The day my dad brought his real daughter home, the whole family heard her thoughts: 【In my last life, Mom and Dad were all tricked and killed by Nora’s schemes. This time, I have to save this family!】 I glanced at my wall, covered in martial arts awards, then at her, a girl who looked like a strong breeze could knock her over. Me, the national kickboxing champion, the MMA golden belt holder, the MVP of the professional fighting league. When would I even have the time to scheme against someone? Schemes? Please. I could kill a man with one punch. 1. The day my father brought Yena Howard to our door, I was in our home gym, dripping sweat in a sports bra and shorts. The girl in the mirror had lean, powerful muscle lines and healthy, sun-kissed skin. I’d just set down a dumbbell when I heard a muffled sob from downstairs. I went down to find a girl sitting between my parents on the sofa. She was a vision in white, her long, dark hair falling straight over her fragile shoulders. She was carefully cradling a cup of tea my mother had handed her. Her posture, her aura—she was the spitting image of my mother, Eleanor Wilde, twenty years younger. “Nora, you’re here.” My mother looked up, her gaze flickering with a complex emotion. “This is Yena. Your father brought her home. She says… she’s our biological daughter. The nurse was busy and mixed up the bracelets, so both families took home the wrong baby. Your biological parents… they passed away in a car accident a few years ago.” I raised an eyebrow, but before I could speak, a clear, delicate voice drilled into my head. 【I’m seeing Nora again. She’s the one who destroyed our family. Sniffle… it was all my fault. Mom and Dad spoiled me so much to make up for my lost years that Nora got jealous. She colluded with some lowlife to bankrupt the company, and in the end, Mom and Dad jumped from a building together. I have to change everything this time. Come on, Yena, you can do it!】 My head whipped toward Yena. What was she talking about? Me, destroy my family? She was still looking down, demurely sipping her tea. Her lips hadn’t moved. At the same time, I saw my brother, Leo, coming down the stairs. He froze on the landing, his shock undisguised as his eyes darted between Yena and me. My parents were staring at the girl with wide, stunned eyes. I got it instantly. We could all hear her. A small smirk played on my lips. Life really was stranger than fiction. “Oh?” I flopped onto the armchair opposite them, my posture relaxed. “Proof?” Yena looked up, her eyes brimming with tears. She glanced at me, then at my mother, her voice as faint as a mosquito’s buzz. “I… I have the DNA report…” She pulled a file from a worn, faded bag at her side. My father’s voice was grim. “We checked it. The report is authentic. We even ran a new test with your mother’s blood sample, just in case. It confirms Yena is our daughter.” My mother took the report, her eyes scanning it quickly. Her own eyes reddened, and she pulled Yena into a fierce hug. “My daughter! You’ve suffered so much!” Leo walked over, giving me a complicated look before his gaze settled on Yena. His usual lazy, joking demeanor was gone, replaced by a gentle tone. “Don’t be afraid. You’re home now.” 【That’s my brother… he looks so young. I haven’t seen him in so long… He’s looking at me so gently. He had such a tragic end in my last life. Nora secretly drugged him and ruined his health. This time, I have to protect him!】 Leo stiffened, his head turning to look at my wall of trophies. Drugged him? She could probably kill three of him with one punch. Why would she need drugs? I was a little speechless myself, which made me seriously doubt the validity of her “reincarnated” thoughts. Initially, I’d felt a pang of guilt for Yena. While the switch wasn’t my fault, her worn clothes told me she hadn’t had an easy life. I was fully prepared to give everything back to her, even move out if she wanted. But the moment she arrived, she started slinging these baseless accusations from some supposed past life. It seemed this frail, innocent girl wasn’t as harmless as she looked. Eleanor’s gaze also fell on me. Besides her obsession with training, this child she had raised was outstanding in every way—academics, character, social graces. How could such a brilliant girl with such clear eyes be the same malicious person from Yena’s thoughts? It was impossible to believe. She hesitated, then said, “Nora, don’t you worry. We’ve raised you for twenty years, and this family can certainly afford to support two daughters. From now on, you and Yena are both our children.” “That’s right, sister.” Yena ran over and took my hand. 【Mom is too soft-hearted. But I have to try. Maybe I can change her this time around?】 My lip twitched. “You know,” I began, “I think you should know that we can hear your—” Before I could finish, my parents and Leo looked at me in horror as my vision went black, and I collapsed. 2. I woke up in my own bed. Leo was sitting by my side, and the moment I opened my eyes, he handed me a glass of warm water. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. “Mom and I tried to test it. Every time we mention her inner voice in front of her, something weird happens and we get cut off. I don’t know what her deal is. Nora, we know you’re not that kind of person, and don’t even get me started on the ‘lowlife’ part.” He paused, glancing at me carefully. “Honestly, in all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you give any guy the time of day.” Well, I guess my complete lack of a love life was my alibi. “Leo,” I said, taking the water, “what’s the plan now?” He sighed, rubbing his temples. “Dad feels guilty. Mom’s heart breaks for her. The fact is, she’s our biological sister. As for those bizarre thoughts… she’s probably just desperate for attention. Don’t take it to heart. Since we can’t prove any of it, we’ll have to assume for now that it’s just nonsense brought on by trauma. Mom and Dad want her to stay and get settled. And…” He looked at me, his expression softening. “You’re the sister I grew up with. That will never change.” Won’t it? But with guilt and blood ties twisting together, and Yena constantly whispering poison in their minds, how long could “never” last? When we went downstairs, the atmosphere was tense. Yena was nestled against my mother like a delicate white flower. Her eyes were still red, making her look like a frightened bunny. “Sister, are you okay? I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault…” Her voice was a weak, tearful whisper. 【What happened to her? She fainted right when I was holding her hand. I hope Mom and Dad don’t misunderstand. No, I can’t think like that. It was just a coincidence.】 My mother quickly took her hand. “Yena, don’t say that. It has nothing to do with you.” She looked at me, a pleading look in her eyes, as if begging me to be magnanimous. My father, Marcus Wilde, cleared his throat. “It’s good that you’re awake, Nora. Yena will be living with us from now on. You two… try to get along.” Impressive. In the short time I was unconscious, she’d already won over my parents and subtly turned them against me. I just shrugged and sat down on the sofa. Just as Yena was about to say something else, the doorbell rang. My supposed fiancé, Preston Hayes, had arrived. He was in a suit, clearly having rushed over from his office after hearing the news. His eyes fell on me first, then scanned the room. Yena’s eyes lit up instantly. She looked down, twisting the hem of her dress, the picture of a shy girl who wanted to approach but didn’t dare. 【Preston’s here! He’s so handsome today! He looked at me! In my last life, Preston chose Nora out of obligation, but then he realized we were the ones who were truly in love. Mom and Dad even approved of us being together. It was wonderful.】 Yena’s ears turned pink. My parents exchanged a look. If this was a possible future, it was better to let the two of them get acquainted. Better to be safe than sorry when it came to their children’s happiness. Preston’s brow furrowed slightly as he stared at Yena in shock. Great. Another one joins the mind-reading club. He quickly recovered, greeting my parents before turning to Yena with a polite, practiced warmth. “Miss Howard, welcome home.” Finally, he came to me. “Nora, are you alright?” “Why wouldn’t I be?” I said flatly. Leo broke the awkward silence. “Preston, perfect timing. We’re taking Yena shopping in a few days. She just got here and needs everything. You should come with us.” Preston’s gaze swept over Yena’s worn dress, which was completely out of place in our lavish home. A flicker of pity crossed his face, and he nodded. “Of course.” 【Yes, he agreed! I have to be on my best behavior. I hope we can be together openly this time around.】 3. For the next few days, I barely left the house. An international MMA tournament was coming up next month, and I had been preparing for it for a year. In this final stretch, I poured all my energy into high-intensity training. After getting nowhere with me, Yena seemed to give up on her quest for sisterly bonding and focused all her attention on my parents and Leo. At first, I saw them interact with a degree of caution, but they couldn’t resist Yena’s daily charm offensive. Soon, the four of them were inseparable, their bond growing stronger by the day. The huge mansion was often empty except for me and the staff. Leo took her to a few high-society parties. When he got back, he’d scratch his head and say, “You know, Yena’s actually pretty great. All my friends said she’s so sweet and well-behaved.” A hint of pride had already crept into his voice. I tried to spend some time with my parents, but Yena’s inner voice would immediately pipe up: 【Oh no, Nora’s alone with Mom and Dad. I can’t let her. I have to watch her so she doesn’t get a chance to hurt them.】 And then she would magically appear, wedging herself between us, and my parents’ eyes would fill with suspicion. And that was the thing. Yena’s predictions were coming true. She thought that my mother’s favorite rose bush in the garden would inexplicably wither the next day, and sure enough, the gardener reported it had wilted. She mentally warned my father that an antique brush washer in his study had a hairline crack and to be careful. A few days later, my father was admiring it when it broke in two with a gentle tap. She even fretted internally before one of my brother’s business dinners: 【I hope Leo doesn’t drink the wine that Mr. Henderson offers him tonight. An opponent drugged it. In my last life, he drank it, made a fool of himself, and lost a huge deal.】 That night, Leo was on high alert. He noticed something off about Henderson’s assistant’s eyes, made an excuse to refuse the drink, and later discovered it had indeed been tampered with. One by one, everything she predicted came true—except for the parts about me. The way my family looked at Yena transformed into pure adoration and affection. I even started to see suspicion in my mother’s eyes when she looked at me. It was clear. They didn’t trust me anymore. When they were all leaving to buy Yena a new wardrobe, I declined, saying I needed to rest. Yena lowered her head and started her predictions again. 【This is just like last time. She got jealous because I stole Mom and Dad’s attention, and now she’s going to come after me. I don’t mind if she hurts me, but please, don’t let her hurt Mom and Dad…】 I turned and walked away, ignoring the sounds of them comforting her behind me. Leo noticed my growing distance and sought me out when he returned. “You saw, didn’t you?” he said, studying my face. “Saw what?” “Don’t get the wrong idea. Yena didn’t ask for any of those gifts. We bought them for her. She’s such a good kid. She’s never been out with us before, and she missed out on twenty years of presents. It’s not her fault. Don’t take it out on her.” As he spoke, the affection for Yena in his eyes deepened. I felt a wave of nausea. “What did I do? I haven’t gone near her in days. Have you lost your mind? You all actually believe those thoughts of hers?” “But they’ve all come true! I just don’t want you to become the person she described,” he said, his voice dropping, his confidence wavering. Yena appeared out of nowhere, her inner voice arriving with her. 【Leo is trying to explain things to Nora for me. He’s so sweet. He cares about me more and more. It looks like Nora is really angry. Did I do something wrong? It’s all my fault. Nora is the most important, after all.】 Leo seemed to draw strength from her presence. “Just stay away from her. She’s not like you, so tough and dominant all the time. Besides, you owe her…” Tough? Owe her? Did this idiot forget who protected his chubby ass when he was getting bullied as a kid? Leo, lost in the thrill of finally being a protector, raised his voice, only to be met with my fist. Blood gushed from his nose as he hit the floor with a thud and didn’t move. I rolled my eyes. He seemed to have forgotten who he was messing with. Ignoring the panicked cries of “Leo! Leo, what happened?!” behind me, I went back to my room. The person I was closest to in this family now believed her. It was time for me to go. 4. I came out with my bags packed to find my parents sitting side-by-side on the main sofa, their faces grim. Yena was next to them, sobbing softly, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. Even Preston was there, whispering words of comfort to her. The moment I appeared, all eyes snapped to me. There was a brief flicker of confusion at my luggage, but it was quickly replaced by disappointment and anger. What now? “Nora,” my father began, his voice simmering with rage, “do you have anything to say for yourself?” I stopped in my tracks. “About what? Leo started it.” “Still playing dumb!” My mother’s voice trembled as she pointed at the still-sobbing Yena. “You poisoned Yena’s water! If your father hadn’t found out, do you have any idea what would have happened?” My heart sank. What had she done now? When my eyes met Yena’s, she flinched as if she’d been struck, and her tears flowed even faster. “Sister… I-I’m sorry…” she choked out. “I know I shouldn’t have come back and competed for attention… but… but I really wanted to see Mom and Dad. I love them so much…” I understood immediately. She’d framed me. A cheap, yet brutally effective, tactic. The strange thing was, her inner voice never seemed to pop up when it could expose her. “I never touched her water, and I certainly didn’t poison it,” I said coldly, my voice steady. “You’re still denying it!” My father slammed his hand on the coffee table and shot to his feet. “The maid saw you hovering around the kitchen! Who else would do something like this to Yena? Nora, I was so wrong about you! I thought you were just stubborn, but I never imagined you were so petty, so vile!” The maid saw me? What a convenient witness. Preston stood up and looked at me, his eyes filled with a quiet disappointment. “Nora, even if you didn’t do it, you should still apologize to Yena.” His tone made it clear he’d already decided I was guilty. Nora? Yena? It seemed her little prediction about them getting together was coming true. “Since you all believe that,” I cut him off, my gaze sweeping over all of them, “then anything I say is pointless. If there’s no room for me here, I’ll leave.” I straightened my back, refusing to look at any of them again, and walked toward the front door. “Wait,” Preston said, catching up to me with Yena in tow. His face was set with determination. “I came here to break off our engagement. It’s true. I’ve fallen in love with Yena.” He looked at me with pity. “Don’t blame me, Nora. You’ve enjoyed Yena’s life as an heiress for twenty years. You’re strong. She needs me more than you do.” Seriously? Was he delusional? Our families had a simple business arrangement. I would never be interested in a pretty boy like him who I could flatten with one punch. Of course, Preston couldn’t hear my thoughts. He mistook my speechless disbelief for heartbreak. He went to Yena and took her hand, the two of them gazing at each other lovingly. “Nora, I promise, as long as you’re good to Yena, I’ll still think of you as a sis—” He turned back to me, the pity on his face freezing. I was already gone. It seemed things weren’t going according to his script. Seeing Preston staring blankly in my direction, Yena grew anxious. 【Oh no, is she playing hard to get? But Preston is all I have. I was alone for so many years, and he’s the only one who’s ever been this kind to me. But if Nora wants him… I… I guess I could let her have him.】 Preston snapped out of his daze and pulled Yena into a hug. “It’s okay, Yena. You’re just too kind.” He was right. Just as Yena thought, she must be playing hard to get. After all, besides her family, he was the only man who had ever gotten close to her. Preston relaxed completely, gently stroking her hair. After I left, I used the prize money from my competitions to buy a small house. Meanwhile, back at the Wilde mansion, Yena was in her room, on the phone. “Mom, you were so right. It worked. Nora’s gone now. Haha, I have everything that was hers.” She paused, a cold smile twisting her lips. “Okay, it’s time for the next step.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386793”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The day I discovered I wasn’t a true Sterling—the day the lie of my life unraveled—was the day I stopped fighting. No more frantic calls to check his whereabouts, no more hysterical accusations. I became the quiet, obedient wife Nate Sterling had always wanted. My father’s warning echoed in my mind, cold and sharp. “Other heiresses have their families to fall back on after a divorce. You? An imposter? What will you have left?” So, I behaved. Even when I found a half-empty packet of morning-after pills in his coat pocket, I pretended I saw nothing. After all, when you’re fighting for survival, who has the energy for heartbreak? But when Nate saw me playing dumb, his expression didn’t soften with relief. It hardened into something I couldn’t read. 1 As I took Nate’s blazer from him, a small box tumbled out and clattered onto the hardwood floor. My gaze flickered to it for a single, searing second before I looked away. It was a box of emergency contraception. “You dropped something,” I said, my voice carefully neutral as if I hadn’t seen the words on the packaging. “I’ll go start the laundry.” I tried to turn away, but his hand shot out, his fingers closing around my wrist like a steel trap. I looked back. Nate was tall, his presence always commanding. He had a strong brow and a straight nose, framed by impossibly long lashes. From this angle, looking up at his sharp profile, he was pure intimidation. A knot of familiar anxiety tightened in my stomach. “These pills belong to Jessica,” he began, his voice low. “She’s been under a lot of pressure with the new project, and it’s messed with her cycle. Her doctor prescribed them.” He let out a tired sigh, the usual sharpness in his eyes clouded with exhaustion. “We were out with clients last night. The dress she was wearing didn’t have pockets, so she asked me to hold them for her. I just got so busy I forgot to give them back.” He met my eyes, his grip on my wrist loosening slightly. “There’s nothing going on between us. I swear.” It was the most he’d explained himself to me in years. It had to be because of the divorce papers I’d thrown at him a few weeks ago. When I remained silent, he pulled out his phone. “If you don’t believe me, I can ask her for the prescription records.” A faint smile touched my lips. “Don’t be silly. It’s such a small thing, there’s no need to bother her.” Nate froze, his eyes searching my face. “Then just now, you were…?” I knew what he was asking. I offered the perfect explanation. “I was just wondering if I should run them over to her now. We wouldn’t want to delay her treatment.” I added a thoughtful pause. “But it’s so late. It’s probably better if you give them to her tomorrow. I’ll go put the clothes in the wash.” Without waiting for a response, I slipped from his grasp and hurried away. That was close. I almost let the mask slip. My father’s words were a constant mantra: In a world of wealth and power, feelings are a liability. Profit is everything. Instead of worrying if he loves you, you should be worrying about what happens to a fake heiress like you if he leaves you. But as I turned my back, I didn’t see the shadow that fell across Nate’s face, his expression turning dark and unreadable. 2 I was deep asleep when the bed dipped beside me. Nate slid under the covers, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me tight against his chest. His warm breath ghosted over the back of my neck. “Our fifth anniversary is coming up,” he murmured. “I’ll take you to see the Northern Lights. In Iceland. Like you’ve always wanted.” My body went rigid. He’d made the same promise for our last anniversary. He’d canceled at the last minute for Jessica. “We’ll see,” I mumbled into my pillow. The arms around my waist tightened instantly, painfully. I let out a small hiss and instinctively tried to pull away. “Why?” His voice was a low growl, pinning me in place. “You always wanted to see the auroras with me. You said kissing the person you love under the Northern Lights was the most romantic thing in the world.” My eyes were closed, my voice barely a whisper. “You’re the one who said we shouldn’t waste time on pointless things like that.” I faked a yawn. “Besides, the anniversary is still a few days away. Let’s talk about it later. I’m so tired, Nate. I need to sleep.” I let my breathing even out, pretending to drift off. The truth was, I’d already seen the Northern Lights. I booked the ticket the night I found out I was a fraud. A trip like that costs a small fortune, upwards of thirty thousand dollars. I figured I’d better enjoy the Sterling money while I still could. As for the heartbreak? That could wait. 3 When I woke up the next morning, Nate was already gone. I checked my phone. A message from him was waiting. Meds are on the counter. Don’t forget to take them. I have a congenital heart condition. Back when I was still the prized Sterling heiress, no one wanted to marry me. The disease was a death sentence; I could drop dead at any moment. Marriages in our circle were business transactions, and what good was a merger if one of the assets was fatally flawed? A widower was damaged goods on the marriage market. But Nate had wanted me. And even though I was an heiress, my family wasn’t exactly a united front. My father, for all his social standing, had an entire soccer team’s worth of illegitimate children scattered around. When my family realized my only value—a strategic marriage—was compromised by my health, they couldn’t even be bothered to pay for my treatment. The rich aren’t generous by nature. They are lavish with those who benefit them and ruthlessly selfish with those who don’t. But Nate didn’t care about my condition. He fought his parents, ignored the gossip, and married me in the most extravagant wedding the city had ever seen. The first thing he did after we were married was find me the best cardiac specialist in the country. Two years ago, I finally had a transplant. I was slowly, carefully, recovering. Everything was supposed to be perfect. But somewhere in the last five years, everything had changed. Nate started coming home later and later. His shirts smelled of a perfume that wasn’t mine. His phone was suddenly off-limits. I told myself to endure it. My father was a misogynist who believed women had no place in business, so I’d never learned how to manage a company. I couldn’t help Nate with his work. All I could do was be a supportive wife. Don’t worry about it, I’d tell myself. It’s just work. Then, his childhood friend, Jessica, returned from overseas. And started working at his company. Nate admired her. He praised her sharp business acumen, her cool, strategic mind. He was a man of few compliments, but he would praise her openly, repeatedly, in front of everyone. Slowly, the whispers started. Jessica Hayes and Nate Sterling. They’re the real power couple. Rumor had it they were supposed to have an arranged marriage years ago, but it was suddenly called off. She went abroad to chase her dreams; he stayed to build his empire. My friends warned me to be careful. I told them they were just friends, colleagues. It was impossible to avoid each other at work. Then Nate’s actions made a fool of me. This was a man so ruthless with his time that when I was burning up with a fever from COVID, he told me to “hang in there” until he closed a deal before taking me to the hospital. Yet when Jessica let out a single sneeze in a meeting, he walked away from a ten-million-dollar contract to personally drive her to the clinic. It kept happening. During the day, his time belonged to his work; he told me not to distract him with too many texts or calls. After work, his time belonged to Jessica; he told me he needed his personal space, that I couldn’t control his friendships. Every time he chose her over me, I wanted to scream, to talk it out, to make him understand. But there was no talking. He never gave me the chance. One night, I refused to let him leave. I stood my ground and told him how much his relationship with Jessica hurt me, how many lines they had crossed. I thought maybe, finally, we could fix this. His response was a cold splash of water on my hope. “We’re just friends,” he said, his tone flat. “If something was going to happen between us, it would have happened long ago. It wouldn’t have waited for you.” That shut me up. He was right. In every conceivable way, Jessica was better than me. I fell silent and let him walk out the door to go to her. Then came the party. A gathering with the other corporate wives. One of them, with a malicious glint in her eye, showed me a photo on her phone. Under the soft glow of a streetlight, Nate was holding a drunk Jessica in his arms. In his other hand, he carried her high heels. 4 Nate hated drinking. He hated the way alcohol made people lose control, and he despised drunk people. For his last birthday, everyone wanted to toast him. He couldn’t refuse them all, so as his wife, I drank for him. Glass after glass. But my tolerance is terrible. The mix of red wine and whiskey sent me reeling. I spent half the night hugging the toilet, so drunk I couldn’t even lift a finger. I remember weakly asking him to help me to the shower. Nate had just frowned, looking down at me with disdain. “You wreak of alcohol,” he’d said. “It’s disgusting. I’ll have the maid help you.” But the man in the photo showed no disgust. His eyes were soft, his movements gentle, as if he were holding the most precious treasure in the world. The Sterlings and the Hayes were both powerful families. The photo went viral in our circles. Overnight, Nate and Jessica became the star-crossed lovers reunited, and I became the city’s biggest joke. It was noon the next day when Nate finally came home. “Where were you last night?” I heard myself ask, my voice numb. He didn’t seem to notice the iciness in my tone as he shrugged off his jacket. “Working late.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. “Working late? At Jessica’s place?” He stopped, his brow furrowing. “What are you on about now?” I held up my phone, the photo burning on the screen. My eyes were red-rimmed with unshed tears. “You’re the one who’s lost his mind! You hate the smell of alcohol, remember? But you looked pretty happy holding her!” My voice cracked. “You don’t hate the smell of alcohol. You just hate it on me.” “If you don’t love me, Nate, why did you ever marry me?!” My rage boiled over. I grabbed the nearest thing—a ceramic mug on the table—and hurled it against the wall. It was the mug we’d made together on our honeymoon. Nate, who always preferred minimalist, monochrome designs, had treasured that garish, colorful thing. He’d used it every day, ignoring the smirks from his staff who whispered he was being childish. 5 The sound of shattering porcelain echoed in the silent room. I barely registered it. “It’s only been a few years, Nate! Couldn’t you wait a little longer? If you’re tired of me, just divorce me! What’s the point of all these lies?!” He ignored me, his attention fixed on his phone, thumbs flying across the screen as he replied to a message. Only when he was done did he look up, his expression chillingly calm. “So? Is this what your interrogation is about? You’re making a scene over something this small?” “Small?” The word was a strangled gasp. “What else would you call it?” His voice grew sharper, his eyes filled with a weary annoyance. “Bonnie, every single one of our fights comes from your insecurity and your lack of trust in me. If that’s the case, what is there left for me to explain?” My hands clenched into fists. The anger I’d been swallowing for months erupted. I twisted the diamond ring off my finger and threw it at him. “Then get out! Let’s get a divorce!” The ring hit the floor and rolled under the sofa. Nate’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second. Then, without another word, he turned and slammed the door behind him. I collapsed onto the sofa and cried for a long time. When the tears finally stopped, I started to pack a suitcase. As I moved the sofa cushions, my hand brushed against a piece of paper. It was a sketch. A drawing of me, smiling brightly. Around the neck of my portrait was a necklace I had never seen before. A sudden thought struck me. I pulled up the security camera feed on my tablet. 3:00 AM. Nate had come back. My heart skipped a beat. He came back? And I never even knew? On the screen, I watched him walk into the living room and see me asleep on the sofa. He moved quietly, fetching a blanket and draping it gently over me. I expected him to go upstairs and shower—he was a neat freak, always needing to wash away the outside world the moment he got home. Instead, he pulled a chair over and sat beside me. He took a sketchpad and pencil from his briefcase and began to draw. He drew for two hours. Just as he finished, the me-on-the-screen shifted in my sleep. Nate jumped, thinking I was waking up, and quickly hid the drawing under the cushion. When he saw I was still asleep, he visibly relaxed, then finally went upstairs to shower. But he didn’t go to our bedroom. He left the house again, heading back to work. So he had come back. He had been here. I just didn’t know. I stared at the drawing in my hand, a wave of guilt and confusion washing over me. Since our marriage, Nate’s father had dumped the entire Sterling empire on his shoulders. He was constantly overwhelmed, running on four or five hours of sleep a night. And yet, he had used two of those precious hours for me. To design something I’d once mentioned in passing. I remembered saying it jokingly when we got married: “It’s a shame you gave up design. I was hoping you’d make me a necklace one day.” 6 My fingers tightened around the sketch. After a long moment of hesitation, I found his number in my blocked list and unblocked it. I’m sorry. I was wrong. Nate, can we please talk? I don’t want to fight like this anymore. But he didn’t reply. I told myself he was just busy at work and put my phone away. I carefully gathered the broken pieces of the mug and began painstakingly gluing them back together. Then I went to the kitchen and cooked all his favorite dishes. Midnight came and went. Nate didn’t come home. He didn’t reply to my text. Fearing a repeat of the night before, where he’d come and gone while I slept, I made myself a cup of black coffee and sat on the sofa, forcing myself to stay awake. But the sun rose on an empty house. Nate never came back. Exhausted, I finally gave up and went to bed. When I woke up, it was already afternoon. I immediately checked the security footage, my heart pounding with anticipation. I watched for three hours. The footage showed nothing. From the moment he’d slammed the door yesterday to now, he had not returned. A deep, numbing cold spread through my chest. I decided to go to his office. The receptionist stopped me at the front desk. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Sterling, but I can’t let you up without an appointment.” I stared at her, bewildered. “You know who I am. Why do I need an appointment?” She looked genuinely apologetic. “I’m sorry, ma’am. It’s Mr. Sterling’s policy. Everyone needs an appointment. That includes you.” She was just doing her job; I couldn’t blame her. As I turned to leave, I overheard two employees whispering nearby. “So that’s his wife? She’s got nothing on Ms. Hayes.” “I know, right? She’s his wife, but she needs an appointment to see him!” “Seriously. Meanwhile, Ms. Hayes can walk into his office without even knocking.” My feet froze to the floor. The dull ache in my chest sharpened into a piercing pain that made it hard to breathe. It was all so ridiculously humiliating. I had walked right into it. It wasn’t my imagination. It wasn’t a misunderstanding. Nate’s feelings for Jessica were real. So obvious that even his employees could see it. “Excuse me,” I said, my voice steady. The two women stiffened, turning around slowly. “Mrs. Sterling? Can we help you?” Their smiles were plastered on. I didn’t comment on their gossip. I glanced at their name tags—one read “Megan,” the other “Laura.” “Actually, yes,” I said softly. “I was hoping you could do me a favor. Could you give your boss a message for me?” “What is it?” Laura asked, her curiosity piqued. I took a deep breath, fighting to keep my voice from trembling, to keep the tears from falling. “Just tell him I want a divorce. And that he needs to come home tonight to sign the papers.” 7 The lobby fell into a sudden, dead silence. The two employees stared at me, their jaws slack with shock. Without waiting for their reaction, I turned and walked away. After calling my lawyer to draft the divorce agreement, I went home and started packing. There was too much to take, so I only packed a few essential clothes and personal items. Nate came home at four o’clock. I handed him the papers. “Sign it.” He paused for only a second before picking up a pen and scrawling his signature on the line. “Fine,” was all he said. Not a single word more. Compared to my agonizing struggle, he was as cold and detached as a stranger. With the papers signed, we went to the courthouse. But there was a mandatory 30-day “cooling-off” period before the divorce was final. If either of us changed our minds in that time, the process would be voided. To prevent myself from having a moment of weakness and running back to him, I moved out of our home and went back to my parents’ house. My mother thought it was just another fight and offered a few placating words. When she realized I was serious, she tried to talk me out of it. “The Sterlings are at the top of their game right now, Bonnie. Are you really going to let another woman walk in and take everything you have?” I didn’t listen. My mind was made up. There was no going back for me and Nate. Because I hated him. I hated his arrogance, his coldness, his deception. But my hatred didn’t last long. A few days later, a bombshell dropped that sent my world into a black hole. I was not my parents’ biological daughter. 8 The year I was born, a massive earthquake had struck the region. In the chaos, my birth parents were killed. The real Sterling daughter also died in the disaster. And I, an orphan, was mistakenly identified as their child and rescued. My world shattered. But the most devastating blow was the swift, absolute cruelty of my adoptive parents. They showed no mercy. They cut off all my credit cards, threw me out of the house with nothing but the clothes on my back, and publicly announced that I was not a true Sterling. Penniless, I wandered the streets that night. I was looking for a cheap motel when a group of drunk men cornered me in a dark alley. Their leering eyes and slurred taunts closed in on me. I screamed and fought, adrenaline coursing through me, and managed to break free and run. Shaking and terrified, my first instinct was to call Nate. The call connected, but it wasn’t his voice that answered. It was a woman’s, light and cheerful. “Nate’s asleep right now. May I ask who’s calling?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386792”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After earning my doctorate, I remained at Metropolitan General, rising to become its most esteemed neurosurgeon. When Sharon Miller, a woman from my hometown, brought in her son with a brain tumor, she came directly to me. I performed the delicate surgery, racing against time to save the boy. Yet the very next day, against all medical advice, Sharon took him home. The bumpy car ride to their rural town caused a cerebral hemorrhage, and the boy, Jake, was dead on arrival. Consumed by grief, Jake’s father confronted me after another marathon surgery. Cornering me in the hallway, he stabbed a hidden knife through my skull. As my vision faded, I saw my junior colleague, Angela, rush to my side. Pretending to apply pressure, she whispered venomously, “Your own fiancé told the family you perform unnecessary surgeries for kickbacks. Blame yourself for standing in my way. There can only be one top surgeon here.” Darkness consumed me, filled with thoughts of injustice. Then, I gasped—my eyes opened. I was back in the exam room, on the day I first diagnosed Sharon’s son. This time, as she screamed for a different doctor, I smiled and gladly agreed. 1. “What are you talking about, Evelyn? My Jake is just a kid! He eats like a horse, sleeps like a log. How could he have a tumor?” Sharon Miller’s voice echoed in the small clinic room. “And you want to cut open his head? Are you insane? That would kill him!” she shrieked, her plump face contorted with suspicion. “We’re from the same town, Evelyn. You can’t make this kind of dirty money off your own people.” I stared at the woman—dark-haired, stout, with a shrewd, calculating look in her eyes. The phantom pain of a blade piercing my skull felt so real, it was as if it had happened a second ago. Wait, I thought, a strange clarity cutting through the haze. Didn’t I die? “Ma’am, please, calm down,” my intern, Crystal, said gently. “Why don’t you let us run some tests? Dr. Reed is the best neurosurgeon in this hospital. Our former director recruited her personally…” “She’s one of the top specialists in the country,” Crystal insisted. Sharon shoved her aside. “I’m not an idiot! You just want to milk us for kickbacks. A few scans and you’ll charge hundreds of dollars! We want a different doctor!” I looked at the furious woman, a chill running down my spine. She clutched her overweight son, Jake, who glared at me and Crystal with hostile eyes. Beside them, his father stood silently, his face grim as he scrolled through his phone. I realized with a jolt. I’d been reborn. It was this couple, this very family, who had destroyed my life. In my previous life, after graduating at the top of my class, I was recruited to this hospital. It had the most advanced neurological research facilities in the country, a place where I could truly make a difference. Out of respect for my mentor, who was old friends with the director, I accepted the position. I’d spent my university years traveling the globe, studying under the world’s best surgeons. The intricate pathways of the human brain were as familiar to me as the back of my hand. My philosophy was simple: prevent disaster before it strikes. I always advocated for direct, decisive action to eliminate the root cause of a disease, minimizing harm to the patient. I poured everything into my work, sometimes even paying for a patient’s treatment out of my own pocket, all for that one chance to snatch a life back from death’s grip. Then Sharon found me. I took one look at her son, Jake, and knew instantly. Cerebral arteriosclerosis. He needed surgery, and he needed it now. But after the successful operation, there were no words of thanks. Instead, they checked him out behind my back. The rough journey home ruptured a blood vessel in his brain. And they blamed me. “My son just had a fever!” I remembered his father screaming, his face a mask of grief and fury. “You incompetent quack! I should have listened to Dr. Sweet! She told me it was just a cold, that he only needed a few days of IV fluids… You… You deserve to die!” It had all been Angela Sweet’s doing. Angela, my junior colleague, had a habit of downplaying serious diagnoses to appease patients, prescribing useless remedies instead of real treatment. “Evelyn, you can’t just jump to surgery for everything,” she would say with that saccharine smile of hers. “I know you’re a brilliant surgeon, but sometimes, a more holistic approach is better. Everyone gets a headache now and then. If you cut open everyone who did, no one would be left alive.” She stoked their fears and resentments. The story went viral online, and my reputation was destroyed. I was fired. After I was murdered, the families of other patients—extremists I had diagnosed with grim prognoses—found my parents’ home. They set it on fire. My mother and father were trapped inside, burned alive. But now, I had a second chance. And as I looked at the Millers demanding a new doctor, I didn’t hesitate. “Fine,” I said, my voice clear and firm. “I agree.” Angela, who had just arrived, stared at me, her eyes wide with disbelief. I was known for my stubbornness, for fighting for what I believed was right for my patients. Why would I give up so easily? This was a direct competition. Whoever performed more successful surgeries this month would be nominated for Head of Neuroscience. Angela coveted that title. In our world, a title meant status, power. Sharon Miller was stunned into silence. The whole speech she’d prepared was now useless. Her husband, however, just looked at me with contempt. “I just asked one of those new AI doctors online,” he grumbled, holding up his phone. “My son has the flu. That’s why he has a fever and a headache. Just give him some flu medicine and a few shots. Don’t waste his time. He has school. You can’t afford to hold him back.” My colleagues nearby gasped. “Sir, you can’t be careless with a child’s health,” one of them pleaded. “What you read online isn’t the same as a real diagnosis. You really should let us run the tests…” “Dr. Reed isn’t lying!” Crystal cried out. “Your son is showing symptoms of sclerosis in his brain. If you ignore it, his life will be in danger!” The next second, Sharon kicked Crystal’s legs out from under her, sending the young intern sprawling to the floor. “You little bitch!” Sharon screeched. “How dare you curse my son to die! To hell with your surgery! We’re not doing it! You think we don’t know how it works? A fifty-thousand-dollar surgery, and forty-five thousand goes right into your pockets!” She turned her venom on me. “And you, Evelyn! Our town was so proud of you, the big university graduate. Has a dog eaten your conscience? Are you using my son as a guinea pig?” At her words, Jake jumped forward and kicked me hard in the shin. “I knew it! You’re trying to get back at me!” he yelled. “It was your stupid dog that barked at me first! That’s why I chopped it up!” A dark shadow passed over my eyes. My dog, my beloved old Shepherd, had been found hacked to death years ago. So it was him. This vicious little monster. “You try to kill me, and I’ll have my parents kill your whole family!” he threatened. My face went cold. I gently helped Crystal up from the floor. If I was right, Angela had already been in contact with them. This little demon, Jake. In my last life, I had saved him. Out of pity and a sense of hometown loyalty, I had even paid for part of his surgery myself. The operation was a success. But I never imagined they would check him out of the hospital against my explicit orders. After intracranial surgery, any jolting movement is forbidden. The country roads were full of potholes, and buses could brake suddenly. A cerebral hemorrhage gives you three minutes. Three golden minutes. Out in the countryside, there was no hope of getting to a hospital in time. I became the scapegoat, the villain. My parents paid the price with me. Only after my death did I learn the truth. It was all a conspiracy. And one of the conspirators was my own fiancé, the forensic pathologist, Dr. Marcus Thorne. Angela Sweet was his first love. For her, he had violated his oath, falsified my autopsy report, and pinned everything on me. “Alright,” I said, my voice devoid of emotion. “I accept your decision. From this moment on, Jake Miller’s health is no longer my concern. His life or death has nothing to do with me.” Angela stepped forward, a look of faux concern on her face. “Evelyn, that’s so cold!” she said, then turned to the Millers with a gentle smile. “Don’t worry, your son will be fine. I’m a neurosurgeon too. It looks like he just has a bad cold. A few days on an IV drip, and he’ll be right as rain.” She tenderly stroked Jake’s head, her smile as sweet as her name. “Mommy, she’s an angel!” Jake exclaimed. The crowd of onlookers murmured in agreement. “Now that’s a real doctor! The other one was so heartless.” “Jumping to surgery for everything. Does she think we’re made of money?” “Yeah, a person’s head isn’t something you can just slice open!” “She’s just trying to line her own pockets.” I ignored them. They clamored to have their appointments transferred to Angela. A triumphant gleam shone in her eyes. This was too easy. At this rate, her patient numbers for the month would soar past mine. The Head of Neuroscience position was as good as hers. “Well, Evelyn, since it’s settled,” Angela said sweetly, “I’ll have my assistant transfer their file to my name.” She couldn’t believe her luck. She had been planning to ask Marcus to help her stage a scene, but this was better than she could have imagined. She’d already had her father, the hospital director, and Marcus pre-screen her patients for the month. They were all minor cases, easy wins to boost her success rate. But she couldn’t compete with my perfect record. I had performed several high-risk, groundbreaking surgeries, and my reputation was growing. A flash of jealousy crossed her face. Even with her father’s help, she was nothing compared to my raw skill. She was terrified of being pushed to the margins. But now… it seemed her luck had turned. Whatever the reason for my surrender, it was a victory for her. I watched her smug expression and thought, You fool. Jake’s condition mimicked the flu, but it was incredibly complex and dangerous. I had been fortunate enough to assist on a similar, groundbreaking surgery with the world-renowned Dr. Alistair Finch and my late mentor. Jake’s case was identical to that one. But such cases were exceedingly rare. In my previous life, Jake had been the first documented case in the country, a case of immense research value. But remembering what it had cost me, I wanted no part of it. I didn’t try to stop the other patients from leaving. In my last life, they had filmed my confrontation with the Millers, later using the edited footage to help Angela smear my name. “Excuse me,” a smooth, gentle voice said. “If you need to transfer your appointments, the line starts over here.” I looked up. It was Marcus. My heart turned to ice. Marcus was a forensic pathologist for the city police, in charge of autopsies. “Evelyn,” he said, smiling warmly. “Looks like you’ll finally get to leave work early for a change.” He turned to Angela. “Angela, thank you so much for taking this on. Now I can finally have some quality time with my fiancée.” He was playing the part of the devoted partner, smoothing things over for Angela. I looked at him, a half-smile on my face. A flicker of unease crossed his eyes. “What do you mean by that, Marcus?” I asked. “Evelyn, I was just worried they would give you a hard time. You know how tense doctor-patient relationships can be these days. Their emotions are running high. I didn’t want them to do something drastic.” He looked so sincere. If I hadn’t lived through it all before, I might have believed him. The man was a master of deception. He was the one who had secretly stoked the Millers’ anger in the first place. Soon, the Millers were officially transferred to Angela’s care. She theatrically placed a stethoscope on Jake’s chest and took his temperature. “Yes, it’s definitely a bit of a cold,” she announced. “And the headache is normal. It happens when you cough a lot. Some anti-inflammatories and a few days on a drip should clear it right up.” Just then, the hospital director—Angela’s father—walked over. He made a show of reviewing the chart in front of everyone. “Dr. Sweet is correct,” Director Sweet announced. “I’ve just seen the blood work. The boy definitely has influenza.” The Millers beamed. “See! We told you!” Sharon said, turning to glare at me. “Evelyn, how could you try to rip off your own people? You were trying to rob us and kill our son!” The crowd erupted again, their anger directed at me. “The director himself said it’s the flu!” “She wanted to do surgery for the flu? That doctor has no ethics!” “Who would dare be her patient? She’ll cut your head open just to see what’s inside!” Angela basked in the attention, stepping forward to play the benevolent peacemaker. “Everyone, please calm down. My senior colleague’s specialty is surgery. It’s what she does best. So it’s natural that… her first instinct is to operate. My family comes from a long line of holistic healers, so my focus is on non-invasive treatment. Different doctors, different philosophies. Please try to understand.” Her carefully chosen words fanned the flames once more. “We trust you, Dr. Sweet!” “Quacks like her will get what’s coming to them!” “She treats people from her hometown like lab rats!” “This is a prestigious hospital! How can they employ scum like her?” A triumphant smirk flickered across Angela’s face. She didn’t even have to lift a finger, and I was destroying myself. This was too easy. Still, she put on a troubled expression. “Evelyn, I didn’t mean to steal your patient…” “It’s fine,” I said calmly. “You can handle it. I have no objections. We must respect the patient’s right to choose.” I turned to my intern. “Crystal, you’ll be my assistant from now on. Could you please help transfer these files to Dr. Sweet?” Crystal’s eyes went wide. “Dr. Reed… am I dreaming? I get to learn from you? Really?” Others might not know, but Crystal and I had graduated from the same medical school. She knew that I was a legend there. She could see exactly how these people were trying to sabotage me. “Of course,” I said, a genuine smile touching my lips for the first time. In my last life, when the Millers attacked, innocent people were hurt. Crystal was the only one who tried to step in. Her hand was badly slashed, ending her career as a surgeon before it even began. She was a true doctor, and her journey shouldn’t have ended that way. “You’re right, this does lighten my workload,” I said, glancing at Marcus with a wry smile. “In that case, I’ll take my new assistant out for a celebratory dinner. We’re clocking out early today.” Marcus looked relieved that I was being so agreeable, but a flicker of worry crossed his face. “Evelyn, something’s come up at the precinct…” I nodded understandingly. “Of course. You go handle it.” I knew what he was doing. He wanted to stay and help Angela. Her medical skills were, to put it mildly, questionable. She had been my senior at university, but only because she’d had to repeat several years. She had barely managed to graduate, let alone master the art of medicine. I looked at the crowd of patients, all gazing at Angela as if she were their savior. A wave of bitter irony washed over me. I couldn’t wait to see how a doctor who could barely identify the parts of the human anatomy planned to cure the country’s first documented case of intracranial vascular sclerotic tumors. Back in my office, I started brewing some herbal tea. “Dr. Reed,” Crystal whispered, her voice laced with anxiety. “Are you really not going to do anything? We don’t have a single patient left. You’re the expert here.” Just as in my last life, someone in the crowd had recorded my “refusal” to treat the Millers. The video was already spreading online, painting me as a callous monster. Compared to the beautiful and gentle Angela Sweet, I was the perfect villain. Sure enough, Director Sweet soon summoned me to his office. Angela was standing behind him, a smug look on her face. “Dr. Reed,” the director began, his tone stern. “Your patient recovery numbers this quarter are less than half of Angela’s. I know the old director brought you in, but this hospital operates on results. This situation is making things very difficult for us.” “A hospital isn’t a charity, you understand.” He slid his phone across the desk. “The patients have a very strong opinion of you. Take a look.” The video of me “refusing” treatment was playing. It had tens of millions of views. The comment section was a torrent of abuse. Of course, the part where the Millers were screaming and kicking was conveniently edited out. “A doctor who doesn’t value human life! Who would trust her?” “Greedy witch! I hope her whole family dies!” I stared coldly at the angle of the video. I remembered it perfectly. It was filmed from the exact spot where Marcus had been standing moments before he “appeared” to break things up. The implication was clear. “Dr. Reed, this is a very serious matter in the public eye. We have a reputation to maintain.” He steepled his fingers. “We are considering revoking all of your performance bonuses for the year, as well as… your eligibility for the Head of Neuroscience position.” “Director Sweet,” I said calmly. “I understand you want to pave the way for your daughter. But you should be careful what you wish for. Don’t let your ambition ruin her career, and yours along with it.” I looked him dead in the eye. “To coddle a child is to condemn them.” I glanced at the family photo on his desk, then turned and slammed the door behind me. This wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get rid of me. I refused to use the overpriced imported drugs and equipment he pushed, and I refused to take part in the kickback schemes he ran with other clinics. The real money-grubber wasn’t me. Director Sweet watched me go, taking a deep breath. “Angela, that’s as much as I can do for you,” he said once I was gone. “You have to handle this opportunity carefully. Why did you let this blow up so big?” “The public attention on this case is massive now,” he continued, a note of worry in his voice. “Fortunately, this Jake Miller’s illness isn’t serious. But… I’m worried. Evelyn was the old director’s hand-picked successor. His judgment was never wrong.” “You need to find a way to get that boy cured and discharged as soon as possible. What happens to him after he leaves our hospital is not our problem.” There was a deep unease in his voice. He and all the senior doctors had reviewed the case. It really did look like a migraine caused by the flu. Could one young woman really be smarter than all of them, with their decades of clinical experience? He scoffed. This hospital didn’t need talented people. It just needed obedient people. A dark glint appeared in Angela’s eyes. “Don’t worry, Dad. Evelyn was a big shot in university. I just can’t stand her high-and-mighty attitude. If you don’t pull a weed out by the roots, it will just grow back again.” She wanted it to blow up. She wanted to make it impossible for Evelyn Reed to ever practice medicine again. A venomous look crossed her face. Throughout their internship, people had constantly compared them. It was always a comparison between heaven and earth. This time, she was going to be the one in heaven, and she would grind Evelyn Reed under her heel until she was nothing but dust.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386791”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My best friend and I were a team of two: the beautiful, wicked women of this city’s elite. She was the canary in a gilded cage, kept by Jean Vance, the scion of an old-money dynasty, in his penthouse overlooking the park. I was the trophy girlfriend to Damian Blackwood, a tech mogul with new money and an insatiable need to show it off. We pooled the cash they gave us, a seventy-thirty split in her favor. She said I had terrible taste, that my man wasn’t as generous as hers. I said she had rocks for brains, that her man was all empty promises and charm. We bickered and fought, but together, we kept every other wannabe, every starlet and model, firmly in her place. Until the ingenue appeared. For her, Jean hung up on my best friend, Stella, for the first time ever. For her, Damian froze all of my credit cards. Stella and I just looked at each other. We didn’t need to say a word. Ah. The main character had arrived. … “I’m sorry, your card has been declined.” The cashier’s voice was quiet, but it echoed through the hushed boutique. Every head turned. Eyes, sharp with judgment and barely veiled contempt, drilled into me. The diamond bracelet, with its six-figure price tag, felt suddenly heavy in my hand. Just minutes ago, the sales associate had been fawning over me, calling me “Miss Zoe.” Now she’d taken a subtle step back, her posture radiating suspicion. I placed the bracelet gently back on its velvet tray. My hands were steady. “My apologies. Let’s try a different one.” I pulled out another card—not one of the endless black cards Damian had given me. This one was mine. The transaction went through instantly. I signed the slip, my movements crisp and deliberate. Stepping out of the mall, the sunlight was blinding. My phone buzzed. It was Stella. “My supplementary card just got canceled.” Her voice was flat, unreadable. “Mine too,” I said. A beat of silence on the other end. “Meet me at the usual place.” A smile crept into Stella’s voice. “Knew you’d be fine. I’ve got your back.” “See you there.” I hailed a cab and gave the driver the address of the small apartment we’d bought together with our own squirreled-away money. Through the window, the massive, imposing logo of Damian’s corporate headquarters flashed by. I turned my head away, my face a mask of indifference. The game was on. Stella was already there when I arrived. She’d kicked off her four-inch heels and was pacing the hardwood floor barefoot, still dressed in a stunning couture gown from some event. “Jean stood me up for that girl, Jenny Dallas.” She grabbed a bottle of sparkling water from the fridge and chugged half of it. “He had my seat removed from the head table at the charity gala. Just like that. I was the laughingstock of the entire evening.” I tossed the box with my new bracelet onto the coffee table. The diamonds inside caught the light, scattering cold, hard fire. “Damian was faster. He went straight for the accounts.” Stella stopped pacing and looked at me. Our eyes met. No complaints. No tears. We knew this was coming. In the story we’d been dropped into, this was our fate. The wicked supporting characters were destined to be crushed under the heel of the main couple, to become nothing more than stepping stones for their epic love story. “Hah,” Stella laughed first, a raw, sharp sound. “It’s finally starting.” I flipped open my laptop and pulled up our private joint account. The balance was a long, beautiful string of numbers. “We’ve held up our end of the bargain. We’ve been paid in full,” I said. “Now, it’s time to collect some interest.” Stella leaned over my shoulder, her eyes gleaming as she stared at the screen. “What’s the plan?” “Damian is about to launch a massive luxury development project called ‘Azure Vista.’ It’s his golden ticket, the thing that’s meant to wash away the stench of new money and get him a seat at the table with the old-money establishment.” My fingers flew across the keyboard. “I want to take that golden ticket and shatter it at his feet.” Damian Blackwood’s birthday gala was the event of the season. I showed up in a slinky, black slip dress that clung to every curve. I didn’t have an invitation. A security guard moved to block my path. “Miss Zoe, you can’t go in.” I didn’t even look at him. My gaze swept over the glittering crowd and locked onto Damian. He was holding court with a group of industry titans, laughing and charming them all. And there, tucked beside him, was Jenny Dallas. She was in a white, gossamer dress, looking as pure and fragile as a water lily. She saw me. Her eyes widened, and a hand flew to Damian’s sleeve, clutching it as she shrank behind him. Damian followed her gaze. The moment he saw me, his brow furrowed into a thunderous scowl. He strode towards me, disgust etched plainly on his handsome face. “What the hell are you doing here?” His voice was ice. “Happy birthday, Damian.” I gave him my most dazzling, meaningless smile. “I forgot to give you your present.” “Get lost.” “Not so fast.” I pulled a tiny USB drive from my clutch, dangling it in front of him. “Think of it as one last gift. For old times’ sake.” Damian’s eyes darkened. 2 He thought it was a sex tape. Or compromising photos. His hand shot out to grab it. I sidestepped him neatly. “Let’s keep this civil, Damian.” Heads were turning now. Whispers were starting to ripple through the crowd. Jenny drifted over, laying a delicate hand on Damian’s arm. “Damian, please don’t. Let’s just talk this out.” She turned to me, her eyes already welling up with tears, her voice trembling just so. “Zoe, darling, is there some kind of misunderstanding? Damian didn’t mean to hurt you, please don’t be angry with him.” What a perfect little actress. I ignored her completely, my eyes fixed on Damian. “Want it?” His face was a mask of fury. He bit out two words through clenched teeth: “Name your price.” “Straight to business. I like that,” I smiled. “I want five percent of the Azure Vista project. Non-dilutable shares.” His pupils constricted. Jenny gasped. “Zoe, you can’t! That’s extortion! You know how much that project means to Damian!” “Shut up,” Damian snarled, his gaze never leaving mine. “You’re dreaming.” “Am I?” I casually tossed the USB drive into the champagne tower next to us. Golden liquid splashed as the tiny device sank slowly to the bottom. “It’s a one-time offer, Damian.” I turned and walked away. The sharp click-clack of my heels on the marble floor sounded like a war drum. “Stop!” Damian’s voice roared behind me. I didn’t break my stride. As I stepped out of the hotel’s grand entrance, Stella’s car pulled up to the curb. I slipped into the passenger seat. “Done?” she asked, handing me a bottle of water. “He’ll bite,” I said, twisting the cap. A man like Damian Blackwood prized two things above all else: his reputation and his sense of control. There was nothing on that USB drive. But his paranoia? That was my most powerful weapon. Sure enough, less than thirty minutes later, my phone rang. It was Damian’s lawyer. “Miss Zoe, regarding your proposal… Mr. Blackwood has agreed in principle.” The contracts were signed without a hitch. Damian probably thought the 5% stake was just on loan to me. Once he got his hands on the non-existent drive and confirmed there was no threat, he’d find a way to take it back. But now, I had access to all of Azure Vista’s internal documents. Back at our apartment, Stella and I spread the thick binders and blueprints across the floor. “Damian’s ambition is off the charts,” Stella said, tapping the master plan. “He wants to turn this land into an ultra-exclusive private resort. Membership fees starting in the eight figures.” “Which means the entire project hinges on two things: privacy and exclusivity,” I pointed out. “And both of those things depend on one man.” We looked at each other and said the name in unison. “Alistair Finch.” Alistair Finch was the country’s foremost architectural visionary, a master of spatial aesthetics, and a notorious recluse. His designs were masterpieces, and getting him to take on a project was next to impossible. Damian had moved heaven and earth just to get a meeting. And Jenny Dallas, in her new role as a devoted “student” and “admirer,” was spending every single day at Finch’s studio. According to the original script of this story, Jenny was supposed to win Finch over with her “innocence” and “raw talent.” He would then agree to personally design Azure Vista, cementing Damian’s legacy. “Her talent?” Stella scoffed. “You mean her talent for plagiarism?” We both knew. Jenny’s graduating thesis—the award-winning watercolor painting First Light that had made her a star—was a complete and total rip-off of a piece by an obscure foreign artist. The original artist had vanished from the public eye years ago, and the work had never been widely published, giving Jenny the perfect cover. “We can’t just drop the plagiarism bomb on her,” I said. “That would be letting her off too easy,” Stella finished my thought. “She needs to be at the absolute height of her glory when she comes crashing down.” 3 My phone rang. It was Damian’s assistant. “Miss Zoe, Mr. Blackwood requests your presence at the Azure Vista site for a preliminary survey.” I raised an eyebrow. So, he wanted to put me in my place in front of Alistair Finch while propping up his new muse. “Of course,” I said sweetly. After I hung up, Stella asked, “You’re not going alone, are you?” “Of course not.” I grinned at her. “You’re coming with me. We’ve got front-row seats to the show.” The project site was out in the countryside, a stunning expanse of rolling hills and pristine forest. When we arrived, Damian and Jenny were already there, deep in conversation with an imposing, silver-haired man dressed in a minimalist linen suit. That had to be Alistair Finch. The moment Damian saw us, his face darkened. Jenny, on cue, adopted an expression of surprise mixed with gentle distress. “Zoe? Stella? What are you doing here?” “As a shareholder, I thought I should see the investment for myself. Isn’t that right?” I smiled. Damian just grunted and turned his back on me. Alistair Finch’s gaze drifted over us, cool and detached. The survey began. Damian’s project manager led the way, while Jenny stuck close to Finch’s side, whispering her “insights” on the landscape in a voice as soft and sweet as honey. “Mr. Finch, I envision a stream diverted through here, with a winding bridge. We could plant weeping willows along the bank to create a sense of… contemplative discovery.” Finch remained noncommittal. Damian, however, was beaming. “A brilliant idea, Jenny. Truly inspired.” The group made its way to the edge of a steep cliff overlooking a deep, rocky ravine. Jenny’s eyes flickered towards a small, unremarkable wildflower growing near the edge. Then, with a tiny, theatrical gasp, she stumbled, her body pitching directly towards the drop. Damian moved like lightning, catching her and pulling her into a protective embrace. “Careful! Are you alright?” His voice was thick with concern and adoration. Nestled against his chest, Jenny’s face was pale, her voice trembling as if in shock. “I… I saw the most unique flower over there. I just wanted a closer look, I didn’t realize the ground was so slippery…” Right. The classic damsel-in-distress routine from the book. Too bad for you, sweetheart. I’m playing the villain now, and I’m not buying it. Stella whispered in my ear, “The Academy owes her an Oscar.” After soothing Jenny, Damian turned to me, his expression instantly turning venomous. “Did you push her?” The air went still. Every single person turned to stare at me. The project team looked terrified. Even Alistair Finch was frowning, his sharp eyes fixed on me. In Damian’s arms, Jenny trembled, burying her face deeper into his suit. Her muffled voice was a masterpiece of reluctant accusation. “Damian, no, it wasn’t Zoe’s fault, please don’t blame her… I just lost my footing.” Her defense did more to condemn me than any accusation could have. Damian’s rage was palpable. “Zoe. I warned you. Don’t you ever touch her.” I stood my ground, silent and still. Stella stepped in front of me, a protective shield. “Watch what you say, Blackwood. There are a dozen witnesses here. Nobody saw anyone push anybody.” “Besides her,” Damian sneered, “who else here can’t stand the sight of Jenny?” “I can’t stand the sight of you,” Stella shot back without missing a beat. “You—!” “Enough.” It was Alistair Finch. His voice was quiet but carried an undeniable authority. He glanced at the edge of the cliff, then back at the spot where Jenny had pointed. There was no “unique flower.” There was nothing. A flicker of scrutiny crossed his face. “We are professionals,” he said coolly. “Let’s keep our focus on the project, shall we?” The master had spoken. Damian couldn’t press the issue further. He shot me one last poisonous glare before leading the still-trembling Jenny away. The farce was over. For now. 4 Stella was quiet on the drive back, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. “Is Damian blind? How could he fall for such a pathetic, clumsy act?” “He’s not blind. He just doesn’t want to see,” I said. “It doesn’t matter if Jenny was acting. He needed an excuse to put me down, and she handed him one on a silver platter.” That was the power of being the main character. “So what do we do?” Stella asked. “We can’t let her get away with framing you every time.” “Let her act,” I said, watching the scenery blur past the window. “The more dramatic her performance, the more it’s going to hurt when she finally takes a real fall.” Back at the apartment, I opened my laptop and logged into an international art forum. I typed in the name of the artist Jenny had plagiarized: Anya Sharma. There was painfully little information about her. All I could find was that she was an Indian painter who held a single solo exhibition a decade ago, and then disappeared. I clicked on the exhibition details. A small, black-and-white photo showed Anya Sharma standing in front of one of her paintings. The composition, the atmosphere… it was unmistakably the framework for Jenny’s First Light. At least an eighty percent match. I saved the photo. It wasn’t enough. I needed something more. Something undeniable. Something that would not only expose Jenny but would also ignite the fury of a purist like Alistair Finch. Just as I was plotting, my phone rang. An unknown number. I answered. It was the cold, impersonal voice of Damian’s assistant. “Miss Zoe. Congratulations. You are now the guarantor for a new venture.” A knot of ice formed in my stomach. Here it comes. The assistant continued, “A commercial loan in the amount of fifty million dollars. You have been signed on as the sole guarantor under an unlimited liability agreement. Should the project default, you will be responsible for the entire debt.” “When did I ever sign that?” “Mr. Blackwood signed it for you. In your name,” he said, as if discussing the weather. “Oh, and I forgot to mention. The project is scheduled to default today.” The line went dead. Stella had heard everything. Her face was pale. “He’s trying to ruin you. Bury you under a debt you can never repay!” The book’s cruelty was more vicious than I’d remembered. My phone rang again. This time, it was Damian. “Zoe. I’m curious to see just how unbreakable you really are.” His voice was laced with sadistic pleasure. “This was you,” I stated, my voice even. “Of course,” he admitted without hesitation. “Now, come to the West Side scrapyard. Get on your knees and beg me. If you’re convincing enough, maybe I’ll be merciful and make this little problem of yours disappear.” The call was on speaker. Stella’s fists were clenched so tight her knuckles were white. I gazed out the window at the oppressive night sky. “Damian,” I said, my voice dangerously calm, “you really think you’ve won, don’t you?” He chuckled, a low, arrogant sound full of absolute certainty. “Don’t I?” I smiled. “Fine. I’m on my way.” I hung up and looked at Stella. “Call the police.” 5 She stared at me, horrified. “Are you serious? You’re walking right into his trap!” “He doesn’t want me dead. He wants to see me grovel,” I said, grabbing my purse and checking the tiny recording pen inside. “The more arrogant he is, the more careless he’ll be.” I drove to the scrapyard. Damian was leaning against a black Bentley, flanked by several imposing bodyguards who looked like they were carved from granite. He saw me, and a cruel smile twisted his lips. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show.” “How could I refuse an invitation from the man of the hour?” I walked towards him, my steps measured. “So, you’ve come to your senses?” His eyes raked over me, dripping with contempt. “Kneel.” I didn’t move. I just held his gaze. “All of this, just to make me kneel. Forging my signature, setting me up for a fifty-million-dollar debt… it’s quite the production, Damian.” “This is just the beginning,” he said, savoring what he thought was my fear. “That agreement you faked? Once it comes to light, Blackwood Enterprises will be at the center of a massive financial fraud scandal. What do you think your board of directors will have to say about that?” I clicked the stop button on the recorder in my pocket. “Are you insane?” For the first time, his composure cracked. “Takes one to know one.” I took out my phone. Right there, in front of him, I emailed the audio file to his lead counsel, CC’ing the private email address of the chairman of his company’s board. “You’re bluffing,” he snarled, his voice low and dangerous. “You forced my hand.” I turned to leave. “Now, I believe you’re the one with the headache.” Checkmate, you arrogant bastard. I was completely drained when I got back to the apartment, collapsing onto the sofa. Stella handed me a glass of water. “We won this round.” “It’s only temporary,” I said, taking a sip. “Damian’s retaliation will be swift.” The next day, the entire city was buzzing with the story. They said I was a desperate ex, so obsessed with getting Damian back that I’d staged my own fake kidnapping to frame him, even getting the police involved. The smear campaign was swift and brutal. Overnight, I became the psycho ex-girlfriend, the manipulative villain in everyone’s story. Stella didn’t fare much better. Jean Vance sent his butler to her apartment to reclaim every piece of jewelry he’d ever given her. Like an auditor taking inventory, the man checked each item off a list. “Mr. Vance asked me to inform you,” the butler said, his voice cold, “that you are no longer worthy of owning these items.” Stella dropped the last earring into the velvet-lined box. “Tell Jean,” she said, looking the butler dead in the eye, “that his taste, it seems, is only fit for trash like Jenny.” We were completely ostracized. The people who used to flock around us now avoided us like the plague. Damian and Jean wanted to make one thing clear: without them, we were nothing. Stella and I were holed up in our little apartment, eating instant noodles. The financial news was on TV. A triumphant Damian Blackwood was officially announcing the launch of the Azure Vista project. He proudly introduced the soul of the project: special guest designer, Jenny Dallas. On screen, Jenny was the picture of grace in a simple, elegant silk dress. She stood by Damian’s side, speaking eloquently about her vision for the project, her voice full of artistic passion. “She’s such a fraud,” Stella muttered, slamming her noodle cup down. I pushed some of my noodles into her cup. “Eat. Don’t waste your anger on people like her.” She snorted, slurping up a mouthful of noodles, and nudged my leg with her foot. We met each other’s gaze, and in her eyes, I saw the same stubborn fire that was in mine. My eyes were glued to the TV, specifically to the painting hanging behind Jenny—her masterpiece, First Light. An idea began to form. “Stella. I need to get to Kyoto.” “Kyoto?” she asked, confused. “I’m going to find Anya Sharma,” I said. “I need to get my hands on the original painting. Or, even better, I need to get Anya Sharma herself to stand right in front of Alistair Finch.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386790”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

In my fifth winter with Alex Pierce, I was diagnosed with cancer. That same week, he brought his first love home. I didn’t try to hide it. I handed him the oncologist’s report. Alex lit a cigarette, smoked for a moment, and then said, “I’ll give you two million dollars. That should be more than enough to treat stage-two breast cancer.” He took another drag. “Let’s not see each other again after this. My fiancée is a wonderful person. I don’t want her to be hurt.” I said nothing. I just watched as he packed his things and moved out of our apartment to start planning his wedding. And me? I shaved my head and started chemo to save my own life. A year later, in full remission, I ran into Alex by chance. He grabbed my arm, his eyes red-rimmed. “Zoe, where have you been? I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” He said his engagement to his first love had been a mistake, a misunderstanding. He asked if we could start over. I pulled my hand from his grasp, slowly but firmly. “I’m sorry, but I’m married now. And we just found out we’re having a baby.” 1 The day Alex Pierce broke up with me, I was holding the pathology report that confirmed I had breast cancer. I didn’t play the tragic heroine from some novel and hide it. I just handed him the paper. “Are you sure about this? I have cancer. It’s… kind of serious.” Alex’s usually cool, detached eyes widened for a second. He instinctively looked down. On the single sheet of paper, the words were stark: Stage II Ductal Carcinoma. Immediate hospitalization and treatment recommended. He clearly hadn’t prepared a script for this. The air in the room grew thick and still. Then again, when the golden boy of the city’s most powerful family decides to dump a plaything with no family, no connections, and no remarkable beauty, he probably doesn’t think he needs one. But I was sick. And not just a little sick. A flicker of something—a moral burden, perhaps—crossed his face. Alex frowned, thinking for a long moment before speaking. “Alright. I’ll add another million. Three million dollars as a severance. That’s more than enough to cover your treatment.” This was the same man who, in high school, would hide in an empty classroom and cry about the mother he’d lost. Now, here he was, stone-faced, throwing money at the woman he’d spent five years with. His… what was I? His girlfriend? I wanted to laugh. After everything, all the intimacy, he couldn’t even grant me that self-deceiving title. I took a deep breath and took the card from his hand. My gaze was steady. “Do I need to sign anything?” “What?” “An NDA. Do I need to sign a non-disclosure agreement before I can use this money?” A small, humorless smile touched his lips. “No. Let’s just call it a clean break.” He really was effortlessly cool. I nodded and slipped the card into my pocket, watching as he opened a drawer and removed his passport and a few expensive watches. He’d obviously been planning this for a while. His best suits were already gone. The soft lamplight caught the sharp angle of his jaw, and for a dizzying moment, he looked like the boy I’d known in high school, saying a final goodbye. But Alex hadn’t truly smiled in years. His expression was a mask of indifference. “I’m deleting your number,” he said flatly. “I don’t want my fiancée to get the wrong idea.” “If you need anything else, you can call my secretary. He’ll handle it.” He walked to the door to put on his shoes. They were the ones I’d bought him for his birthday. He used to wear them all the time. “Oh,” he added, as an afterthought. “About your illness… I’ll ask around for doctors. Clara’s friends know a lot of specialists in the field.” Clara Thorne. The one that got away. The one he’d finally won back. I heard my own voice, distant and calm. “Thank you.” 2 The door clicked shut, and the apartment was finally, utterly silent. It dawned on me then that this was a truly awful day. A day that deserved tears. But when you hit rock bottom, sometimes you don’t even have the energy to cry. I tried to summon some emotion, but my eyes remained dry. Giving up, I grabbed a change of clothes and went into the bathroom. After a long, hot shower, I stood staring at my reflection. The face looking back wasn’t a showstopper, but it wasn’t ugly. Slender eyes, the kind Alex used to love. Zoe, your eyes tell a story, he used to say. Every time you look at me, my heart aches. He wasn’t wrong. I had a story. A gambling father, a drug-addicted mother. They both died, and I clawed my way up on social assistance and scholarships until, by some bizarre twist of fate, I met Alex Pierce and got entangled in his world. To this day, I still don’t know what stroke of luck—or misfortune—led to us being together. Five years. I could barely remember how I’d survived them. Every day felt like a dream. The bookish nerd who somehow landed the one boy every other girl in school dreamed of. Now, the dream was over. The woman in the mirror had lost her borrowed glow. She was just a patient with three million dollars and a two-thousand-square-foot apartment. I couldn’t quite put a name to the feeling that washed over me. The silence in the apartment was deafening. I turned on the heat and picked up my phone. Clara had just posted a photo. The caption read: “After all this time, I found my way back to you.” It was a beautifully shot photo of a man and a woman kissing in silhouette. Even in the dim light, I recognized the man’s profile. It was Alex. The line of his jaw had once taken my breath away. The comments were a flood of old classmates losing their minds. OMG MY SHIP HAS SAILED I’M SO HAPPY I COULD DIE. Congratulations! Wishing you a lifetime of happiness! You two are perfect for each other! Take care of our girl, Alex! She’s an absolute angel. Then, one dissenting voice. Didn’t Alex have a girlfriend? I think it was that girl who was always top of the class… Zoe something? I refreshed the page. The comment was gone. In its place was a new reply from Alex himself: Baby, I’m all yours. 3 I needed to buy some things before checking into the hospital. I walked into the mall and saw them. Clara had returned from abroad in a hurry and hadn’t brought enough clothes. Alex had been on his way to dinner with friends, so now a whole boisterous crew was trailing along behind them. Alex’s friends had never liked me. They thought he’d had a momentary lapse in judgment when he got with me and always treated me with a thinly veiled disdain. Now that Clara was back, they were all smiles, a loyal entourage. Alex’s childhood friend, Sean, spotted me, and his brow furrowed. “What are you doing here? You’re not here to make a scene, are you? I’m telling you, Clara doesn’t know anything, so don’t you dare start something.” Another one, Mark, chimed in. “Yeah, seriously. Alex worships the ground she walks on. If you upset her, he’ll make you regret it.” They were guarding against me like I was a thief. Alex emerged from the dressing room after helping Clara with a dress. When he saw me, his face darkened. “Zoe. You promised you wouldn’t cause trouble.” His tone gave me a headache. “I’m not.” “Then what are you doing here?” “I’m picking up some clothes.” Before I could say another word, the shop owner saw me and bustled over. “Zoe, sweetie! You’re finally here! I’ve been waiting for you.” Her eyes darted between Alex and me, but I pretended not to notice. I followed her into the stockroom to pick up the soft cotton lounge sets I had pre-ordered. The owner was a kind soul. Her eyes were red. “Zoe, what’s going on? Isn’t that man out there your boyfriend?” Alex had come with me to her shop a couple of times. She remembered. I managed a small smile. “No. We’re just friends.” “Nonsense. He was here for your birthday, helping you pick out a dress. I remember how happy you were. You threw your arms around him and were so excited.” I did do that. Once. And Alex had lectured me on the way home. He said he didn’t like it when his partners were too clingy. That I needed to have more self-control. I took a deep breath, forcing the memory down. “It’s alright, really. We’re in the past. The woman with him today is his fiancée.” “Don’t worry about any of this,” I told her. “I don’t want to mess up your business. I have to go.” The owner knew I had cancer and refused to take my money. After a bit of back and forth, I gave in, took the bag, and thanked her profusely. As I was leaving, she pulled me into a hug, patting my back. “You’re going to be okay, sweetie. You’re strong.” The unexpected kindness almost brought me to tears. Just then, the door to the adjacent dressing room opened. Clara stepped out in a slinky slip dress, looking down on us, both literally and figuratively. 4 Clara and I weren’t exactly strangers. In high school, we often shared the stage at award ceremonies. I was always first in our year; she was the ‘outstanding student’ recipient. We’d even nod and exchange polite greetings. So it felt strange, now, to have her looking down her nose at me. “Oh. Hi,” I said, forcing a laugh. “Long time no see.” “Mm,” was all she said. Her gaze was colder than I’d expected. She scanned me from head to toe with undisguised contempt before turning away. Alex immediately went to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and kissing her temple. His eyes held a tenderness I had never seen before. The shop owner sighed beside me. “Zoe, honey, if you need to cry, just let it out. I won’t judge.” I just scratched my head, silent. The problem was, I couldn’t cry. My life was hanging by a thread. Who had the energy for heartbreak? I left the mall and went straight to the hospital. The doctor explained they’d do surgery first, then chemo. He asked if I had any family to support me. That stung. I used to have someone who was supposed to be family. But he’d opted out. I quietly explained that I had money, that I could hire a private nurse and sign my own consent forms. Money talked. The doctor upgraded me to a private room and found me a wonderful, gentle nurse. The first day after surgery, a dull, persistent ache radiated from my chest. My heart ached even more. I scrolled through my phone and saw a post of Alex and Clara picking out wedding dresses. The pain in my surgical wound sharpened. I took a photo of my IV drip, allowing myself a rare moment of self-pity. You’re fine, Zoe. It doesn’t hurt. I refreshed the feed. Clara’s post was gone. I clicked on her profile. She’d deleted me. Fantastic. Life was just a bowl of cherries, and I was the pit. The biopsy results came back. The news wasn’t good. The doctor said we’d start the first round of chemo. He warned me it would be tough and told me to prepare myself. I thought I was prepared. I still threw up until I was empty. In just one month, I lost a staggering amount of weight, and my spirit started to fray. My nurse helped me out to the garden for a walk. I saw a boy sitting on a bench, his head wrapped in so many bandages he looked like a mummy. He was yelling into his phone. “What? You and Dad are on another date? I’m injured and you just leave me here!” “My brother? All my brother cares about is work! He doesn’t give a damn about me!” “You’re all heartless! Leaving your poor, helpless, adorable son all alone to go gallivanting around town! Is that any way for a family to act?” “I don’t care! I’m going to rebel! I’m turning to the dark side! I’m going to act out!” He slammed the phone down and angrily started ripping leaves off a bush. He threw them on the ground with a huff and then spun around. Our eyes met. A stunningly beautiful face with wide, wet eyes looked back at me. He was gorgeous. As adorable as a deer. Under my stare, the boy’s cheeks slowly turned pink. After a long moment, he shyly got up and walked away. 5 I saw the boy again the next day. It wasn’t fate. Hospital life was crushingly boring, and being alone with my thoughts was dangerous. I’d casually asked the nurses about him. They said he was an immature rich kid with powerful connections, so the staff was careful not to upset him. He was constantly causing trouble, and his family would just send a secretary to clean up his messes. It sounded like a TV drama, and I was intrigued enough to seek him out. When I got to the garden, he was, as predicted, causing trouble. He was climbing a ridiculously tall tree, trying to pick some wild berries. His caregiver was frantic. “Sir, please! Those are poisonous! You can’t eat those!” Danny—I’d learned his name was Danny—ignored him, popping a berry into his mouth. I spoke up calmly. “Those can cause kidney damage, you know.” He spat the berry out instantly, his face turning a shade of green. “Really?” “Mm-hmm.” He looked at me for a moment, then his eyes widened in recognition. “I remember you. You were walking here yesterday. What’s wrong with you?” I pointed to my chest. “Breast cancer. You?” “Slipped and fell on my way to the bathroom at night. Got a concussion.” “Oh. Well, you should probably come down then. In case you get dizzy.” To my surprise, he actually climbed down. He walked over, and I realized just how tall he was. So tall he looked like he might be lacking in the common sense department. “You have cancer, miss?” “Yeah.” “Does it hurt?” “It’s manageable.” I smiled, teasing him a little. “Compared to me, you’ve got it pretty good, don’t you think?” He pouted. “…Yeah.” “So don’t be so hard on your parents. You should try to be happy every day you’re alive.” Like me. Before the cancer, I thought being an orphan was the worst thing in the world. Then I thought unrequited love was worse. Now that I might not even survive, I finally understood: just being alive is a blessing. Danny just stared at me for a long time without saying anything. The next day, he showed up with a gift. “You need to take care of yourself, miss. And be happy every day.” I opened the small box. Inside was a delicate swan-shaped brooch. It was exquisite. I pinned it to my hospital gown and smiled at him. “You’re a sweet kid, Danny.” He scratched the back of his head, looking embarrassed. “My grandmother died of breast cancer,” he explained. “When I saw you under the tree yesterday, I… I thought of her.” “My grandma was the best person in the world. I grew up with her. After she died, there was this… hole inside me. Nothing I did could fill it.” “When you told me to be happy every day… that’s something she used to tell me all the time.” As he spoke, his eyes welled up. He looked like he was about to cry. “Uh,” I said, a bit awkwardly. “If you want, I can give you a hug.” Danny sniffled. “…Thanks.” He was all long limbs as he leaned in and gave me a quick, gentle hug. “So, miss,” he said, pulling back. “From now on, we’re friends.” 6 It was like Danny had found a new purpose in life. For the rest of my hospital stay, he was constantly popping into my room. He really did seem to treat me as a stand-in for his grandmother, telling me everything that was on his mind. Sometimes, he’d talk until he was exhausted and then curl up on the sofa in my room for a nap. With this overgrown child to distract me, my days became surprisingly fun. I almost forgot about Alex’s engagement. But some people are determined to remind you. The day before the engagement party, I received a text message. Grand Imperial Hotel, Third Floor Ballroom. The engagement of Alex Pierce & Clara Thorne. The honor of Ms. Zoe Clark’s presence is requested. It wasn’t hard to guess who sent it. Clara still saw me as a threat. She wanted to humiliate me in public. My doctor had warned me that stress was the last thing I needed right now. By all accounts, I shouldn’t go. But I had a different interpretation of “no stress.” To me, it meant I needed to vent my anger. I had a bellyful of resentment from the whole mess with Alex, and I needed an opportunity to stir the pot. So I found Danny and asked him if he’d do me a favor: be my date to my ex-boyfriend’s engagement party so we could crash it in style. Danny’s eyes lit up. “Absolutely.” The next morning, I got ready and went to the hotel early. Alex was standing at the entrance in a sharp tuxedo, a broad smile on his face. The moment I stepped out of the elevator, his smile vanished. He strode over and grabbed my arm. “What are you doing here?” “Your fiancée invited me. It would be rude not to come.” His face was a thundercloud. “We don’t need your politeness. Get out.” “Alex, you have no heart. We were together for five years. Can’t you at least let me have a piece of cake?” Our voices weren’t loud, but we were starting to draw attention. Sean came over and put an arm around my shoulders. “It’s fine, Alex. I’ll keep an eye on her. You go greet your guests.” He steered me into the ballroom. “Zoe, I’m warning you one last time. Don’t make a scene. If you do, Alex will hate you for the rest of his life.” His face was full of disgust, as if it were a foregone conclusion that the ex would always cause trouble for the new girl. But I didn’t. I did exactly as they wanted. I found a quiet corner table and started eating. When most of the guests had arrived, the happy couple appeared on stage, looking like something out of a fairytale. Sean was still hovering nearby. “Alex and Clara are about to start the ceremony. Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll be watching you.” I gave him a small smile. “Loud and clear.” Honestly, I just hadn’t been to a party in a long time and thought it would be funny to crash my ex’s. Why wouldn’t anyone believe me? The romantic lighting began to swirl, music swelled, and the MC started the proceedings. “Our groom has written a letter to his beloved bride, and I’d like to read it to you all.” “I remember it was our senior year of high school. I was going through the darkest time of my life. I’d locked myself in the old gym equipment room, ready to give up.” “And then you appeared, like an angel. You sat on the other side of that wall and talked me through the night. You gave me the courage to keep going.” “From that day on, I knew I loved you. Even when you went abroad to study, I never stopped waiting for you.” “Five years. I finally have you back. Clara Thorne, I love you. Let’s spend the rest of our lives together.” The crowd erupted in applause. I joined in, even yelling “Kiss her!” for good measure. Sean looked at me, a strange expression on his face. “Zoe, I’m surprised. You’ve been… reasonable. Maybe I misjudged you all these years.” He immediately looked chagrined, as if he’d said too much. On stage, Alex kissed Clara. At the same moment, Danny finally arrived. He sat down next to me, leaned over, and planted a loud kiss on my cheek, then slipped a ring onto my finger. “Sorry I’m late, Zoe. You must be tired.” I was unfazed. “It’s fine. Why are you sweating?” I reached up to wipe his forehead, then straightened his collar. Sean was staring, utterly dumbfounded. “Who… who is this?” “Oh,” I said casually. “My boyfriend. He’s a freshman in college.” Danny turned his head. “Hello, sir.” Sean was speechless. I took Danny’s hand and stood up to leave. On stage, Alex was staring at me, his eyes wide. I didn’t look away. I turned to Sean, my voice just loud enough for him to hear. “You know, five years ago, I went to that gym room too. I actually passed Clara on my way there. She said there was some psycho in the room, rambling nonsense, and she couldn’t be bothered to listen, so she left.” “I was worried about him, so even though I had a nasty cold, I went and sat outside that room and talked to him all night. The next day, my cold had turned into pneumonia and I ended up in the hospital.” “It’s funny. Only today did I realize Alex got the story wrong. I wonder how he’d react if he knew Clara had lied to him all this time?” Sean looked like he’d been struck by lightning. He started to stand, but the mocking smile on my face stopped him. I squeezed Danny’s hand and walked away. Just before we left the ballroom, I threw one last hook over my shoulder. “Sean, you’ve always had a thing for Clara, haven’t you? Now that Alex has the wrong girl, things are bound to get messy. This could be your chance to break them up and get the girl for yourself. The choice is yours.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386789”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My girlfriend, Lydia Fox, the one with the “terminal illness,” turned out to be the secret illegitimate daughter of a high-society dynasty from the city’s Gold Coast. And me? I was just a guy slinging fried rice from a food truck on a busy street corner. Lydia had always been frail, or so I thought. I took care of her, gave her the best of everything I could afford. But that day, a fleet of ten black Bentleys, sent by the Fox family, pulled up to my apartment building to welcome her back into the fold. Without a moment’s hesitation, she left me behind. But she took my roommate with her. In front of a wall of cameras, a reporter shoved a microphone in her face. “Miss Fox, could you tell us your relationship with the gentleman standing before you?” Lydia’s voice was laced with a cool, dismissive air. “Oh, him? He’s nobody. Just a caregiver I hired for a while.” Later, she became the city’s untouchable heiress, the woman everyone looked up to. And I turned around and married her sworn enemy. On our wedding night, Lydia had me kidnapped. She cornered me, her eyes wild. “Why would you marry a disfigured, ugly woman?” My voice was calm. “Because she never once treated me like I was just the help.” Lydia let out a cold, sharp laugh. “You’re pathetic. Truly spineless.” I nodded. “You’re right. I’m just that pathetic.” … The day the Fox family came for her, the ten Bentleys were lined up, a silent, imposing wall blocking the narrow street to my apartment. Reporters swarmed the area, their cameras and microphones turning our crumbling tenement building into a media circus. I couldn’t even get my food cart through the crowd after closing up for the night, so I had to walk the rest of the way. My next-door neighbor, old Mr. Henderson, saw me and threw a friendly arm around my shoulder. “Ethan, my boy, your luck is about to change! Your Lydia is the Fox family’s long-lost princess!” “The old man himself sent for her! You’re going to be living the high life now!” Before I could even process what he was saying, Lydia emerged from the building, surrounded by a coterie of handlers. I had never seen her look like that. She wore a breathtaking designer gown, fresh off the runway. She moved with an elegance, an air of refined grace, that was completely foreign to me. She looked like the female lead in some blockbuster romance, blessed by fortune and fate. And standing right beside her was my roommate, Jason. Lydia’s gaze fell on me. It was a different look than I was used to—cold, sharp, and full of a condescending pity. A quick-witted reporter seized the moment. “Miss Fox, can you tell us your relationship with this man?” Lydia’s eyes slid away from me, her voice drifting over the crowd, devoid of warmth. “No relationship. He’s just a caregiver who looked after me for a while.” A collective gasp went through my neighbors. They’d all seen me, day in and day out, buying things for her, helping her with her physical therapy. Everyone knew I was her boyfriend. In an instant, I was the focal point of a hundred different stares—pity, mockery, morbid curiosity. I was completely frozen. I looked down at myself—at my ten-dollar t-shirt, my twenty-dollar canvas sneakers, the exhaustion clinging to me like a second skin. I guess I did look like a caregiver. But I had poured my heart and soul into looking after her for five years. Even if she’d just called me her neighbor, it wouldn’t have been this humiliating. She walked towards the lead car. Lydia thoughtfully opened the door for Jason first, letting him slide in. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, she turned back to me. “You did take care of me for a long time. If there’s anything you want, you can ask. I’ll grant you one reasonable request.” Mr. Henderson nudged me frantically. “Go on, kid! This is your chance! Tell her to take you with her!” But I didn’t move. I just stood there, numbly holding up the small paper bag from the pharmacy. “Since you’re not terminally ill, you can start by paying me back for all the medicine I bought you over the years. Oh, and living expenses.” “The grand total is… forty-eight thousand, six hundred dollars.” I pulled out my phone, my fingers tapping away on the calculator app as I announced the final number. A ripple of snickers went through the crowd. They were laughing at how shortsighted I was. Lydia was a Fox now. What was a few tens of thousands to her? If I’d asked for a million, she probably would have given it to me. Lydia’s brow furrowed, a complex, unreadable emotion flashing in her eyes. But it was gone in an instant. She had her assistant write me a check. I took it. Fifty thousand dollars. She’d even thrown in an extra fourteen hundred. Jason, his arm now linked with hers, looked at me. “Ethan, Lydia has been more than generous with you. But from today on, you two live in different worlds. I hope that, for Lydia’s sake, you won’t go around spreading stories that could damage her reputation.” Lydia’s eyes were locked on me, her lips a thin line. “I don’t want anyone to know we were ever involved.” I got it. I was an embarrassment. She was afraid I’d tell people she used to be my girlfriend. She didn’t need to worry. I wouldn’t. Having a girlfriend that heartless wasn’t exactly something to brag about. The convoy of Bentleys drove away, and the crowd of onlookers slowly dispersed. Only Mr. Henderson, my closest friend in the building, was left, fuming on my behalf. “Ethan, are you an idiot? What can you do with fifty grand? You can’t even buy a closet in this city with that!” My face was pale. “But that’s all she owed me…” Falling for her was my choice. Taking care of her was my choice, too. I loved the wrong person. I had no one to blame but myself. Mr. Henderson sighed heavily, poking me in the forehead and calling me a fool. I went back to our apartment. Everything that belonged to Lydia was gone. Jason’s things, too. The place looked like it had been hit by a tornado, a chaotic mess they hadn’t bothered to clean up. I’d worked the food truck all night and had even taken a detour to the hospital that morning to pick up Lydia’s so-called “medicine.” Now, I was exhausted, a dead weight on the sofa, with no energy to move. “Meow…” My cat, Pumpkin, whom I’d rescued from the street, sat in front of me, tilting his head. I forced myself up to feed him and then started cleaning the apartment. That evening, I went back to the food truck alley as usual. Without Lydia’s expenses, my own needs were simple. Fifty thousand dollars, at my current rate of spending, could last me twenty years. But I wanted to buy an apartment. I wanted a place in this city that was truly my own. My fried rice truck, parked just outside the university campus, was always the most popular spot in the alley. The students loved it. That night, a stylishly dressed woman appeared in front of my counter. “Five orders of the house special fried rice, ten skewers of grilled chicken…” My usual customers were energetic college kids. It was the first time I’d seen someone who so clearly screamed “old money.” I couldn’t help but stare. She was tall—at least five-foot-nine—with a stunning face and an air of cool detachment. Her features were sharp and defined, giving her an almost exotic look. A silver Porsche Cayenne was parked at the end of the alley, its headlights on. A chauffeur sat inside, presumably waiting for her. My web-novel-addled brain immediately conjured a scene: a rich heiress buying a late-night snack for her college-aged boyfriend. I beamed at her. “Coming right up! For here or to go?” I was sure she’d say “to go.” I even had the takeout containers ready. But the rich girl surprised me. “For here.” Then, ignoring my stunned expression, she found an empty plastic table and sat down. She had ordered over three hundred dollars’ worth of food for herself. I cooked, bringing out dishes as they were ready. By the time I was done, sweating and exhausted, she had cleaned every single plate. “Not bad,” she said, looking up at me. “How are your other cooking skills?” I paused, pointing at my own chest. “Are you asking me?” “I’m decent with home-style cooking. I went to culinary school before I opened the truck.” The woman nodded, then pulled a business card from her designer handbag. “Are you interested in being my personal chef?” I took the card. Stella Sterling, Founder, Sterling Capital. My expression turned wary. “Ms. Sterling, you’re not… trying to hire me as a sugar baby, are you?” “Fifteen thousand a month.” “Of course, I know a woman of your stature would never do such a thing! Fifteen grand, you say? I can start tomorrow!” It wasn’t that I had no pride. It was that she was offering an insane amount of money. If I wanted to buy a place in this city, selling fried rice wasn’t going to cut it. I’d be working until I was in my grave. The next day, I took the business card and went to the Sterling family’s villa for my “interview.” Stella herself opened the gate. She was in a grey tracksuit, looking like she’d just finished a morning run. Seeing me standing outside the ornate iron gate, she unlocked it and let me in. She walked ahead, arms crossed, her pace brisk. I followed a few steps behind, my pace slower. The Sterling estate was massive. It took us a good seven or eight minutes just to walk from the main gate to the front door of the house. As I walked, I scanned my surroundings warily, half-convinced this was some elaborate scam. Suddenly, thump. I walked right into her back. The impact was surprisingly soft, and a pleasant, fresh scent filled my nose. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Sterling! I—I didn’t mean to!” I quickly grabbed her shoulders to steady her, apologizing profusely. Stella had finally had enough. She spun around to face me. “You think I’m some kind of con artist, don’t you?” I stared at her, bewildered. “Well… aren’t you?” A laugh, tinged with frustration, escaped her. She raised a hand as if to smack me, then let it drop. “Stop calling me Ms. Sterling,” she said. “Take a good look at me. Don’t you know who I am?” I leaned closer, studying her perfect face, then shook my head. “No.” “Tch…” “I really don’t. I sell fried rice for a living. How would I know a high-society woman like you? You must have me confused with someone else.” It had to be. There was no way a fifteen-thousand-a-month job would just fall into my lap. The rich girl had mistaken me for someone else. Stella’s jaw tightened, her smile turning menacing. “Ethan Cole. Say you don’t know me one more time. I dare you.” When a rich girl gets angry, the temperature drops. I instinctively shrank back, my eyes glued to her beautiful, intense face. And then, an image flashed in my mind: another face, one covered in burn scars. If you took away the scars from that face… A jolt went through me. I knew, in that instant, who she was. My first instinct was to run. The next second, her hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. She yanked me back with surprising strength. My back hit the wall hard, and Stella’s face was suddenly inches from mine. She had me pinned, her body trapping me against the wall. She tilted her head up to look at me. “Go on, Ethan. Run.” I couldn’t. We were too close. I could feel her breath on my skin. I didn’t dare move, terrified she’d think I was trying to take advantage of her. The truth was, before Lydia, there had been someone else. The summer I was seventeen, a new student transferred into our class. Her name was Chloe. Her face was covered in a network of scars from a fire. The other kids were scared of her. They avoided her, scattered when she walked by. No one would even sit at the same table with her in the cafeteria. Behind her back, they called her “the monster.” Her deskmate even demanded to be moved, claiming her face gave him nightmares. The teacher didn’t know what to do. She asked if anyone would be willing to sit with Chloe. I saw Chloe’s hands, white-knuckled, gripping the edge of her desk. She was trying to hide how scared she was. The classroom was dead silent. No one moved. Then, I slowly raised my hand. The class erupted in laughter. “Yeah, teacher, let Ethan sit with her!” “The trash picker and the monster—a perfect match!” Back then, my grandmother, who had adopted me, was still alive. She supported us by collecting recyclables. To help her out, I’d go through the trash bins after school, collecting bottles and cans. The other kids looked down on me. They said I smelled sour. Since the beginning of high school, I’d always sat alone. The teacher knew my situation and would scold the other kids for teasing me. But you can’t stop people from talking. Behind my back, my nickname was “the trash picker.” Now, ignoring the laughter, I clutched the hem of my shirt and asked Chloe, my voice barely a whisper: “Chloe… would you be okay with me being your deskmate?” I was terrified she would be disgusted by me, too. To my surprise, she nodded fiercely. “As long as you’re not scared of me, I’d like that.” After that, we started spending more and more time together. I discovered that Chloe was brilliant. She was always first in our year on every exam. She tutored me, and I brought her the sticky rice dumplings my grandma made. When the local bullies tried to mess with her, I grabbed a baseball bat and fought them off. When I didn’t have money for lunch, she’d split her allowance with me. In our senior year, she confessed her feelings for me. She asked me to apply to the same university as her. We planned to go to Kingswood University together. I said yes. I put Kingswood down as my first choice. But the night before the application deadline, I was working a catering gig at a five-star hotel. And I saw Chloe. She was there with her family. At their table was a handsome, well-dressed boy, sitting right next to her. When their parents went to the restroom, I overheard them talking. They were planning for the boy to go abroad with Chloe over the summer while she had reconstructive surgery on her face. When they got back, they would announce their engagement. I admit it. In that moment, my confidence shattered. I went home, changed my university application, and sent Chloe a single text message. I’ve fallen for someone else. We’re breaking up. Then I blocked her number. Blocked her on everything. No one ever knew which university I ended up at. And I never heard anything about Chloe again. “If Lydia hadn’t been swarmed by reporters when she went home, I might never have known you were back in the city!” Stella’s voice was tight with a barely suppressed rage. “That ‘someone else’ you mentioned… it was Lydia, wasn’t it?” I couldn’t believe it. The flimsy excuse I’d used to break her heart… she’d held onto it all these years. I pulled my hand free from her grasp. “Whether it was or not, it has nothing to do with you anymore. We broke up, remember?” Stella looked like she was about to explode. “Am I your pet? Someone you can just dump whenever you feel like it?” Just then, the main door to the villa swung open. A handsome man in a white suit stepped out.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386788”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was halfway through saving the story’s villain when my broke, villainous boyfriend suddenly ‘awakened.’ He claimed he’d been reborn and that this time, he was going to change his fate and bravely pursue the woman he truly loved. I just stood there, stunned. He had just finished telling me he loved me, promising to spend the rest of his life with me. How was this any different from cheating? But he said I was just a desperate doormat, clinging to him so tightly that I’d driven the story’s heroine away. If I didn’t want him to crush me in the future, I should get the hell away from him. With no other choice, I had to settle for second best: the story’s main hero—handsome, wealthy, but emotionally constipated and stubbornly proud. Winning him over was a lot easier. All it took was a couple of slaps and a few stolen kisses to get his affection level rocketing to 99%. And just as the hero and I were wrapped up in a passionate embrace, the villain saw us. His face turned thunderous. “Damn it, Stella. Are you cheating on me?” 1 The moment Xavier ‘awakened,’ we had just finished kissing. He was lounging on the sofa, scrolling through his phone, while I was in the kitchenette washing the dishes from dinner. Suddenly, a flicker of electricity arced outside the window. The lights in the tiny apartment dimmed, and when they flared back to life, the look on Xavier’s face was… strange. He stared at the threadbare sofa as if he couldn’t believe he was lying on it. He bolted up, tearing through the cramped space, running a frantic loop from the living area to the kitchenette and back. Finally, as if confirming some terrible truth, he let out a triumphant shout. “I’m finally back! I’ve been reborn!” I heard every word, crystal clear, from the kitchen. My hand trembled, and a bowl slipped from my grasp, clattering loudly in the sink. The sound drew his eyes to me. In that instant, the disgust in his gaze was unmistakable. “You can go home,” he said, his voice cold. “Don’t worry about the dishes.” I numbly wiped my hands on a towel. “Oh. Okay.” As I was about to leave, he added, “And Stella? Don’t bother coming back.” I couldn’t bring myself to ask a single question. My head was spinning as I walked down the rickety stairs, the whole world feeling unreal. I stood in a daze at the corner of the block and watched as Xavier, now in a fresh set of clothes, hurried out of the building. Even with my eyes closed, I knew exactly where he was going. He was heading toward the home of the girl he’d always been obsessed with—Lila. After a year of working on him, it had finally come to this. Xavier had already promised me he was ready to build a life with me. He came from nothing, while Lila’s family was one of the wealthiest in the city. He was supposed to let go of his hopeless crush. He had promised me, just today, that we would start our new life together. I had been dropped into this story with one mission: win over Xavier. For a year, I’d endured more hardship and done more chores than in my entire twenty years of life. My heart was a tangled mess of emotions. The only thing that kept me going was the fact that somewhere along the way, I had actually fallen for him. Sure, his heart belonged to someone else, but he was undeniably handsome. And while he was usually distant, there were moments, small and fleeting, where he seemed to genuinely care. My System told me I was so close to succeeding. Once I redeemed Xavier, I would receive a handsome reward. I could do anything I wanted. I already had it all planned out: I’d use the money to fund his startup. He was brilliant; he was destined for greatness. And I would finally have the perfect life—a loving, successful husband and all the money we could ever need. But fate had other plans. Just as his affection meter hit 99%, Xavier was reborn. He said he was going to find Lila. And me? I was left to walk home alone, soaked in the cold, miserable rain. 2 Back in my rundown apartment in the old part of town, I lay on my bed, swallowed by misery. The System had been trying to console me for half an hour. “Look, I’m really sorry! It’s not my fault, I swear. It’s those idiots in the Time Bureau. Their screw-up is what caused Xavier’s rebirth.” “Don’t lose hope! I’ll figure something out. I’ll get Xavier to come back to you, okay?” “Worst case… worst case, I’ll give you a bonus voucher! If his startup fails and you have to sell stuff from a food truck to pay off his debts, your income will be double anyone else’s! Just please, don’t cry? Honey, I’m begging you.” His words only made me wail louder. “Waaaaah! So his startup is going to fail, and I’ll have to pay off his debts from a food truck? What kind of cruel fate is this?” “I’ve spent a year trying to win over this useless villain! I’ve washed 680 plates, 315 glasses, and 262 spoons! I’ve mopped this floor 363 times! Do you have any idea what I’ve been through?” “My hands… my beautiful hands are covered in calluses! I’m only eighteen! What kind of life is this? Waaaah!” “I’m going rogue! I’m embracing my dark side! I’ll stab that bastard who made me suffer, and we can all just die together! (hic!)” The System sounded like it was having a migraine. “No, no, no, don’t do that! Sweetheart, please, let’s just think of another way.” “Okay, look. You go to class tomorrow like normal. I’ll go negotiate with the Time Bureau and see if we can get the old Xavier back.” “If… if we can’t, I’ll request a transfer from my superiors. I’ll get you a new target to win over. How does that sound?” My tear-filled eyes widened. “Really?” “Yes.” “The new guy has to be hotter than Xavier.” “…Okay.” “And he can’t be broke. I’m done washing dishes.” “…Fine.” “And damn it, after a whole year with Xavier, all I got was a kiss! I’m way too expensive for that. The next one has to be someone I can actually sleep with.” “…I’ll do my best, but I can’t exactly control the hero’s desires, you know.” “I don’t care! Waaaah! Otherwise, I’m going rogue! I’m going dark! I’m gonna stab that bastard who made me suffer!” “…” Finally, after the System repeatedly promised to fix the situation as soon as possible, I cried myself to sleep. The next morning, I did my best to hide my swollen eyes and headed to school. 3 With final exams just around the corner, the classroom should have been silent with the frantic energy of last-minute studying. But as I reached the door, I heard a loud voice cut through the quiet. “No way, Xavier! You actually went and confessed to Lila? Did she say yes?” Another voice chimed in. “Of course, she did! Did you see the show he put on yesterday? It was epic.” “Fireworks, a sea of flowers, and the most romantic confession ever. Lila was so moved she threw herself right into his arms.” Then, a girl’s voice—my deskmate, Chloe. “Wait a minute, Xavier. Aren’t you with Stella?” The classroom fell silent. Everyone knew I’d spent the last year chasing Xavier relentlessly. Even knowing he was in love with someone else, I brought him meals, cleaned his apartment, and basically became his personal doormat until he finally gave in. Just a few days ago, Xavier had openly walked out of the classroom holding my hand. When someone asked where they were going, he’d said, “Home with my girlfriend.” It was a public declaration. Now, only a few days later, he was confessing his love to another girl. It was a low blow, even for him. Xavier knew it too. But he wasn’t worried about my feelings; he was worried about Lila’s. He explained coolly, “Stella and I are just friends. Believe what you want.” “She was the one who was obsessed, following me around like a lost puppy. It made Lila misunderstand, thinking I was taken, and that’s why she kept her distance.” “We cleared the air last night. From now on, the only person on my mind, by my side, and holding my hand will be Lila. I belong to her.” Cheers erupted. Through the crack in the door, I saw Lila’s cheeks flush a delicate pink. Xavier gazed at her, his eyes full of a devotion he’d never shown me—the look of someone who had found a lost treasure. A sharp pain lanced through my chest. I wanted to cry. I had truly fallen for him, so how could it not hurt? Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to be calm. I pushed the door open and walked in, my eyes immediately meeting Xavier’s cold, indifferent stare. The moment he saw me, he instinctively moved to shield Lila, his brow furrowed. “What are you doing here?” My voice was just as sharp. “I’m here for class.” “You’d better just stick to that and keep your mouth shut. You know what will happen if you don’t.” 4 He talked a big game, but right now, Xavier was nothing more than the school’s token charity case heartthrob. Besides his good grades, he probably couldn’t even win a fight against me. I didn’t have the energy to argue. I just slumped into my seat and buried my head in my arms. Xavier and Lila sat behind me, their whispered conversations a constant torment. I overheard Lila worrying about whether I was hurt or sad. Hearing that, a complicated mix of feelings churned inside me. In the original story, Lila really was a good person. Despite being neglected by her family, she was kind and gentle, always willing to help others. A walking ray of sunshine. It wasn’t her fault that people were drawn to her. People like Xavier, who fell for her after she showed him a small kindness. He felt he was unworthy of her, and the internal struggle twisted him into a bitter, depressed man. After graduation, Lila’s family went bankrupt. To save them, she was forced to marry the proud, emotionally distant hero, becoming a lonely trophy wife. Xavier, after becoming a successful entrepreneur, met her again. They had a drawn-out, painful affair that finally made her husband realize his own feelings, and he won her back in a dramatic reconciliation. But now, Lila was with Xavier. I wondered what would happen to her brooding, rich-boy husband. The System was partly to blame for this mess. Fine, I thought bitterly. We can all get punished together. My foul mood killed my appetite. At lunchtime, while everyone else left, I stayed behind, dozing at my desk. Oh, I wasn’t entirely alone. Lila and Xavier were still there. Xavier was holding the bento box I’d made for him yesterday, patiently feeding Lila. “Here, babe, open up. It’s your favorite, sweet and sour ribs. Just one bite, ahhh~” Lila glanced nervously in my direction. “Don’t do that, someone’s here.” “Don’t worry about her. She can’t hear us.” “That’s ridiculous. How could she not hear from this close?” “Trust me, she can’t. We could make out right here, and she wouldn’t hear a thing.” “Stop it.” I gritted my teeth and endured the sound of them finishing the meal I had prepared. Then, Xavier walked over to my desk. He dropped the empty bento box with a clatter. “Stella. Wash this and put it back in my desk.” I blinked. What? I picked up the box, and with a flick of my wrist, sent it sailing across the room. It landed squarely in the corner trash can. “No, thanks.” Xavier took a sharp breath, his face contorting with anger. But then he remembered Lila was watching. He leaned in close, his voice a low hiss only I could hear. “You’re still trying to win me over, aren’t you? Don’t you want to complete your mission?” A chill ran down my spine. He knew? He knew about my mission? He smirked, as if reading my mind. “Of course, I know you’re a transmigrator. I know you’re here to win me over, to get my affection points.” “Before, you had to be my girlfriend to get those points. But now I have Lila, and I can’t let her feel insecure. So, you’ll just have to be the one who suffers.” “From now on, you do my laundry, cook my meals, and I’ll decide if you get any points for it.” “If you keep me happy, who knows? Maybe one day you’ll get to go back to your own world.” “What do you think, Stella? Aren’t I being merciful?” he finished with a smug wink. Watching him walk away with his arm around Lila, I suddenly realized something. This wasn’t the Xavier I had let into my heart. 5 After school, Xavier cornered me again. He tossed me a key. “Go to my place and get your stuff. And while you’re there, clean up a bit. I’ll give you 0.5 affection points.” “And don’t try any funny business,” he warned. “I can see right through your pathetic little schemes.” Staring at the thin piece of metal in my hand, I felt my sanity begin to fray. I screamed for the System in my head, but the useless thing was dead silent. Swallowing my rage, I headed to Xavier’s apartment. I had to. What if the System failed to negotiate a deal? Winning Xavier over might still be my only way home. Damn it. He had me right where he wanted me. I walked back into that familiar little apartment. I’d been here countless times. Most of the things inside were things I’d bought. The pink slipcover for the sofa, the white lace curtains, the refrigerator, the washing machine, the water heater. I had paid for all of it with money I’d earned from part-time jobs since I arrived in this world. I’d imagined that once I completed my mission, this would be our love nest, every item a memory of our journey together. But I never, ever imagined that just as I was about to succeed, he would be reborn. And that he wouldn’t want me anymore. My nose started to burn. I felt like the world’s biggest fool. Young, heartbroken, and exploited. I packed my clothes and shoes, along with some small decorations I’d bought. They were mine; I wasn’t letting him throw them away. I pulled open a drawer. The salary I’d earned last month was supposed to be in there—3,215 dollars. It was meant to cover his living expenses. Now, the drawer was empty. The words from this morning echoed in my mind: fireworks, a sea of flowers. A hot wave of anger washed over me. Dumping me was one thing, but taking all my money? That was too much. My fingers closed around a lighter on the counter. I could burn this whole damn place to the ground. Then I could find a knife and stab that bastard. After I was executed, maybe I’d finally get to go home. Just as the flame licked the edge of the curtain, the System’s voice shrieked in my mind. “AAAAAHHHH! STOP! STELLA, LET GO OF THE CURTAIN!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386787”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After my father’s bankruptcy and suicide, my older brother and I were left to raise each other. At our lowest, we scavenged for scraps and slept under bridges. When my brother finally fought his way back to reclaim our family’s business, the first thing he did was swear to me that he would never let me suffer again. But then, he adopted a sister from an orphanage. From that day on, the words I heard most from him were, “Jade is the younger sister. You need to be the bigger person and let her have her way.” And so, my room, my clothes, my jewelry—all of it was given to Jade. Later, the thugs Jade hired beat me so badly I lost hearing in my right ear. But my brother still told me to just let it go. So, I found myself a new brother. And then… I let her have him, once and for all. 1 My brother called to say he couldn’t pick me up again. I stood at the school gate, a desperate tremor running through me. My voice was thick with unshed tears. “Bob… but you promised.” “You promised you’d come get me yourself today.” His voice on the other end was laced with that familiar, weary frustration. “I know, but Jade suddenly felt sick. Nora, be a good girl and take the bus home, okay?” “I have to take her to the hospital.” I glanced at the group of thugs loitering nearby, their eyes fixed on me. My throat felt like it was closing up. “But Bob, I need you, too.” “Don’t you understand? If you don’t show up, they’re going to…” They’re going to kill me. But before I could finish, Bob’s voice turned sharp. “Nora, why are you being so selfish? Your sister has a fever and all you can think about is competing for attention?” “Can’t you, as the older sister, just let her have this?” The injustice of it stung my eyes. There it was again. That same old line. Let your sister have her way. But I was only six months older than Jade. Did he even realize? Ever since Jade came into our lives, I had already given her everything. 2 Jade was a child my brother adopted from an orphanage. The director told us her parents had both died in a car accident—the same way our mother had died. That was all it took. In that instant, Bob decided he had to take her in. He was always saying, “Look, Nora. Poor Jade. She’s all alone, just like we were.” “So from now on, you’ll be the bigger person for her, won’t you?” But I never understood. How much did I have to give? How much did I have to let go of before Jade would finally be satisfied? I didn’t understand why, after I had tried so hard to be kind to her, she still looked at me with such venom. She loved destroying everything I cared about. She tore up my sketches. She whined to Bob until he gave her my favorite piano. She snatched the birthday present he had originally bought for me. But I let it all go. I took my brother’s words to heart, convincing myself it was just a little girl’s insecurity. She needed to feel important, to prove her place in our home by winning these small battles against me. Until she smashed the pocket watch our father had left me and took scissors to the doll our mother had sewn by hand. Until she scrawled the word WHORE all over my bedroom walls in permanent marker. I couldn’t take it anymore. I ran to my brother, sobbing. But Bob, the brother who had always doted on me, just looked at the tearful Jade and sighed. “Nora, she only did it because she feels insecure.” “She’s your little sister. Can’t you just let it go, please?” “I promise, it won’t happen again.” I stared at him in disbelief, questioning the very meaning of the words “let it go” for the first time. I didn’t understand. I was barely older than her. Why did I have to surrender everything? If I had to give up the only keepsakes I had of our parents, did that mean that from now on, anything Jade wanted, I would have to give to her? 3 Before I could even begin to process that question, Jade found a new way to torment me. She started spreading rumors about me at school. She paid a group of thugs to make my life a living hell. This was the fourth time this month they had cornered me at the school gate. They would drag me, alone and terrified, into a nearby alley and grind a boot into my face. They’d aim their kicks at my stomach, again and again, their words a cruel litany. “Don’t mess with our boss, Jade.” “You idiot. Jade’s the real heiress of the Blackwood Corporation. You think you can touch her?” “You deserve to be beaten to death.” “No,” I’d try to explain through the pain. “You have it wrong. Jade is the adopted one. I’m the real Blackwood heiress.” “You’ve all been tricked. Let me go.” “My brother, Bob Blackwood, will destroy you for this.” But they never believed me. It only made them hit me harder. After all, compared to Jade, who was always dripping in designer labels, my simple, plain appearance made me look like the charity case. It wasn’t that I hadn’t asked my brother for help. I begged him to pick me up from school, just once, so those thugs could see who the real heiress was. Every time, he’d promise. And every time, just when I needed him most, Jade would have some emergency. A stomachache. A fever. A sudden craving for a cake from a bakery on the other side of town. It was always something. In my brother’s eyes, every little thing Jade wanted was more important than his own sister’s safety. My thoughts snapped back to the present, and I realized my face was wet with tears. I clutched the phone, a scream of frustration building in my throat. But before I could voice any of it, he cut me off, his patience gone. “Nora, you already have everything. You have the family name, you have me. Why can’t you just let Jade have something?” “You’re being so childish.” “Look, Jade’s stomach is hurting again. I have to go.” The line went dead, and my heart went dark along with the phone screen. I watched, paralyzed, as the thugs closed in on me. And I plunged into absolute despair. 4 Bob didn’t come. The thugs thought I’d been playing them for fools. They beat me harder than ever before. One of them, a girl named Jenna who was Jade’s most loyal follower, drove the heel of her shoe into the side of my head. In an instant, the world went silent, replaced by a single, piercing shriek that tore through my nerves. I thought I heard someone gasp. “Oh god, her ear is bleeding!” “Is she… deaf?” “Jenna, are you crazy? You can’t kick her with a heel like that! What if you kill her?” Jenna’s voice was casual, unconcerned. “So what if she dies? Jade said she’d handle it.” “She’s the Blackwood heiress. She can clean up any mess.” Jenna smirked, her eyes gleaming with a cruel satisfaction. “Well, since one ear is already bleeding, I might as well make it a matching set.” Her high heel swung towards my left ear. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the agony. But it never came. A figure shot out of the shadows, sending Jenna sprawling with a single, powerful kick. “You little punks! Bullying people on my turf? You got a death wish?” A voice, rough but steady, cut through the ringing in my head. “Hey, kid. Don’t fall asleep. Your big bro’s gonna get you to a hospital right now.” My big bro? He must be. No wonder he was so strong, so fearless. He was taking down the same thugs who terrified me, scattering them like bowling pins. I remembered, before Jade, when the vultures in our family couldn’t get to Bob, they came after me. They hired men to kidnap me, but Bob fought like a cornered animal to save me, again and again. Life was so good then. In Bob’s eyes, in his heart, there was only me. But then… everything changed. Suddenly, I was being lifted into a surprisingly secure embrace. The person holding me was saying something about a hospital. I fought to open my eyes, to see his face, but all I could make out was a dragon tattoo on his arm and a shock of bleached-blond hair. Then, the world faded to black. 5 I woke up in a hospital. For once, my brother had actually left Jade’s side to come see me. He sat by my bed, his face etched with exhaustion and worry, his expression pained. I watched his lips move for a long time before I could piece together what he was saying. A kind stranger had brought me to the hospital just in time. I was alive. But the trauma to my right ear was too severe. I would never hear out of it again. Tears flooded my eyes. I remembered when I was little, my mom would stroke my hair and say, “Nora, my little pianist, you have to remember that a good musician doesn’t just protect her hands. She must also protect her ears. Music is the art of hearing.” But Mom, I haven’t played the piano in so long. Not since the day Jade cried and took it from me. And now, because of her, I had lost my hearing in one ear forever. I watched Bob break down in front of me, his apologies a torrent of self-recrimination. But strangely, I felt nothing. He said he was wrong. He said he never knew anyone would actually try to hurt me. He thought it was just a trip home; what could happen if he didn’t pick me up? And besides, Jade was really sick. He couldn’t just leave her. He was drowning in a sea of his own excuses, but none of them could change the fact that my hearing was gone. The tiny bones in my ear were shattered. Even a hearing aid wouldn’t work. I stared out the window at the autumn leaves for a long time, then I picked up my phone. “No more crying, Bob. If you’re really so sorry,” I typed, “then let’s get justice.” Right there, in front of him, I reported the assault to the police. Then I handed over all the audio recordings I had secretly made. The officer played one of the recordings for him. He listened to the thugs bragging about how Jade was the Blackwood heiress, how she would cover for them even if they killed me. A violent shudder went through Bob’s body. He gripped my hand, his knuckles white, and said through gritted teeth, “Nora, don’t worry. Even if it was Jade, I swear to you, I will make the people who did this to you pay in blood.” I looked him straight in the eye. “Bob,” I typed. “This is the last time I will ever trust you.” “So please, don’t let me down.” He met my gaze, his own unwavering for once, and nodded. Then he left with the police. I let myself sink back into the pillows, surrendering to the crushing exhaustion. I was so, so tired. Just before I drifted off, it occurred to me that Bob had never told me who my rescuer was. But it didn’t matter. When I was better, I would find him and thank him myself. I remembered the tattoo on his arm, and that bright, defiant blond hair. And I knew, somehow, that he was a good big brother. 6 With proper care, my wound began to heal. My lawyer kept bringing me good news. Because of my recordings, Jenna and the other thugs were all arrested. The police had even tracked down the person who hired them. Since they were all over sixteen, they would be tried as adults and sentenced. Everything seemed to be getting better. I was happy, and my body healed faster. But a nagging feeling of unease lingered. That feeling reached a crescendo the day I was discharged from the hospital. There, in the middle of our living room, stood the mastermind herself. The person I had imagined was locked away in a cell—Jade. She turned as I walked in, a wide, triumphant smile spreading across her face. Holding a mango cake—my deadliest allergy—she walked towards me. “Welcome home, big sister,” she cooed. “I made this cake just for you. Come and have a slice.” I stared at Bob, my voice cracking. “Isn’t she the one who planned it all?” “Shouldn’t she be in jail?” “What is she still doing here?” Bob wouldn’t meet my eyes, hesitating. It wasn’t until he saw Jade’s eyes well up with tears that he finally spoke. “Nora, I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to upset you while you were recovering.” “But your injury… it really had nothing to do with Jade.” “She just has a fragile ego. She might have mentioned her connection to our family to those people, and they just assumed she was the heiress.” “As for the assault, it was that Jenna girl. Apparently, she saw you bullying Jade at school and wanted to impress her by teaching you a lesson. She just got carried away and didn’t realize how hard she was hitting you…” “Bob,” I cut him off, my voice dangerously calm. I looked at him in utter disbelief. “They told you that, and you actually believed them?” He shot me a disapproving look. “Nora, it’s not just what they said. I saw it myself.” “Look how much Jade cares about you. She was up at the crack of dawn baking this cake for you. Look, she even burned her hands.” He held up Jade’s hand for me to see. “Someone who cares about you this much, who loves you, how could she possibly hire people to hurt you?” “On the other hand, who knows what you were doing to her behind my back at school to make people misunderstand like that.” His words were so absurd I almost laughed. I pointed at Jade. “Bob, you say she cares about me? That she loves me?” “If she loves me so much, how could she not know I’m deathly allergic to mangoes?” “Look, out of all the fruits in the world, she just happened to pick the one that could kill me. Is that what you call caring?” Bob’s gaze flickered to Jade, a flicker of doubt in his eyes. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared. “Nora, you’re overthinking it. She just forgot. If you don’t like the cake, we also made your favorite sweet and sour ribs, and coke-braised chicken wings…” A tear slid down my cheek. He had forgotten again. The person who loved sweet and sour ribs and coke-braised chicken wings wasn’t me. It was Jade. I closed my eyes, a wave of hopelessness washing over me. “Fine. Let’s say she really did forget about the allergy.” “But do you honestly think I’m in any position to bully her?” “They tell you I bullied her at school, and you just believe them. But have you ever seen a bully end up like me?” “Bob, I’m begging you, open your eyes and look! What do I even have left in this house?” “My piano, my favorite thing in the world—you made me give it to her because she said she wanted to learn.” “My bedroom, the big, sunny one—you said Jade was used to small, damp rooms, so you made me switch with her. Now I’m the one living in the small, dark room.” “My clothes, my jewelry from Mom… everything that was good in this house is now hers.” “Even you! How many times did I beg you to pick me up from school? Did you think those thugs only attacked me once? No! Every single time you promised to come and then broke that promise for Jade, they beat me like a stray dog. All because of this… this bitch you protect!” 7 CRACK. His hand struck my face. The impact sent a shockwave of pain through my still-healing ear. I don’t know if it was the pain or the heartbreak, but the tears started flowing faster. Bob looked at me with utter disappointment. “You say you don’t bully your sister? You call her a bitch right to my face. I can only imagine what you do behind my back.” “You say you’ve given everything to Jade, but don’t you get it? You’re the true master of this house. When you grow up, everything here will be yours.” Jade smirked at my swollen cheek. “That’s right, sister.” “You’re Bob’s real sister. I’m just a pathetic nobody that no one wanted. I’m grateful for every bowl of rice this family gives me.” “Please, don’t be angry with Bob.” “If you care so much about the jewelry and clothes and the room, I’ll give it all back to you right now…” “That’s enough!” Bob grabbed Jade’s hand, his eyes locked on me. “You say I’m biased? Fine. I’ll show you what biased looks like.” “Mr. Davison, take her credit cards.” “Jade, you don’t have to listen to a word she says.” “And Nora,” he snarled, “if you can’t recognize your own mistakes and offer your sister a sincere apology, then I’ll help you recognize them.” I saw the cold fury in his eyes and suddenly, I laughed. In that single, crystalline moment, the brother who had once loved me, protected me, and promised to keep me safe forever… was dead. I knew what he would do. He was going to use the same ruthless tactics on me that he used on his business rivals. He was going to show me what true favoritism was. What it really meant to give in. But what more could he do? Cut off my money? Starve me? Ignore me, belittle me, abuse me? Throw me out on the street? And then watch, waiting for me to come crawling back, begging him and Jade for forgiveness. No. It shouldn’t be like this. I wouldn’t allow it. How could it be that in my own home, I felt like an unwanted guest? That I had to beg my own brother for a scrap of affection like a beggar on the street? Once, I was my parents’ treasured child. It wasn’t that I was unlovable. It was just that the person who was supposed to love me… had changed. If that was the case, then I wouldn’t love him anymore either. Maybe, I could just find someone new to love. I grabbed my school bag and turned towards the door. Mr. Davison, our housekeeper who had been wringing his hands anxiously, rushed to stop me. “Miss Nora, what are you doing?” “You’re just a young girl. Where will you go if you leave home?” But Bob’s voice, choked with rage, cut him off. “Let her go!” “Let’s see how far she gets with not a single penny to her name!” “Jade, let’s go.” “Allergic? A heartless person like her doesn’t deserve to eat the cake you made!” As his furious shouts echoed behind me, I opened the front door and walked out. A fine, misty rain was falling. I had forgotten to take an umbrella, but I had no intention of going back for it. The door slammed shut behind me with the force of a guillotine. I smiled. He really was done with me. But that was okay. I had my own two hands and my own two feet. I wouldn’t starve. 8 I walked aimlessly through the light rain, with no idea where to go. My cards were cancelled. I had fifty dollars in my pocket. After my father’s bankruptcy, I had no other family in this city. I was still on medical leave from school for another ten days, and I didn’t have a dorm room. Even if I went there, they’d just turn me away. I wandered for what felt like hours, until I found myself in front of an internet cafe. Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door and walked up to the front desk, where a guy with bleached-blond hair and a dragon tattoo on his arm was managing the counter. “Hi,” I asked. “How much for an all-night pass?” He didn’t even look up from his game. “Twenty. Thanks.” And just like that, I had a pass. I chose a computer right next to his station. Somehow, it felt safer. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. In the hospital, I had planned out exactly how I would thank him. How I would thank the anonymous hero who saved a girl from being beaten to death. He had dropped me at the hospital and left without even giving his name. I’d had to do some digging to find out who he was. My plan was to bring Bob with me to thank him properly. If he needed money, we’d give him a huge sum. If he needed a job, Bob would help him. We could even buy him a car, a house. But now, I was just a homeless girl. I didn’t even have the courage to tell him who I was.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386786”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

There is a small bistro in the historic district of Seattle. It opens only for lunch, and the menu never changes: a limited run of one hundred bowls of house-special broth. The owner is a quiet man. They say he has been keeping watch over this place for more than a decade. People often ask him, “Why sell only this one simple dish? Is there a secret recipe?” He always smiles a polite, distant smile, wiping down the counter. “I’m waiting for an old friend,” he says. “One who hates cilantro.” Fifteen years later, having finished my expedition early, I returned to Seattle. I walked into that shop and ordered a bowl. “No cilantro for me, please,” I told the server. In that instant, I heard a sound from the kitchen—a sharp crash, like something fragile shattering on the floor. 1 On my twenty-third birthday, Roman rented out the entire penthouse lounge of the Space Needle. Above us, crystal chandeliers competed with the stars; below us, the city grid of Seattle glowed like a circuit board of amber and gold. Every light felt like it had been turned on just for me. My best friend, Sloane, handed me a box wrapped in silk. She looked stunning in a champagne slip dress that cost more than my entire childhood wardrobe. “Happy Birthday, Nora,” she beamed, her smile radiant. “May my princess always be surrounded by love.” From behind, Roman wrapped his arms around my waist. I felt his chin rest gently on my shoulder, his warm breath tickling my ear. “Happy Birthday, Nora. My girl.” I was so happy I felt dizzy. My name is Nora. Before them, I was just a weed struggling to grow through cracks in the pavement. My mother died young, leaving me with a stepfather who treated me like a nuisance he couldn’t wait to scrape off his shoe. I survived his glares and his backhands until I was fifteen. That was the year I met Roman and Sloane. It was Sloane who found me shivering on her doorstep one freezing November night after my stepfather locked me out. She dragged me into her warm, lavender-scented bedroom, dressed me in cashmere, and said, “Nora, from now on, you’re family.” It was Roman who, when the neighborhood bullies cornered me for lunch money, descended like an avenging angel. He bloodied their noses and stood in front of me, a human shield. “Don’t be scared,” he’d said. “I’ll protect you. Always.” They were the only light in my life. The reason I crawled out of the abyss. For eight years—from fifteen to twenty-three—they spoiled me. They turned the weed into a hothouse flower. Roman would drive across the city at 3:00 AM to find me the specific dark chocolate I craved when I had cramps. Sloane cataloged my entire existence, buying me clothes that fit perfectly before I even tried them on. They were the two pillars of my world: the lover and the soulmate. I thought this happiness was infinite. The party was perfect. Friends sang, champagne flowed. I closed my eyes before the candles, making a fervent wish: Let the three of us stay together, forever. After the cake, the room felt a little stuffy. I slipped away to the terrace for some air. The wind at that altitude was brisk. I reached for the handle of the glass door, but stopped when I heard voices. It was Sloane. Her voice was shaking, laced with a fragility I had never heard before. “Roman… we can’t keep doing this. It’s not fair to Nora.” My feet were nailed to the floor. An invisible hand reached into my chest and squeezed my heart until it stopped beating. Then, I heard Roman. The voice that usually whispered sweet nothings to me was now heavy with exhaustion and conflict. “Sloane, just give me a little more time. I love her, but I…” He paused. The silence stretched out, agonizing and thick. When he spoke again, it sounded like a confession on death row. “…I think I’m in love with you, too.” Boom. My world didn’t crack; it vaporized. Not think. He said love. “But what about Nora?” Sloane sounded desperate. “She relies on us. She has no one else. How can we do this to her?” “I know,” Roman groaned. “I’m a bastard. In the beginning, when I saw her… she was like that stray kitten I couldn’t save when I was a kid. I just wanted to protect her. I wanted to give her a home. I thought that feeling was love. But with you… this ease, this electricity… Sloane, I can’t tell the difference anymore. I really can’t.” A stray kitten. That’s all I was. A projection of his childhood regret. Eight years of devotion, rooted in misplaced pity. My epic romance was nothing but a charity case. I didn’t feel cold. I didn’t feel pain. My body slipped into a terrifying numbness. I could hear my heart shattering, like ice hitting pavement, piece by piece. I didn’t have the courage to listen to another word, nor the strength to burst in and scream. Like a ghost, I retreated into the shadows and blended back into the noise of the party. Roman and Sloane returned shortly after. They looked flushed, unnatural, but they plastered smiles over their guilt. Roman walked up to me, sliding his hand around my waist. “Where did you go? You look pale.” I looked up at his handsome face—the face that used to be my sanctuary. I smiled, shaking my head. “Nothing. Just a little tired.” He didn’t suspect a thing. He just rubbed my hair, eyes full of that damn pity. “Let’s wrap this up early then. I’ll take you home.” That night, I was a perfect marionette. I smiled at the toasts, I laughed at the jokes, I said thank you. No one noticed that on that terrace, the wind had already blown my soul away. Back at our apartment, Roman ran a bath for me and placed a warm glass of milk by the bedside, just like always. “Nora, hop in the tub before the water gets cold.” He kissed my forehead. An hour ago, that kiss would have melted me. Now, it felt like dry ice. I nodded obediently, locked the bathroom door, and turned on the shower. Hot water cascaded down, but I felt like I was standing naked in a blizzard. I curled into a ball on the tiles, burying my face in my knees, and let out a low, animal wail that the water drowned out. Tears and tap water mixed, scalding my skin. What was I supposed to do? Storm out? Tear off their masks? Ask them why? I couldn’t. When I was fifteen, broken and bleeding, they pulled me out of hell. My tuition, my rent, my very survival—it was all them. They gave me a life. How could I bite the hands that fed me? They fell in love. Maybe that was how it was always supposed to be. Roman came from money; Sloane was old intellectual elite. They were a matching set. And I was just the lucky orphan standing in the glow of their benevolence. Now, the light was returning to its source. I couldn’t be the obstacle. I couldn’t let them resent me. I couldn’t let my beautiful memories turn into something ugly. I had to let them go. Once the thought took root, it grew violently. I had to leave. To a place where they would never find me, where they would never feel guilty. I didn’t sleep that night. The next morning, I ate the breakfast Roman made. He told me he had to go to Portland for an academic conference. Two days. I smiled and told him to drive safe. The moment the door clicked shut, I opened my laptop. Compelled by some dark instinct, I typed into the search bar: The farthest place on Earth. A result popped up: [Arctic Yellow River Station]. China’s first Arctic research station, located in Ny-Ålesund, Svalbard Archipelago, Norway. I clicked on the images. It was a world of blinding white. Glaciers, snow-capped peaks, a lonely station at the edge of the world. It looked beautiful. It looked cold. It looked numb. A recruitment banner caught my eye. [State Oceanic Administration: Polar Expedition Office. Recruiting Environmental Researchers. Deployment: Arctic Station. Minimum Contract: 15 Years. Renewable up to 20.] Requirements: Ph.D. candidate in Environmental Science, independent research capability, excellent physical health, ability to withstand extreme isolation… I was a doctoral candidate in Environmental Science. I was one year from graduating. I fit every criterion. Fifteen years. How many fifteen-year blocks does a life have? By the time I came back, the dust would have settled. They would be married, maybe with children. Happy. And I would have repaid my debt to them with my absence. My finger hovered over the mouse, trembling. I remembered Roman telling me, “Nora, you’re like a hothouse flower. You’d wither without me.” I remembered Sloane hugging me. “Don’t worry, Nora. If the sky falls, we’ll hold it up for you.” They protected me so well that I forgot I was born a weed. I could survive anywhere. I was just going back to the wild. A sharp pain stabbed my chest, but I clicked Apply. I uploaded everything. Transcripts, awards, thesis drafts. In the “Statement of Purpose” box, I wrote only one sentence: I wish to dedicate my life to the glaciers and stars at the northernmost edge of the world. When the submission bar hit 100%, I heard a shackle break. This was my penance. This was my rebirth. A twenty-year self-imposed exile. 2 The waiting period was agony. I became the greatest actress of my generation. I played the role of “Nora, the beloved girl” perfectly. We ate dinner. We watched movies. We planned a future that didn’t exist. Roman even took me to see a condo overlooking the sound. “Nora,” he said, eyes shining, “when you get your doctorate, we’ll get married. This will be our home. What do you think?” I looked at the hope in his eyes, smiled, and said “Yes,” while my insides bled. Sloane dragged me to bridal shops. “Nora, you have to wear this silhouette! I insist on being the Maid of Honor.” I tried on the gowns. I looked at the stranger in the mirror, white as a sheet, and forced a smile. They were so good at this. Sometimes, I almost tricked myself into believing the birthday party was a hallucination. Until that night. Roman was in the shower. His phone, sitting on the nightstand, lit up. I glanced over. It was a notification from an app called “HeartBeat.” A pink icon. I knew it. Sophomore year, Roman downloaded it. He said it was for us—a private digital diary to store his thoughts about me, for when we were old and gray. The password was my birthday. I hadn’t thought about it in years. A demonic voice whispered in my ear: Open it. I knew I shouldn’t. It was an invasion of privacy. But my hand moved on its own. I punched in my birthdate. It unlocked. I tapped the pink heart. The latest entry was from last night. [Took Nora to see the house. She seemed to like it. Why do I feel like there’s a stone on my chest? I can’t imagine living the rest of my life there with her. All I could think about was how it would look if Sloane was the one standing by the window… God, I’m a monster.] My breath hitched. Trembling, I scrolled up. Six months ago. [Sloane cut her hair short. She said it’s for the heat, but I know she’s restless. I ache for her.] One year ago. [Debated with Sloane at the library for hours. When I proved her wrong, she made this face… so fierce, so cute. It’s electric. It’s so different from the way I feel about Nora. With Nora, it’s just… quiet.] Two years ago. [Sloane’s boyfriend cheated. She cried in my arms. She smells like gardenias. My heart was racing so fast I thought she’d hear it.] I scrolled back, page after page. A countdown to the death of our relationship. The diary I thought was a shrine to our love had slowly, insidiously, become a shrine to her. First “Sloane,” then just “She.” He chronicled every stolen glance, every suppressed urge. Their love had been growing in the dark for years, a lush garden I was too blind to see. I was the intruder. I scrolled to the very first entry. The day we became a couple. [Today, I finally brought that poor kitten home out of the rain. Her name is Nora. Her eyes are so clean, but so fragile. Like they’d shatter if I blinked. I swear, I will protect her. She will never be hurt again.] There it was. Proof. I put the phone back exactly where it was. My hands were steady. So this is what it feels like when a heart finally dies.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386785”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I actually turned into a dog. Not my childhood friend’s dog, but his depressed little brother’s dog. The System said I have to lick him a hundred times to become human again. “Lick where?” I asked. The System blushed. “Anywhere works.” My paw kneaded his creamy abs. Hmm, premium dog food. “Baby, are you hungry?” Being looked at with concern by Lucas’s handsome face would make any woman melt. The silent, gloomy heartthrob at school, calling me “baby” in private. I like the contrast. I licked and slurped at him like a starving ghost. His face turned completely red. Gone was his usual pale, sickly look. The System gave a thumbs up: [Impressive. You managed to overheat a depressed guy.] 1 In my memory, Lucas Sterling was a gloomy, sensitive person. Because he was sickly from childhood, he was always second best to his older brother. His parents’ bias was wider than the Pacific Ocean. Living under his brother’s shadow gave him childhood trauma, and he was ostracized at school… Eventually, he developed depression. The only thing he could confide in was this little Bichon Frise. After transmigrating into the dog, the System said: “If it’s too hard, forget it. Since you like his brother, this feels a bit like forcing you into an NTR situation.” Forget it?! I was practically drooling internally. If his brother wasn’t so aloof and unreachable, who would even like him? Lucas treated the dog very well. Premium beef, foie gras, fish—every day was a feast. No corporate slave life, just happy dog life. I planned to enjoy the good life for a while, finish the mission, and bolt. But good times don’t last. Lucas got kicked out of the Sterling family by his brother. The reason? Liam Sterling lost something important and suspected Lucas hid it. Lucas didn’t argue. He packed his bags and left. Wait? Is this how the world treats depressed people? The System said: [Of course. He has the script of the gloomy male lead seeking revenge. Later, a heroine will come to heal his emotional wounds.] [Then he becomes the Wolf of Wall Street and reclaims the Sterling empire.] I was excited: “So I have the redemption heroine script?” The System rolled its eyes: [Didn’t you die from food poisoning after eating discounted leftovers in the intro?] Me: …Thanks. Lucas moved into a rental. His psychosomatic symptoms flared up, his body trembling uncontrollably. I trotted over with his medicine in my mouth. He stared at me, tears silently falling. “Baby, you should leave. I can’t afford to raise you anymore.” “No more steak or bird’s nest soup.” “No soft, fragrant bed to sleep in.” “Maybe I’m just a failure. No one will ever like me.” In that moment, my heart clenched. It seemed Lucas really only had me. In the Sterling family, his dad didn’t care, his mom didn’t love him. He could only tell everything to a dog— Like how he was actually an illegitimate child, Liam’s half-brother. Like how all the bullying he suffered after middle school was condoned by the family. Like how if he didn’t leave, he would be the next one to die. 2 After moving into the rental, Lucas found me even clingier. Sleeping on his abs Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays; on his thighs Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays. Trying to use doggy warmth to comfort him. “Baby… you can’t sleep there.” “It’s dirty…” “Come here, let me hold you…” Hmm, I managed to fluster Lucas into talking more. Good start. But when he watched me eat takeout in the rental, he was always guilty. “Baby, you’ve gotten thinner with me.” “Just endure it a bit longer. I’ll go make money.” The System was shocked: [Thinner? You can barely tell the difference between her and a pig!]/ I looked at my chubby paws. Right, I need to be a pretty dog. So I resolutely gave my chicken leg to Lucas. Lucas was so moved his tears fell into the chicken rice. The boy swore to earn ten million dollars. With renewed spirit, he went to work construction the next day. 3 Lucas moved bricks at the construction site during the day for two hundred bucks, and studied at night. Because of his depression in senior year, he missed the college entrance exams. This time, to give me a better life, he wanted to reclaim everything that belonged to him. Exhausted from manual labor, Lucas fell asleep almost instantly after studying. He hadn’t needed pills to sleep for days. In the warm duvet, he held me close. I traced his tired features. “System, watching my man work hard for us, I feel happy but also heartbroken.” The System sneered: [Your man has another woman outside.] My pupils shook. [The leads met today.] [The heroine visited the site for inspection and took a liking to him.] [This is just step one. She’ll visit many more times to bond with him.] [Throwing money and love at him… I don’t know how he could refuse.] The System said the heroine was the daughter of a real estate tycoon. She was engaged to the male lead since childhood, a perfect match. But she hated arranged marriages, so she hated the male lead too. Until she met Lucas as an adult, understood his pain and gentle heart, and fell hopelessly in love. She redeemed him with money and love. Hearing this, I broke down a little. Why didn’t a passing celebrity come redeem me when I was eating expired food and dancing for eight hours in my rental? Where were my saviors? [I advise you to finish the mission and leave. You aren’t the one to save him anyway. Why bother?] Makes sense. I’m just a passerby. Finish the job and go. Everything else is none of my business. I asked the System: “How many more licks to become human?” 4 The System said without me, according to the plot, Lucas would have already been taken in by the heroine and living the good life. No rental apartment. No moving bricks by day, waiting tables by night. As long as I leave, the plot gets back on track. Luckily, the System said just one more lick and I’m human. I planned to save that lick for his 20th birthday. On his birthday, Lucas came back late from the site. He received no gifts from anyone, but he bought me a thick silver peace lock. It hung around my neck, shining beautifully. “Baby, I had it custom made.” “Dogs with families have these. It symbolizes peace and safety.” Hard to imagine that at his poorest, he was willing to spend his blood money on a dog. Such a good person, yet he suffered from depression. My heart softened. Lucas had bruises from boxing on his face. He made a wish on the candle with devout sincerity. “I wish for my Little Baby to have a life of peace, joy, and no worries.” “If there are disasters, let me block them for her.” Since my parents died, no one had been this good to me. Waaaah. I couldn’t hold it back. I bawled in his arms. It sounded terrible. The System said it sounded like barking. Later, Lucas coaxed me to sleep while holding me. Watching his sleeping face, I slowly approached. Carefully, I licked his lips. Heart pounding like a drum. With that, my dog life was complete. The next second, my body grew, and I appeared beside him, naked. I only dared to touch his forehead. My boy, Lucas. Goodbye. 5 But just as I was about to leave, a hand gripped my wrist tight. Lucas stared at me intensely. “Where are you going?” My hair stood on end. Dude, when did you wake up?! Before I could cover myself, Lucas pinned me down. “You want to abandon me too?” “Do you think I’m sick too?” His eyes were red, arms trembling. Psychosomatic symptoms again. He couldn’t even open his eyelids fully. Bro, can you even tell human from dog right now? My voice shook. “Lucas, take your meds first. You’re having an episode.” “I won’t.” He caged me in like a madman, terrified I’d leave. “Don’t go! I forbid you to go!” I couldn’t trigger him further. My heart tightened. I patted his back like soothing a child. “Okay, no meds. I won’t go, okay?” I coaxed him over and over until he calmed down. Half an hour later. Lucas buried his face in my neck and fell asleep. The System said: [Good timing! Forget this guy, run!] This time, I wasn’t so sure. “But he only has me now. Is it heartless to just leave?” [Wow. Saving world peace depends on you, Conscience Bro.]

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386784”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel