running around and getting angry.” He grabbed my hand, his voice weak. “If you hadn’t refused to go out with me, I wouldn’t have gotten so worked up.” “…Then I guess you’ll just have to stay angry. I don’t have time for this.” The Wolfhard family car arrived to pick him up. As he got in, he pushed the card back into my pocket, a rare look of disappointment on his face. “This money is just to thank you for saving my life. Please, take it.” “Okay.” The car sped away. I turned, a small smile playing on my lips. Inside the luxury car, Asher was smiling too. “Sly little fox, playing hard to get with me. We’ll see who’s better at this game.” He closed his eyes and inhaled. “A faint, milky scent… soft 36Ds. Even though I was out of it, I couldn’t have been mistaken. She’s a masterpiece.” The driver had seen it all before. “If you like her, sir, just go after her. There’s no one you can’t have.” Asher chuckled. “What do you know? Beautiful women are a dime a dozen. But a sly fox like her… that’s rare. I haven’t met a woman who could get under my skin like this in a long time. I’m going to have some fun with this one.” 4 When I got my paycheck of three thousand, I sent two thousand home. My grandmother’s heart was getting worse, and she was back in the hospital. My father had no money, so her medical bills fell to me. After paying a school activity fee and buying some necessities, I was left with only five hundred dollars. I lay on my dorm bed, staring at the credit card, my mind at war with itself. I knew its owner, Asher Wolfhard, was also waiting for a notification that it had been used. Just then, the door opened, and my roommate, Tara, walked in. She’d been out at a club all night and reeked of smoke and stale alcohol. The smell quickly filled our small room. A moment later, she stumbled to the bathroom and started vomiting violently, leaving the door wide open. The sour stench was overwhelming. I wrinkled my nose. “Tara, can you please close the bathroom door? The smell is awful.” No answer. When she was finished, she staggered out, ripped open my bed curtain, and snarled, “Mind your own damn business!” Then she collapsed onto her bed and started snoring. Sleep was impossible. I went to the library to catch up on my studies. Time passed, and I almost forgot about Asher. Then one day, as I was leaving the tea shop, I saw him leaning against his car, holding a bouquet of flowers and a cake. “Happy birthday, Willa,” he called out. My eyes welled up. No one had ever celebrated my birthday before. How did he know? As if reading my mind, he said, “Don’t ask how I know. Just come make a wish and blow out the candles.” My first instinct was to walk away, but then I saw the little panda drawn on the cake. My nose stung. “Why a panda?” “Because when you saved me, I saw you were wearing a panda hair clip. I thought it was cute.” “…Thank you.” We found a spot on the curb, made a wish, and cut the cake. We sat side-by-side, and I asked him, “Is your head all better?” “Yeah, it’s healed.” “Let me see.” I leaned in close to look at the wound on his forehead. The stitches were out, leaving only a faint red line. Without thinking, I blew on it gently. I looked up and saw that Asher was blushing. He cleared his throat, his eyes shining. “What… what are you doing?” I quickly looked away, embarrassed. “S-sorry. I didn’t mean to.” We were both a little flustered. We finished the small cake in silence. I stood up, brushing off my pants to leave. Asher grabbed my hand and pointed to his red sports car. “Let me drive you.” I pursed my lips stubbornly. “No. I won’t get in.” I knew how many other women had sat in that passenger seat. Asher seemed to understand. His eyes flickered, and he ran his tongue over the inside of his cheek. After a moment, he pulled out his phone. “Fine. But can I at least get your number?” 5 I had finally gotten Asher Wolfhard’s number. His social media was simple: a few birthday photos, an occasional picture of his car or a party. None of the thirty-five other women had ever made an appearance. I casually liked one of his posts. A message came through almost immediately: [Home yet?] Me: [Yeah.] [Get some rest.] [Okay.] [Want to get dinner sometime?] [We’ll see. I’m a little busy lately, picked up another tutoring job.] [Let me know when you’re free.] [Okay.] I turned off my phone and closed my eyes. There was no tutoring job. I just needed more time to figure out my next move. Asher stared at the screen, a smirk on his face. This damn little fox. One lie after another. He’d given her the card over a month ago, and she hadn’t spent a dime. Her clothes were frayed, her shoes were falling apart, but she was still playing her game. It wasn’t that she wasn’t interested. The way her eyes faintly gleamed whenever she saw his car, the way she unconsciously touched her nose when she lied—Asher had been around the block enough times to know. She was playing the long game. And even knowing that, he wanted to see what this seemingly innocent girl would do next.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386995”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 The Hilton Corporation’s long-lost heiress had been found. As the family’s adopted daughter, I was just about to step forward to welcome her when a tiny, indignant voice echoed in my mind. This brain-dead heiress has been reading too many trashy novels. She’s going to frame my mom as the wicked adopted daughter, turning this into some cheap drama! My poor mom has no idea she’s about to be shoved down the stairs! She doesn’t even know I exist… and our time together is about to be cut short! It’s true, I’m the Hiltons’ adopted daughter. But my own parents are every bit as powerful as the Hiltons, if not more… And… wait a minute. Am I… pregnant? I’m carrying the sole heir to the Vance family—a decorated military legacy four generations in the making. I watched as Isabelle Hilton took two deliberately clumsy steps toward me. Just as she lunged, I took a sharp step back, my eyes cold as I watched her let out a shriek. And tumble down the grand staircase. … Isabelle, the girl who had meant to push me, was now a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs. Her face was a mask of pain, but her eyes, when they met mine, were blazing with theatrical fury. “I can’t believe it,” she declared, her voice ringing with manufactured disbelief. “The whole ‘real vs. fake heiress’ drama from the novels is actually happening to me.” “Nora,” she said, her voice dripping with accusation, “I know you’re upset that my parents found me. I know you’re terrified I’m here to steal the life of luxury you schemed your way into!” She pushed herself up, wincing. “But have you ever stopped to think that this was always my home? You’re the one who stole my parents, who stole eighteen years of my life! And I haven’t even blamed you yet! How dare you treat me with such hostility!” Her eyes glistened with a ‘defiant’ light, as if her every word was a righteous truth. But when did I ever steal her life? The little voice in my head scoffed. Isabelle dropped out of middle school, fantasizing about being a secret heiress. Now that her dream’s come true, she’s determined to play the part. My poor, innocent mom is being forced to swallow this crap. I gently touched my stomach, a faint flutter confirming it. There really was a baby in there, and somehow, I could hear its thoughts. While I stood there, stunned, Mr. and Mrs. Hilton rushed to Isabelle’s side, their faces etched with concern. “Isabelle, darling, get up. No one is trying to take your place.” “Nora would never push you on purpose. She has her own…” They were trying to explain my background. My grandmother and Mrs. Hilton’s mother had been the dearest of friends. When the Hiltons’ daughter vanished, my grandmother, heartbroken for her friend, had me spend time with them, even calling them ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad’ to comfort the grieving family. The tradition continued even after our grandmothers passed, a testament to the bond between the Hayworth and Hilton families. But Isabelle cut them off before they could finish. “Mr. Hilton, Mrs. Hilton! Stop!” she cried out. “I know that compared to a stranger like me, Nora is the one you truly have a bond with! I’m not trying to compete with her, so you don’t have to make excuses for her!” The formal address was like a knife to their hearts. They had spent years searching for their daughter, and this reunion was everything they had dreamed of. Their hearts ached for her, but I wasn’t about to be her stepping stone. “You’ve misunderstood, Isabelle,” I said, my smile vanishing. My voice was calm but firm. “I have my own parents. I have no need to steal yours.” I tilted my chin toward a security camera in the corner. “And as for whether I pushed you or you fell… the camera recorded everything.” I mimicked her earlier sarcastic tone. “I know you just got here, and you’re feeling insecure, worried you won’t be loved. But you can’t build a connection by framing others for sympathy, can you?” She wanted to play the strong, misunderstood victim. I was going to expose her pathetic little game. Isabelle’s face froze. She clearly hadn’t expected me to call her out so directly, disregarding the Hiltons’ feelings. I crossed my arms, my gaze unwavering. “So, are you going to apologize, or should I have the butler pull the security footage right now?” Whoa! A tiny cheer erupted in my head. I thought Mom was going to be a pushover to keep the peace with the Hiltons, but she’s a total badass! Looks like this is gonna be an easy win! A small smile touched my lips. My mother always taught me to avoid trouble but never to run from it. Now that I had my own baby to protect, I had to be an even better role model. Isabelle’s neck stiffened, but before she could retort, the Hiltons had regained their composure. “Isabelle, dear, Nora has her own family. She just comes to stay with us from time to time,” Mrs. Hilton explained gently, trying to smooth things over. “You must have lost your balance and thought she bumped you. It’s all a misunderstanding…” They reached down to help her up, offering her an easy way out. But as soon as they touched her, she let out a pained cry, “Ouch!” Isabelle had deliberately rolled up her sleeves, revealing a canvas of horror on her arms: ugly purple bruises, the circular scars of cigarette burns, and the faded white lines of old cuts. The Hiltons gasped. Before a word of pity could escape their lips, Isabelle began to tremble violently. The next second, she threw herself at my feet, groveling. “Mom and Dad are right, it was all my fault! I was just so nervous, I thought my sister pushed me. It’s all my fault! Please, Nora, forgive me…” She seemed to have snapped, frantically slapping her own face. “It’s my fault!” “I’m so sorry! I’ll do anything to make it up to you!” “Think whatever you want of me, sister! Just please, don’t let this little incident upset Mom and Dad. Don’t make things difficult for them…” I stared at her, utterly bewildered by her sudden transformation. Did she hit her head and develop a split personality? A moment later, a diagnostic report fell out of her purse, seemingly confirming my theory. Stress-induced psychosis. Dissociative identity disorder. She really did have multiple personalities. Through her sobs, Isabelle recounted a story of abuse after being abducted. “Every time I was hurt, I wished someone would protect me… and then… ‘she’ appeared.” The weaker Isabelle collapsed into Mrs. Hilton’s arms, whispering, “She told me to hide… that she would protect me, like a parent… I know she can be harsh and sometimes lashes out… but when I had no one, she was the one who kept me safe… Mom, if she does something wrong, can you promise not to blame her?” Clutching the report, the Hiltons held her tight, their hearts breaking. “It’s okay, baby, you’re home now!” “You’re safe in your own home!” “With Mom and Dad here to protect you, no one will ever hurt you again!” Isabelle peeked at me timidly. “Nora… sister… I need to apologize to you, too. Please, be the bigger person and forgive me!” She started bowing her head to the floor again, and Mrs. Hilton’s eyes filled with tears as she tried to stop her. Mr. Hilton, however, fixed his gaze on me, his brow furrowed. “Nora, Isabelle hasn’t had the same life you have. She must have endured unimaginable horrors to become this ill. If you’re going to hold a grudge over something so small and force her to apologize… then I will apologize to you on her behalf!” He actually bowed to me, his voice holding a cold distance I’d never heard before. Mrs. Hilton was openly weeping now. “Nora, please, for the sake of all the years your father and I have cared for you, show some compassion for Isabelle. I’m begging you!” It was as if I was the one who had driven her to this state. As the Hiltons escorted Isabelle to her room, I felt like I’d been force-fed poison. But how could I argue with someone who was clearly mentally ill? I was about to say something to comfort them when I looked up and a chill ran down my spine. As Isabelle turned her head, our eyes met. A cold, mocking smirk twisted her lips. For a second, I couldn’t tell if I’d imagined it or if her other personality was back online. Just as fear began to grip me, the angry little voice in my head snapped me back to reality. Those bruises are self-inflicted! She pinched herself to look pathetic! The burns and scars are from her edgy teen phase! Mom is the one who was wrongly accused and humiliated, so why is she being treated like the bully?! I placed a hand on my roiling stomach, trying to soothe my unborn child. I didn’t know if Isabelle’s illness was real or fake, but one thing was certain: anything that upset my baby was something I needed to get away from. After all, my husband, Ethan Vance, came from a family that had given three generations to this country. When he chose to follow in their footsteps, our lives became complicated. We’d married in secret due to the classified nature of his work, and I’d longed for a child, but it never happened. To my astonishment, this little miracle was conceived just before he left for his latest mission. I would let nothing and no one disturb its peace. Besides, no matter why Isabelle was targeting me, her goal was simple: she wanted me gone. I called my assistant. “Have the villa cleaned and prepared. I can’t stay at the Hilton manor any longer.” I’d only been staying here because my parents were overseas on business and Ethan was away. It was meant to give everyone peace of mind. But the moment I announced my departure, Isabelle was the first to object. She fell to her knees before me, weeping. “Sister, are you leaving because you’re still angry with me? I know you’ve been pampered your whole life and can’t stand the slightest grievance! If you’re still upset about the other day, please, just slap me again!” She gritted her teeth, a picture of grim determination. “I’m used to being hit! I’m not afraid of pain!” Her melodramatic performance sent a ripple of murmurs through the household staff. “Miss Hayworth is so petty! Miss Isabelle is sick! How could she blame a patient?” “An adopted daughter, bullying the real one into a corner like this!” “This isn’t even her house! Who is she trying to threaten by storming out?” Isabelle’s act of noble suffering made it seem as if she were the one who had been tormented these past few days. But in reality, her constant personality-switching had been exhausting. The “strong” Isabelle claimed she wasn’t used to being “served.” “I’m not a useless parasite like Nora Hayworth! I don’t need someone to clean my room!” she’d shouted, snatching a rag from the cleaning lady and throwing it in my face. “Do it yourself! A fake heiress with a princess complex!” Then, when the Hiltons returned, she would dissolve into tears, snatching the rag from my hands and kneeling at my feet. “I’m so sorry, sister! When I get scared or stressed, I just lose control… Let me scrub the floors for you…” The “weak” Isabelle was no better. Complaining that the house lacked warmth, she invited a mob of the staff’s children into my room. They tore apart my limited-edition collectibles and rare designer toys, leaving a trail of destruction. Then she’d ask me with wide, innocent eyes, “Don’t you like children, sister? They say their innocence is healing. I just adore them.” In front of the staff, she was all gentleness. But when I coldly kicked them out, her face would contort with malice. “Toys are meant for kids to play with! Are you really going to be a bitch and fight a child for a toy, Nora?” My specially ordered prenatal supplements were “gifted” away. The gentle Isabelle would say, “Mrs. Gable’s mother is in the hospital and needs nutrition. It was an emergency… I’m so sorry, sister! Blame me!” The strong Isabelle would spit at my feet. “I know you look down on the ‘help.’ You think they don’t deserve nice things! But you’re just a leech sucking the Hiltons’ blood! What gives you the right to be such a snob?” The vintage convertible my boyfriend gave me for my birthday? The weak Isabelle “kindly” lent it to the driver’s son to impress his girlfriend. It came back with deep scratches down the side. The strong Isabelle then blocked my path, arms crossed. “The car has full insurance coverage! Just let them handle it! Why make things difficult for him? Does seeing someone suffer over a little money satisfy your rich-girl ego?” No matter which “Isabelle” was on display, her calculated acts of generosity quickly won over the staff. “The real heiress is so much better than the fake one!” they’d whisper. Now, their whispers had turned into a chorus of condemnation, solidifying my reputation as an “arrogant, entitled bully.” The weak Isabelle was sobbing, her voice thick with despair. “It’s all my fault that sister is leaving! If you have to leave to make a point, to worry Mom and Dad, then I won’t stop you! I will simply die to atone for my sins!” In front of the Hiltons, Isabelle put on a life-or-death performance. Mr. Hilton’s voice was heavy with disappointment. “Nora, you’ve always been such a sensible girl. You and Julian always got along so well.” Isabelle wasn’t their only child. They had a son, Julian. He and I were raised together by our grandmothers and were as close as real siblings. He was the main reason I ever stayed at the manor. I never expected them to welcome a newcomer while he was away on a business trip. For the first time ever, Mr. Hilton’s voice held a note of reprimand. “Why is it that when it’s your sister, you become so difficult? Isabelle just came home, full of hope, and you’ve already scared her into a relapse. Now you’re using this ‘leaving home’ stunt to terrify her even more? You know she’s ill, yet you keep pushing her! Are you really so jealous of the affection we show her? You need to remember, Nora—Isabelle is our biological daughter!” Mrs. Hilton’s eyes were full of pain. “Nora, if you insist on throwing a tantrum and leaving now, Isabelle will be consumed by guilt. Please, I’m begging you. Can’t you stop competing with your sister for attention, just for now?” I felt a furious churning in my stomach and fought back a wave of nausea. “Mr. and Mrs. Hilton,” I began, my voice steady, “it’s perfectly understandable that you dote on your long-lost daughter. But you cannot demand that I sacrifice my well-being for her. I am my parents’ treasure, too, and they would be heartbroken to know I was being mistreated.” I paused, letting my words sink in. “And if, as Isabelle claims, my presence truly puts her under so much pressure, then my leaving is the best thing for her. It will save her the daily paranoia of competing with me and prevent her condition from getting worse.” They still didn’t know me. I don’t respond to emotional blackmail. As I walked toward the door, I paused. “And Mr. and Mrs. Hilton, if you truly care about Isabelle’s well-being… you should really consider getting her a second opinion.” After leaving the Hilton manor, the little voice inside me let out a sigh. You’re not supposed to wrestle with a pig… but seeing Mom put up with so much crap still makes me furious! A smile tugged at my lips, but the baby’s sigh grew heavier. And when I think about the huge blow Mom is going to suffer at the Hilton’s recognition banquet in a few days… I wish I could just jump out right now and tell her the truth! A blow? The truth? My eyebrows shot up. I didn’t know what my little one was referring to, but after all the humiliation Isabelle had forced on me, I never said I would just let it go. A recognition banquet, you say? Sounds like the perfect stage for a comeback. According to my little informant, I had a few days. That should be more than enough time to uncover the truth my baby couldn’t tell me. Once I moved out, life without Isabelle’s constant drama was blissfully peaceful. My brother-figure, Julian, even called me. “I heard everything,” he said, his voice warm with concern. “Don’t you worry, Nora. I don’t care if she’s a Hilton—even if she were the queen of England, she can’t bully my Nora.” He suggested I unwind at a new private spa he’d opened. “Wait for me to get back, and I’ll make things right for you.” But I never imagined I’d run into my nemesis there. It was the sharp-eyed, aggressive Isabelle, her face a mask of contempt. “I almost thought you had some backbone and actually left. So my brother is keeping you on the side, is he? No wonder he called my parents, reading them the riot act. You’ve been whispering poison in his ear behind my back!” Behind her stood a gang of her ‘friends,’ who immediately cornered me. My baby informed me these were her old crew from her rougher days. A bunch of girls who used to pool their money to buy one cup of lemonade. Now that Isabelle’s hit the jackpot, they’re all riding her coattails. One of them, with nails like talons, blew a puff of smoke in my face. “So you’re the shameless fake who stole Isabelle’s place?” “You took advantage of grieving parents and leeched off them for years! You really think that makes you a lady?” another one jeered, poking my cheek. The others chimed in, their words like venomous darts. “Isabelle is the real daughter! She comes home and has to walk on eggshells around a fraud like you!” “I hear you were all buddy-buddy with the young master, Julian, calling him ‘brother.’ How come you’re so threatened by a real sister?” “You’re a woman, yet you’re pulling this pathetic mean-girl crap! You have no shame!” “Did you think you could push Isabelle around because she just got back and doesn’t have anyone to back her up? Well, think again! We’re here now, and we won’t let you bully her!” Isabelle glanced at a nearby security camera and gave her friends a subtle nod. “Take her to a private room.” Mom! Run!

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386994”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I am bound to a transmigration system for the terminally ill. My new home is the body of Seraphina Vance, the universally despised ‘real’ heiress. Everyone in this family adores Pearl, the girl they lovingly raised for sixteen years. My three new brothers, terrified I’ll steal what is rightfully Pearl’s, greet me only with scorn. My biological parents, desperate to shield Pearl from any hurt my presence might cause, lavish her with affection. No one ever considered my feelings. They saw my craving for love as a threat, as jealousy. And then, I was dying. And then, my second brother found the diary I kept hidden under my pillow. And their world shattered. I woke up as Seraphina Vance, six months after she’d been brought home by the wealthy Vance family. On my very first day, a plate of food was thrown in my face. Scalding curry sauce streamed from my cheek to my neck, and meatballs rolled from my dress onto the floor. The heat was searing. I stared blankly at the boy in front of me, my dark eyes empty of emotion. The others at the table were stunned into silence by his outburst. “Neo, what the hell are you doing?” Mrs. Vance cried out. A flicker of regret crossed Neo’s face, but his words were a lash of accusation. “It’s her fault! She has that dead-inside look on her face all the time. Pearl was talking to her, couldn’t she hear?” At the mention of her name, Pearl’s face crumpled with guilt. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize this was because of me…” She turned to me, her expression a mask of apology. “My brother didn’t mean it, Sera. Can I apologize to you on his behalf?” Neo bristled. “Why are you apologizing to her? Who does she think she is? Pearl, don’t waste your time on her!” A faint, bitter smile touched my lips. I wondered the same thing. In their eyes, who was the girl whose body I now inhabited? I looked at Pearl, surrounded by her three adoring brothers, a vision in a pristine white dress, her hair styled to perfection. And then there was me, stained yellow with curry, the smell of cheap takeout clinging to me. Pearl. The pearl of the family. A name that was never meant to be hers. I ignored her. I picked up the lone meatball that had landed on my lap, mixed it with the sauce still on my lips, and swallowed. It didn’t taste like I remembered. I stood up. “I’m full. Thank you for the meal. I’m going to my room.” As I turned, I met the worried gaze of the housekeeper, Mrs. Gable. I offered her a small, tight smile. Silence descended upon the dining room. Mr. and Mrs. Vance’s faces were grim. My eldest brother, Liam, spoke, his voice low and stern. “Neo, you went too far this time. Seraphina did nothing wrong.” In my old world, I was already dead. Stomach cancer, terminal stage. I died at eighteen. The pain had been unbearable. I died alone. Except for that single meatball, I hadn’t eaten solid food in nearly three months. Perhaps the system took pity on me, bringing me here. This body had stomach cancer, too. But it wasn’t yet at the point of no return. The system told me the original girl, Seraphina, had killed herself with sleeping pills today. The constant abdominal pain and coughing up blood had made her realize something was terribly wrong. But she was too scared to tell the Vance family, afraid of being a burden, afraid of making them hate her even more. So she chose to simply leave this world. She was so foolish. The Vances were powerful. With proper treatment, she might have had a chance. What an ironic family. Their biological daughter had been home for six months, and they never even noticed she was seriously ill. “Why did you bring me here?” I asked the silence. To another girl who shared my fate. An orphan from birth. A victim of stomach cancer. Perhaps she was luckier than me, reunited with her birth parents at sixteen. Or perhaps she was far more unfortunate, dying before she ever experienced a single moment of unconditional love. The system was silent. “Did my arrival make the symptoms worse?” I asked, tasting the metallic tang of blood in my throat. “Yes,” the system’s voice was mechanical. “Just like with your original body, you likely won’t make it past eighteen…” “But if you undergo treatment…” “Don’t treat it,” I said flatly. It didn’t matter. I was going to die anyway. Besides, I didn’t want to live. In the middle of the night, the pain in my stomach was excruciating, and I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. It felt just like my previous life, curled into a ball, staring into the darkness until dawn. My throat was parched. I crept downstairs in the dark, looking for water, and ran into my second brother, Caleb, in the living room. Caleb was a professional gamer; it was normal for him to be up at two or three in the morning. He noticed me immediately, his expression souring. He was the quietest of the Vances. In the six months Seraphina had been here, he’d never once looked at her with anything other than disdain. I ignored him. My very presence seemed to annoy him. I hunched over, making my way to the kitchen, unaware of the shock on Caleb’s face. In the dim glow of the living room’s nightlight, he could clearly see the sweat beading on my forehead, my lips drained of color. Except for the angry red burn on my cheek, the rest of my face was a terrifying, waxy white. I was so used to the ghastly complexion caused by my illness that I paid it no mind. I leaned against the sink, trying to catch my breath, when a wave of nausea rose in my throat. I coughed, and blood splattered into the basin. “Gahk—” The force of it brought tears to my eyes. A noise from the doorway told me Caleb had followed me in. I quickly turned on the faucet, washing the blood down the drain, and cupped my hands to drink some cold tap water. I heard Caleb’s deep voice behind me. “You should drink warm water. Cold water will mess up your stomach.” I mumbled a soft “mm,” keeping my head down, and tried to slip past him. The original Seraphina had barely spoken to him, and I had no desire to get entangled with this family. But his hand shot out and gripped my wrist. I turned my head, my voice raspy. “Caleb? Do you need something?” Up close, he could see the burn on my cheek more clearly. He frowned, silent for a moment. “Why haven’t you treated that burn?” His expression was one of impatience. He probably thought it was just another pathetic ploy for attention. I pulled my wrist free, nodding vaguely. “Right. I’m going back to bed.” As I left, Caleb, his brow still furrowed, flipped on the kitchen light. Though the blood was diluted, his sharp eyes caught the faint crimson streaks left behind in the sink… The next morning, I bumped into Neo at the top of the stairs. As the third brother, he was the most hostile. He and Pearl were close in age and had the deepest bond. To his young, simplistic mind, the sister he had cherished and protected his whole life was being replaced. This newcomer was here to steal everything that belonged to Pearl. He directed all his frustration onto his real sister, blaming her for disrupting their perfect life, never realizing that she was the most innocent one of all. Neo’s eyes darted away when he saw the prominent burn on my face. He said nothing, stubbornly waiting for me to greet him first. I didn’t even glance at him. I just walked around him and continued down the stairs. “You’re a grown girl, can’t you take care of a simple burn?” Mr. Vance’s voice was cold. “What will people think if you walk around looking like that?” He was a traditional patriarch, more concerned with profit than family. He was only worried I would embarrass him. After all, in his eyes, I was a useless girl, brought back for six months, with no discernible talents in arts or music, abysmal grades, and no value to exploit. Mrs. Vance’s expression was equally disapproving. I laughed internally. If it had been Pearl, she would have been rushed to the hospital immediately. But last night, not a single person had come to check on my burn, or to see if I was hungry after eating so little. Their favoritism was blatant and absolute. “There’s no first-aid kit in my room,” I stated simply. The Vances fell silent. In their mansion, the family’s rooms were fully stocked with every amenity. But when they brought me back, they had put their biological daughter in a guest room. And a guest room, naturally, had the bare minimum. I even had to use the public bathroom down the hall. Not one of them had ever suggested I be given a proper room. Seeing the red, angry mark on the face that so closely resembled her own, Mrs. Vance felt a momentary pang of unease. If Pearl had so much as a scratch, the entire family would flock to her side. Why was her real daughter so quiet, so… unlovable? “Well, you should have said something if it was that serious,” Neo muttered defensively. A sharp pain began to pulse in my upper abdomen. I instinctively bent over, the taste of blood rising in my throat again. I clutched the strap of my backpack. “I’m leaving for school,” I rasped. Neo frowned. For a second, he thought there was something strange about the way I was standing… Seraphina had been transferred to the same school as Neo and Pearl. But Pearl refused to ride in the same car as her, terrified someone would discover she wasn’t a real Vance. So, Seraphina always went to school alone. And for the past six months, thanks to Pearl’s subtle instigation, she had been a target of constant bullying. But the foolish girl had endured it all in silence, probably knowing that even if she spoke up, no one would care. Her family certainly wouldn’t believe that their perfect Pearl was behind it. I had just pulled my textbook from my desk when I saw the fake cockroach glued to the cover. The girls who were waiting for my reaction were already trying to stifle their smirks. If I were the original Seraphina, I would have swallowed my fear and anger. But for me, dealing with this kind of nonsense was second nature. I had come to this world to die in peace. But if they insisted on provoking me, I was no pushover. I grabbed the textbook, cockroach and all, and marched over to the nearest girl who was enjoying the show. I slapped it across her face. Before she could scream, I dumped the contents of her desk onto the floor and found her copy of the same book. Seraphina had always been a quiet, invisible presence in class. Today, with my burned cheek, I had already drawn more attention than usual. This sudden explosion of aggression silenced the entire room. The girl, recovering from the shock, lunged at me, her nails like claws. I grabbed her by the hair, my voice cold. “I’ll let the past slide. But don’t ever mess with me again.” I shoved her away and went back to my desk, slumping over it. It wasn’t just the dull ache in my stomach; a wave of nausea was washing over me. The girl wasn’t finished. She raised her hand to slap me, but her wrist was caught in a firm grip. “You’re noisy,” said Jax Ryder, the boy who sat behind me. His handsome, rebellious face was dark with annoyance. The girl froze. Jax was the undisputed king of the school. His family was powerful, and no one dared to cross him. She scurried back to her seat, exchanging knowing glances with her friends. Pain shot through me. I bit down hard on my lip, trying to fight back the nausea, my forehead beaded with cold sweat. My brow was furrowed in agony. This wasn’t right. The cancer shouldn’t have progressed this quickly. This felt like the mid-to-late stages. The next thing I knew, the world tilted as I was swept into the air. The screech of my chair scraping against the floor made everyone turn to look. I struggled weakly in Jax’s arms, but he held me tight. The tall, lean boy seemed to have an endless supply of strength. “Stop moving,” he grumbled. He seemed to be seeing me for the first time. “I thought you were just a timid little mouse. Guess even rabbits bite when they’re cornered.” As he carried me down the hall, he sighed. “How are you so light?” We hadn’t even reached the nurse’s office when Neo appeared, blocking our path. His face was contorted with rage. “Seraphina, are you that desperate?” he sneered. “Ditching class to hook up with some guy? I guess you can’t expect someone with no upbringing to have any class. You’re nothing like Pearl.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386993”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

As the poorest scholarship student at Aethelgard Preparatory Academy, I took up livestreaming to make ends meet. Somehow, in the annual “Campus Prince” poll, I ended up in first place. And then Aimee Monroe, the daughter of the school’s biggest benefactor, made a grand, school-wide spectacle of asking me out. Just like that, she was my girlfriend. “Aimee, if that pretty boy finds out you’re just using him for a bet, he’ll be heartbroken.” Aimee scoffed. “If it wasn’t to piss off Ethan, who would even look at him?” A clique of heiresses, all trying to avenge their dear friend Ethan. They made a bet: whoever got a nude photo of me first would win a million dollars. A month later, Aimee told me the sports car was a rental, and that she was actually broke. My eyes welled with tears. “Babe! It’s okay. I’ll take care of you!” That night, I went live wearing a crisp white shirt and a black vest, a pitiable look on my face. “I have to buy my girl a sports car,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “So she can take me for a drive.” The chat exploded. Been saying that girl of his was bad news. Thought she was some heiress, turns out she’s just a poser. Broke and pathetic, and she lied about owning a Maserati! What a bitch! I let a small, grateful smile touch my lips. “Thank you, AAA_Cathy, for the Constellation gift.” Just out of frame, Aimee’s face was turning a pale shade of green. Every single one of the top donators had a username she knew all too well. 1. If being handsome were a crime, I’d be serving a life sentence. My family was dirt poor. The year things got really bad, when we could barely afford to eat, a talent scout spotted me. I did a magazine shoot and earned my first real paycheck. After covering household expenses, every cent was gone. We were still three hundred thousand dollars in debt for medical bills. So I accepted the full ride to Aethelgard Prep. Scholarship students paid nothing. Better yet, participating in campus activities, big or small, came with hefty cash prizes. On the first day of school, I started a livestream: My Daily Grind. I cranked up the beauty filter so high that someone took a screenshot and posted it on the school forum. What does he actually look like? Drop the filter settings. The wall behind him is literally warped. Who is paying to vote this guy with the razor-sharp chin onto the Campus Prince list? He’s actually really good-looking! I’ve seen him in person. Lmao, is he paying for bots in the comment section now? Heard he’s a scholarship kid. Which sugar mama is funding his campaign? Curious, I clicked on the poll. The photo of my filtered, uncanny-valley face was ranked thirteenth. Number one was Ethan Vance, with a sun-drenched, handsome shot of himself on the basketball court. And below, in fine print: the top three winners would receive a prize of one hundred thousand dollars. I silently started my stream, maxed out the beauty filter, and wrote a new caption: “A face so handsome it can bend space-time.” All hell broke loose. I was the laughingstock of the entire campus. But then, the coffee shop where I worked was suddenly packed to the rafters. Everyone, driven by a morbid curiosity, wanted to see the real-life freak with the reality-warping face. The manager was ecstatic. To keep the customers coming, she strictly forbade anyone from taking my picture. If they wanted to see me, they had to come in person. The forum split into three factions: one camp trashing my looks, one camp praising my handsome face, and a third camp of trolls who just wanted to watch the world burn, voting for me just for the chaos of it all. In the end, with a devil-may-care smirk, my distorted, filtered photo claimed the top spot. Hell yes. Ten grand in my first week of school. Ethan Vance stormed into the coffee shop, his handsome features twisting in rage the moment he saw my real face. “You… you shameless, scheming bastard!” He threw his coffee straight at my head, his eyes glinting with a vicious light. Gasps echoed around the shop, but no one stepped in. The Vance family was powerful. No one here dared to cross them. A wad of cash fluttered down from above. The rich boy sneered. “You broke piece of trash. This isn’t over.” I said nothing, just quietly bent down to pick up the money from the floor. My livestream was still running. Ethan’s face, grotesquely twisted by the same beauty filter, was now broadcast for the entire school to see. I turned the filter off, revealing my unfiltered, striking features to the camera. “Sorry you all had to see that.” I’m no saint with a pretty face. On the contrary, I hold a grudge like no one else. This kind of petty power play? I’d seen it all before. The stream was silent for a moment before a wave of gift donations flooded the screen, a cascade of digital comfort. Ethan had been trying to build a brand as the charming, popular campus athlete. After this little fiasco, he saw my popularity soar even higher and was so furious he skipped school for three days. The manager pulled me aside, her expression worried. “These people are on another level, Leo. You’re just a scholarship kid. You can’t afford to make enemies with any of them.” I nodded obediently, tugging at my sleeve. “We need the money at home. I’ll be more careful.” She knew about my situation. An abusive father, a frail, sick mother. She glanced at the old bruises on my arm and sighed, offering a piece of advice. “Sometimes, you know, it doesn’t hurt to play the victim a little.” I forced a shy smile. All these marks, I always told people they were from falling down. Playing the victim now would be too obvious, it might even backfire. Knowing the elite, they wouldn’t let this go. That was a card I had to save for last. 2. Once the Campus Prince poll ended, the buzz around my work-stream started to fade. Watching you work all the time is getting boring, streamer. Can you do a talent show or something? Don’t be so proud. With a face like that, you could just strum a guitar and get followers. Just another pretty face. Nothing interesting here. Unfollowing. My viewer count stabilized at around a hundred loyal fans, mostly here for my looks, all of them more worried about my channel than I was. I wasn’t panicking. I just kept to my routine. I had a feeling that rich boy, Ethan, was about to bring me a “surprise.” Logically, in a school like this, being poor was the real anomaly. But today, I’d somehow run into three beautiful, broke girls. The first told me she was an orphan and laid on a thick sob story, but she was wearing a Van Cleef & Arpels bracelet. The second was a senior, her white dress faded from countless washes, who claimed she was also on scholarship, but the shoes on her feet cost eight hundred dollars. The last one was dressed head-to-toe in no-name brands, but she’d never even heard of Amazon. When things are this strange, something wicked is brewing. I turned down all their advances, cold and detached. Around the corner from the coffee shop, I heard familiar voices. What a coincidence. It was the three “broke” beauties I’d just rejected. “Ethan said Leo was a total gold digger who would never go for a poor girl. I confessed today and, surprise surprise, he shot me down.” “Me too. What’s with the high-and-mighty act? It’s obvious he only wants someone with money.” “Ugh, same here. I asked him to show me how to use Amazon, and he said it was too much trouble. I mentioned I couldn’t afford designer brands, and he just walked away.” Just then, a woman with an electrifying presence walked into the shop. She was stunningly beautiful, with a figure that could stop traffic. I recognized her. Aimee Monroe. She’d caused a stir on the first day of school, pulling up in a supercar, looking like a goddess. Ethan, decked out in designer streetwear, trailed behind her, his eyes red-rimmed. “How can a guy like that get worshiped as a Campus Prince? It’s a total embarrassment for me!” “I told you all he was a pretty boy for hire, but you didn’t believe me. You had to go and confess. You believe me now, right?” “You guys have to help me expose him!” Aimee casually draped an arm over his shoulder, a playful glint in her eye. “And how exactly do you want us to help?” Ethan’s voice was a mix of childish spite and venom. “Leo’s so handsome, and he has no money. To look that good, he must have a bunch of sugar mamas on the side.” “I’ve seen marks on him, like from… hooking up. He claims he just fell.” “Once we expose his true colors, we’ll get a nude photo of him and blast it all over the forums!” They laid out a detailed plan. Aimee would lure me in with money, then, after a month, pretend her family had gone bankrupt. The other heiresses, still pretending to be poor, would then reveal their wealth, trying to seduce me into a compromising position so they could get their picture. Finally, Aimee would expose the whole thing online. They would solidify my reputation as a two-timing gold digger, utterly ruining me. The heiresses started a betting pool. The first one to get the photo would win a million dollars. Aimee’s captivating eyes held a flicker of boredom. “Not much of a challenge. What if he actually falls for me? He’ll be impossible to get rid of.” Someone patted her shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry. Pretty boys only love money.” I smiled. The next day, when the group of heiresses appeared at the coffee shop, I was ready. I’d changed into a clean, white shirt, the top button artfully undone. Carrying a tray of steaming coffee, I pretended to stumble, crashing right into Aimee. She winced in pain, but before she could show her annoyance, she noticed her so-called best friends had all scattered. Her eyes met mine, and recognition dawned, her pupils shrinking slightly. I clumsily tried to wipe the coffee off her, letting the cup slip from my hand and crash onto her expensive high heels. Aimee let out a stifled groan. My eyes went wide with panic, my expression a perfect mask of helplessness and guilt. “I’m so sorry. Your shoes… they look expensive.” “I just got paid today.” “I… I don’t know if my wages will be enough to cover it.” The other girls were watching from a distance, soaking in the drama. Aimee, gritting her teeth against the pain, put on a magnanimous air. “It’s fine. They were only eight thousand.” “You don’t have to pay me back. But I was wondering if I could have the honor of buying you a coffee?” I feigned a moment of stunned silence, my eyes lingering on her eight-thousand-dollar shoes. I didn’t recognize the brand. Probably custom-made. Aimee couldn’t be bothered to waste any more time. She told me it was love at first sight. As she “casually” let her Maserati keys dangle from her fingers, a subtle display of her immense wealth, I put on my most innocent, harmless smile. “Okay,” I said. Aimee shot a triumphant look at her friends. Her pursuit was anything but subtle. Every day, I was greeted with imported flowers, chauffeured in sports cars, and showered with luxury goods. Ignoring the cold indifference in her eyes, I accepted every single gift. I’d offer her a few sweet nothings each day, but the rest of my time was still spent diligently working my part-time job and livestreaming. Aimee was more than happy that I didn’t have time to cling to her, only sending perfunctory texts: Don’t work too hard. You have me to take care of you now. 3. I was sweating inside a giant teddy bear costume, handing out flyers. When I spotted a familiar group, I slowly shuffled after them. They were plotting so loudly they never noticed a large, furry bear eavesdropping nearby. Aimee was boasting to her friends. “What untouchable god? He came running with a snap of my fingers.” “Did you see it? I didn’t even have to do anything. He just threw himself at me in that white shirt.” Another heiress giggled. “He’s got a good eye, knows how to pick a big fish. You must be spending a fortune on him, Aimee.” Aimee clicked her tongue. “It’s nothing. The watch I gave him is a fake anyway. He’s just a pretty boy, easy to fool. He wears knock-offs himself.” “Just don’t let Ethan get jealous and start another scene.” A wicked smile played on her lips. “In a little while, I’ll tell him my family’s gone bankrupt and we’re three million in debt. Let’s see how long he keeps up the act.” Cathy, the girl with the Van Cleef bracelet, raised an eyebrow. “Who do you think he’ll try to hook up with first among us?” Victoria, the one who didn’t know Amazon, sneered. “He’ll probably try for all of us. He’d do anything for money.” “Don’t get mad, Aimee. We’re just doing this for Ethan.” Aimee let out a cold laugh, her voice dripping with disdain. “Who cares about him? It’s not like he’s actually my boyfriend.” The other girls, all of whom I’d rejected, were still holding a grudge. In all my time with Aimee, I hadn’t given them a second glance, a deep wound to their fragile, aristocratic egos. Now, they were more convinced than ever that I was a gold digger who would do anything for a price. I ambled over in my bear costume, pretending to be just passing by, and placed a flyer in each of their hands. Patek Philippe Nautilus—perfect 1:1 replica for only $999. Top-tier super-clones, satisfaction guaranteed. Aimee playfully patted my costume’s shoulder, bragging to her friends, “I got my watch from this place. Even Ethan couldn’t tell the difference at first. You should have seen that pretty boy Leo’s face when he got it. He was so happy.” The others were intrigued. “We should give him fake watches too when we make our move.” “Let’s buy a few, just make sure we don’t get the same model.” “He’s so obsessed with money. He’ll be devastated when he finds out.” Using a burner account, I added each of the heiresses as a contact. These arrogant girls couldn’t be bothered to wonder who was inside the costume. They just picked their watches and told me to deliver them to their dorms. Ten payments of $999 hit my bank account. I was starting to see just how easy it was to make money here. I immediately contacted the actual replica dealer and sent him ten payments of $99. “Boss, I need these models, rush delivery!” A clean ninety-thousand-dollar profit in one day. Nice. Aethelgard was crawling with rich people; you couldn’t walk ten feet without bumping into an heiress. Aimee had been deliberately vague about her identity. Now, the whole school knew that some mysterious, wealthy girl was passionately pursuing the handsome but poor scholarship student. I placed the fake watch from Aimee in the most conspicuous spot in my dorm room. My roommate, Julian, also a rich kid, eyed the watch with a sneer. “That thing doesn’t look real. Some girls are masters at faking it.” Compared to his own authentic model from the boutique, the engravings and hands on my watch looked crude. My face fell, my voice laced with disappointment. “Honestly, I don’t care about her money. It’s just… this is the first time a girl has ever liked me this much.” Julian scanned me from head to toe and rolled his eyes. “God, you’re hopeless. Fine, whatever. Not my problem. Just win these next few matches for me in-game, and I’ll give you these limited-edition sneakers.” I beamed, accepting the new shoes. Julian looked away, flustered. “Wipe that sycophantic smile off your face! I’m only helping you because I can’t stand Ethan Vance.” He then added a warning. “I’ve heard that everyone who’s crossed Ethan before ended up being forced to transfer. If you get into any trouble, don’t you dare try to handle it alone.” I nodded meekly. 4. The girls of Aethelgard had seen their fair share of handsome men. I wasn’t banking on them falling for me just because of my face. Using my burner account, I meticulously scoured the social media profiles of the “poor” heiresses, digging up their likes and dislikes. They all ran in the same circle as Aimee. Later, when they were buying the fake watches, each one had asked which model Aimee got before ordering a more expensive one. These women pretending to be poor had one major benefit for me. To flirt with them, I didn’t have to grovel or play the subordinate. All I had to do was exude my natural charm. After confirming that each heiress harbored a strange sense of rivalry with Aimee, I stopped ignoring them. I even secretly added them as friends. They were all a little surprised. According to their plan, as a gold digger, I should have only shown interest after they revealed their wealth. But these morally bankrupt women felt no shame about trying to steal their friend’s boyfriend. In public, they’d join their friends in calling me a pretty boy, but in private, their messages were syrupy sweet and full of confessions. For the sake of the bet, they were using every trick in the book to get close to me. Every day, my phone was flooded with photos of beautiful women from every conceivable angle. It was easy on the eyes and saved me a lot of effort. Since they were pretending to be poor, they had nothing to offer me but their looks. On the very first day after I officially started dating Aimee, I sent a mass message to the other three. The truth is, I really like you. But I’m too poor, and I didn’t want you to have a hard life with me. That’s why I rejected you. But now, I have a way to support you!

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386992”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The million-dollar deal was dead, and for the first time, Caleb turned his fury on me. In front of the entire office, he tore me to shreds. When we got home that night, his tone was cold and clinical. “At work, there’s no room for personal feelings. You screwed up. It’s your fault.” My phone buzzed. It was a text from his new favorite intern, his junior from college. Clara, I’m so, so sorry. It’s all my fault the deal fell through. Caleb bought me a cupcake to cheer me up—it’s actually really good. Should I order one for you? The next morning, Caleb mechanically scraped the breakfast I’d made into the trash. “How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t eat breakfast.” Later at the office, Brenda from the next cubicle leaned over, a conspiratorial glint in her eye. “That new intern has some nerve. She actually went up and talked to Mr. Hayes this morning. Even brought him a coffee and a bagel. And you know what? He not only ate it, he told her it was good.” I was so done. Forget it. On my phone, another man was still trying his best to poach me. “Hey, if all else fails, I’m not above being the homewrecker. Say the word.” I pressed my lips together. No need for that, I texted back. You’re getting a promotion. 1 One second, I was handing my resignation letter to HR. The next, I was being summoned to Caleb’s office. The moment I walked in, a cup of coffee hit me square in the chest. The force of it felt like a slap to the face, stinging my skin. Over on the leather sofa, a woman was crying, her eyes red-rimmed, the picture of pitiable innocence. “Caleb, please don’t blame Clara,” she sobbed. “It’s my fault. I was responsible for that deal falling through, too. I’m the one who should be leaving, not her.” Caleb’s voice was thick with a rage I rarely saw him display. And it was, once again, because of Jenna. “Is this because I criticized you yesterday? Are you trying to pressure Jenna by running to HR and threatening to quit?” he snarled. “You were her supervisor. Botching that deal was your responsibility. How dare you shift the blame onto her?!” “Do you have any idea what people in the office are saying about her now? They’re saying you couldn’t stand working with the ‘disruptive intern’ and that she drove you out! I want you to go out there right now and clear the air!” I thought he might actually be upset about his girlfriend of seven years leaving him. I should have known better. He was just worried that after I left, people would look down on his precious Jenna. Jenna sniffled dramatically, blew her nose into a tissue, and casually tossed the snot-filled wad onto the other end of the sofa. Caleb’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. After a three-second pause, he walked over, picked up the tissue with his fingertips, and dropped it into the trash can. I froze. A tight, sharp pain clenched around my heart and spread through my chest. In our second year together, we were at home watching Hachi: A Dog’s Tale. I was a wreck, sobbing uncontrollably, tears and snot everywhere. He shoved me out of his arms in disgust. “Sorry, I’m a germaphobe. You need to clean yourself up.” He then disappeared into the bathroom and scrubbed himself from head to toe, at least three times over, as if he’d just touched something contagious. A cold laugh escaped my lips. So, his germaphobia was selective. I took a long, hard look at Caleb. “I’m resigning because I don’t want to work here anymore. It has nothing to do with anything else.” He didn’t believe me. “Then why today? Why not yesterday or tomorrow? It has to be about the deal.” He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a low threat. “Clara, don’t you dare pull your petty little games on Jenna. If you do, don’t blame me for forgetting our history.” I sighed, feeling none of my usual desire to argue with him. When it came to Caleb, my emotions were like a sieve. They poured in and drained right back out. He had been there when the deal imploded. We were at the final stage, the client had all but agreed to our terms. Then Jenna burst in, insisting on personally toasting the CEO. The CEO was already visibly annoyed. But she acted like she couldn’t see it. A brand-new intern, forcing a CEO to drink with her—I still don’t know where she got the audacity. When the CEO lost his temper, I held her back and plastered on a smile, apologizing profusely. I told her to drink three shots as an apology, but she burst into tears, louder than anyone. “Clara, why are you doing this to me? Women shouldn’t tear each other down! Why do you always force me to do things I don’t want to do?” At the time, Caleb’s face was so dark he looked murderous. I thought it was because of the deal we’d just lost. I never imagined it was because I’d told Jenna to apologize. I was just so tired. “I’m not playing games, Caleb. Let’s break up.” Without waiting for his thunderous expression to change, I turned, gathered my things, and walked out of the company. Back at our apartment, I started packing. This was the downside of breaking up—so much stuff, it would take forever to pack. Suddenly, my hand froze. In the back of a drawer, I found a pair of red stockings that weren’t mine. They were torn to shreds, a testament to a very eager, passionate encounter. I tossed them into the trash, snapped a photo, and sent it to Caleb. My phone was already buzzing with his texts, full of explanations I didn’t bother to read. Instead, I dialed another number. “Didn’t you say you wanted a promotion?” 2 On the other end of the line, Wyatt was practically screaming with excitement. He offered to come help me move, but I turned him down. If Caleb saw him, I was afraid he’d start a fight. It was better to keep things simple. I had a condo on the west side of town. Once this month’s bonus came in, I could finally pay off the mortgage completely. I would finally have a place of my own. The thought warmed me, chasing away some of the chill. The doorbell rang. I thought it was the movers and opened the door to find Caleb standing there. For a second, I was so surprised I thought I was imagining things. Last year, my appendix burst. I was in so much pain I passed out. I called him, begging him to come home and take me to the hospital. His voice was ice. “I’m at work, Clara. You’re a grown woman. Can’t you dial 911?” But last week, when Jenna spilled some warm water on her leg at the office and yelped in pain, he had scooped her up in his arms in front of everyone and driven her to the hospital himself. He never left work early. Unless it was for Jenna. She was the exception to all his rules. I guess today I was lucky enough to be an exception, too. His eyes scanned the packed boxes, and a flicker of panic, barely perceptible, crossed his face. “What is this?! What are you doing? Are you trying to force my hand by threatening to break up?” “Didn’t you see my texts? I explained everything. Jenna left those here by accident. It was raining that day, so I told her to come up for some ginger tea. Her stockings got snagged, so she just changed before she left.” I narrowed my eyes, thinking back. That was the week before last, when I was on a business trip. I’d flown back into a torrential downpour and asked him to pick me up from the airport. He’d said he was working late and told me to get a cab. When I got home, I saw the half-finished mug of ginger tea on the coffee table. I thought he’d made it for me. Turns out I was just drinking someone else’s leftovers. Maybe the same thought occurred to him, because his expression turned awkward. “Don’t overthink it.” I shook my head, my face calm. “I’m not. It doesn’t matter anymore.” A strange look crossed Caleb’s face. He stared at me for a long time. Finally, his voice was raspy, testing the waters. “Why aren’t you angry anymore?” So he knew I’d been angry before. He just hadn’t cared. Instead, he’d always scolded me, called me petty, said I had a dirty mind that saw the worst in everything. I was about to tell him I was moving out when his phone rang. It was Jenna, crying hysterically on the other end, claiming someone was bullying her. Caleb shot me a furious glare and sneered. “So this is your game. Nice move, Clara.” Before I could figure out what was happening, he grabbed my wrist, his grip like iron, and hauled me out to his car. The car smelled of a woman’s perfume. It was the same scent Jenna wore. Dangling from the rearview mirror was a cute little monster keychain, the same one as Jenna’s profile picture. I hadn’t been in his car since I started working at his company. He’d said he didn’t want people to gossip, so we had kept our entire relationship a secret. The territory that had once been off-limits to me was now completely occupied by someone else. I no longer felt that familiar ache in my chest. There was only a dull sense of inevitability. The moment we arrived at the office, Caleb roughly yanked me out of the car. My heel twisted, and I fell to the ground. He acted as if he didn’t even see it, letting out a cold laugh. “What’s with the act?” He grabbed me by the back of my collar and dragged me into the building like a bag of trash. 3 He dragged me all the way to my old desk. My wrists and knees were scraped and bleeding. I was on all fours on the floor, like a stray dog. Caleb pulled Jenna into a protective embrace, his voice a low warning to the onlookers. “I don’t care who put you up to this, but this is still my company, not Clara’s. Bullying an intern is not acceptable.” “If you want to keep your jobs, you’ll show me where your loyalties lie.” Brenda’s face was white as a sheet. She stood frozen, not daring to move. She had already texted me on the way over. After I left, Jenna was assigned to her team. An intern who loved to slack off and cut corners—what good could she possibly be? She’d messed up a simple lunch order for a client, and Brenda had said a few words to her. That was all it took for Jenna to call Caleb and tattle. Jenna buried her face in Caleb’s chest, the two of them oblivious to the world. “Caleb, I don’t even know what I did… I just saw the client was a little overweight, so I ordered him a salad. And Brenda just started yelling at me…” Caleb stroked her hair, promising to get her justice. His cold eyes swept across the room. “I know Clara was good friends with many of you. You saw she left, and you wanted to stand up for her. But she left because of her own professional failure, because she was too ashamed to stay. It has nothing to do with Jenna.” “I’ll say it one more time. Show me you want to be here, or you can all get the hell out.” Everyone’s face paled. They all understood his ultimatum. Amy, a junior associate I had personally trained, walked up to me. She squeezed her eyes shut, whispered, “I’m sorry,” and slapped me across the face. Caleb stood there, unmoved. “And the rest of you?” A line formed. One after another, they stepped forward, slapping me. Some were people I had helped, others were people who had helped me… Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth. My head was spinning, my ears were ringing, and the world was starting to go fuzzy. Jenna let out a giggle. “Caleb, look at her. She’s so pathetic. She looks like a swollen pig.” Caleb’s eyes were like ice. His words were even colder. “Someone this manipulative, who only knows how to play office politics, doesn’t deserve to be in our company.” “Her resignation is denied. She’s fired. And this year’s bonus is forfeited. It will be transferred to Jenna.” My eyes widened in disbelief. Rage, like a spider’s web, spread through my body, trapping my heart. “Caleb! I earned that! On what grounds?!” Company policy was to calculate bonuses based on the projects each person landed. From negotiations and drafting proposals to closing the deal and haggling with clients, I had done it all myself. To secure one more percentage point, I had drunk until the early hours of the morning. That bonus… that was the money I was going to use to pay off my mortgage. My parents divorced when I was young. Neither of them wanted me. They passed me back and forth like a soccer ball. I was left with my uncle, whose wife hated me. She was always threatening to kick me out if I didn’t behave. As a result, I grew up with a deep-seated fear of having nowhere to go. After I got with Caleb, I clung to him desperately, terrified he would leave me. I had to know where he was at all times. But even the most passionate love can be extinguished. I started putting my faith in money. I would use it to buy a house of my own. That way, if Caleb and I ever broke up, if he kicked me out, I wouldn’t be homeless. I worked like a madwoman, scraping together a down payment. All these years, I had scrimped and saved to make the mortgage payments. The stress was immense. I was losing hair, finding gray strands far too early. Caleb saw it all. He knew exactly how much this bonus meant to me. But now, his voice was mocking. “On the grounds that I own this company. And on the grounds that you bullied Jenna. You owe her this as compensation!” The words were stuck in my throat. A wave of nausea churned in my stomach, rising up my esophagus. A fifty-thousand-dollar bonus. He handed it over to an intern who had done nothing, just like that. I gritted my teeth against the dizziness as Caleb’s security guards threw me out of the building. The moment I was outside, a text from him arrived. What happened today was your fault. When I didn’t reply, another one came through. Fine, maybe I went a little too far. But that was because you showed Jenna no mercy. She’s my junior, after all. When you let people bully her like that, of course I’m going to get angry. I’m leaving for a business trip tomorrow. To France. That new bag you wanted is launching there. How about I buy it for you to make it up to you? He didn’t know that just a minute earlier, Jenna had already posted on her Instagram story. “Someone’s pulling some strings and taking me on his business trip, just because I said I wanted to see the Eiffel Tower~ Such a good boy~” I blocked them both without a second thought. A week later, Caleb returned from his trip. He held the new designer bag in his hand, a nervous feeling churning in his gut. He had planned to be gone for three days, but Jenna had dragged him from one sight to another, and he had completely forgotten to let Clara know. He’d come back today hoping to surprise her. The thought of Clara waiting for him at home warmed him, and he quickened his pace. He pushed open the door, calling her name twice. Silence. The boxes Clara had packed were gone. Everything that belonged to her was gone. Caleb’s breath hitched. His face went white. An unbelievable thought clawed its way into his mind. 4 A massive wave of panic washed over him. “No…” He knew how much Clara cared about him. Over the years, she had brought up marriage more than once. When a woman does that, it means she’s decided to spend her life with you. That’s why Caleb had always seen her as a sure thing. He never worried she would leave. All he had to do was say the word, and Clara would drop everything to meet him at the courthouse. Where else could she go? She had cut ties with her parents long ago. She was in touch with her uncle occasionally, but she knew his wife didn’t like her, so she would never go there. What about that small condo she’d bought with her down payment? Caleb’s eyes lit up for a second. He grabbed the bag and drove towards the west side of town. But when he got there, he stopped. Where was her condo? He didn’t know. A flash of annoyance crossed his face. He’d never thought she would actually move into that little place, so he had never bothered to learn the address. She had asked for his opinion when she was buying it, but he had just glanced at the brochure and said he didn’t know. And now, he had no way of finding her. It was only when he was driving that he realized Clara had blocked him on social media. He had no idea when she had done it. He hadn’t messaged her all week. Had she done it because she was jealous? He couldn’t be sure. He pulled out his phone and called her. The robotic voice of an AI operator that answered sent a jolt of pure panic through him. He had never dreamed that she would actually block him on everything. His mind flashed back to her face in his office that day, her calm expression as she’d said they should break up. He finally realized she had been serious. Caleb felt a thick rope slowly tightening around his chest, suffocating him. He clutched his shirt, squatting on the sidewalk, gasping for air. “Clara…” He was about to call in a favor to find her address when his phone rang. Wyatt’s triumphant voice filled his ear. “Caleb, I’m getting engaged. My girl just said yes.” “We’re having a party tonight. You should come.” A throbbing pain started in Caleb’s temples. He could hear the gloating in Wyatt’s voice, but he was in no mood for an engagement party. “I have something to do, I can’t…” But the man on the other end seemed to have anticipated his refusal. “You have to be there. You’re looking for someone, right? Come, and I’ll help you find her.” Caleb ignored the uneasy feeling in his gut and agreed. He didn’t know Wyatt that well—they’d just been classmates in college—but he knew Wyatt was the youngest son of the wealthy Nash family. He had resources. Finding one person should be easy for him. That evening, Caleb had planned to go to the party alone. But Jenna had somehow heard about it and insisted on coming along to “see the world.” After a moment’s thought, he agreed. I watched with amusement as Wyatt, like a peacock in full display, tried on five or six different suits in front of me. “Which one looks best?” I thought for a moment. “They all look good.” “Why did you have to invite Caleb?” Wyatt looked a little flustered. He quickly came over and took my hand. “You heard that? Are you mad? I’m just so happy…” I shook my head, smiling as I linked my arm with his, and we walked out together. The moment we entered the ballroom, a pair of eyes locked onto me. I followed the gaze and saw Caleb, trembling, all the color drained from his face. Under the bright lights, he looked like a ghost that had just been pulled from the water.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386991”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Chapter 1 My roommate’s shirt was always soaked during freshman orientation, and it always smelled faintly of sweet peach. Seeing every guy on campus—even the wealthy class president—go wild for it, my roommate, Brooke, was thrilled. I recognized it immediately: it was the discharge from a rare form of skin cancer. I urged her to get medical help fast. My roommate called me jealous, but, uneasy, she secretly checked it out. The result was cancer. She had to undergo a double mastectomy to save her life. Without the “peach scent,” the rich class president, Brandon, who was obsessed with her, never looked at her again. Her entire cohort of admirers vanished. My roommate couldn’t handle the fall from grace. She blamed it all on me. “If you hadn’t been nosy, making your mom cut off my breasts, Brandon never would have dumped me!” She shoved me into a septic ditch and drowned me alive, laughing hysterically. Even my mother, the surgical expert who performed her operation, was dragged through a social media smear campaign, fired from the hospital, and died of depression. I opened my eyes, finding myself back on the exact day my roommate’s “peach scent” first became known. … “What is that smell? It’s amazing!” My roommate, Brooke Scott, walked into the dorm carrying a bag of snacks. She inhaled deeply, her eyes wide with excitement. “Is that a peach perfume? Or a new energy drink?” Then, she spotted the open yogurt bottle on Layla’s desk. “Smells delicious! Let me try some first!” Before Layla could say yes, Brooke grabbed the bottle and gulped down a huge mouthful. The next second, the expression on her face froze. She bent over, retching violently. “What the hell is this?! It tastes awful!” Layla rolled her eyes and muttered, “Some people wish they had some!” Brooke’s face went pale. “Layla! Are you trying to poison me?!” “If I die, I’m taking you with me!” She rushed to the bathroom, desperately trying to gag herself. Watching this familiar scene unfold, I confirmed that I had indeed been reborn. The suffocating sensation of drowning in the putrid water in my past life felt terrifyingly close. “Patrice! It’s all your fault, you jinx! If you hadn’t interfered, making your mom cut off my breasts, Brandon never would have left me! All those guys wouldn’t have avoided me!” “You ruined my chance at a rich life! You deserve to die!” The person who killed me was my roommate, Layla Reed. In my past life, I recognized that the liquid oozing from her chest, which all the boys on campus went crazy for, wasn’t some kind of innate body fragrance. It was the discharge from an extremely rare, aggressive form of breast cancer! I urged her to seek treatment immediately and had my mother, a surgical specialist, take care of her. She called me jealous but secretly went for a checkup. She was diagnosed with cancer and had to have a double mastectomy to survive. Once her ‘peach milk’ scent was gone, the rich class president, Brandon Hayes, who had been madly obsessed with her, immediately dumped her. All the guys who had hovered around her vanished without a trace. She blamed me for all of her failures and resentment. She stubbornly believed that I was jealous of the attention she got from Brandon and that I conspired with my mother to intentionally remove the source of her charm. But I’m back. I’ve returned to the exact moment her peach-scented secret was first discovered, triggering a dorm conflict. In my last life, seeing Brooke accidentally drink the “peach milk” and throw up violently. I rushed over to hold her, demanding that Layla take her to the hospital immediately, genuinely worried Brooke had been poisoned by an unknown substance. I never imagined my concern would plant a seed of hatred in Layla. And when the truth came out about her cancer, Brooke never spoke up for me once. She joined the keyboard warriors, kicking me while I was down. A cold laugh escaped me. I spoke up. “Brooke, what’s with the attitude? Layla didn’t do it on purpose.” “Besides, who told you to be a greedy pig and drink it without asking?” Chapter 2 Brooke froze, looking at me in disbelief. “She leaves this disgusting mess on the table and makes me drink it! And you’re defending her?!” “Patrice, are you crazy?” I smiled. “Brooke, you can’t talk like that. Layla said it was an accident. And anyway,” I paused, glancing at Layla’s chest, “this peach-scented body fragrance is something many people would kill for. It’s certainly better than some people’s sweaty stench, right?” Layla saw me take her side, and her eyes lit up. “Exactly! I didn’t mean to! Patrice is right, this smell is lovely!” “I think you’re just jealous of me, Brooke!” She rolled her eyes spitefully at Brooke. Brooke was completely enraged. She pointed at Layla and me. “You… you…” she stammered for a long time, unable to form a coherent curse. Finally, she stomped her foot and stormed out, covered in vomit. Seeing Brooke leave, Layla smirked and pulled something out from the back of her closet. My pupils narrowed. It was that light pink bra. It was lace-trimmed, with a slightly sexy design. I’d bought it online during my freshman year, looking for a bargain. I quickly found the underwire dug painfully and the straps were too thin. I tossed it to the bottom of my drawer and never touched it again. Now, it was in Layla’s hands. And there was a small, unmistakable pink stain on it! When I discovered this in my past life, I was sickened and confronted her, demanding why she stole my things. That fight became one of the reasons she later decided to kill me. This time, seeing her hold up the bra, she asked me coyly, “Patrice, I want to take a few photos wearing this bra and post them in the freshman group chat. What do you think?” I immediately put on the most genuine smile, exaggeratedly praising it. “That bra is perfect for you! The color, the design—it’s tailor-made for your style! It’s sexy but still innocent!” “It really highlights your best assets! If Brandon sees it, he’ll be completely hooked!” I knew she wanted to use this to attract more male attention. In my last life, she blamed me for ruining her dating prospects. In this life, I would ensure she got exactly what she wished for. Layla’s face flushed with excitement. “Really, Patrice? You think it looks good?” “Of course!” I nodded emphatically, decisive and convincing. At that moment, our other neutral roommate, Jen Wu, suddenly spoke up. “Patrice, why does that bra look like yours? Didn’t you say it was uncomfortable and put it away?” “Did Layla steal it?” Layla’s smile froze instantly. I quickly put on a sincere expression, covering for Layla. “Oh! That one! It does look similar, but mine was such cheap quality; I don’t know where I threw it. ” “The one Layla has looks much higher quality than mine! Besides, if Layla likes it, what’s the big deal if I give it to her? Good things should go to the person who suits them best, right?” The alarm in Layla’s eyes instantly turned into wild joy. She seized the opportunity, lifting her chin at Jen. “Exactly! Jen, what are you talking about? Patrice said it’s a gift!” “Besides, this bra has a big cup size. Patrice could never fill it out.” “If you talk nonsense again, you’ll regret it!” Layla rushed into the bathroom to try it on, desperate to prove Jen wrong. As she closed the door, I quickly started packing my things, planning to move out immediately. The peach-milk scent in the dorm was sickly sweet. It made me nauseous. If I stayed any longer, I’d definitely be implicated. I hadn’t even finished packing when Layla discovered me. Chapter 3 “Lana? What are you doing? You’re not moving out, are you?” Layla yanked open the bathroom door, half-emerging. She had indeed changed into the cheap underwear. The low-quality lace strained to contain her noticeably swollen chest. The straps were pitifully thin, digging into her flesh. The pink spots below her collarbone seemed more obvious under the light, like a small, spreading patch of mold. A barely perceptible tension was on her face. She was probably afraid her only ally was abandoning her. I stopped packing, my eyes shifting. I put on a look of professional awkwardness. “Well, I have a rare skin condition. It’s not serious, but I can’t risk passing it to you guys in a crowded dorm…” Layla instinctively stepped back. The tension on her face instantly shifted to alarm. “A skin condition?” “Yes,” I sighed, looking genuinely helpless. “But if you don’t mind, I don’t have to move out…” Layla quickly interrupted me. Though she pretended to be concerned, her tone screamed get out now. “Oh, you should definitely move out! Go back when you’re cured! A skin condition is serious! Your health comes first! We’ll wait for you!” I sneered inwardly. The truly sick one was standing there in stolen underwear, dreaming of seducing a rich boy. Before leaving with my luggage, I pretended to be gossipy, leaning in toward Layla, who was posing provocatively for a selfie. “Oh, by the way, I heard Brandon is planning something big!” Layla’s eyes lit up. “What? Tell me, tell me!” Jen also leaned in. I decided to keep them in suspense, saying slowly, “The guys in the dorm were talking. Brandon apparently ordered nine thousand roses! He’s going to propose to a girl!” “I bet the goddess is right here with us. After all, anyone who warrants that kind of spectacle has to have something particularly appealing, right?” I deliberately glanced at Layla’s swollen chest. Layla’s face turned crimson with excitement. She covered her mouth, her voice trembling. “Really?! Nine thousand roses?! Oh my God! It has to be for me!” “Patrice, you’re my good luck charm! I need to get ready now! I’m going to be the dazzling main character tonight!” She rushed to her closet, frantically searching for the perfect outfit. “Which one? This one’s too plain. This one doesn’t show off my figure enough. Ah! This sheer one! Paired with the bra Patrice gifted me, Brandon will definitely…” Watching her excited back, Jen gave a look of undisguised contempt, her fingers flying across her phone screen. The next second, my phone vibrated. “Are you serious? Brandon is proposing to her? With nine thousand roses? Who are you kidding? Her? The weirdo with that gross disease and whatever’s leaking out of her? Is Brandon blind?” I replied quietly. “Who knows? A crazy rich kid with a bizarre obsession and a weirdo with ‘peach milk’—they sound like a match made in heaven. Two of a kind. Let’s watch the show!” I was eager to see if, this time, without my interference, she could actually realize her dream and snag a rich boy. Chapter 4 The school’s main plaza was already packed by evening. Brandon Hayes, wearing a well-tailored white suit, walked toward Layla, who stood in a sea of flowers, holding a huge bouquet of red roses. Layla had definitely taken my advice. She wore a nearly transparent black lace camisole, with my low-quality lace bra underneath! I couldn’t tell if it was my imagination, but her face looked flushed, almost sickly. She was walking strangely, occasionally holding her chest, as if enduring some discomfort. The crowd roared in excitement. “Nine thousand roses! So romantic!” “Layla looks so hot tonight! Brandon is gorgeous!” Hearing the praise, Layla’s face was beaming. The pain seemed to lessen. She tilted her chin up, waiting for Brandon to approach, ready for her spotlight moment. But the obsession and eagerness on Brandon’s face froze the moment he got close to her. He smelled it. The stench emanating from Layla—a mix of sickly sweet and rotten—was nothing like the previous “peach scent.” It made sense; Layla’s condition was much worse now. And with the high temperature, how could she still smell like a mild, early-stage infection? She was actively rotting. Brandon’s facial muscles twitched. He instinctively stepped back, covering his nose. His voice held a barely concealed disgust. “What is that smell?” Layla’s smile instantly froze. She instinctively covered the increasingly dark and widespread pink stain on her chest. “I… Brandon, let me explain…” But before she could finish, something erupted from her chest. Followed by a ripping sound. The cheap, strained lace bra suddenly split open. The two bulging mounds, covered in large, dark red patches and visible subcutaneous veins, were violently exposed to everyone! Countless eyes shifted from curious envy to shock and disbelief, finally settling on a look of indescribable horror, mixed with disgust and fear! Then, under everyone’s horrified gaze, the infected areas—several extremely swollen, translucent pustules at the center of the dark red skin—began to burst sequentially! A large stream of pinkish-white fluid, mixed with clumps of pus and blood, and carrying a nauseating, potent odor of decay, violently sprayed out! The primary target was Brandon, standing closest to her! He was completely drenched, head to toe, in the scalding, foul-smelling, decaying pus! A few drops even splashed into his widely agape mouth. Brandon froze on the spot.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386990”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1. The system told me that if this body died, I could return to my original world. This was after I’d failed to capture the hearts of the three male leads. So, I happily ordered a massive carb-loaded feast down in this dark, musty basement. After finishing it, I got out a length of rope and prepared to hang myself. But just as I was about to slip my head into the noose, a barrage of glowing comments flashed across my vision. [Nooooo, sweetie! Your brother is only treating you badly because he feels guilty toward the foster sister! You are his most beloved sister!] [Exactly! Your fiancé is the same way! It’s just because the foster sister saved him. His heart is BLEEDING every time he hurts you!] [And your childhood best friend only feels guilt for the foster sister, too! Don’t give up! Don’t kill yourself! If you die, those three will go insane!] … I had just stepped onto the stool when these bizarre comments appeared before me. Reading them, I felt nothing but utter ridicule. For over twenty years, I had poured my entire heart and soul into trying to win over this world’s three male leads. Yet, because the foster sister attempted suicide that one time, they subjected me to extreme torment, kicked me out into this godforsaken rental room, and caused me to rack up massive debt, enduring daily beatings from loan sharks. Now these comments were telling me that I was the one they truly loved? It was laughable. I ignored them, slipped my head into the noose, and kicked the stool away. The feeling of suffocation slowly crept in. In my mind’s eye, I saw the loving smiles of my parents. It’s finally happening. I’m going home. [Relax, everyone! Big Bro is coming right now! He’ll save her while pretending to be tough!] [Yup, yup! He acts like he hates her, but he’ll be terrified seeing her try to kill herself!] [The foster sister saved the three male leads, so they have to repay their debt! Sweetie, be understanding of them! Once the fiancé and the foster sister have their ceremony, their debt will be fully repaid!] The next second, the rickety basement door was violently smashed open. My brother, Ron Clark, rushed in and pulled me down, a fleeting look of panic in his eyes. I hit the floor hard, feeling a profound regret that I hadn’t made it home to my parents. “Lola, what is this act of yours? What are you doing? Raven is suffering from depression because of you. She’s just having a commitment ceremony with Ethan; it’s not a real marriage! Who are you trying to impress with this stunt? “Do you think anyone will feel sorry for you if you kill yourself? I just feel sickened.” I looked at that face, so familiar yet filled with such contempt for me, and my heart ached with a dull, numb pain. Ron was an illegitimate child in our family. When he first joined us, he was disliked, and kids at school often bullied him. I was the first one to take his hand and tell him he was good enough. I shared everything with him. When he discovered a passion for piano, I argued relentlessly with the elders and finally secured him a spot with a master teacher. He adored a rare, out-of-print music score that I found, but it was in shreds. I stayed up for nights, even damaging my eyesight, just to painstakingly piece it back together for him. He used to smile, carrying me on his back, promising to be good to me forever. “Lola is my sister. I would die before I let anything hurt her.” But that man who made those fervent promises—everything changed when the foster sister, Raven, arrived. 2. Raven often played the innocent victim to frame me. And right when I was about to marry my fiancé, Ethan Hayes, she ran up to a rooftop in a wedding dress and threatened to jump. To appease her, my fiancé and brother threw me out of the Clark estate, set me up with that enormous loan shark debt, and had me blacklisted across the city. For three years, I’ve been hiding daily, constantly subject to beatings. The legs that once danced ballet are now permanently injured, crippled by a compound fracture. [Waaah, Big Bro is actually so sad saying those things! His fists are clenched tight!] [It’s because the debt hasn’t been repaid! I know Sweetie is hurt, but try to think of Big Bro! He only favors the foster sister because of the life debt.] [So angsty! My heart aches for Big Bro.] It was utterly ridiculous. What did their life debt have to do with me? For twenty years, I had been nothing but kind and loyal to Ron. I looked at Ron and smiled faintly. “As you wish, I won’t be a nuisance anymore.” Before Ron could react, I grabbed the fruit knife from the table and brutally slashed my own wrist. “LOLA!!!” Before I blacked out, I only heard Ron’s heartbroken scream. I truly thought this time I would finally die. But no. I was jolted awake by a glass hitting the wall. Opening my eyes, I saw Raven and Ethan standing by my hospital bed. Raven was crying pitifully, while Ethan was rigid with fury. “Sister, please don’t hurt yourself because of me! I won’t marry Ethan anymore.” Raven leaned against Ethan, delicate as a willow, looking like she might collapse at any moment. Ethan immediately steadied her, his gaze aristocratic and cold as he looked at me. “What stunt are you pulling now? Do you realize Raven has called off the ceremony these past few days because of you? She isn’t eating or sleeping well! It’s not even a legal marriage yet! Who are you trying to impress by being so dramatic?” [Ahhh, who noticed the fiancé’s tightly clenched hands? Saying those nasty things to the female lead hurts him ten thousand times more!] [He has to repay the life debt, so he can’t let the foster sister be sad and must comply with her every wish. He just has to inconvenience Sweetie first.] [Sweetie, don’t cry! The sweetness will come after the ceremony! You’ll be the main character in a sweet romance then!] [Who understands the fiancé’s restrained love? The more he loves, the more he holds back! The angst is killing me!] These comments didn’t bring me an ounce of joy. Instead, I was flooded with memories of Ethan. I met him in high school while I was an exchange student abroad for two years. He was betrayed by his father’s illegitimate son, driven overseas, and was so broke he looked like a common beggar. I took him in. He was a spoiled young master who didn’t know how to cook, so I cooked for him and managed the household, restoring him to his former self. My attentive care transformed him from an icy figure to a tender, loving partner. He used to secretly sketch me while I slept and write “My Wife” in French on the margin. Back in the States, I helped him regain control of his family’s corporation. He said he wanted to marry me and give me the grandest wedding in the world. But after Raven’s “life-saving act,” everything shattered. The Ethan who was once so gentle now hated and avoided me, even feeling sick at the sound of my name. He was the one who personally ordered the breaking of my violin-playing hands. All because of a ridiculous, easily disproven “life-saving act.” I couldn’t speak. I just lowered my head. “I don’t want anything. I just want peace. I have nothing left. At least my life is my own.” [Why does Sweetie always say things to hurt the male lead’s feelings?] [I’m sorry, but I think the female lead is being a bit dramatic. The male lead is so devoted and restrained. What more does she want?] These comments, with their endless “Sweetie,” treated me like a tool for their shipping fantasy. In their minds, the male lead’s pain was always the only thing that mattered. 3. Ethan’s eyelashes fluttered. He instinctively reached out to stroke my hair, like he used to. But he quickly pulled his hand back, sneering. “Do you think we’ll pity you for using these tricks? If you want to die, go do it far away. Don’t be a bother here!” Ethan glared down at me, then swiftly summoned people to tie me down. I struggled in panic. “What are you doing?” “You want to die? I won’t let you. I want you to wish you were dead but be forced to live!” They tossed me into a remote psychiatric hospital. It looked familiar because it was one of Chris’s properties. I was strapped to a hospital bed. Chris Walker entered, holding his phone, speaking to someone on the other end in a tone of false sweetness, calling them “Sis.” “Sis, you rest up. Don’t worry, I won’t miss your ceremony with Ethan!” But when he looked at me, his eyes were full of disgust. “Ha. Ethan told me you’re throwing another suicide pity party. Lola, you’re so damn pathetic!” [Wow, wow, wow, here comes the Tsundere Puppy, Chris!] [He’s jealous that Sweetie is always with the fiancé and Big Bro, so he’s intentionally bullying her to get her attention.] [Haha, making a call in front of his sister to make her jealous! Such a cute, arrogant little one!] The “cute, arrogant boy” the comments described was now using the most venomous words to curse me. Chris was my childhood best friend, the little brother who always followed me. When he was fifteen, we got caught in an avalanche while skiing. I dug him out of the snow bit by bit and then carried him down the mountain. Because of this, I suffered severe frostbite and was sent straight to the ICU. When Chris woke up, he stayed by my hospital door for several days and nights, his eyes red and swollen. He watched over me for the entire time I was in a coma. When I finally woke up, he threw himself into my arms, crying and calling me foolish. “I’d rather die than let anything happen to you, Sis.” He was sincere and heartfelt then. I stroked his head and comforted him with a smile. The Chris in my memory was completely different from the one standing here. “You like playing with death? Fine, enjoy your stay in my mental hospital.” Chris waved his hand, and immediately a group of people in white coats entered. They carried syringes and vials, indiscriminately sticking needles into my arm. I struggled desperately, even yelling Chris’s name. Please, save me, for the sake of me saving you on that mountain. But Chris just gave me a quick glance, then promptly closed his eyes and left. They shoved unknown drugs into my mouth and washed them down with water. I closed my eyes in despair, tears streaming down my face. I spent the next few months enduring pure hell. When I was awake, they drugged me, gave me shocks, and fed me expired, moldy food. I was living, but less than human, without the strength to even attempt suicide again. [Does anyone else think this is too much? Why is the male lead letting the female lead be abused like this?] [You don’t get it. This is a must for the angst novel! The more it hurts now, the sweeter it will be later.] [Exactly! The male lead’s pain is so much greater! Can you please feel for the male lead? I’m so over this.] After a full month of torment, I was finally released. Chris walked into the room. Seeing my fragile state, his eyes flickered, and he asked, “Do you know you were wrong?” 4. I didn’t answer. I just closed my eyes. [Sweetie, just apologize quickly! Seeing you like this, Bestie is completely brokenhearted!] [One tear from Sweetie, and Bestie will give you his life! Quick, say you’re sorry!!!] I found it utterly ridiculous. Chris didn’t press the issue and walked over to pick me up. I frowned in disgust and clearly struggled. Chris’s face paled, and he lifted me roughly. “Do you think I want to touch you? Someone as low as a rat in a gutter—I hate even touching you! If Raven hadn’t told me to pick you up, I wouldn’t spend another second looking at your disgusting face.” Chris held me tight, pressing my head against his chest. [Bestie acts disgusted, but he’s secretly thrilled! He finally gets to hug his sister!] [Bestie is going to go back and show off to the other two a million times, like it was nothing, hahahaha!] Did Chris truly love me, as the comments claimed? Perhaps. But his love was cheap and loathsome. Chris took me to a bridal shop where Raven was smiling, trying on a wedding gown. When she saw my disheveled state, a flash of mockery and smugness crossed her eyes. “Sister, you’re here! Come quickly and help me try on dresses. My ceremony wouldn’t be complete without you!” “Chris, you should go now. This is sister-time for us!” Chris frowned. “If I leave, what if Lola bullies you?” “Chris, don’t say that about Sister Lola! I know she didn’t mean it before!” Raven feebly defended me, which only served to cement the story that I was the one who had bullied her. After Chris left, Raven looked at me, a malicious smile curving her lips. “Oh, Sister. You did so much for those three, but what good did it do you? In the end, I’m the only one in their hearts.” Raven’s friend stood next to her, sniping cruelly, “Raven, why bother talking to her? She’s just a discarded mistress.” “Why don’t we let her try on the wedding dress for you? Didn’t she want to marry Ethan so badly?” They burst into laughter, surrounding me and stripping my clothes off, piece by piece. “Look! That scar on her body is so ugly, hahahahaha!” That scar was from when I saved Chris on the snowy mountain. I once complained about it to him. He had promised then that he would never let anyone mock my scar. But now, all my shame was laid bare for the person he cherished to see, stripped of all dignity. I was left in my underwear. They took out their phones, snapping pictures and shrieking with mockery. I desperately tried to cover myself, but they kept pulling my arms away. I don’t know how long it lasted before a sudden roar came from the doorway. “STOP IT!” Ron strode in, frowning at the scene. He took off his jacket and shielded me. “Brother, my friends are just playing a joke on Sister. There’s no harm intended. Please don’t be angry with them, okay?” Raven explained airily, as if she knew Ron would always favor her and blindly take her side. Sure enough, he only glanced at me and said nothing more. 5. [Waaah, don’t be sad, Sweetie. Big Bro actually cares about you.] [Big Bro’s hands are about to bleed from clenching them! He must be so heartbroken inside.] [Big Bro is the one who loves Sweetie the most, and he’ll be the one to spoil her the most in the later plot!] I watched the comments try to justify Ron’s actions with cold eyes. True love doesn’t involve harm. These three men, who had hurt me the deepest, didn’t deserve to speak of love. Ethan and Raven’s ceremony quickly arrived. Ethan and Chris forced me to work as a server at the ceremony, all because Raven had said she wanted to hear my blessing. Raven and Ethan, dressed in their magnificent wedding attire, presided over the ceremony while I stood in the middle, holding a tray, subject to public ridicule. “That’s Lola. I heard she tried to steal her sister’s fiancé.” “She’s so wicked, nothing like Raven.” “She’s still here, shamelessly, at their ceremony. Is she still holding out hope?” Raven stood by the massive cake, holding a serving knife and showing off to me. “Sister, this is the most important day of my life. Can you bless me?” I remained silent for a long time. Ethan frowned and sharply ordered me. “Lola, didn’t you hear Raven speak?” I just stared at the knife in Raven’s hand. I realized I had finally found my way home. If they wouldn’t let me live in peace, then even in death, I wouldn’t let them have peace. “What are you doing, Lola?” Chris, who was standing the furthest away, noticed that something was wrong with me, but it was already too late. I lunged forward, pressing my chest right onto the blade, plunging it in hard. I instantly collapsed, bleeding profusely, feeling life drain away. I was finally going home. As I fell, there were three anguished roars. [WTF, why did Sweetie kill herself?!] [This isn’t supposed to be a sweet romance, is it?!] [Oh no, if she dies, what about the three male leads?!] Raven still gripped the knife handle, screaming in shock and instinctively turning to Ethan for help. But Ethan didn’t even look at her. He knelt before me, stunned and heartbroken, carefully lifting me. “Lola, Lola, wake up. You’re trying to scare me again, aren’t you? Don’t do this. I was wrong, I don’t love Raven, I only love you, truly. I was wrong, I was wrong!” I still had a shred of strength, so I struggled desperately, pushing Ethan’s hand away, and slowly closed my eyes. My soul gradually pulled away from my body. Ethan completely shattered. He pressed his face against mine, his tears mixing with my blood. “Lola, wake up! Wake up! We’ll get married right now, okay? We promised to get married! You can’t break your promise!” Ethan’s voice grew numb and hysterical. He didn’t seem to believe I was dead, holding me tightly and whispering about our past. “Lola? Lola!” Ron, who had just returned from outside, heard the enormous commotion. He then saw my cold corpse. Ethan held me tight, refusing to let anyone touch me. “Ron, what happened to my Lola? What happened to her?! Tell me!” Ron trembled as he touched my face. His voice choked up; he couldn’t speak a single word. “Lola… Sis…” Chris was completely frozen in place. When he finally reacted, he rushed over, knelt down, and stared blankly at me. “Sis, you’re just scaring me, right? How can you die? You can’t die! You promised we’d go back to that mountain! You can’t break your promise! Wake up! Wake up!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386989”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My brother’s crush yelled herself hoarse at me. “My brother has a gorgeous girlfriend, does yours?” “My brother’s parents are whole and healthy, are yours?” I sneered, “My brother would eat dirt. Would yours?” That night, my brother came home disheartened after being rejected for the seventh time. He found me crouching by the door, smiling with a face full of flattery. He paused, then asked with weary affection, “What mischief have you been up to now?” The words were barely out when his phone rang. The man on the other end spoke with hesitant frustration: “You win. Okay?” “I genuinely couldn’t bring myself to eat that stuff.” 1 He hung up and called out to me as I tried to sneak back into the house. “Lola Clark. Get back here.” I flinched. Full name meant he was seriously mad. I shuffled back, head bowed, and looked up at him. My whole body screamed one thing: guilty. “Bro.” I called out sweetly, but his gaze was steady and unwavering. “I didn’t mean it.” Since I was little, I knew my brother was the “Villain” of this story. And his opposite was the “Hero,” Mark Hamilton, who had success in both career and love. Mark had a loudmouthed sister, Tina, who was in my class. Every day, she’d boast in class, “My brother finally got his girl! He has the most beautiful girlfriend now. She bought me so many dresses, I love her!” In contrast, one day my brother, Luke, was half an hour late picking me up from school. His eyes were red, and he looked completely lost. I tugged on his sleeve and asked what was wrong. He forced a smile, leaned down, and ruffled my hair. “Nothing, sweetie. Just… the person your brother loves already loves someone else.” “So what if she does? If you like her, keep going for it,” I tilted my head, looking at him. “Are you scared?” After a parent-teacher meeting, Tina, the Loudmouth Sister, started handing out snacks her parents had prepared. “My parents seriously love me and my brother so much. They give me this much food every day. I’m honestly sick of it.” Her sharp eyes landed on me. “Lola, why is it always your brother who comes to parent-teacher meetings? Don’t your parents care about you?” I put down my textbook and told her honestly, “My brother and I grew up in an orphanage. We don’t have parents.” “Someone doesn’t have parents?” Tina gasped. “Doesn’t that mean there are two fewer people in the world who love you and your brother? That’s so sad.” I knew she didn’t mean to be malicious, just a little tactless. So I replied, “I have my brother. That’s enough.” Maybe because we both had older brothers, Loudmouth Tina often clung to me. She started and ended every sentence with “my brother.” The argument happened that afternoon. Tina said, “It’s annoying. The pretty girl is already with my brother, but some clueless person is still asking her out, trying to steal my pretty sister!” Since she was insulting my brother, I wasn’t going to let it go. We started fighting, and inevitably, the topic returned to our brothers. Tina was smug. “My brother has twenty properties and seven sports cars. Does yours?” “My brother has a gorgeous girlfriend, does yours?” “My brother’s parents are whole and healthy, are yours?” … I was stumped. My brother didn’t have any of those things. But I couldn’t surrender now! So, I sneered, “My brother would eat dirt. Would yours?” That one sentence killed the conversation. Tina was speechless. When school ended, I saw Mark, the Hero, picking up Tina. Tina was clinging to Mark’s leg, tearfully trying to force him to eat dirt. I didn’t dare watch anymore. I stared straight ahead and walked home, stiff-legged. 2 Uncharacteristically, my brother didn’t come to pick me up. Usually, if he couldn’t make it, he’d text Mrs. Peterson next door and ask her to grab me when she picked up her grandson. I waited by the school gates for a long time but saw no sign of Luke Clark. Seeing the sky getting dark, I decided to walk home alone. When I arrived, I saw a thick stack of papers on the desk. They included my personal ID information, daily habits, and even detailed notes like ‘she only eats the leaves of vegetables.’ A sense of dread crept in. I put down my backpack and secretly slipped into my brother’s study. Luke was never cautious with me. I easily opened his computer. The last song playing was “I once wished I were dead.” His recent search history included: “How to leave entire inheritance to minor child?” “Top ten best foster homes in the country.” “Will a brother’s death leave lasting trauma on a sister?” … I took a deep breath, shut down the computer, and restored the study to its original state. Then, I called Loudmouth Tina. Half an hour later, my brother came home. He held the un-delivered flowers, his eyes red-rimmed, his smile strained. If I remember correctly, this was Luke’s seventh failed attempt at confessing. The girl he loved was the Female Lead, Sarah. Sarah was destined to be with Mark, the Hero. But my brother was the Villain. He didn’t know that. He just believed he wasn’t good enough. I stepped forward and hugged Luke around the waist. I looked up at him. “Bro, you’re finally home!” “I’m cooking tonight! I made you dinner.” I brought out a pot of soup that was a bizarre color and smelled strange. “And my mid-term grades are out!” I presented him with three test papers. All three scores were single digits. Added together, they were still less than my brother’s age. Luke’s hand, holding the papers, started to tremble. I hit him with the next bomb. “Bro, my teacher wants you to take me to a doctor. She says I might have ADHD. What is ADHD?” My brother closed his eyes, and when he reopened them, the light was gone. He hesitated. “I remember you got straight A’s last semester?” “Yep,” I stirred the soup. “But learning is boring. When I grow up, I’m going to get tattoos. Uncle Mike next door has a full sleeve. So cool.” Luke frowned. “Lola Clark, where did you learn all this nonsense?” He lectured me seriously for half an hour. I hung my head and replied vaguely. After lecturing me, my brother put on a small apron, ready to go to the kitchen. Just then, his phone rang. I looked at him, feeling deeply guilty. Luke paused and asked with weary affection, “What mischief have you been up to now?” He answered the phone. The man on the other end spoke with hesitant frustration: “You win. Okay?” “I genuinely couldn’t bring myself to eat that stuff.” The meaning was vague, and before my brother could ask me for an explanation, my watch-phone rang. Loudmouth Tina was crying so loudly her voice echoed through the whole house. “Waaah, Lola! My brother absolutely refuses to eat dirt!” “He said he can do anything I want and give me anything I want. I just want him to eat dirt, and he won’t!” “Can I trade him for a brother who will eat dirt?” 3 A dead silence fell over the living room. I secretly glanced up to check Luke’s expression. He pushed the pot of soup away, set my test papers aside, and lifted his chin. “Sit down.” When my brother’s face is expressionless, it’s quite intimidating. I sat obediently across from him and confessed. “Bro, I messed up.” “That phone call just now, was that Mark Hamilton’s sister?” When I nodded, my brother asked, “Since when?” “Since when what?” I looked up, confused. Luke closed his eyes. “Trading brothers. When did you start wanting to trade me?” Before I could answer, my brother began to self-reflect. “I’m sorry, Lola. I haven’t been a good brother. With the company problems lately, I haven’t been able to pay attention to your feelings.” “I know I’m not a good brother. It’s completely normal that you like someone like Mark and want him to be your brother.” Luke looked downcast. He forced a smile. “I didn’t take good care of you.” Seeing my brother getting sadder, I jumped off the chair and grabbed his hand. “But I don’t want to trade brothers with Tina!” “You are the best brother in the whole world!” Luke stared blankly at my hand gripping his. “But I don’t have twenty properties and seven sports cars.” I shook my head firmly. “Doesn’t matter!” “I don’t have a gorgeous girlfriend.” “I don’t care!” “I don’t have parents either.” “I have my brother, and that’s enough.” “Hmm.” Luke spoke softly. “But your brother won’t eat that… stuff…” I instantly shut my mouth. At that moment, the front door was hammered violently. Loudmouth Tina’s penetrating voice carried inside. “Lola Clark! I’m here to trade brothers!” Two more people squeezed into the small living room. Tina swaggered in, dragging Mark by the wrist. She wasn’t shy at all. She looked around the living room, and her eyes lit up when they landed on Luke. They were like lightbulbs turning on. Tina was satisfied. She dramatically pushed Mark in front of me and patted my shoulder generously. “I’m giving you my useless brother first. You’re going to stay in my mansion tonight. I’m going to stay here with Big Brother Luke.” Mark, as the author’s beloved Hero, was flawless. His only minor flaw was that he was an absolute sim-p for his sister, who was thirteen years younger than him. He spoiled her rotten and listened to her every word. Knowing his sister was just being impulsive, he spoke apologetically. “Mr. Clark, can my sister stay here tonight? We can negotiate the payment.” “What do you mean, tonight?” Tina looked at her brother with disgust. “You’re so useless. I don’t want you anymore. From now on, I’m Big Brother Luke’s sister. I’m going to live here forever.” She pushed me forward. “Lola, all my dresses, my dolls, my snacks—they’re all yours. All you have to do is agree to trade brothers with me.” I was completely unprepared for Tina’s obsession with “trading brothers.” I was about to refuse when Luke, who had been silent the entire time, spoke. His face was calm. “Fine. She’ll trade with you.” 4 I rushed into my room. I grabbed clothes from the closet and haphazardly stuffed them into my little backpack. The living room was full of Tina’s cheers. I could faintly hear Mark cautiously trying to persuade her. “Can I stay here with you, sis? I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone.” Tina didn’t care. “Just leave the housekeeper here. You leave. Mr. Hamilton, we’re not related anymore. Don’t call me ‘sis’.” Mark was still trying to reason with her. I sniffled, suddenly wanting to cry. Luke didn’t want me. He saw me as a burden and had been planning to send me away all along. Even my failing grades and talk of tattoos didn’t make him care anymore. My brother didn’t want me. The door gently closed. Luke had come in without my noticing. He emptied the clothes I’d shoved into the backpack and folded them again, one by one. He even remembered to pack my favorite elephant thermos. After packing, Luke gently pinched my cheek. “Let’s go.” “Bro.” I spoke sullenly, staring at his retreating back. “Are you giving me up?” Luke seemed to freeze. After a moment, he turned around and forced another smile. “How could I?” Liars’ noses grow long. I sat in the Hamiltons’ car, clutching my backpack, and looked through the window at Luke, trying to memorize his appearance. He was leaning down, listening to Tina talk, occasionally smiling. Liar. Next time I saw Luke, his nose would definitely be long. I turned my head away, refusing to look at him anymore. The Hamilton mansion was bigger than I imagined. The car pulled up to the gate, and Sarah, the Female Lead, was already waiting there. I’d only heard about Sarah from Luke and Tina. The moment I saw her in person, I was momentarily stunned. Sarah was holding a small bear. She leaned closer to me, her eyes bright. The evening breeze moved her hair, carrying a faint scent of jasmine. “Welcome, little Lola.” My face felt hot. I buried my face in my backpack. “Uh-huh.” The adults must have coordinated. Dinner was all my favorite dishes. Maybe because I’d sampled my own horrifying soup earlier, I had no appetite. I quickly ate a few bites and left the table. I wandered through the Hamilton mansion and nearly got lost. Finally, Sarah led me to my room door. “Go inside and see! Do you like the room I decorated for you?” The room was covered in soft carpets, the closet held rows of pretty clothes, and various dolls were tucked into the corners. Luke spoiled me, but his small company had just started and was teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. I had never stayed in a room this grand. “I love it.” I nodded and added, “Thank you, Sarah.” Sarah poked the small topknot on my head, satisfied, and left. In the middle of the night, I woke up with a stomachache. I must have gotten sick from that awful soup I made. I was covered in cold sweat. I fumbled for the bedside lamp switch, but I was unfamiliar with the room and couldn’t find it. My slippers were also nowhere to be found. Standing barefoot on the carpet, I looked around the dark, unfamiliar room, and an overwhelming wave of misery crashed over me. I crouched down, hugging my knees, curled up in a ball. The pain came in waves, but I gritted my teeth, refusing to make a sound. After what felt like ages, I heard faint voices outside the door. “Do you think Lola’s asleep?” “She didn’t eat much dinner. Text Luke again and ask if there’s anything else she likes to eat.” “The air conditioning seems too cold. Is she going to freeze?” … The door hadn’t been fully closed and was pushed open slightly. The warm, yellow light from the hallway spilled in. Through my cold-sweat-dampened hair, I struggled to look up. “Lola!” The moment Sarah hugged me, I clung desperately to her clothes. I was rushed to the hospital that night. Fortunately, it wasn’t serious. When I woke up, Sarah and Mark were still watching over me. Only a dim small lamp was on in the room. I shifted slightly, and they immediately noticed. “Are you still uncomfortable?” When I shook my head, Mark asked, “Can’t sleep? Want me to tell you a story?” “Forget it. You only know those few stories. Let me tell one.” “A long, long time ago…” I fell asleep listening to Sarah’s gentle voice. As I closed my eyes, I thought spitefully, I wish Mark and Sarah were really my brother and sister. Luke didn’t want me, so I wouldn’t want him either.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386988”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The school’s flag-raising ceremony was underway when a massive crack suddenly tore open the sky. Hordes of demons poured out. As teachers and students screamed and scrambled to escape, I rolled up the sleeve of my uniform and sighed: “Sword—come!” 1 I was a student secretly drafted into the world of cultivation. In recent years, the Spirituality Surge hit the world, bringing with it the possibility of demonic emergence. Those of us with detected Spiritual Roots were secretly trained to handle the inevitable monster apocalypse. My Spiritual Root was found right before my middle school final exams. No one knew that a secret Root Test had been added to the physical check-ups. I was found to possess a Supreme Single Water Root. When the expert called my mom, she thought I was being recruited by a top-tier prep school. She listened closer and decided the man was an unhinged scam artist. It took my middle school principal showing up in person for her to believe it was real. Cultivation wasn’t just ancient myth. 2 Having a Single Water Root meant I was a genius, even by the standards of the mythical ancient cultivator realm. So, I skipped my finals and got a full scholarship to the prestigious Northwest University of Cultivation, specializing in the Sword Arts. But my Master insisted I couldn’t drop my academic classes; otherwise, I wouldn’t even be able to read the ancient manuals. That’s how I ended up in the state’s best high school as a “specialist student.” Two years into high school, I spent one year training on Mount Kunlun. My desk partner, an art student, was super curious about my constant “training trips.” The day I returned to school, he couldn’t help but ask. He leaned on his hand. “What exactly do you do out there?” I told him the truth: “I’m learning how to save the world.” He snorted with laughter. “No way. Are you still stuck in your edgy phase?” I shrugged. “You normals wouldn’t get it.” He laughed even harder. We were talking at a normal volume. By the end of the day, the entire class knew I was a dramatic girl who fantasized about saving the world. By the next day, the entire grade knew: The girl in Homeroom 6 was the edgy one who fantasized about saving the world. 3 My reputation was so loud that the school bully came looking for trouble. Seriously, some of these high schoolers are just vicious. Saturday afternoon, after school, the bully cornered me in an alley. He held an unlit cigarette between his fingers—the bully’s fashion accessory. He raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one who talks about saving the world?” I nodded. He sneered. “Let’s see if you can save yourself first.” I figured he’d take a while, and my backpack was uncomfortable. I dropped it on the ground and faced him. “Go ahead. Start.” I could easily fly away on my sword, but you need to file a flight plan with local air traffic control to use a flying sword in a normal area. I am a law-abiding cultivator. The bully looked confused for a second, then lunged with a kick. He attacked first. That cleared my conscience. I threw a spirit-infused chop that knocked him unconscious instantly. He collapsed, and I noticed a blotch of black energy hovering over his brow. Clearly, he’d been tainted by demonic energy. No wonder he was so aggressive and targeted the one talking about saving the world. I plucked the demonic energy from his forehead, threw it on the ground, and crushed it. My intuition flared. The emergence of the real demons was close. 4 My premonition was correct. On Monday, during the flag-raising ceremony, the Principal was droning on during a painfully long speech. The sky suddenly changed. Dark clouds pressed down, promising an imminent storm. The leading teacher mumbled, “Did they get the weather forecast wrong?” The forecast wasn’t wrong. It was supposed to be a sunny day. A crack appeared in the sky. At first, everyone thought it was a flash of lightning and excitedly hoped the assembly would be cut short. Then, the crack grew wider and wider. A green-faced, sharp-fanged monster plummeted into the assembly lines. Screams erupted in a terrifying chorus. More and more demons dropped. Students and teachers ran frantically, scattering everywhere. As they fled, I walked against the tide toward the crack. My desk partner rushed back, grabbing my wrist. “What are you doing! Run!” I rolled up the sleeve of my uniform, reaching into the void. “Sword—come!” He looked frantic, his eyes red. “Are you serious?! Now is not the time for—” The short sword hidden in my backpack answered the call, singing as it flew out of the classroom, over the main building, and landed in my hand. The silver-white blade elongated, shining with a cold, moonlit glow. My desk partner’s jaw dropped. “Holy crap! You’re actually doing it?!” I had been practicing the sword for almost three years, but this was my first solo fight. My hand trembled on the hilt. I channeled my spiritual energy and unleashed a Sword Qi Slash. The first slash took off the head of the leading demon. Black blood splattered, and the gourd-like head rolled to my feet. My desk partner had never seen anything like it. He clapped a hand over his mouth and instantly wretched. Okay, I get it. This wave of demons isn’t very strong. I said, “Stay close to me.” 5 I swung my sword, slaughtering the ground demons chasing the students. My desk partner ran behind me, sweating profusely. “I wish I’d taken sports instead of art!” I cut down the demons like I was slicing vegetables. The number of monsters wasn’t huge. I cleared them out in half an hour. The ground was littered with demonic remains. The sky was clearing, but the crack hadn’t closed. I leaned on my sword and caught my breath. The teacher in charge was trying to restore order. The bald Principal picked up his fallen toupee and put it back on. He knew some of the truth, but even he was sweating and panicking. “What do we do now…” I said, “Don’t let everyone leave the campus yet. I saw a few demons fall outside the school grounds.” The crack in the sky was still open. Anything could drop out at any moment. The Principal thought for a moment. “Tell everyone to go back to class. City-wide mock exams are coming up soon.” I froze. “Huh?” He looked frustrated. “It might be a crucial lesson they’ll miss! One point in the finals is a thousand students’ difference!” I sighed. “…Fine.” 6 This was a different kind of apocalypse. Monsters were rampant, and everyone was terrified. I wanted to follow the logic of the survival novels I’d read: gather everyone and set up a barrier. My cultivation wasn’t high enough for a durable Spirit Barrier. But my sword was. This blade was retrieved from a museum. It was one of the few swords in existence still possessing spiritual energy, and it wasn’t on public display. My Master gave it to me when I first showed promise in training. It was so old no one remembered its name. I named it “No-Roll” (Bù Juăn), commemorating the fact that I no longer had to compete in the merciless academic “roll” (competition) of the regular world. I plunged the sword into the center of the sports field. A silver-white aura spread out, enveloping the entire school. My desk partner stood to the side, worried. “What about you without the sword?” I gave a casual smile. “Without that blade, I can still wipe out these demons.” Finally, I got to deliver a line that cool. 7 Everyone went back to class. Except me. I got my phone back from the teacher and reported to my Master. “There’s a crack in the sky above the school. Demons are emerging.” My Master’s voice was urgent. “Any casualties?” “None,” I said. He sighed in relief. “Hold out for a few more days. The sky is cracking in other cities too. I’m busy. I’ll deploy people as soon as possible.” Days? I was dumbfounded. “Master, I just reached the Foundation Establishment stage. I can’t last long.” He said, “I’ll send you online courses. Teach yourself.” I received a file of online courses, about 100 GB worth. Plus, digital practice questions: Five Years of Mock Exams, Three Years of Cultivation. My heart, which had just sunk, rose again. I wasn’t competing in academics anymore, but I still had to compete in cultivation.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386987”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel