1 I owned a watch that could rewind time by exactly five minutes. On my twenty-eighth birthday, my husband was reportedly killed in a car crash on his way to buy my birthday cake. Desperate to save him, I pulled that forgotten watch from the depths of my closet. But five minutes was such a terribly short window. To save him, I had to rewind time over and over, crashing and bleeding in the process. Finally, on my thirtieth attempt, I pushed my car to one hundred and twenty miles per hour, timed the brakes with absolute precision, and managed to intercept his vehicle before the collision occurred. But when the driver-side window rolled down, Dominic merely looked me up and down with a sneer. “You really are pathetic, Sienna. You actually ruined your own face just to save me.” “Well, look at you now. Let us see how you plan to compete against Melody for the pageant crown.” I stood frozen in the cold air, suddenly remembering the terrible cost of the watch. Every single activation fast-forwarded my biological clock by one year. I had used it fifty times in total over my life. Fifty years had been stripped away in a matter of hours. At twenty-eight, I had suddenly become a seventy-eight-year-old woman. “You… you did this on purpose?” “Of course,” Dominic said, leaning back in his seat. “Melody wanted to win the crown, but you have held the title for ten consecutive years. This was the only way to get you out of the competition.” He offered a cold, smug smile. “It is a good thing you told me about that watch five years ago. Otherwise, we could never have pulled off such a seamless plan.” I had shared the secret of the watch with him during our third year of marriage. To help him secure a critical business merger, I had used the watch three times, a strain that had cost us our first unborn child. When he found out, he had wept, holding me close and begging me never to touch the watch again. He swore he would work day and night to build a life for us so I would never have to sacrifice myself. True to his word, he spent the next few years climbing the corporate ladder, and the watch was buried deep in our closet. Yet now, he had used my own life as a pawn to elevate another woman. “Weren’t you afraid I wouldn’t be able to save you?” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Even with the watch, my physical limits are human. What if I had failed?” He gave a soft, amused chuckle. “I was never in any danger, Sienna.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out an empty, theatrical blood pack. The hospital notification and the crash had all been carefully staged. It was nothing but a grand performance designed to drain my youth. “Do not look so miserable,” Dominic said, reaching out to pat my withered cheek. “Even if you look like this, you are still my wife. That will not change for the next few decades.” Decades? He assumed only my appearance had changed. He did not understand that my internal organs had also aged to seventy-eight. I did not have decades left. My body would soon succumb to the natural decay of old age. Before I could speak, Dominic opened the car door and walked past me, his eyes lighting up. “Melody.” I turned slowly, my stiff joints aching. Melody threw herself into Dominic’s arms, sobbing as she playfully hit his chest. “Dominic! You scared me to death! I thought something had actually happened to you!” Dominic wiped her tears away with a look of pure devotion. “It is alright, sweetheart. Look what I bought for you.” He opened the trunk, and a bundle of colorful balloons floated into the air, revealing a beautiful cake. “It is your favorite mango flavor. I drove all the way to the bakery on the east side to get it.” Melody blushed, leaning against his shoulder. “You are so bad. Who said I was your wife?” The cake had never been meant for me. The words I love you, my beautiful wife written in frosting had been meant for her all along. I clutched my hands tightly, forcing my tears back. Melody finally noticed me, her eyes widening in mock horror. “Is that… Sienna? Why do you look so hideous?” She turned to Dominic, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “Dominic, I only joked about wanting her to lose her beauty, but you actually turned her into this. She looks so old, it is almost sickening.” Dominic pulled Melody into his chest, covering her eyes with his hand as he glared at me. “You are offending Melody. Apologize to her.” A cold, bitter laugh escaped my throat. “I will not.” “Sienna, I am ordering you to apologize. If you refuse, I will not help you settle your traffic violations.” “Driving at one hundred and twenty miles per hour on public roads will get your license revoked, and you will likely face jail time. Good luck rebuilding your life with a criminal record.” During my thirty attempts to save him, I had driven like a maniac, nearly dying in several of the timelines. Now, the very act of saving his life was being used as blackmail. “I said no!” Dominic pulled out his phone, preparing to call the precinct. I did not move, looking at him with quiet disdain. “Go ahead and make the call. But if I am locked up, Melody can forget about winning the pageant.” Having won the crown for ten consecutive years, I held significant influence within the committee. Dominic, despite his wealth, had no real connections in that circle. Otherwise, he would not have resorted to such extreme measures. Dominic paused, his finger hovering over the screen, before slowly slipping the phone back into his pocket. That single hesitation caused my tears to spill over. For Melody’s sake, he could not bear even a fraction of a risk. Only true devotion makes a man cautious. Melody burst into a giggle behind his back. “Are you serious, Sienna? Have you looked in a mirror lately? Who would believe that a wrinkled old woman was once the beauty of the city? If you show up at the venue, people will think you are the cleaning lady.” Looking at my dry, wrinkled hands, I raised my arm to slap her. Even if my youth was gone, I was still Sienna. But Dominic caught my wrist effortlessly. He squeezed my hand, shoving me back onto the asphalt. “Do you still think you are the queen of Bay Harbor? Look at yourself. You are not even fit to carry Melody’s shoes.” Melody offered me a smug, victorious smile from behind his shoulder. My palm scraped against a sharp stone on the ground, and the sharp sting made me sob openly. Dominic’s cold expression softened for a fraction of a second, but the emotion vanished as quickly as it had appeared. He reached over to the passenger door, peeled off the custom decal that read Sienna’s Seat, and ushered Melody inside. Three years ago, an assistant had tried to sit in that seat. Dominic had coldly ordered her out of the car, fired her on the spot, and spent ten minutes sterilizing the leather before allowing me to sit. Now, he looked down at me with sneering indifference. “You actually know how to cry, Sienna? I thought someone as arrogant as you was incapable of feeling pain.” How could I not feel pain? Years ago, when he was hospitalized with severe gastric bleeding from constant corporate drinking, I had wept by his bedside. He had taken my hand, offering a pale smile. “Sienna, I will protect you for the rest of our lives. I will never let you shed another tear.” Now, my tears only irritated him. Dominic hauled me up by my collar and shoved me into the dark trunk of his car. After what felt like an eternity in the cramped space, the car finally came to a halt. When the trunk opened, I realized we were at the backstage entrance of the pageant finals. Dominic dragged me out into the light, immediately attracting a crowd of reporters and photographers. “This is Sienna,” Dominic announced loudly. The cameras flashed rapidly, capturing my wrinkled face. “My goodness! What happened to the reigning queen? She looks older than my grandmother! Melody is definitely going to win tonight!” “This is a massive scoop! Keep filming!” “Miss Sienna, as a ten-year champion, what right do you have to step onto the stage looking like this?” I covered my face, trying to shrink away from the blinding lights. Instinctively, I looked for Dominic, the man who had always shielded me from the media in the past. But he had already stepped in front of Melody, protecting her from the crowd just as he used to protect me. “Look, her husband does not even care about her anymore! Get closer, we need the front-page shot!” Someone tripped me in the chaos, and I crashed heavily onto the floor. The reporters immediately crowded over me, pointing their lenses at my face. “She looks terrible up close!” “Look at those wrinkles, how disgusting!” Their cruel whispers washed over me like a tide. Then, Dominic’s cold voice cut through the noise. “Sienna will be competing tonight as scheduled.” The room fell silent. I knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted me to stand beside Melody as a hideous foil to guarantee her victory. When we reached the dressing rooms, I saw that my private vanity had already been relabeled with Melody’s name. She was already seated inside, having her makeup done. Ignoring my injuries, I limped over to her. “This is my dressing room. Get out.” “Are you joking?” Melody laughed, not even turning around. “Do you honestly think you still need makeup? How many pounds of powder would it take to fill the cracks on your face?” The staff in the room snickered, whispering behind their hands. I reached out to grab her arm to pull her from the chair, but I was no longer the strong, youthful woman I once was. Melody pushed me away with ease, sending me sprawling onto the floor. “You are nothing now, Sienna. Everything you have belongs to me.” Melody stepped forward, the heel of her shoe grinding heavily into my right hand. A sharp, agonizing scream escaped my throat. Hearing the noise, Dominic rushed into the room. Before he could speak, Melody quickly slapped her own cheek, her eyes filling with tears. “Dominic, Sienna said I stole her room and tried to hurt me. Is this her room? I will leave if it makes her happy.” Her fragile act immediately stopped Dominic from coming to my aid. His brief look of concern turned into cold anger. He dragged me up from the floor, forcing my face toward the mirror. “Look at yourself, Sienna!” He held my head in place, forcing me to stare at the wrinkled, white-haired old woman in the glass. “Accept reality. You are ancient now. Your body is practically ready for the grave.” “You cannot compete with Melody.” My reflection swam in my tears. “But, Dominic… you gave me this dressing room as an anniversary gift,” I whispered, my voice breaking. A fleeting look of guilt crossed his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by resolve. “Melody likes it.” “Besides, you will have no use for a dressing room after tonight. I will buy you something else.” “Melody, come here. Give her the slap she deserves.” He kept his grip on my head. “I did not touch her!” I cried out. “Do you expect me to believe that? You have always been too proud to let anyone take what is yours.” With a smug grin, Melody stepped forward and delivered a hard slap to my face. My cheek instantly burned and swelled. Dominic let go of me, retrieving an ice pack to soothe Melody’s face. I was forced onto the stage without any styling or a proper gown. When I looked at Melody, I realized she was wearing the custom French gown Dominic had ordered for me months ago. It fit her perfectly. I offered a quiet, bitter smile. The dress had never been sized for me in the first place. When the music began, my appearance threw the host into an awkward silence. Melody glided down the runway like a graceful swan, while I limped beside her like a withered shadow. The audience began to murmur, and soon, angry shouts erupted. “We paid to see beauty, not this ancient relic! Refund our tickets!” The demands for refunds echoed through the hall. As we turned to walk back, Melody subtly stuck her foot out. Lost in my own despair, I tripped and fell flat on my face in front of the entire crowd. Plastic bottles and trash began raining down on me from the stands. My vision blurred, and the world faded to black. When I opened my eyes, Dominic was standing over me with a dark, impatient look. “Where is your watch?” Melody was sobbing softly beside him. “Sienna, I need you to rewind time so Melody can win the final interview segment.” They assumed the pageant was decided solely by looks, but the final interview carried significant weight. Even without me, Melody’s empty-headed answers would have cost her the crown. “I will not do it, Dominic.” My body could not handle another activation. “You have no choice. Melody has dreamed of this crown her entire life, and I will make sure she gets it.” Ignoring my protests, Dominic began searching my pockets until he found the silver watch. “Dominic, if I use it again, I will die!” His hand paused. “I have already used up too much of my life! Another rewind will kill me!” Dominic froze, looking down at me with a flicker of hesitation. But Melody’s weeping grew louder. “If she does not want to help, she should just say so. There is no need to make up such ridiculous lies. You are only twenty-eight, Sienna. How could a simple watch kill you?” “Dominic is only being gentle because he pities you.” The hesitation in Dominic’s eyes vanished, replaced by cold annoyance. He forced the watch into my hand. “Stop lying, Sienna. You are only throwing a tantrum because you are afraid I will leave you now that you are old. Do this for me, and we will go home and live our lives.” He pressed a sharp safety pin into my left palm. “You only need to go back five minutes. You will be unconscious backstage. Use this pin to wake yourself up, then go straight to the judges. You have worked with them for years; they will change the scores for you.” “Melody is only half a point behind the leader. It will be easy.” He had planned everything so perfectly. Yet he had never once considered the price I would have to pay. “Even if it costs me my life, you still want me to do this?” I asked, the pin digging into my flesh until a drop of blood appeared. Dominic avoided my gaze. “You are not going to die. I still love you, Sienna. We will grow old together.” He wrapped his fingers around my hand, forcing my thumb onto the crown of the watch, and twisted it. The temporal shift began. Every time Melody failed to secure the top spot, Dominic forced me to rewind again. One time. Two times. By the tenth activation, a copper taste filled my mouth, and I coughed up a dark pool of blood. Dominic looked startled, but after a moment, he pushed my hand back onto the watch. Finally, on the fifteenth attempt, the judges yielded to my desperate pleas and altered the scores. Melody was announced as the winner. I collapsed onto the cold concrete backstage, every ounce of my life force drained. Looking at the silhouette of Dominic and Melody embracing under the stage lights, I let out a soft, rattling sigh. “Goodbye, Dominic.” Blood began to trickle from my eyes, nose, and mouth. My heart gave one final, weak shudder and stopped. Dominic slowly released Melody, turning back to look at me. Seeing me lying motionless on the floor, he frowned, assuming I was still playing the victim. “The judges told me you got her the scores, Sienna. You did well. Now stop pretending and get up.” When I did not move, a sudden chill seemed to strike him. His face drained of color as he slowly knelt beside me, his hands trembling as he reached out to turn me over.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “450056”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 We’d been married just a month when Garrett was diagnosed with ALS. The doctor explained his muscles would slowly waste away until his breathing failed. The moment we heard, I made him quit work. I took four jobs to pay for his treatments, working until my feet swelled so badly I couldn’t fit them into shoes. But if it kept him in therapy, I thought it was worth it. Until one rainy night. A drunk man cornered me at an alley’s mouth, dragging me into the dark as he hurled crude slurs. Terrified, I screamed to Garrett, standing frozen at the curb, “Call the police!” He didn’t move. Not a muscle. When the attacker fled after some teens passed by, I collapsed at Garrett’s knees, sobbing. “Why didn’t you call for help? Why did you just watch him hurt me?” He only stared at the ground, whispering a broken apology. My heart sank into ice. A week later, on the way to his checkup, a woman in a white dress slipped on the wet pavement. Without hesitation, Garrett shoved me aside and lunged forward, catching her with startling strength. “Vanessa, are you alright?” he cried. That name—one I’d seen scrawled in the margins of hundreds of hidden love letters—hit me like a blow. In that moment, I knew: I was his ALS. I was the disease paralyzing his life. The damp wind howled through the alley, carrying the bitter scent of rain and decay. My clothes were torn, and my hair clung to my bleeding forehead. The drunkard had fled, startled by the rowdy voices of teenagers on the main street. Yet my husband, the man I had sacrificed my health to protect, had not moved an inch. He had not yelled, he had not reached for his phone, and he had not made a single attempt to save me. He had simply watched. I dragged my bruised body toward him, holding onto the cold brick wall for support. “Garrett.” My voice was completely hoarse, barely a whisper. “Why didn’t you call the police?” He kept his head lowered, his fingers twitching slightly. It was one of the few movements he claimed he could still manage. “You could have at least screamed for help! Anything!” My quiet questions quickly spiraled into hysterical screams, echoing sharply in the quiet night. “You watched him drag me into the dark! You just stood there! Did you want me to die in there?” My tears finally broke through, washing over the dirt and blood on my face. He finally looked up, his lips parting with visible effort as he forced out three quiet words. “I… am… sorry.” The apology was clear, devoid of the slurs and stutters he usually performed. The last of my strength left me, and I collapsed onto the damp pavement at his feet. An apology? To pay his twenty-thousand-dollar monthly medical bills, I spent my nights scrubbing grease off restaurant dishes, kneeling on hard office floors to wax tiles, and working double shifts as a caregiver. I slept barely three hours a day, and my feet were permanently bruised and swollen. I had only brought him out tonight because I thought he was depressed from being cooped up in our small rental. And in return, I received a hollow apology. The void in my chest grew wider, letting the freezing wind hollow me out. I could not bear to look at him. I forced myself up and began limping back toward our apartment. He followed slowly, his steady, deliberate steps a stark contrast to the frail, trembling gait I had spent months trying to preserve. Once inside, I locked myself in the bathroom. The hot water sprayed over my skin, but it could not wash away the deep, bone-chilling disgust that had settled inside me. The reflection in the mirror was unrecognizable: haggard, bruised, and completely hollowed out. Garrett knocked on the door, his taps light and patient. “Audrey… open the door…” I ignored him. After a few minutes, the knocking stopped. When I finally stepped out, the apartment was dead silent. Garrett was sitting in his wheelchair, his back to me, his shoulders trembling slightly. Was he weeping? I walked closer, only to see the bright glow of his smartphone screen. He was looking at a chat interface, the contact name saved as Vanessa. His latest message had been sent only a minute ago. “I miss you so much.” His thumbs were moving across the screen with incredible, fluid speed, typing a sentence that shattered my world. “She is getting so annoying. I do not think I can keep up this act much longer.” 2 The blue light of the screen illuminated his face, revealing a look of pure, irritated disdain rather than guilt. My blood ran cold. Sensing my presence, he spun around, frantically trying to slip the phone under his thigh. But it was too late. Our eyes met, and the fragile, pathetic mask he had worn for months completely disintegrated. “Audrey, let me explain…” His voice caught in his throat as his eyes fell on my own phone, which had just lit up with a notification. It was a final notice from the medical center. “Dear Mrs. Audrey, the payment for Mr. Garrett’s specialized neural therapy is now overdue. Please settle the outstanding balance of two hundred thousand dollars within three days, or all medical services will be permanently suspended.” Two hundred thousand dollars. What a joke. I closed my eyes, the memory of our wedding day flashing before me. Garrett had looked so handsome, standing before me as he whispered his vows. “Audrey, I am going to make you the happiest woman in the world.” Shortly after, he told me his startup had collapsed, leaving him in massive debt. He asked if I would still marry a ruined man, and I had held him tight, telling him I loved him, not his bank account. Then, only a month later, he was diagnosed with motor neuron disease. Without hesitation, I sold our cozy little apartment, rented a cheap place in the slums, and began working myself to the bone. I truly believed that as long as we did not lose hope, we could beat the illness. But reality had just delivered a devastating blow. “Explain what?” I asked, my voice terrifyingly calm. “Explain that you can move perfectly fine? Or explain that you have been treating me like an idiot?” Garrett stood up from his wheelchair. He stood perfectly straight, his posture athletic and strong, with none of the trembling weakness he had feigned for a year. “I did not mean for it to go this far, Audrey,” he said, taking a step toward me. “It was just a game at first…” “A game?” I backed away, avoiding his touch. “My bones aching from exhaustion is a game? You watching me get dragged into an alley is a game? Your games are incredibly expensive, Garrett.” His expression flickered with a brief hint of guilt, but it was quickly replaced by annoyance. “It was Vanessa! She made a bet with me!” he blurted out, desperately trying to shift the blame. “She said if I married you, I had to prove that my heart still belonged to her! She said I couldn’t have any normal contact with the world until she returned! I only did it for her!” “For her?” I repeated, the absurdity of the words ringing in my ears. “So I was just your servant? Your amusement?” “I did not want you to suffer! I felt terrible watching you work!” he argued loudly, as if he were the victim. “I wanted to tell you the truth so many times! But Vanessa said this was the ultimate test of our love! She promised she would come back to me soon!” “And the two hundred thousand dollars for your medical bills?” I shoved my phone screen in his face, displaying the collection notice. “If you are bankrupt, where did that money go?” His face turned instantly pale. “I… I…” He stammered, unable to find a lie. I did not need his answers anymore. I marched into the bedroom, reached under the bed frame, and pulled open a hidden compartment. Inside was a high-end laptop. I powered it on, and a private stock trading platform appeared on the screen. The balance of his portfolio was filled with more zeros than I cared to count. And his recent transaction history showed a massive wire transfer from yesterday afternoon. The memo read: For Vanessa’s Art Gallery. 3 I carried the laptop out and slammed it onto the coffee table in front of him. “Is this part of the test too? Throwing millions at your mistress while your wife is driven mad by a two-hundred-thousand-dollar debt?” “You sat in that wheelchair, watching me run myself ragged to pay for your fake treatments, listening to me break down over collections. Did it make you feel powerful, Garrett?” “Do you even have a soul?” Unable to contain my fury, I grabbed a glass from the table and hurled it at his head. He ducked with effortless coordination, his quick reflexes a painful reminder of his lies. “Audrey! That is enough!” He snapped, lunging forward and grabbing my wrist. “Money, money, money! That is all you care about! I admit I lied to you, but haven’t I provided for you? I let you live under my roof, I kept you clothed, what more do you want?” “Provided for me?” I laughed, the sound sharp and bitter. “I lived in this run-down apartment because you claimed we had to sell everything to pay your debts! I wore secondhand clothes, and I ate the leftovers from the restaurant kitchen! Is this your idea of providing for me?” “Vanessa is different! She has never known hardship! I owed her a life of luxury!” he bellowed. “You owed her, so I had to pay the price?” My heart felt completely cold. “We are divorcing, Garrett.” “Divorce?” He stared at me, then let out a mock chuckle. “Audrey, do not flatter yourself. Who do you think you are? Do you think you can survive in this city without me? A woman with no pedigree and no qualifications, you will never find another man of my stature.” “Is that so?” I wrenched my hand from his grip, walked over to the front door, and pulled it wide open. Standing in the hallway was a tall man in a tailored three-piece suit. It was Harrison, my new representative and the CEO of a major corporate firm. Earlier today, I had been on my knees scrubbing the lobby floors of his corporate headquarters. He offered me a polite nod before turning his cold, piercing gaze toward Garrett. “Mr. Garrett, a pleasure. I am Miss Audrey’s legal representative and her newly appointed trustee.” Harrison handed me a leather folder. “Miss Audrey, the transfer of your father’s estate shares has been executed. As of today, you are officially the majority shareholder of Omni Group. This is the financial investigation report on Mr. Garrett’s assets you requested.” I took the document and threw it directly into Garrett’s face. The sheets of paper scattered across the floor, each page a detailed record of his fraud and betrayal. Garrett’s jaw slackened, his eyes darting between the papers and my face in utter disbelief. “Omni Group? You…?” He whispered, looking as if his world had just tilted on its axis. I looked at him, speaking with absolute clarity. “I forgot to mention, my father is the founder of Omni Group. He insisted that if my future husband loved me for who I was, the family shares would be my dowry. But if he proved to be a parasite, the experience would simply be the cost of a valuable lesson.” “Congratulations, Garrett. You taught me a lesson I will never forget.” The color drained from Garrett’s face, and he stumbled backward until his back hit the wall.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “450055”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 When I arrived at my own wedding wearing my formal suit, I found a professional octagon sparring ring erected in the center of the stage. My fiancée, Isla, was holding the hand of her male best friend, Wesley. She offered me a pair of boxing gloves with a bright, reassuring smile. “Lucas, it is an old custom from our hometown. The groom is supposed to have a playful wrestling match with the male members of the bridal party to bring good fortune. I specifically asked Wesley to step up. Just play along and keep it light.” Looking at the slender, lanky Wesley, I did not think twice before climbing into the ring. But the very next second, he executed a highly professional, brutal spin kick that struck my temple, causing a severe concussion and knocking me out cold. When I woke up, paralyzed in a hospital bed, Isla stood over me, holding Wesley’s hand. “The guests contributed so much money in wedding gifts, the ceremony could not go on without a groom. Wesley is willing to take care of me in your place. You are so kind, Lucas, I know you will not mind, right?” Driven by sheer despair and severe depression, I pushed my wheelchair to the edge of the apartment terrace and plunged into the dark abyss. But when I opened my eyes once more, I had returned to a month before the wedding. I turned on my heel and knocked on the heavy metal doors of the elite national martial arts training academy. “Coach, can you teach me how to shatter someone’s jaw in just thirty days?” The head coach looked me over, his eyes lingering on my thin arms and legs for several seconds before he let out a scoff. “Shatter someone’s jaw? With your frame, someone could knock you down with a single slap.” I did not say a word. I simply pulled a thick stack of cash from my bag and placed it on his desk. Five thousand dollars, every penny of the secret savings I had managed to keep over the past two years. The coach pushed the cash back with a look of indifference. “I do not need your money.” But when I rolled up my sleeve, exposing the dark, yellowing bruises left by Isla during her latest drunken rage, his expression shifted. He quietly retrieved a legal waiver from his desk drawer and slid it toward me. “Sign this. The academy is not liable for any injuries sustained during your sessions.” “This includes, but is not limited to, fractures, concussions, and internal bleeding.” I grabbed the pen and signed my name without hesitation. Once the waiver was secured, the relaxed expression vanished from the coach’s face. “Alright. From today on, I will train you with the intensity of an active professional lightweight champion.” “I cannot promise you will be shattering jaws in thirty days, but I guarantee you will be wishing you were dead by the end of the first week.” On my first day, my sparring partners threw me to the canvas forty-seven times. Every single time my back slammed against the heavy padding, the memories of my past life flashed before my eyes. I saw Wesley’s foot connecting with my temple. I saw myself lying in that sterile hospital bed, tubes running in and out of my body, while Isla stood at the foot of the bed with a look of false concern. “Lucas, Wesley is willing to take care of me in your place. You are so kind, I know you will not mind, right?” How could I not mind? Only three days after my paralysis, she had registered her marriage with Wesley. They lived in my fully paid apartment, spending my hard-earned savings. The world praised Isla for her loyalty and called Wesley a saint for stepping up. Not a single soul cared whether the paralyzed groom, left with a shattered skull, wanted to live or die. Driven by the memory, I pushed myself up from the canvas and gestured to my sparring partner. “Again.” The partner looked at the coach, who gave a brief, firm nod. “Go.” That night, as I lay on the narrow cot in the academy dormitory, my body was covered in dark bruises. My phone screen lit up with a message from Isla. “Sweetheart, I am still at the office working late. I am keeping an eye on the wedding planners, so just focus on being the most handsome groom.” I stared at the words working late, then opened her social media feed. Wesley had posted a selfie in a formal suit three minutes ago. In the background, resting on the arm of a velvet sofa, was a designer Hermès handbag: the exact bag I had purchased for Isla’s birthday last month. The caption read: Only the favored ones get the privilege of a trial run before the wedding. I gripped my phone, opened my chat with Isla, and sent a voice message. “Thank you for your hard work, darling. I trust you completely with the planning.” Then I typed out a quick follow-up. “By the way, I saw a custom-tailored suit, a limited edition. The deposit is twenty thousand dollars. What do you think?” “Is it too expensive? A regular suit is fine.” “But I only get married once, and you promised to give me the grandest wedding in the city.” She remained silent for nearly two minutes before sending a single word. “Alright.” A cold smile touched my lips as I locked the screen and turned toward the wall. Isla, in my past life, you wanted my money, my home, and my life. In this life, I will drain you dry first. 2 By day, I played the part of the doting fiancé, discussing suit styles with colleagues, tasting wedding cakes, and projecting an image of absolute bliss. The moment my shift ended, I headed straight to the gym. I put on my protective gear, laced up my gloves, and transitioned from sending sweet messages to my fiancée to striking the heavy bag with absolute fury. Following my instructions, the coach trained me specifically to counter the spin kick. “You said your opponent is experienced with this kick?” “Yes.” “What is his background?” “He used to be a sparring partner in underground rings.” The coach’s brow furrowed. “Fighters from those rings have dirty techniques. They do not follow standard rules; they target vital areas.” He pulled up a video of an underground match to show me. “Look closely. Before they launch the kick, there is a tiny rotation of the hip. It is incredibly fast, taking less than three-tenths of a second.” “Your job is to slip the angle within that fraction of a second, absorb the force, and close the distance for a counterattack.” I nodded, practicing the movement thousands of times. When Harrison, my closest friend, came to pick me up from the gym, he stared at the dark bruises covering my arms, his eyes filling with tears. “Lucas, have you lost your mind? Why are you doing this to yourself?” I removed my hand wraps and took a long drink of water. “Take a look at this.” I handed him my phone, displaying a series of financial statements provided by a private investigator. Isla had taken out eight thousand dollars in high-interest online loans. Six thousand of that sum had been spent on a gold Cartier bracelet delivered directly to Wesley’s apartment. Harrison’s jaw dropped. “She took out loans to buy him luxury jewelry? What has she ever bought for you? A cheap bouquet of flowers on your birthday! Call off the wedding, Lucas! You cannot go through with this!” I took my phone back, shaking my head. “I cannot call it off. I need her to climb onto that stage so I can make her spit out every single dollar she stole.” Harrison stared at me, his expression turning solemn. “I do not know what your plan is, Lucas, but whatever you do, I have your back.” I watched him drive away, then turned back to the heavy bag. Three days before the wedding, the investigator sent me a final audio recording, captured by a device hidden in Isla’s car. Wesley’s voice came through clearly. “Isla, after the wedding, he will be a vegetable. The house is fully paid for, right? We can transfer it to your name and move in together.” Isla’s laughter followed. “Do not worry. Once the house is secure, we will drain his savings. This marriage will be worth every penny.” “You are so wicked, Isla.” “Do you like it?” “I love it.” I sat on the bench in the locker room, listening to the file three times. My hands remained perfectly steady as I backed up the audio to three separate cloud servers. Then, I wired the final payment to the investigator with a short note: Excellent work. Worth every penny. Two days before the wedding, Isla’s mother arrived at my apartment. She brought a small bag of discounted fruit, sat on my sofa with her legs crossed, and began delivering her demands. “Lucas, I want to discuss something with you.” “Your apartment is registered solely under your name because you bought it before the wedding, correct? But now that you and Isla are becoming a family, keeping only your name on the deed looks terrible.” “Add Isla’s name to the title. Our relatives will see it as a sign of your devotion.” 3 I kept my eyes on my teacup, remaining silent. “Even Wesley said that a real man does not divide his property from his wife. Being generous brings good fortune.” How interesting. A complete stranger was dictating the terms of my estate, and my future mother-in-law saw nothing wrong with it. I took a deep breath, forcing a polite, submissive smile onto my face. “You are entirely right, mother. Let me have the deed, and I will take care of the paperwork tomorrow.” She beamed with delight, pulling the deed from her purse and handing it to me. She had been carrying it with her, waiting for this exact moment. I took the document and ushered her out of the apartment. The moment the door closed, the smile vanished from my face. I took the deed straight to a mortgage broker. I did not add Isla’s name; I applied for a home equity loan. The apartment was valued at $3.8 million. I secured a loan of $2.6 million. The funds cleared the same afternoon, and I immediately transferred the entire sum to Harrison’s account. In my past life, Isla had successfully transferred the title and sold the property, leaving me with nothing. In this life, she would not get a single penny. When I returned home, Isla was standing in the kitchen, offering me a bowl of dark, herbal soup. “Sweetheart, you look exhausted lately. I prepared some soothing herbal soup for you. Drink it and get some rest so you can be the most handsome groom.” I took the bowl, immediately detecting the medicinal scent hidden beneath the sweet dates. In my past life, this very soup had kept me asleep for ten hours, giving Wesley ample time to transform the wedding stage into a sparring ring. I brought the bowl to my lips, pretending to drink, but the moment she turned her back, I spat the liquid into a tissue and stuffed it into my pocket. “Thank you, darling. It is wonderful.” A flicker of satisfaction crossed her eyes. “Get some sleep. We have rehearsals tomorrow.” She took her coat and left the bedroom, closing the guest room door behind her to make a call. I pressed my ear against the wall, listening to her quiet voice. “Wesley, he drank it. He is out cold. Everything is set for the wedding.” Wesley’s voice came through the receiver. “Isla, should I target his left temple or his right on stage?” Isla chuckled. “Whatever makes you happy. As long as he spends the rest of his life in a wheelchair.” I retreated to my desk, opened my laptop, and began compiling all the evidence I had gathered into a detailed presentation. The title screen read: The Groom’s Reality. I programmed the file to upload and broadcast automatically on the wedding venue’s primary display screens. Once the preparation was complete, I lay down on the bed. I was no longer a victim; I was a blade waiting to be drawn. The morning of the wedding arrived. At six in the morning, Harrison arrived to help me prepare. He opened the garment bag containing the twenty-thousand-dollar custom suit, held it against my frame, and froze. “Lucas… your arms…” The suit was a short-sleeved style, leaving my newly developed, bruised muscles visible. “Do not worry about it. Just help me cover them with makeup.” Harrison bit his lip, applying three thick layers of heavy concealer to hide the yellowing bruises. Once the suit was on, I turned to look in the mirror. The man staring back at me was strong and steady, completely different from the broken, paralyzed victim who had rolled off the roof in my past life. The old Lucas was dead. The man standing here had returned from the depths of hell. 4 At eight in the morning, the bridal car arrived. Isla stood by the limousine, looking stunning in her white bridal gown. Her eyes lit up when she saw me. I offered a warm smile, taking her arm as we stepped into the car. Wesley sat in the passenger seat, dressed as the best man. He turned around, offering a weak, gentle smile. “Lucas, you look incredibly handsome today.” He let out a soft, delicate cough. I shook his hand with a smile. “Thank you, Wesley. I know you are not in the best of health, so I truly appreciate you stepping up as my best man.” “It is my pleasure. Seeing Isla happy is all I care about.” Isla met Wesley’s gaze in the rearview mirror. It was a brief, silent look of mutual triumph and anticipation. The limousine pulled up to the Grand Regent Hotel. The venue was magnificent, decorated with floral arches and red carpets. Isla got out first, opening my door with a dramatic, playful bow. “Sweetheart, we have arrived.” I stepped out, taking her arm. As we pushed open the heavy doors of the grand ballroom, the guests erupted into thunderous applause. I scanned the room. The flowers, the lighting, and the tables were exactly as planned. But in the center of the stage, where the champagne tower should have stood, there was a professional octagon sparring ring. The perimeter was secured with thick ropes, and the floor was covered in heavy blue mats. Two pairs of boxing gloves hung from the corner posts. I turned to Isla, pretending to be startled. “What is this?” Isla patted my hand, her tone light and reassuring. “Do not worry, Lucas. It is an old custom from our hometown. The groom is supposed to have a playful match with the bride’s male best friend to bring good fortune to the marriage.” She stepped aside, and Wesley emerged from the wings, wearing an athletic jacket and holding his gloves. His voice was soft and gentle. “Lucas, Isla insisted on this. I could not say no. Do not worry, I have a very weak constitution. Just play along and keep it light.” Below the stage, the relatives began to cheer. “Get in there, Lucas! It is for good luck!” “Do not be a coward! Show us what you can do!” “Wesley looks like he would blow away in a strong wind, what are you afraid of?” The pressure from the crowd built, exactly as it had in my past life. I remained silent for ten seconds, then looked directly into Isla’s eyes. “I will do it.” Isla looked startled. “But on one condition,” I added, my voice carrying across the stage. “In case of any accidents during the match, we must sign a legal liability waiver first.” I took a document from Harrison and slid it toward her. The terms were printed clearly on the white paper. “During the sparring match, both parties agree to waive all liability for any physical injuries sustained. The injured party assumes all responsibility, and no civil or criminal action may be pursued.” Isla skimmed the text, a small, arrogant smile playing at the corners of her lips. She saw this as my final, desperate attempt to protect myself. Wesley snatched the pen and signed his name with absolute eagerness. Once the document was signed and handed back to Harrison, I turned to face the audience, slowly removing my jacket and the heavy protective gear beneath.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “450054”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My boyfriend was hailed as a once-in-a-century painting prodigy, while I struggled to even distinguish the most basic color wheels. For seven years, he shielded me from the world’s ridicule, until a brilliant young artist named Giselle entered the picture. When I broke my leg and desperately needed his care, he spent the night refining draft sketches for Giselle. When a creep stalked me down a dark alley and I called him crying for help, his priority was rushing Giselle’s dog to the veterinary clinic because it was having a difficult labor. Today, when his friends teased him once again, saying he and Giselle were a match made in heaven, Tristan didn’t snap back in my defense like he used to. Instead, he simply offered a bittersweet, regretful smile and let it slide. That very evening, over dinner, he looked up and asked, “Maybe I should ask Giselle to consult her uncle? He’s a specialist. Who knows, he might be able to cure your color blindness.” My hand, holding the ladle over the bowl of chicken soup, froze. On the surface, Tristan looked like a devoted partner trying to salvage a fracturing relationship. But in reality, his heart had already drifted. He was finally confronting my mediocrity, and worse, he was starting to resent it. Instead of answering, I offered a faint, bitter smile. “Why do you bring up Giselle so much lately?” Tristan blinked, a rare flash of guilt crossing his face. “You know how it is,” he stammered, trying to justify himself. “She’s the only one in the industry who can actually challenge me right now…” Tristan was a proud man. In the past, he would never have bothered with such defensive explanations. Back then, he would have wrapped his arms around me and whispered, “Sia, my world only has room for my brush and you. I don’t have the energy for anyone else.” Now, without him even realizing it, Giselle had climbed the ranks. She was his priority, and I was just an afterthought. When my broken leg kept me bedridden, he spent the night refining her canvases. When a stranger followed me down the street and I called him in tears, he told me to wait because Giselle’s Frenchie was in labor. When I finally confronted him, screaming through my tears, his voice was cold as ice. He claimed it wasn’t about Giselle, but about art and saving a life. But Tristan, I had told him from the very beginning: I do not tolerate dirt in my eyes. I do not share. His defensive bravado crumbled the moment I slid a photo across the table. It was a picture of him and Giselle locked in a tight embrace. His face paled, then twisted in outrage, as if he were the victim of some profound betrayal. “You spied on me?” Catching his own defensive tone, he tried to backtrack, his voice softening in a desperate bid to smooth things over. “Giselle was drunk, Sia. I was just catching her so she wouldn’t fall…” Watching his clumsy performance, I swallowed the lump of burning sorrow in my throat. I decided to give him one last chance. “If you want us to have a future, delete her. Block her number, throw out her socials, and never see her again.” Tristan stared at me, his eyes darkening to a cold, predatory pitch. Then, without warning, he stood up and violently swept the entire dinner off the table. The plates shattered against the hardwood floor. “All you do is cook and clean!” he roared. “You have zero connection to my art! You can’t possibly comprehend the mutual respect between two geniuses! I have tolerated your mediocrity and your incompetence for years, and now you want to control my career and my life?” I didn’t say a word. I just stared at the broken porcelain and spilled soup scattered at our feet. It looked exactly like the end of our seven-year relationship. His rage was hideous, entirely foreign. For seven years, Tristan had been cool, collected, almost detached from the world. He only cared about his canvas and me. He had never been this savage, this monstrous, screaming as though I were trying to tear away his most prized possession. I knelt down, my fingers brushing against a sharp shard of a broken plate. My voice was as calm as a summer breeze. “Tristan, let’s break up.” 2 My mind drifted back to eight years ago. The day I met Tristan, I was hovering on the edge of life and death. Severe depression had blurred the lines between reality and delusion. I had wandered onto a bridge, staring down at the churning river that seemed to be beckoning me. Tristan, who happened to be passing by, noticed my trance-like state and pulled me back from the ledge. He had been at his own rock bottom back then. We found solace in each other, licking each other’s wounds until we became each other’s entire universe. Eventually, Tristan scaled the heights of the art world, while I settled into the quiet role of a supportive, stay-at-home girlfriend. Even so, whenever anyone sneered at me or looked down on my lack of ambition, Tristan was always the first to stand up for me. He fiercely defended our love. “Ignore them, Sia,” he would say, wrapping me in his warmth. “You will always be the only one for me.” I used to believe that love could conquer any obstacle. As it turned out, our forever had an expiration date of seven years. A sharp, stinging pain snapped me back to the present. Tristan kicked a broken bowl in frustration. The heavy ceramic shard ricocheted off the baseboard and sliced deep into my forearm. Blood welled up instantly, staining my skin crimson. Tristan froze. Panic washed over his features, and he rushed over, tears welling in his eyes as he grabbed my arm. “I’m sorry, Sia! God, I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve been hitting a wall with my painting, and the pressure has just been eating me alive…” Babbling apologies, he practically dragged me out the door to head to the hospital. In his frantic haste, the usually composed and meticulous Tristan lost his shoes three times on the way to the car. For a fleeting second, he looked like the man who would lose his mind just to keep me safe. But deep down, I knew. There was no going back. After the doctor finished stitching up my arm, Tristan left the room to buy me some warm soup. I sat alone on the hospital bed, holding my phone, and began deleting seven years of memories. That was when Giselle walked in. It was our first face-to-face confrontation. She was striking, possessing a sharp, ethereal beauty that mirrored her artwork. She looked down at me as if I were a speck of dust. “An idiot like you doesn’t deserve Tristan,” she said, cutting straight to the chase. “Do yourself a favor and leave him.” I let out a soft laugh. I didn’t even have the energy to argue. I just kept tapping my screen, deleting photo after photo. Annoyed by my silence, Giselle shoved her phone in front of my face, displaying her chat with Tristan. Sia has changed, Tristan’s message read. She never used to pick fights like this. Tonight, she didn’t even try to dodge the broken plate. I think she did it on purpose just to play the victim and get my sympathy. My chest tightened so hard it was difficult to breathe. In the past, if I so much as stubbed my toe, Tristan would lose sleep worrying about me. Now, with a deep gash on my arm, he dismissed it as a cheap trick to win sympathy. I suppose it’s true what they say: when a man stops loving you, even if you hang yourself, he’ll just assume you’re playing on a swing. I blinked rapidly, forcing the hot tears back. Giselle smirked and scrolled up. I watched, numb, subjecting myself to the torture of reading their history. This was the man who was supposedly a man of few words, who treated everyone but me with cold indifference. Yet here he was, texting Giselle every single day. They shared art, jokes, and even pictures of mundane things, like a crooked tree they saw on the street. The weight of it all suddenly felt incredibly tedious. I looked away from the screen and locked eyes with Giselle’s smug face. “You really are a shameless home-wrecker, aren’t you?” I said, emphasizing every syllable. Her smile flickered for a second before turning into a venomous grin. “Want to make a bet?” she whispered. “Let’s see who Tristan actually believes. Let’s see who he cares about more.” Before I could react, she grabbed a fistful of my hair, dragged me off the side of the bed, and slammed my head against the sterile white wall. My injured arm made it impossible to fight back effectively, and her attack was entirely unexpected. Once, twice, three times. She didn’t stop until warm blood began to trickle down my forehead. Instantly, her face morphed into a mask of pure terror. She stumbled backward, screaming as she ran out the door, “Doctor! Nurse! Help! Someone’s trying to hurt themselves!” 3 Tristan came rushing back into the room. Before I could utter a single word, Giselle threw herself at him, gripping his sleeve and sobbing hysterically. “Tristan, you have to believe me! I didn’t even touch a single hair on Sia’s head!” After a long, agonizing silence, Tristan murmured a few comforting words to her, then turned toward me with a conflicted expression. He stared at the fresh bandages wrapped around my head. “Sia, tell me the truth,” he said, his voice laced with pre-determined accusation. “Are you just jealous of the artistic connection Giselle and I share? Is that why you did this to yourself?” Slap! I cut his absurd accusation short with a stinging slap across his face. My left hand throbbed from the impact, but compared to the shattering pain in my chest, I felt absolutely nothing. Was this really the man I had loved for seven long years? Giselle gasped, rushing forward to pull the stunned Tristan away from me. “It’s one thing to frame me,” she cried, tears spilling over her cheeks, “but Tristan was only trying to understand! How could you lay a hand on him?” She turned to him, her voice dripping with sympathy. “Tristan, stay here. I’ll get an ice pack from the nurse.” I watched their little drama with cold, detached eyes. I pulled out my phone and dialed the police. “Don’t leave just yet,” I said calmly. “Since you claim I’m framing you, let’s let the police sort this out.” Giselle instinctively glanced up at the ceiling. I knew what she was thinking; she knew there were no security cameras in this private recovery room. Unfortunately for her, I had learned my lesson the hard way years ago. The moment she had walked in, I had quietly activated the voice recorder on my phone. I also knew Tristan too well. He was fiercely protective of those he cared about, and I was no longer the one he held dear. If I didn’t wait for the authorities to arrive before showing my hand, he would find a way to bury the evidence. Giselle stood quietly while I finished the call. She bit her lower lip, offering Tristan a brave, watery smile. “It’s okay, Tristan. As long as you believe me, nothing else matters. A clean conscience fears no accusation. I’m sure the officers will see through this.” Tristan looked at her with profound pity before turning his fury back on me. “When did you become so malicious, Sia? Making a false police report is a waste of public resources. You’d better have a damn good explanation when they get here!” I let out a sharp laugh. “Tell me, Tristan. From the second you walked into this room, have I uttered a single word accusing Giselle?” Tristan froze. A flicker of realization and embarrassment crossed his face. An exhausting wave of fatigue washed over me. I closed my eyes, refusing to engage with his pathetic deflections, and waited in silence for the police to arrive. Giselle was always one to seize the narrative. The second the officers walked through the door, she rushed forward, pointing a trembling finger at me. “I only came to visit her out of goodwill, but she suddenly started throwing her head against the wall to frame me!” Tristan stepped in, his expression apologetic. “I’m sorry about this, officers. My girlfriend has been very unstable lately. She has a history of severe clinical depression, and…” My chest tightened. During the darkest years of my illness, Tristan would threaten anyone who dared mention the word depression around me. When I used to hurt myself, he would hold me so tight, ignoring the cuts from the sharp blades in my hands, whispering over and over, “Sia, you’re not sick. You’re just unhappy right now. I’ll make it better, I promise. Just don’t give up on yourself.” Yet now, to protect another woman, he weaponized my deepest trauma without a second thought. The lead officer didn’t buy their story immediately. He turned to me. “Miss Sienna, do you have anything to add?” I offered a polite, chilly smile and tapped my phone screen to play the recording.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “450053”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My mother was dying of irreversible heart failure, and she begged me to fly back to the States to perform her transplant surgery. Stepping off the plane, I took a deep breath of the familiar Boston air, wondering if I would ever be able to call her Mom again. Ten years ago, the Brooks family found their biological daughter living out in the boondocks. The fake daughter, who had supposedly committed a string of vicious, unforgivable acts, was kicked to the curb. I was that fake daughter. The one who never stood a chance to clear her name. I was rushing to the hospital with the donor heart secured in my arms when a sports car swerved into the wrong lane and forced my cab to a screeching halt. The biological daughter stepped out of the passenger seat. She gave me one look, and before I could react, her bodyguard kicked the back of my knees, forcing me to hit the hard pavement. “Cynthia Brooks, you stole twenty years of my rich, perfect life, and you still want more? You actually have the nerve to come back and fight me for my parents?” I looked up into her glaring eyes. “Harper, if you value the life you have right now, you need to let me go. Now.” Before the words even left my mouth, Harper’s hand cracked across my cheek in a vicious slap. “Who the hell do you think you are to threaten me?” She stared down at me, her eyes brimming with absolute disgust. “I didn’t get to completely destroy you ten years ago, Cynthia. But look at you now, delivering yourself right to my doorstep.” She bent down, her manicured fingers digging into my jaw, forcing my face up. “You think you deserve to call her Mom? That is my mother. Not yours. You are a cheap knockoff. Where do you get off calling her that?” I didn’t have the energy to argue with her toxic logic. I just tightened my grip around the insulated medical cooler in my arms. Inside that box was a donor heart. It had to be transplanted within six hours. Harper noticed my death grip. Her gaze dropped to the cooler. “What kind of treasure are you guarding like your life depends on it?” She shot a look to her left. Two massive bodyguards stepped forward and violently wrenched the cooler from my chest. Harper popped the latches. A cloud of chilled vapor spilled out into the humid air, revealing the perfectly preserved human heart resting inside. Staring at the organ, a twisted, sick smile spread across Harper’s face. She looked at me with a morbid kind of thrill. “Wait, is your heart failing, Cynthia? Do you need a transplant? Oh, how tragic. Looks like karma is real after all!” “Tell me something,” she taunted. “If I just rub my dirty, unwashed hands all over this thing, it’ll be ruined, right? It’ll be completely useless. And you’ll just die.” She reached her hand toward the open cooler. “Don’t touch it!” I finally screamed. My entire body was shaking, but I forced myself to swallow the panic. “Harper, listen to me. That heart isn’t for me.” “I am a surgeon now. That heart belongs to my patient. Do not touch it. Destroying that will not hurt me!” I desperately wanted to scream that the heart was for our mother. But before I flew back, Margaret had explicitly forbidden me from telling anyone. Especially Harper. Margaret had kept her failing health a total secret from her biological daughter. She felt so guilty about the twenty years Harper spent in poverty that she refused to cause her any emotional pain. Harper’s hand hovered over the ice. She tilted her head, her eyes darkening with pure venom. “A surgeon?” She let out a dry, hacking laugh. “You really do have all the luck, Cynthia. Why?” “Why didn’t you end up homeless, wandering the streets like a stray dog? How did you become a doctor? How do you get to stand in an operating room?” She turned away, staring off as if sucked into a nightmare. “Do you have any idea what my life was like for those first twenty years? The years you stole from me?” “A rotting shack in the middle of nowhere. Freezing in the winter, flooded in the summer. Eating stale bread and pickled garbage. Wearing other people’s stained hand-me-downs.” “That man beat me senseless whenever he drank. That woman hated the sight of me. I was forced to work the dirt since I was a toddler. Look at my hands! I had frostbite and calluses before I could even read.” “And you? You wore the princess dresses that belonged to me. You slept in my mansion. You took ballet, you learned the piano, you got accepted into a prestigious university abroad.” “Why didn’t you have to suffer the misery that was meant for you? God is so completely blind!” Her voice escalated into a hysterical screech. I tried to keep my tone even. “Harper, a nurse switched us at the hospital.” “If you want to say I lived your life, I accept that. Even though I had no say in it.” “But later? You framed me. You bullied me. You forced Mom and Dad to publicly disown me and throw me out on the street with absolutely nothing. Hasn’t the debt been paid?” I paused, my voice trembling. “I have never personally done a single thing to hurt you. My conscience is clear.” Harper burst into maniacal laughter. “Paid? You think it’s that easy?” Before the echo of her laugh faded, she plunged her bare, unsterilized hand straight into the medical cooler and squeezed the donor heart. Preservation fluid dripped through her fingers as the vibrant, life-saving organ deformed under her grip. She held it up right in front of my face, her voice dripping with malicious amusement. “Sucks to be your patient. Guess this piece of meat is garbage now.” A raw scream tore out of my throat. “Do you have any idea who needs that heart!” 2 Seeing me break down completely only made Harper smile wider. “I don’t give a damn who needs it.” “All I know is that I am the true heiress of the Brooks family. With how much Mom and Dad owe me, they will cover up anything I do.” “But you? With this heart ruined, let’s see if you can keep playing doctor.” The blood was pounding in my ears. The roaring in my head was deafening. Since begging wouldn’t work on a psychopath, I was going to call the cops. But the second I pulled my phone from my pocket, Harper snatched it right out of my grip. At that exact moment, the screen lit up. A text notification popped onto the lock screen. [Mom: Cynthia, where are you?] Harper’s smug face contorted the second she read the caller ID. She glared down at me, her eyes burning with absolute hatred. “You are still secretly talking to my mother!” “Cynthia Brooks, you are still trying to steal my place!” “You have a career, you have everything, why do you still have to steal my mother!” I looked up at her, my mouth tasting like ash. “I am not trying to steal her from you.” The moment the words left my lips, Harper brought my own phone down and smashed it brutally against my temple. “Then why the hell is she saved as ‘Mom’ in your phone!” The heavy device struck my head with a sickening thud. A blinding flash of pain and extreme dizziness washed over me, and the world tilted. I nearly collapsed fully onto the concrete. Harper grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back to look at her. “Tell me! Why do you still call her Mom! What gives you the right!” I stayed completely silent. There was no way to explain it to her. Even if Margaret wasn’t my biological mother, she had raised me for twenty years. Even though she threw me out like trash, some pathetic, broken part of me still viewed her as a mother. I was so starved for the memory of her maternal warmth that I never had the heart to change her contact name. But I wasn’t going to justify my trauma to Harper. It would only make her crazier. I bit my lip and bent down to pick up my shattered phone from the asphalt. But just as my fingers brushed the screen, a heavy leather shoe stepped squarely onto the back of my hand. I slowly looked up. Standing above me was Liam Spencer. My childhood sweetheart. The boy who had promised to marry me. He stared down at me with dead eyes, the pressure of his shoe steadily increasing. After ten years of not seeing each other, his first words to me were a demand. “Cynthia, apologize to Harper right now.” The boy who once swore he would protect me from the world was now grinding my hand into the dirt, demanding I apologize for a crime I didn’t commit. My chest caved in. Whatever lingering affection I had for my parents or Liam was officially dead. Their love belonged exclusively to Harper now. Harper smirked, her face glowing with triumph. “Oh Liam, you always know how to take care of me.” I swallowed the sharp pain radiating up my arm. “Liam, I will tell Harper whatever she wants to hear. I will say I’m sorry a thousand times.” “But I have a critical surgery to perform right now. This is a matter of life and death. If I am late, every single one of you will regret this for the rest of your lives.” Liam didn’t lift his foot. “The surgery doesn’t matter, Cynthia. What matters is that you shouldn’t even be here. Your presence is making Harper anxious.” “She finally came home and got the life she deserved, and you, you little fraud, have the audacity to show your face again?” I ignored the agonizing pain in my hand and stared at him in pure disbelief. “Liam, I am a doctor. I have to save a dying patient. Harper is angry, fine, but have you lost your mind too?” “A heart transplant has a six-hour window. The clock is ticking.” “Harper contaminated the surface, but there is still a slight chance I can salvage it with heavy sterilization protocols. But if you keep me here any longer, this heart is going straight to the incinerator!” Seeing zero reaction from either of them, I finally drew a deep breath and screamed the truth. “The person I am trying to save is Harper’s mother.” “Margaret is lying on an operating table right now with total heart failure, waiting for this exact heart to save her life!” 3 Harper froze for a split second before letting out a mocking scoff. “You actually have the nerve to use my mother as a shield?” “Mom is perfectly healthy. She doesn’t have heart problems. You really won’t give up your pathetic lies until you’re in a coffin, will you?” She turned to Liam, her voice turning sweet and sickeningly cruel. “Liam, I want her hand destroyed. I want to make sure this little thief can never pretend to be a doctor again.” “Step on it. Step on it as hard as you can. Crush it until she can never hold a scalpel for the rest of her miserable life.” Without a shred of hesitation, Liam shifted his body weight over his foot. My right hand was pinned to the abrasive asphalt. I could feel my knuckles shifting violently under his sole. My fingernails began to crack, and bright red blood pooled out from the edges of his expensive shoe. My whole body convulsed in agony. Tears streamed down my face without my permission. “Liam…” “Stop… please stop… don’t you remember what you promised me when we were kids… Liam, look at me… it’s me… it’s Cynthia…” Liam refused to meet my eyes. “Harper is the true daughter. You didn’t just steal her parents’ love, Cynthia. You stole my love.” “You are nothing but a thief. A thief doesn’t deserve the prestige of being a surgeon. Do you honestly think dirty hands like yours deserve to hold a scalpel?” And then, I heard the sharp, sickening crack of my own bones snapping. Harper heard it too. She gasped in faux concern. “Oh no, Cynthia, what a tragedy! Your bones just broke.” “I heard that cardiac surgery requires intense, microscopic precision. With your finger bones shattered to pieces, how are you going to do all those delicate little stitches?” “Stop crying and tell me. Can you still play doctor now?” In that exact moment, the last ember of hope in my soul died. Liam finally lifted his foot. I stared blankly at my right hand. The same hand that had meticulously sutured hundreds of arteries on the operating table. It was a mangled, bloody mess of crushed bone and torn skin. A guttural wail tore out of my throat, a sound of absolute, soul-ripping despair echoing from the deepest part of my chest. Harper didn’t just want me kicked out of the family. She wanted to obliterate my entire existence. I stared at the hand I was so incredibly proud of. It was ruined. I would never perform heart surgery again. And I could no longer save my mother. Right then, the driver’s side door of Harper’s sports car opened. My father stepped out. Richard Brooks. He had been sitting inside the car the entire time. Watching with cold, indifferent eyes as I was forced to the pavement, slapped, and as Liam crushed my fingers into dust. “Alright, alright, Harper. Her hand is ruined. Let’s call it a day.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “450052”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 At three in the morning, my husband texted me. [Where are you?] I was sitting in the observation room of the abortion clinic, utterly exhausted from the pain. I typed back: [I’ll tell you when I get home.] When I finally walked through the door, he was sitting at his computer, editing a vlog from a recent party. “I aborted the baby,” I said. “I’m being transferred overseas the day after tomorrow. Take tomorrow off, and let’s go to the courthouse to finalize the divorce.” He didn’t look up from the screen, just muttering his usual absent-minded “uh-huh.” I knew it. He had turned his hearing aids off again. For six years, I had excitedly shared the little details of my day with him. I had enthusiastically planned our future together. Over the years, I must have sung at least three hundred love songs to him. In the end, not a single note ever made it to his ears. I was genuinely so tired. I walked up behind him and flicked the switch on his hearing aid. He frowned instantly and snapped before I could speak, “What are you doing?” “The battery on my hearing aids is running low, and I left my charger at the office.” “I’m taking tomorrow off to go with Chloe to hear her sing at karaoke. Don’t waste my battery.” I nodded slowly and reached over, turning his hearing aid back off. Then let’s part in silence. … Allen suddenly flicked his hearing aid back on. “Whatever. I’ll just swing by the office and grab the charger tomorrow morning.” “What were you trying to say?” I didn’t answer. I walked over to the sofa, sat down, and took out the painkillers the doctor had prescribed. I swallowed them dry with a sip of cold water. Only then did Allen look away from his monitor and glance over at me. “Why are you taking pills?” “Vitamins,” I replied. He nodded, accepting the lie immediately. “Did the doctor say anything else? I would’ve gone with you today if I wasn’t so busy.” It was always the same excuse. Allen’s promises meant absolutely nothing to me anymore. Like during his last vacation. He promised to take me to the beach. I had bought the plane tickets and planned the entire itinerary. But at the last minute, Chloe claimed some creep was following her home from work. Allen threw a stack of cash at me to shut me up, and spent his entire month off acting as Chloe’s personal bodyguard, driving her to and from work every single day. I could let go of something trivial like a canceled vacation. But he also consistently bailed on my birthdays and our anniversaries. Every single time I asked, it was always because Chloe had some “emergency.” He never took the things I said seriously. He barely even listened. But whatever bizarre, dramatic excuse Chloe came up with, he treated it like an absolute royal decree. I never understood it. We were all adults; how could he lack such basic judgment? It wasn’t until much later that I finally realized—it had nothing to do with whether he believed her or not. It was entirely about who he loved. When a man loves a woman, even if she points at the sky and calls it the ground, even if she calls red green, he will find a way to justify her delusions as absolute truth. “Whatever. Let’s just go to sleep,” I said softly. “At your last physical, the doctor said your thyroid nodules were getting bigger. You need to stop staying up so late…” Before I could even finish my sentence, Allen reached up and switched his hearing aid off. He waved me away dismissively, signaling me to leave him alone. I suddenly let out a dry, bitter laugh. I was laughing at my own pathetic reflexes. Even after all these years, my first instinct was still to care about him. I walked back to the master bedroom and locked the door behind me. By the time I finished filling out my overseas transfer paperwork, it was already 6:00 AM. The sky was turning gray. The sound of his keyboard clacking in the living room had been replaced by the sound of a voice call. Even through the phone speaker and a solid wooden door, I could clearly hear Chloe’s obnoxiously loud voice. And Allen was patiently listening as she planned out their entire itinerary for the day. I buried my head under the heavy duvet and fell into a deep, exhausted sleep. 2 I had originally gone to the hospital yesterday for a prenatal checkup. When I woke up and saw the dark, torrential clouds outside the window, I turned to Allen, who was sitting on the edge of the bed scrolling on his phone. “Looks like a massive storm is coming. Can you drive me to the hospital?” I waited. Silence. I assumed he had turned off his hearing aids again. But when I looked closer, the tiny green indicator light was on. He was just so completely absorbed in his texts that he completely ignored me. I snatched the phone out of his hands. On the screen was a chat with a contact he saved as [Princess Chloe]. She was begging him to come to her pajama party tonight. Knowing that Allen absolutely despised loud, chaotic environments, I typed a reply for him: [Not going.] Allen panicked, lunging forward to snatch the phone back. He frantically tapped the screen to unsend the message. “I asked you to drive me to the hospital for my prenatal checkup,” I stated clearly. “When?” he asked without looking up. “This afternoon.” He kept typing furiously on his phone, ignoring me again. Just as my anger began to boil over, Allen suddenly laughed out loud. He shoved his phone screen in my face. “Chloe said she invited a bunch of old college friends over to her place for lunch. Let’s go hang out.” “I’ll take you to the hospital after we eat.” But at the lunch table, Chloe coaxed Allen into taking shots. The group kept passing bottles, laughing and drinking heavily. I felt sick watching them. I barely touched my food before standing up and saying I needed to get to the hospital. “Just reschedule the checkup,” Allen slurred slightly. “I’ll go with you in a few days.” He had absolutely no idea that specialist appointments had to be booked weeks in advance. “No,” I said firmly. Allen pulled out his phone to call me an Uber. “Don’t bother,” I rejected him flatly. He just nodded and told me to be careful on the way. Not a single person at that table offered to walk me to the door, let alone to the front gate of the complex. I walked out with an umbrella, but the sideways rain soaked my pants up to the knees. I wandered aimlessly around the massive apartment complex for ages before I finally found the exit. And of course, disaster always strikes in pairs. Traffic was gridlocked because of the storm. By the time I arrived, I had missed my slot and was pushed to the very last appointment of the day. Right next to the maternity clinic, the abortion waiting room was eerily empty. I ended up sitting there instead, staring blankly up at the glowing sign reading [Pregnancy Termination Clinic], lost in my own thoughts. Before I knew it, the sun had set. Usually, if I was out this late, Allen would have called to check on me. Today, there was dead silence. I thought maybe my phone was acting up. But when I unlocked it, I saw that Allen had just posted a new story on Instagram. He was at Chloe’s pajama party. I zoomed in on the photo. His platinum wedding band was missing from his left hand. I called his number. Chloe answered. She sounded incredibly annoyed, telling me I was being annoying and ruining their vibe by constantly checking up on him. I only asked one question: “Where is Allen’s wedding ring?” “Oh, he let me try it on earlier,” she paused casually. “It probably fell in between the couch cushions. I don’t know, we’ll look for it after the party.” The line went dead. Down the hall, the nurse finally called my name. “Evelyn? Is Evelyn here?” “Patient Evelyn, please come to exam room 3.” I took two steps forward, then stopped dead in my tracks. I turned around and walked up to the reception desk of the abortion clinic. “Do I need an appointment for a termination?” “No, walk-ins are accepted today.” “Okay. Please schedule me.” 3 A burst of giggling startled me awake. I grabbed my phone from the nightstand. It was only 7:30 AM. My head was pounding aggressively from lack of sleep. I blindly reached into the nightstand drawer for my migraine pills. Empty. I had reminded Allen at least five times to pick up a refill, and he still completely forgot. It took me several minutes to gather the strength to sit up and open the bedroom door. Allen was in the kitchen cooking breakfast. Chloe was standing right beside him, acting as his sous-chef. “Go pour your sister-in-law a glass of warm water,” he told her affectionately. Chloe confidently opened the overhead cabinet. From a dozen different mugs, she flawlessly selected mine. She filled it and brought it over to me. “How did you know which mug is mine?” I asked. She turned around, heading back to the cabinets, digging through them as she answered, “Because I come over all the time.” “Whenever you go on business trips, I come over to hang out with Allen.” Chloe then pulled down Allen’s favorite mug. She stood on her tiptoes, looking confused. “Allen, where did you put my mug?” Allen pointed a spatula toward the UV sanitizer on the counter. “In there.” “I told you to stop tossing it in the sink when you’re done. You have to wash it and let it dry before putting it back in the cabinet.” “Otherwise, I have to run the sanitizer cycle every single time you leave it out.” Chloe grabbed her little cartoon mug, waltzed over to Allen, and affectionately rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. “I’m too lazy for that.” “I’ll just leave all the washing to you!” Allen playfully raised the spatula as if to bop her on the head. “You’re going to die of laziness one day!” They were so incredibly comfortable around each other. Like a real family. I stood there gripping my glass of water, feeling the warmth slowly seep out through the glass until it was ice cold against my palms. I had never seen this side of Allen before. When it was just us, he barely spoke. At dinner, I usually scrolled on my phone while he read articles on his tablet. Then we would wash up and go to our separate jobs. “Do you want a fried egg or hard-boiled?” Allen called out to me, holding a small frying pan. Chloe immediately plopped down in the chair next to me and excitedly raised her hand. “Chef Allen! I want both!” “Eggs are my absolute favorite!” Allen smiled warmly and slid the breakfast into her designated bowl. Then he finally looked back at me—the woman who had spoken exactly one sentence all morning. “What about you?” I pressed my lips together, my fingers lightly tracing the faint, red splotches still lingering on my forearm. It had barely been two weeks since my last severe allergic reaction. “I am deathly allergic to egg protein.” “Did you seriously forget?” 4 Allen completely froze. A flash of intense guilt crossed his face. He quickly scraped the remaining eggs in the pan into his own bowl. “I’ll make you something else right now…” “Don’t waste your time,” I cut him off smoothly. “Weren’t you in a huge rush to get to the office and grab your charger?” “You two take your time eating. Have fun today.” After I said that, Allen didn’t dare sit down. He stood there awkwardly holding the frying pan, unsure if he should put it down or retreat back into the kitchen. He kept covertly watching my face for a reaction. I flashed him an empty smile. “Is something wrong?” “No. Nothing.” Allen picked at his food, entirely distracted. Because if this had happened a year ago, I would have exploded on him. If he tried to run away from the argument, I would have chased him all the way to his office. One time, he got so frustrated he actually called me a “hysterical bitch.” My tears instantly spilled over. I grabbed him by the collar and screamed: “How is any of this my fault?” I screamed at him until I was hyperventilating, completely stripping myself of any dignity. When I finally looked up, panting, I saw Allen staring at me with a completely blank, bored expression. He had turned off his hearing aids ages ago. His dead-eyed calmness made me look like an absolute lunatic. But even if he couldn’t hear the desperation in my voice, couldn’t he see the massive tears streaming down my face? Huge drops of water hitting the floor right between us. Why couldn’t a single drop touch his heart? Why didn’t he feel even an ounce of pity for me? After that day, I never picked a fight with Allen again. I slowly figured it out. I slowly accepted the reality of my marriage. And slowly, I stopped loving him so much. After breakfast, Allen went back into the bedroom to change. A few minutes later, he walked out wearing a crisp dress shirt. “Honey, where are my ties?” I gestured vaguely toward the balcony. “There’s a whole pile out there. Pick whichever one you want.” He stood completely still in front of me. I finally looked up from my phone. “What now?” “My tie,” he muttered, looking uncomfortable. “Are you… are you not going to tie it for me?” “You have two fully functioning hands,” I replied flatly. “Right.” Allen was entirely dependent on me picking out his outfits, matching his ties, and even selecting his cufflinks every single morning. I always made sure his attire perfectly suited whatever meetings he had that day. I was naturally a very low-maintenance, casual person. But marrying him had forced me to become hyper-organized and domestic. Color-coordinating his silk ties, hand-steaming every single dress shirt, constantly updating his wardrobe to keep him looking sharp and modern. “I can’t get the knot right,” he whined, fumbling helplessly with the silk fabric. “Just help me.” I sighed, stood up, and took the tie from his hands. After expertly looping the knot, I suddenly yanked the fabric straight up, nearly choking him. “Allen, you really need to stop relying on me so much.” “What are you going to do when I leave you?” 5 Allen didn’t take my words seriously at all. He gently shoved my shoulder and waved at Chloe. “Let’s roll.” “I’m coming with you,” I said. I needed to swing by the pharmacy to buy my migraine medication anyway. Both of them turned to look at me—one with intense annoyance, the other with deep frustration. “Relax. I’m not going to crash your little date.” I opened the shoe cabinet. Sitting right dead center on the top shelf was a brand-new pair of fluffy, cartoon slippers. Winter was still months away, but Allen had already made sure Chloe’s feet would be warm when she came over. I pulled my eyes away from the slippers, grabbed my own sneakers, and put them on. “I’m getting dropped off halfway. Let’s go.” Allen and Chloe walked side-by-side to the garage, laughing and joking the entire way. They were gossiping about the pajama party—who chose a crazy dare, who got blackout drunk and embarrassed themselves. When we reached his SUV, Chloe naturally pulled open the passenger door and climbed right in. She immediately reclined the seat, draped a plush little blanket over her lap, and then dug through the glove compartment. She violently shoved my expensive lipsticks and sunscreen out of the way just to find her cheap little compact mirror. Allen gave me an incredibly awkward look and muttered, “Maybe you could…” “I’ll sit in the back,” I offered before he could finish. He audibly sighed in relief. The SUV cruised smoothly down the avenue. Allen’s left hand rested on the steering wheel, his ring finger still totally bare. “Did you ever find your ring?” I asked out of nowhere. The car noticeably swerved for a split second. Allen didn’t say a word. Chloe was completely engrossed in watching the vlog Allen had edited for her last night. When she reached a funny part, she let out an ear-piercing shriek. “Oh my god!” When high-pitched sounds hit Allen’s hearing aids, the feedback loop would trigger an agonizing, screeching pop right in his ear. It caused him severe physical pain. That was why Allen absolutely hated loud noises. Even when I spoke to him, I had to carefully modulate my volume to make sure I didn’t cross his pain threshold. But Chloe was literally shrieking at the top of her lungs inches from his face, and his expression didn’t even flicker. Only his knuckles gripping the steering wheel turned pure white. “Allen, you are an absolute genius!” “I literally love you so much!!” Allen smiled softly. “I’m glad you like it.” With their loud, obnoxious banter, my question was completely buried and forgotten. Whatever. It really didn’t matter. It was just a piece of metal. I was about to throw mine in the trash anyway. 6 After picking up my prescription, I asked the pharmacist a few quick questions about managing chronic migraines. By the time I walked out the sliding glass doors, it had started to rain again, and the sky looked like it was about to absolutely dump on the city. I stood under the pharmacy awning, hoping to wait it out and catch a cab home. But the downpour started at 10:00 AM and didn’t let up until 10:00 PM. The city’s ancient drainage system completely collapsed under the deluge. The cabs stopped running, and the buses were completely grounded. The floodwaters on the streets kept rising until it reached halfway up my calves. My skirt was completely soaked through. The freezing water chilled my abdomen, and the fresh surgical wounds from my abortion started throbbing violently. I pulled out my phone and texted Allen: [Where are you? Can you please come pick me up?] [The flooding is getting really dangerous.] The messages went completely unanswered. I started calling him. I called him nearly twenty times. He didn’t pick up a single one. Gritting my teeth against the searing cramps, I finally stepped off the curb into the filthy, freezing floodwater and started the long walk home. Suddenly, my foot slipped off the edge of a dislodged manhole cover. Splash— Foul, freezing sewage instantly swallowed me over my head. I thrashed wildly in the dark water, fighting to break the surface. Out of nowhere, a strong hand clamped onto my jacket and brutally hauled me up onto the pavement. If it wasn’t for her, I legitimately would have drowned in an open sewer. The young woman dragged me onto her emergency inflatable raft. “Where do you live? I’ll take you home.” By the time I finally reached my apartment, it was pitch black outside. Fighting through a splitting migraine and agonizing abdominal cramps, I stood under the scalding water in the shower. The second I stepped out, my legs gave way, and I collapsed onto the bathroom rug, completely blacking out. When I finally regained consciousness, the clock read 2:00 AM. The rain had stopped, but two bright, obnoxious voices echoed down the hallway. “I literally carried you on my back for three blocks. You are trying to kill me.” “Get down.” Chloe giggled flirtatiously. “No! I don’t wanna!” “I want you to carry me. I want you to carry me forever!” The front door clicked open, and the hallway lights flipped on. Allen kicked off his ruined leather shoes. His slacks were rolled up past his knees, but they were still completely soaked in muddy water. Chloe, on the other hand, was perfectly dry and spotless. They moved into the bathroom with sickening intimacy, sharing the same hand towel to wipe their faces. Neither of them even glanced toward the dark living room where I was sitting. “It’s getting chilly in here. Are you cold?” Allen anxiously pulled her toward the light to inspect her clothes. “Wait here, I’ll go find you something warm to wear.” He walked straight into the master bedroom and came out carrying an armful of my expensive silk nightgowns. “These belong to your sister-in-law. Pick whichever one you like.” I absolutely despised people touching my personal belongings. Allen knew this better than anyone on earth. Chloe immediately snatched up the ruby-red silk slip. “I want this one!” That dress was my anniversary gift from Allen. I hadn’t even brought myself to wear it yet, and he just casually handed it over to another woman to sleep in. “Tonight was absolutely legendary!” Chloe was bouncing around the living room like a hyperactive child. Watching her, I couldn’t help but see a mirror image of the girl I used to be. Except the response she got was entirely different. Allen looked at her with pure, unfiltered adoration, hanging onto her every single word as if missing a syllable would be a tragedy. “Can you two please shut the hell up?” I finally spoke, shattering their little bubble. They both completely froze. After a suffocating silence, Allen quickly launched into an excuse. He claimed Chloe’s apartment building was in a low-elevation zone and prone to flooding, so he brought her here to keep her safe. I didn’t say a single word back. I just stood up and walked straight into the guest bedroom, locking the door behind me. That night, sleep was completely impossible. Through the thin walls, I could hear them whispering and laughing together in the living room. All night long. The next morning, Allen and Chloe ate breakfast together and walked to the front door together. “Honey, I’m going to drop Chloe off at her place first.” “I’ll swing back around and take you to work.” “Just wait for me.” I was absolutely never going to wait for Allen again. I packed a single suitcase. I pulled out the divorce papers I had printed months ago but never had the courage to sign, and finally scrawled my name across the bottom line. I left the documents sitting directly on top of the dining table, right next to the hospital discharge papers from my abortion. He would see them the second he walked back through the door. I took a cab straight to the international terminal, breezed through security, and boarded my flight. The overhead intercom politely requested all passengers switch their devices to airplane mode or power them off completely. I pulled my phone out of my purse and pressed the power button. But right before the screen went black, an absolute avalanche of notifications exploded onto the screen.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “450051”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My wife came back from her business trip to Los Angeles and handed me a souvenir. It was a keychain of Dawn Bellwether, the villainous sheep from Zootopia. “Isn’t she cute? The second I saw her, I immediately thought of you.” At that exact moment, I knew she was cheating on me. Vanessa’s public Instagram feed was completely spotless. She only ever shared boring corporate updates and links to industry articles. Out of curiosity, I logged into an old burner account I rarely used and searched for her handle. Her profile had a ‘Close Friends’ story highlight. The very first pinned photo was a selfie of her and my best friend. My best friend, Finn, had just updated his own social media. There was a carousel of nine photos. Every single one of them featured Vanessa in some way. “One week trip. Two days of work, five days of dates. Let’s go!” “She bought the Lightning Lane passes for Disney so we didn’t have to wait in line. Absolute perfection!” “Matching Nick and Judy keychains for us. As for the villainous sheep, I wonder who we should give that to.” accompanied by two smirking emojis. I switched back to my burner account and refreshed Vanessa’s page. Sure enough, she had posted a new picture just an hour ago. The bunny, Judy Hopps, was clipped to her pink designer briefcase. The fox, Nick Wilde, was hanging off Finn’s black leather backpack. The caption was just two words. “A pair.” All the oxygen was instantly sucked out of the room. My lungs completely forgot how to work. So she knew exactly what she was doing. She knew the fox and the bunny were a romantic couple. We had dated for three years and been married for two. Yet somehow, in her twisted romance with Finn, I was nothing more than the villain standing in their way. I logged back into my main account and tapped on Vanessa’s profile. I couldn’t see a single thing. It wasn’t that she had blocked me. She had explicitly told me years ago that she never posted personal photos. When we were dating, I used to complain about it. I begged her to post a picture of us together just once. She would just hold my hand and laugh at me for being childish. “Declan, I am a business professional now. If I post cheesy couple photos on my feed, what will my investors think?” “If they think I’m distracted or unreliable, they’ll pull their funding.” “My startup is just getting off the ground. I have to project absolute competence. If I build this company into an empire, we’ll be set for life. Isn’t that what matters?” I swallowed those hypocritical excuses for five entire years. It was all a lie. She could post photos. She could pin matching couple pictures to the top of her page. The subject just wasn’t me. It was Finn. The boy who grew up in the house next door to mine. The boy I had protected and raised alongside me. The boy I treated as my own flesh and blood. Tears completely blurred my vision, heavy drops hitting my phone screen. I really was childish. I was a complete idiot. I had been flawlessly played by the two people I loved most in this world. Right then, a notification popped up on my phone. A text from Finn. “Declan! Check out my new keychain. Pretty cool, right?” He attached a photo of the solo fox keychain. If this were yesterday, I would have sent back a genuine compliment. But right now, his playful, innocent tone made me want to violently throw up. A week ago, Finn had excitedly told me he made a new friend from California and was flying out to LA to hang out for a week. When he told me, he nudged my shoulder with a mischievous grin. “You’re not going to get jealous that I’m going on vacation with someone else, are you?” I was so incredibly naive. I thought he was just joking about our bromance. I played along, acting like the generous older brother. “Obviously not! You can make a hundred new friends, but I’ll always be your best man.” “But if you dare find a friend better than me, you’re dead meat!” I had even factored in Vanessa’s schedule. “Actually, Vanessa is flying to LA for a conference in a couple of days. If you and your friend run into any trouble, just call her.” Finn had laughed so hard he bent over, raising his hand as if taking an oath. “I swear on my life, I will never find a friend better than Declan Reed.” “Don’t worry, man. I will text you every single day. I’ll tell you exactly what I’m doing and where I’m going. You’re going to virtually experience LA with me!” I never could have imagined that the vacation I was virtually experiencing was my own wife’s romantic getaway. 2 I didn’t reply to his photo. Instead, I scrolled up through our chat history. Two nights ago, he sent me a barrage of texts. “We went to a crazy expensive Michelin star place tonight! It was insane, but thank God my friend paid! We have to go together next time, Declan!” “Disneyland was packed today, my feet are killing me.” Over the past few days, he had flawlessly shared his entire itinerary with me. And I had eagerly replied to every single text, genuinely thrilled that he was finally stepping out of his shell and enjoying life. Finn and I grew up in houses directly across from each other. His mother passed away when he was young, and his father was a violent alcoholic. Whenever things got bad at his house, he would run across the street and bang on my front door. I would pull him inside, clean up his bruises, and sneak him my favorite snacks. Since I was two grades ahead of him, I basically became his private tutor. I used to sit with him on my porch and tell him: “Finn, you can’t choose the family you’re born into. But you can study hard, get into a good college, and build a completely new life for yourself.” “Don’t worry, I’ve got your back.” But life doesn’t always work out like a movie. He didn’t get into college, and he couldn’t escape the suffocating grip of his toxic household. Last year, his father finally drank himself to death. Finn called me in the middle of the night, sobbing hysterically. “Declan, my dad is dead. I don’t have a single family member left in the world…” I drove straight to his town, packed his bags, and moved him to Boston with me. I pulled strings to get him a decent job, and introduced him to Vanessa. I wiped his tears and looked him dead in the eye. “I am your family now.” He nodded aggressively and pulled me into a crushing hug. And it only took one single year. One year for him to start sleeping with my wife behind my back. I didn’t know if he ever genuinely viewed me as family. But he clearly viewed my wife as his own. The sound of the deadbolt clicking snapped me out of my trance. The front door swung open. Vanessa walked in. I looked up at her, but the joyful spark that usually accompanied her return from business trips was completely dead. My eyes were dark, empty pools. A flash of surprise crossed her face. She quickly dropped her bags and hurried over, sitting close to me on the sofa. She placed her pink designer briefcase on the coffee table. The Judy Hopps keychain dangling from the handle felt like a physical stab to the chest. She reached out, gently holding my hand, her voice dripping with fake concern. “What’s wrong, honey? Are you feeling sick?” I didn’t answer her. My eyes slowly, mechanically drifted down to the rabbit keychain on her bag. Noticing my gaze, she let out a flawless, airy laugh to explain it away. “Oh, a friend of mine happened to go to Disneyland while I was out there. They sent me pictures of the gift shop and asked if I wanted anything.” “So I picked out the sheep for you, and grabbed the bunny for myself.” I forced a tight, hollow smile onto my face. “Was that friend Finn?” She paused for a microscopic second, but her tone remained perfectly casual. “Haha, he told you already? I guess that makes sense. You guys are best friends, he tells you everything.” She glanced down at my phone screen and saw the photo Finn had just sent me. “Oh, look at that. He bought the fox for himself. That’s pretty cute.” Even now, backed into a corner of her own making, she was still effortlessly spinning lies. I stared directly into her eyes. This was the face I had deeply loved for five years. But in this exact moment, she looked like a completely repulsive stranger. “Did you know the fox and the bunny are a romantic couple?” I heard my own voice ask the question. Vanessa visibly stiffened, but she recovered with terrifying speed. “How would I know that? I haven’t even seen the movie. You know I don’t care about childish cartoons.” “I was swamped with meetings all week. I wasn’t paying attention to what Finn was buying.” “Honestly, he is so clueless. Why didn’t he just tell me it was a matching set?” Without missing a beat, she confidently snatched my phone from my hand and held down the voice memo button on Finn’s chat. “Finn, it’s Vanessa. Why does the keychain you bought perfectly match the one you gave me? You didn’t explain it at all, and now Declan is misunderstanding things. You better text him right now and clear this up!” 3 The screen showed the typing bubble for an agonizingly long time. Finally, a text popped up. “Oh my god, I seriously didn’t even notice! Sorry about that! Declan, you’re definitely not mad at me, right?” Vanessa handed my phone back, looking incredibly smug, as if expecting an apology from me. “There. Misunderstanding completely resolved!” “Is this why you were giving me the cold shoulder? You were jealous over a piece of plastic?” “Finn already apologized. He’s just a tragic kid with zero social awareness. Don’t be so hard on him.” Having delivered her perfect alibi, she dramatically checked her luxury watch. “I have a dinner meeting with some major clients tonight. I literally only came home to drop off my luggage and see your handsome face.” “Be a good boy. Your wife has to go make us some money.” She playfully pinched my cheek, turned on her heel, and walked right back out the door. Watching the door click shut behind her, the final lingering trace of hope in my heart turned to ash. I walked into the master bathroom, splashed freezing water on my face, and pulled out her massive suitcases. I started packing. Every single piece of clothing, every pair of shoes, every piece of jewelry that belonged to Vanessa. When the bags were full, I called a premium moving company and instructed them to deliver everything to Finn’s downtown apartment. The apartment I was currently paying the rent for. When we first got married, Vanessa’s startup was bleeding money. We were completely broke. My parents had paid the down payment on the house we currently lived in. Since she decided to step out of our marriage, she permanently lost the right to step foot in this house. As the movers were hauling the last few boxes out the door, my phone buzzed twice. It was a text from Vanessa. “Honey, the client is dragging this dinner out. It’s going to be super late. I’m just going to book a hotel room downtown so I don’t wake you up when I get back.” Ha. If I hadn’t already seen the truth with my own two eyes, I would have been deeply moved by her incredible thoughtfulness. But right now, that text was just a convenient reminder. I pulled up my burner account and searched Finn’s page. Just as I predicted, he had uploaded a brand new picture to his Close Friends story. It was a photo of Vanessa. She had kicked off her designer heels, and her nylon-clad feet were resting comfortably across Finn’s lap. The caption read: “She told her boring husband she was out with a client.” I let out a bitter scoff. I meticulously screenshotted his entire feed. I did the same for Vanessa’s hidden profile, making sure not to miss a single post or timestamp. I compiled all the screenshots into a secure folder and emailed it directly to my lawyer. “My wife is having an affair. I am filing for a contested divorce. Please send me a list of all required documentation.” The exact second Finn sent that fake apology text to Declan, he had immediately messaged Vanessa. “Vee, please come over tonight. Declan sounded so scary, I’m really freaking out.” accompanied by two pleading emojis. Reading that text, Vanessa’s heart fluttered. Declan had introduced Finn as his childhood best friend. But from the very first time she met Finn, she knew exactly what he was doing. He was practically undressing her with his eyes. Initially, she found him pathetic and beneath her notice. But Finn was incredibly skilled at playing the victim. His tragic backstory, his teary-eyed vulnerable looks, the way he would gently tug on her sleeve and softly call her “Vee.” It gave Vanessa an intoxicating rush of power. She felt worshipped. She felt like a god. It was a dynamic she could never have with Declan. So she secretly crossed the line and started sleeping with Finn. The very first time she went to his apartment, he buried his face in her chest and cried softly. “Vee, I feel so incredibly insecure. I feel like the second you walk out that door, you stop belonging to me.” Those words stroked her massive ego. Right then and there, she posted a selfie of them cuddling in bed and pinned it to the top of her profile. Obviously, she meticulously blocked Declan and every single mutual acquaintance they shared. Because she never had the slightest intention of letting Declan find out, and she certainly never intended to actually divorce him. Declan was her rock. They had built a life together. Declan was handsome, fiercely independent, and incredibly supportive. During the darkest days of her startup, Declan’s financial and emotional backing kept her afloat. Why would she ever throw away a perfect husband for a broken toy like Finn? But the kid needed constant reassurance, and she liked playing the savior. So she fabricated a client dinner and drove straight to Finn’s apartment. Of course, she wasn’t just going there to comfort him. She had something far more important to deal with. 4 She needed to remind Finn to stay in his lane. He was getting sloppy, and she couldn’t risk Declan getting suspicious. The moment she unlocked the apartment door, Finn practically threw himself at her. He helped her take off her trench coat, fetched her slippers, and linked his arm through hers to pull her toward the sofa. “Vee…” Finn barely got a word out before Vanessa coldly cut him off. “You need to be more careful.” Finn blinked in confusion. “What?” She frowned, her tone sharpening. “I said be careful. Don’t let Declan catch on. If you buy a matching plushie, keep it in your bedroom. Why the hell did you send him a picture of it?” “And all those pictures of the restaurants and the theme park? Why are you sending him a play-by-play? Are you trying to provoke him? Are you showing off?” “Finn, you need to remember your exact place in this arrangement.” Finn looked instantly devastated. He lowered his eyes, his voice trembling. “I wasn’t… I just… You and Declan are legally married. I barely get to spend any time with you. I just couldn’t help myself…” His eyes grew glassy with tears. He looked incredibly fragile and pitiful. Historically, this specific look was his ultimate weapon against her. But tonight, the memory of Declan’s cold, calculating stare back at the house was making her deeply anxious. Suddenly, Finn’s pathetic whining just felt incredibly annoying. “Enough. Where is that fox keychain? Go throw it in the trash.” Finn reluctantly obeyed, looking like a kicked puppy. Seeing his depressed slump, Vanessa finally sighed. “Get dressed. I’ll take you out to a nice dinner.” On their way to the restaurant, they drove past a massive moving truck heading the opposite direction. During dinner, Finn shamelessly tried to play footsie under the table, doing everything he could to seduce her. But Vanessa was completely distracted. She felt a lingering sense of dread. Just as she was about to tell him to stop acting like a child and eat his food, Finn’s cell phone rang. He answered it, his tone instantly shifting to arrogant annoyance. “Yeah, who is this?” “Hello, is this Mr. Finn?” “We are calling from the logistics company. We have a massive shipment of personal belongings registered to a Ms. Vanessa to drop off at your residence.” “Are you currently home to sign for it?” 5 The private dining room was dead quiet, and the caller’s voice leaked clearly through the speaker. Vanessa’s head snapped up. She stared dead at Finn. But Finn acted as if he had been anticipating this exact call. He casually replied to the dispatcher. “Just leave it all stacked in the hallway outside my door.” He hung up. Vanessa’s brow furrowed aggressively. “What belongings of mine?” Finn slid into the booth next to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and softening his voice into a sweet purr. “Vee, I bought a few little surprises for you. A high-end massage chair, and a brand new memory foam mattress.” “I just wanted to make sure you were as comfortable as possible whenever you stay over.” Finn honestly believed this grand, thoughtful gesture would melt her heart and earn him a night of passionate rewards. Instead, Vanessa physically shoved his arm away. Her voice was ice cold. “Finn, you crossed a major line.” Finn froze, the smile dying on his face. “I warned you to remember your place.” “I do not need you buying furniture for me. Your only job is to sit quietly in your apartment and wait until I decide to call you.” “Declan literally pays your rent. He drops by your apartment sometimes. If he sees a brand new luxury mattress and a massage chair, what exactly are you going to tell him? What if he starts digging?” Her tone grew even harsher. “I am going to spend the next few weeks at home focusing on Declan. Do not contact me, and do not do anything stupid.” Finn was entirely blindsided by this reaction. He froze for a few seconds, then slowly lowered his head. His eyes turned bright red, and he practically whispered. “I understand… But Vee, can you just stay with me tonight? Just for tonight.” He knew exactly which angle made him look the most tragically beautiful. And sure enough, looking at his broken, desperate expression, Vanessa’s cold exterior finally cracked. “Fine. One last night.” After dinner, they drove back to Finn’s apartment complex. The moment the elevator doors slid open on his floor, they were greeted by an absolute mountain of stuff. It clearly wasn’t just a mattress and a massage chair. Dozens of heavy cardboard boxes and premium luggage bags were stacked meticulously from the floor to the ceiling, completely barricading Finn’s front door. Vanessa’s frown deepened into a scowl. Finn looked genuinely baffled. “This… did they deliver to the wrong floor? Let me call the company back.” For some inexplicable reason, a terrifying chill ran down Finn’s spine. He instinctively stepped away from Vanessa, ducking into the concrete stairwell to redial the number. The logistics dispatcher verified the address three separate times. “No mistake, sir. The receiver is listed as you. But the client who paid for the delivery was a Mr. Declan Reed. He gave us strict orders to leave everything at your exact door.” All the blood instantly drained from Finn’s face. … Vanessa stood alone in the hallway, leaning against the wall, impatiently waiting for Finn to return. Her eyes wandered aimlessly over the mountain of boxes. Suddenly, her gaze locked onto a piece of luggage near the bottom. A matte black Rimowa suitcase. It had a very distinct, deep scratch near the handle. She recognized that suitcase immediately. It was hers. Her heart began to hammer violently against her ribs. She pulled the heavy suitcase out of the stack, laid it flat on the carpet, and unzipped it. Inside were her expensive silk blouses and tailored skirts, folded flawlessly. Clothes that were supposed to be hanging in the walk-in closet she shared with Declan. Breathing heavily, she ripped open the tape on the nearest cardboard boxes. Her business books. Her corporate documents. Even the glass wind chimes they had bought together in Hawaii for their first wedding anniversary. The ones that were supposed to be hanging by their bedroom window. Every single thing she owned was sitting in this hallway. Vanessa’s hands began to shake uncontrollably. She sprinted down the hall and violently kicked open the heavy door to the stairwell. When Finn saw her face, he instinctively backed up against the concrete wall in pure terror. “Did you tell Declan about us?!” The elegant, composed businesswoman from dinner was completely gone. She looked like a cornered, feral animal. Finn shook his head frantically, holding his hands up in defense. “No! I swear to God I didn’t!” “I block Declan on every single post I make! You know that! You personally check my phone before I post anything!” Vanessa didn’t believe a word coming out of his mouth. She violently snatched the phone out of his hand. She scrolled manically through his Instagram settings, his hidden lists, and even read through their entire private text history. There were absolutely no leaks. It was flawless.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “450050”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 At yet another Montgomery family dinner, Chris’s new female assistant sat right in the chair that belonged to me. I looked at my husband. “She is sitting in the seat meant for the lady of the house. Do you have absolutely nothing to say about this?” Chris rolled his eyes, his voice dripping with his usual annoyance. “If you can’t be bothered to show up on time, don’t cry about losing your seat. Sit in one of the empty chairs. If you don’t want to sit, then get the hell out.” I opened my mouth to argue, but Chris’s inner voice flooded my mind before I could speak. [Come on, get mad. Tell me you need me. Tell them you belong right next to me. Prove you love me. That is the only way I feel safe.] This time, I refused to satisfy his twisted cravings. I just lowered my head and slowly slipped the diamond wedding band off my finger. “Since there isn’t even a place left for the lady of the house, I guess I am no longer needed here.” “Let’s get a divorce.” The heavy ring hit the mahogany table with a sharp, crisp clink. Chris’s face drained of color. Even his parents, who had been quietly enjoying the drama, suddenly looked panicked. Six years. I had lived like this for six solid years. Every single time Chris used his words like poisoned blades to cut me down, I never needed him to coax me back. All I had to do was listen to his desperate, begging inner thoughts, and I would foolishly run right back into his arms to make peace. Over time, his family grew completely used to this toxic dance. His mother would even laugh and joke about it. She would say that an awkward, stubborn man just needed a wife who wouldn’t run away no matter how hard he yelled. So the moment I took off the ring, Mrs. Montgomery practically leaped out of her seat. “Sundra… what is wrong? Are you just in a bad mood today? You are normally never this petty.” Mr. Montgomery slammed his fork down, looking stern. “This is a family dinner. Even if you are throwing a tantrum, you do not joke about divorce. Put the ring back on.” I let out a soft, dry laugh. “Oh, you know it is a family dinner? So when exactly did Assistant Lily become a member of the family?” The older couple instantly choked on their words. Chris stood up abruptly. His jaw was clenched so tight the muscle twitched. “Sundra, are you done being dramatic?” “You want a divorce? Fine! Then get the hell out of my sight right now! This house doesn’t welcome an ungrateful stray dog like you!” Beneath those sharp, familiar words, his inner voice was a bleeding mess. [Sundra, why? Why do you want a divorce? Are you throwing me away? Didn’t you promise you would love me forever?] [This is a sick joke, right? As long as I lose my temper, you will rush over and hug me. You always do.] I had swallowed these agonizing, two-faced emotions for an entire decade. When I first met Chris, he suffered from severe emotional trauma and a crushing inability to express affection. He literally could not voice his true feelings. He used the cruelest, most sarcastic words as a shield to attack anyone who tried to get close. And I, like a fool, became the lucky girl who could hear his true thoughts. Whenever he screamed at me to get out, his inner voice would be on its knees, begging: [Don’t leave. I need you.] Because my heart broke for him, I slowly fell in love with him. Four years of dating. Six years of marriage. Because I stayed by his side, he finally opened his locked-up heart. He stopped needing medication to function like a normal human being. But over the past six years, a sick pattern emerged. He was gentle and polite to every stranger he met. Yet to me, his wife, he offered nothing but coldness and biting insults. It was not like I never felt wronged. I cried. I hurt. But his mother would always pat my hand and say that Chris was sick in the head. She told me he wasn’t normal, that I needed to give him grace. She insisted his cruelty was just a front and that his heart belonged entirely to me. Because I could hear his thoughts, I believed her. Until his assistant, Lily, showed up. Chris, a man who didn’t possess a single romantic bone in his body, rented out an entire amusement park for Lily’s birthday. I had been admiring a certain diamond necklace for six months. He bought it without blinking and fastened it around Lily’s neck. He even brought her to our private family dinners. His inner voice would chant over and over that he loved me, desperately craving my jealousy to soothe his deep-seated insecurities. But as I looked at my seat, the seat I had earned through ten years of blood and tears, happily occupied by another woman while I was shoved into a corner… I suddenly woke up. I had been lying to myself this whole time. Where a man puts his tenderness, that is where his love truly lies. 2 Looking at Chris’s trembling lips, my face remained perfectly calm. “Okay. I am leaving.” Ignoring his parents’ urgent shouts, I turned and walked straight toward the foyer. Just as my hand touched the door handle, a brutal grip clamped around my wrist, jerking me backward. [Sundra, are you actually mad? I am so scared. Are you throwing me away?] [If you leave me, I will die!] [Please don’t throw me away!] The frantic, screaming thoughts swarmed my brain, wrapping tightly around my chest. Shocked, I looked back at Chris. The rims of his eyes were a glaring, bloodshot red. For a second, my heart wavered. Then, his icy voice smashed into me. “You can leave, but take off the shoes on your feet! I bought those for you!” My entire body went rigid. I looked down at the faded, well-worn flats on my feet. He bought them for me right after we got married. He had simply dropped the box in the living room without saying a single word. But his thoughts had leaked out from the bedroom. [Wife, did you see them? Come ask me about them. Ask me if I bought them just for you.] [I had them custom-made. Come praise me, wife!] [I want you to be the happiest bride in the whole world.] For six years, I cherished these shoes. I wore them everywhere. Not just because Chris bought them, but because they represented the fierce, burning love he couldn’t say out loud. But now. I squatted down, my fingers numb, and slowly slipped the shoes off. “Fine. They are yours.” Chris’s face turned even darker. The red in his eyes looked like suppressed rage. His mother hurried over, trying to run interference. “Sundra, you have been with Chris for ten years. You know he never means what he says. How could he actually let you walk out of here barefoot? He is just using this as an excuse to make you stay.” The moment the words left her mouth, Chris grabbed the shoes from the floor and tossed them straight into the roaring fireplace. “You wore them for six years. I find them disgusting now.” His tone was incredibly light, but the words hit my chest like a sledgehammer. Watching the flames swallow the leather, a suffocating pain seized my lungs. I couldn’t breathe. So the shoes I had carefully protected and cleaned for six long years meant absolutely nothing to him. They were just trash to be burned. Catching sight of my tear-filled eyes, Chris’s inner voice went into a frenzy. [Wife, are you sad? You still care about me, right?] [Just admit you were wrong. Just tell me this was all a joke. I will fill your entire closet with new shoes right now!] [I will buy you so many beautiful shoes!] I listened to his frantic thoughts with total numbness. My heart did not flutter. It did not ache anymore. No matter how beautiful the new shoes were, they would never be the first pair. My relationship with Chris had finally reached the end of its rope. Just like that fire, it had burned until nothing remained but dirty, gray ash. I walked out of the house barefoot. Not a single person chased after me. The only thing I heard was Lily’s gloating voice drifting from the dining room. “Are you really not going to chase your wife? She looked pretty heartbroken.” “Chase her for what?” Chris scoffed. “Let her go. Give it half an hour, and she will come crawling back to apologize.” He didn’t know I was actually leaving for good. My company had offered a highly coveted position at the overseas branch. I took one of the spots. My flight was booked for tomorrow. 3 By the time I got back to our townhouse, the soles of my feet were covered in tiny, bleeding cuts from the pavement. I sat on the edge of the tub, mechanically pouring rubbing alcohol over the wounds. As the sting subsided, I looked around. This used to be our warm, private sanctuary. Now, without me even realizing it, the house was stuffed with Lily’s belongings. “Sundra, Lily gave me this plush bunny. Put it on the sofa. I want to see it every day.” “Sundra, Lily picked out this tie. Does it look good?” “This is the diffuser Lily told me to use in the living room. She said it smells exactly like her.” Whenever I lost my mind and screamed at him over these things, the smirk on his face would only grow deeper. He loved watching me choke on jealousy. It was as if my pain was the only metric he used to measure my love. And his response was always exactly the same. “Sundra, Lily and I just have a professional relationship. Stop being so pathetic and petty.” Day after day, ground down by this endless torture, I gave him exactly what he wanted. I stopped being petty. I was even ready to hand over my title as his wife. After wrapping my feet in bandages, I pulled out a suitcase and began packing what little clothing I had left. Just as I was zipping up the bag, Chris walked in. He reeked of expensive whiskey, his arm slung heavily over Lily’s shoulder. The moment he saw me, he instinctively dropped his arm and opened his mouth to explain. But then his eyes landed on the suitcase beside my leg, and his pupils dilated in shock. At the exact same time, his inner voice roared. [Wife, why are you packing? Are you seriously throwing me away?] [I messed up. I shouldn’t have brought Lily to the family dinner. I just wanted to make you jealous.] [Don’t leave. I absolutely forbid you from leaving!] His face was ghostly pale. His mind was screaming with endless, desperate love, but the words that left his lips were colder than ice. “Sundra, I suggest you think very carefully about what you are doing. If you walk out that door, there are a million women lining up to marry me. But if you leave me, who the hell is going to marry damaged goods like you?” His arrogant, condescending tone blew away the very last speck of hope in my soul. I gave him a tired smile. “Okay. Then go find those other women.” Chris’s hands balled into tight fists. Suddenly, right in front of my face, he wrapped his arm around Lily’s waist and pulled her flush against his chest. “Maybe I will just marry Lily then.” “She is sweet, gentle, and way more competent than you. More importantly, unlike you, she actually has a working body. Six years and your stomach is still completely flat. She has plenty of time to give me an heir.” His provocative words made my breath shudder. Everyone knew children were my ultimate forbidden topic. Six years ago, Chris suffered a massive mental breakdown and ran off into a blizzard. While searching for him, I fell through the ice of a frozen lake. The damage to my body was permanent. Getting pregnant became an impossible dream. But I still wanted a baby. Desperately. To get pregnant, I drank horrible herbal brews every single night. I went through five agonizing rounds of IVF. Chris knew this better than anyone on earth, yet he still chose to use a child as a weapon to gut me. My eyes burned with tears. “Chris, you are a monster.” Seeing my tears, a flash of panic crossed Chris’s eyes. He took a subconscious step forward. But Lily suddenly clamped her hands onto his arm, pressing her chest against him. Her voice was sickeningly sweet. “But Sundra, Chris is just stating facts, right?” “It has been six years, and you haven’t produced a single thing.” “Any other man would have kicked you to the curb years ago. Chris put up with it for six whole years!” “He hasn’t even said he is tired of you yet, and here you are throwing around the word divorce and packing your bags. Aren’t you being a little too selfish? You have zero appreciation for how much Chris tolerates you.” Chris froze in his tracks. The panic in his eyes was rapidly replaced by a chilling detachment. He agreed with Lily. He actually thought I was being selfish and ungrateful. “Sundra, it seems I really have been too nice to you.” His gaze swept over my suitcase. Before I could even react, he lunged forward, violently snatching the bag from my grip. He yanked it so hard the zipper busted open. My clothes scattered all over the hardwood floor. He stepped directly onto my clean shirts with his leather shoes. Then, with terrifying precision, he reached into the bottom of the broken suitcase and pulled out a velvet box. Inside was a vintage emerald bracelet. It was my late mother’s heirloom. He looked down at me from his towering height. “Sundra, do I need to remind you? I spent five million dollars getting this bracelet back from the auction house.” All the blood drained from my face. 4 When my family went bankrupt, my mother had to sell her only family heirloom to pay off debts. When she passed away, getting that emerald bracelet back became her dying wish. When Chris found out, he pulled every string he had and spent a massive fortune to win it back for me. Back then, I cried so hard I couldn’t breathe. I told him I had no idea how I could ever repay him. His voice was calm, but his eyes were overflowing with pure devotion. “Then just pay me back with yourself.” “Sundra, I want to marry you.” Using that emerald bracelet in place of a ring, he slipped my mother’s legacy onto my wrist. And now, he looked at me and said, “The only reason I gave this to you was because I was going to marry you. Now you want a divorce. You are no longer going to be my wife, so what right do you have to take it with you?” “You don’t seriously think a woman like you is worth five million dollars, do you?” His brutal words smashed my pride into a million jagged pieces. I swallowed the heavy, agonizing lump in my throat. “Five million. I will find a way to get the money and pay you back…” “I don’t need your money!” Chris roared, cutting me off. “Sundra, do you think I give a damn about the money?” “…You are the one who is throwing this family away. You are throwing everything away. So I am going to save this bracelet for a woman who actually wants to be my wife.” He grabbed Lily’s wrist and brutally shoved the emerald bracelet onto her arm. Just like he did when he asked me to marry him six years ago. Lily turned her head slightly. Where Chris couldn’t see, she looked me dead in the eye and mouthed the words: [Dead people’s jewelry. Gross.] A violent surge of adrenaline exploded in my chest. I lunged forward, desperately clawing at her arm to get it back. “If you think it’s gross, then give it back to me!” The second my fingers grazed Lily’s skin, she let out an ear-piercing shriek and threw herself backward onto the marble tiles. Her wrist slammed against the hard floor. The fragile, century-old emerald hit the stone and shattered into several jagged pieces. My mind went completely blank. Chris froze, just as stunned. Lily held up her slightly scraped arm, sobbing hysterically. “Chris… it hurts so much…” Chris snapped out of his daze and violently shoved me backward. “Sundra, you are insane! That was your mother’s dying wish, and you destroyed it just because you wanted to hurt Lily!” I crashed heavily onto the floor. The violent impact sent a bizarre, sharp cramp tearing through my lower abdomen. Trembling, I fought through the pain to explain. “I didn’t push her. Lily threw herself backward on purpose to break the bracelet…” “Shut up!” The veins in Chris’s neck bulged. “You act like a lunatic, and then you try to frame Lily. If you hadn’t attacked her like a rabid dog, the bracelet wouldn’t be…” A flash of pure terror crossed his eyes. At the same moment, his thoughts crashed into my head. [What do I do? The only thing my wife cared about is broken.] [I don’t have a single way to make her stay anymore.] [No… I refuse to just stand here and watch my wife walk away.] Before I could process his thoughts, Chris grabbed me by the shoulders and dragged me off the floor. I was completely disoriented. He hauled me down the hall and violently shoved me into the dark, windowless wine cellar. “You hurt Lily, and you are clearly out of your mind. You are going to stay locked in here for a day until you calm down.” The cramping in my stomach suddenly escalated into an excruciating, twisting agony. I felt a warm stream of blood seeping between my thighs. Pure, unadulterated panic swallowed me whole.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “450049”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When I opened my eyes and realized I had been reborn right before the start of spring break, the very first thing I did was decisively quit the research lab I had poured years of my life into. Because I knew exactly what was coming. In just a few days, Wyatt, the golden boy junior researcher, would flagrantly violate safety protocols and cross-contaminate our most critical biological samples. In my past life, out of the goodness of my heart, I rushed back to the lab to clean up his mess and painstakingly rerun the control experiments. Against all odds, I successfully saved the multi-million dollar federal project. But when the oversight board came looking for someone to blame, Wyatt completely twisted the truth and framed me. “It was Nathan! He was messing with the calibration on the equipment and almost destroyed all of our experimental results!” Professor Sylvia and the rest of the lab swallowed his lies without a second thought, condemning me on the spot. I had absolutely nowhere to turn. My hard-earned reputation was violently shredded, and I became an academic outcast hunted by public outrage. Every ounce of blood, sweat, and tears I had poured into my entire life evaporated into thin air. Driven into a state of absolute mental collapse, I lost my footing on the roof of the science building and plunged to my death. Now that the universe has given me a second chance, I am cutting the cord. I am walking away from their toxic, venomous web before it can drag me under again. 1 When I handed the transfer request to Professor Sylvia, her beautifully shaped eyebrows twitched in surprise. “Nathan,” she said, her tone dripping with disbelief. “Do you have any idea what you are doing?” My expression didn’t change. I was as calm as a frozen lake. “I do. This is a decision I made after very careful consideration.” Sylvia looked me up and down, a mocking smirk curling her lips. “This is about Wyatt, isn’t it?” I blinked, genuinely confused for a second. Sylvia leaned back in her plush leather chair and sighed as if she were dealing with a petulant child. “Wyatt joined the lab after you did. I know that. But his natural talent for research is miles ahead of yours, and frankly, he is much better at working with people.” “You are just jealous of him, and that’s why you are throwing this little tantrum and trying to leave.” Hearing her absurd accusation, I didn’t even get mad. I just gave a tired, dry chuckle. The core bottlenecks of this project? The agonizingly complex control experiments? I was the one who stayed up for five straight days, fueled entirely by black coffee and sheer willpower, to crack them. I was the first to admit I wasn’t some once-in-a-generation genius. But Wyatt? Please. Both my actual talent and my insane dedication to this lab were lightyears beyond anything he could ever manage. The only thing Wyatt excelled at was playing the charming golden boy. He knew exactly how to suck up to people, and both the other lab members and our professor absolutely adored him. Every single time I broke my back compiling flawless data sets or designing a brilliant new testing protocol, Wyatt would swoop in, slap his name on it, and take all the credit. It wasn’t like I had never fought back. But whenever I did, Wyatt would just widen his eyes and play the innocent victim. And Sylvia would immediately turn on me, her voice sharp with disappointment. “Nathan, why do you always have to be so glory-hungry?” “Are you really not going to be satisfied until you steal every single ounce of credit for yourself?” Because of that, I stopped defending myself. I just became quieter, swallowing the injustice to keep the peace. It took dying once for me to finally wake up. They didn’t believe me because they had already decided I was the villain from day one. So no matter how loudly I screamed the truth, it was totally useless. “Yep, you are totally right. You nailed it,” I said, leaning against her desk and shrugging indifferently. Seeing that I was totally unfazed by her scolding, Sylvia sneered. She grabbed her expensive fountain pen, slashed her signature across the transfer form, and slammed her official stamp onto the paper. As I turned to leave, she called out to me, her tone condescending. “Nathan, since I have been your mentor for so long, I will give you one last bit of grace.” “I will give you exactly three days. If you realize what a massive mistake you are making, you can come back and withdraw this application.” “I won’t,” I replied without a second of hesitation. Right at that moment, a head popped through the doorway. It was Wyatt. His eyes were gleaming with obvious excitement, but he immediately forced his face into a mask of tragic heartbreak. “Oh no, Nathan! Why are you leaving? Did I do something to upset you?” I completely ignored him. I reached into my leather satchel and pulled out a thick stack of manila folders, my fingers lightly brushing over the heavy paper. This massive, state-of-the-art laboratory was currently housing a top-tier, federally funded research initiative. Sylvia had basically bet her entire academic reputation and pulled every shady string she had to secure this grant. If this project went down in flames, every single person in this lab would watch their academic careers turn to ash. Their evaluations, their funding, their chances at top Ph.D. programs—gone. But the person who would suffer the most was the lead researcher: Sylvia herself. If the project crashed, the federal oversight committee would descend like vultures. Not only would she be stripped of her research credentials for life, but there was a massive chance she would end up behind bars for academic fraud and gross negligence. In my past life, I knew exactly how devastating the fallout would be. I knew no one in the lab could survive it. So, like an absolute fool, I sacrificed my hard-earned vacation and rushed back to fix the mess. I stayed awake for nearly a week straight, violently dragging the doomed project back from the brink of total annihilation. And my reward? They completely destroyed my reputation and drove me to my death. Now that I had a second chance, I would rather die again than lift a single finger to save these vultures. Wyatt had already walked up to me, still yapping about how sad he was. I kept ignoring him. I kept my face dead blank as I meticulously laid the folders out on Sylvia’s desk. Inside those folders was every single piece of experimental data I had handled over the past few years. The raw data. The backup footage. The logbooks. Every single page was clearly dated and signed by the person who actually performed the work. Wyatt stared at the folders, looking a bit confused. He didn’t have high-level clearance. He wasn’t even qualified to turn on half the multi-million-dollar machines in this room. I was the only one who had executed the high-risk protocol runs. I had spent weeks carefully backing up and categorizing every piece of proof. Every number, every signature, every single comma in those files was ironclad evidence. It was my ultimate insurance policy. 2 “Professor,” I said, tapping my finger on the top document—the official data handover receipt. “Please review everything. Once you confirm the files are complete, unaltered, and fully accounted for, sign the receipt for the official record.” This piece of paper was my shield. It proved that my exit from the lab was one hundred percent compliant with federal regulations. Clear boundaries. Clear accountability. Once I walked out that door, if this lab exploded or a single sample was compromised, it would have absolutely nothing to do with me. They would never be able to dump their dirty water on my head again. Sylvia looked down at the exhaustively detailed logs. Her brows furrowed, and a strange, uneasy look flickered in her eyes. Beside her, Wyatt’s fake smile stiffened. A cold prickle of anxiety suddenly crawled up his spine. Sylvia hesitated for a long time. Finally, she picked up her pen, signed her full name on the handover receipt, pressed her thumbprint over the ink, and stamped both copies. “Fine. Since you are so damn stubborn, I agree. It is better to have the liability lines clearly drawn anyway.” I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. I picked up my copy of the receipt, carefully sliding it into a protective sleeve in my bag. With my insurance secured, I dropped the polite facade. I turned to walk away, my tone freezing cold. “Good. From this second forward, I have absolutely nothing to do with any of you.” Wyatt finally snapped out of his daze and reached out, grabbing my forearm. “Nathan, you are being so impulsive!” “Aren’t you happy? Haven’t you been trying to get rid of me this whole time?” I violently ripped my arm out of his grip. Wyatt’s smile vanished. His face flushed with anger, and he glared at me with pure venom. Then, he quickly turned to Sylvia, lifting his chin with a look of overwhelming arrogance. “Don’t worry, Professor. We will be fine without Nathan. From now on, I will personally shoulder the responsibility of pushing the project forward.” He puffed out his chest, trying to look like the brilliant hero stepping up to save the day. Deep down, Wyatt was absolutely thrilled that I was leaving. It meant my spot was empty. It meant that every single future breakthrough and all the project glory would land directly in his lap. I actually laughed out loud. Sylvia was always busy attending conferences and rubbing shoulders with donors. I was the one who had practically spoon-fed Wyatt every ounce of knowledge he had in this lab. Did this idiot honestly believe he could run the project on his own? Sylvia nodded, looking incredibly touched. “Good. I am glad you have that kind of dedication. Try not to be like some people who run away the second things get a little difficult.” She threw a disgusted glance in my direction. In her eyes, I was as boring and tasteless as a glass of lukewarm water. I was nowhere near as clever or charming as Wyatt. She had always hated looking at me, so my voluntary exit was a total blessing for her. I took in both of their reactions and just smiled. Yep. That was exactly what this team was. They were so blinded by Wyatt’s sweet, innocent act that they were completely blind to the fact that I was the one keeping this lab from collapsing. If I even tried to defend myself, they would call me selfish. I was done wasting my breath on them. I shoved past Wyatt and walked out the door. As I walked down the hall, a few other lab members saw me carrying my things. They laughed and waved. “Wow, Nathan, you are actually bailing?” “Yeah, the project is basically in the final stages. Don’t you think it’s a massive waste to run away now?” “Are you just throwing a tantrum because the Professor likes the new kid more than you?” I focused entirely on packing up the rest of my desk, refusing to even look at them. In my past life, these exact people had enthusiastically helped push me off the ledge. But the twisted part was, before Wyatt joined the lab, these guys had genuinely looked out for me. Maybe it was because I was the youngest guy in the room at the time, but they used to treat me like a little brother. But slowly, over time, everything turned toxic. Once my box was packed, I grabbed it and headed for the exit. The moment my foot crossed the threshold of the building, a massive, suffocating weight vanished from my chest. I felt like I could finally breathe. But I didn’t even make it across the courtyard before two armed campus security officers stepped into my path. “Hold it right there!” I frowned, genuinely confused. But a second later, I knew exactly what was going on. 3 Wyatt strolled out from behind the officers, a sickeningly sweet smile plastered on his face. “Nathan, you know this is a federally funded, highly classified project. The security protocols are extremely strict.” He paused, letting his eyes drop pointedly to the cardboard box in my arms. Then, he dramatically raised his voice, ensuring that every researcher and student walking through the courtyard stopped to watch. “Nathan, you are leaving so suddenly. I am just really worried you might accidentally take some classified documents with you. Please cooperate with security and let them search your things.” He didn’t even try to sugarcoat it. He was dragging me out into the town square and lighting the fire under my feet. He was publicly accusing me of corporate espionage. My grip on the cardboard box tightened, my eyes turning to ice. “There were at least a dozen people watching me pack my desk. I didn’t have the opportunity to steal a single paperclip, let alone classified data.” I swept my gaze over the crowd of my former lab mates standing nearby. Every single one of them immediately looked away, completely silent. I didn’t get mad. I already knew these cowards wouldn’t say a word to defend me. I looked up and saw Sylvia hurrying over, drawn by the commotion. “Professor,” I called out loudly. “Twenty minutes ago, while sitting directly in front of you, I completed a full handover of every single piece of data and equipment I was responsible for.” “The raw data logs and the federal compliance records were perfectly accounted for. You personally signed and stamped the receipt confirming I left nothing behind and took nothing with me.” “And now, with absolutely zero evidence, you are demanding a public search of my personal belongings? I have every right to believe this is targeted harassment.” My mind was working at lightning speed. Since I had already died once because of this lab, I took federal security protocols more seriously than God himself. I had to ensure my reputation remained absolutely spotless. I couldn’t give them a single thread to pull. If I simply bowed my head and let them humiliate me by ripping through my private belongings in the middle of a crowd, the rumor mill would destroy my career regardless of what they found. Sylvia choked on her words. Her face hardened into an ugly scowl. “Enough, Nathan! Your junior colleague has reasonable suspicions. What is the big deal if you just cooperate?” I stared at Wyatt for a long time. Seeing the smug, untouchable arrogance radiating from his eyes, I let out a sharp laugh. “Wyatt does not have security clearance to authorize an audit. Ordering armed guards to detain a researcher who has already completed a legally binding handover is a massive abuse of power and targeted harassment.” The moment I said that, the crowd’s energy shifted. People started looking at Wyatt differently. Wyatt’s face turned bright red. He waved his hands frantically, playing the victim. “Nathan, no! I swear I didn’t mean it like that! I was just terrified something bad would happen! I only did it because I care so much about the project…” I was completely exhausted by his pathetic acting. I took a step forward, holding my box out toward the head security officer. “I will comply with the search. But I have two demands.” “First, the entire search must be recorded on bodycam. Second, when you inevitably find absolutely zero classified material in my possession, you are required to report this incident directly to the Federal Security Bureau and the University’s Academic Integrity Board.” Wyatt froze completely, sheer panic flashing across his eyes. I looked up, making sure the entire crowd heard me loud and clear. “If we really care about preventing data leaks, the board should be investigating the lab’s internal handover procedures and security authorization logs. Not digging through my gym clothes.” Wyatt was just a junior researcher with basic clearance. For him to illegally summon armed guards to detain a colleague was a massive breach of protocol. The only reason the guards actually listened to him was because he had clearly invoked Sylvia’s name to give his orders weight. But if this actually went to the federal board, things would get extremely ugly. There was no physical way Wyatt could have secured an official written mandate from Sylvia in the ten minutes since I left her office. Which meant Wyatt had flagrantly impersonated a lead researcher and abused federal security resources. And me? I had officially surrendered my clearance and handed over all materials twenty minutes ago. Legally, I was totally untouchable. If this got kicked up to the feds, Wyatt would be absolutely butchered. He might even get permanently expelled and blacklisted. 4 The crowd’s whispers grew louder, the stares aimed at Wyatt turning incredibly suspicious. Some people actually started speaking up for me. “Honestly, Nathan doesn’t seem like the type to steal classified data.” “Yeah. If his handover paperwork is legally sound, what the hell are they even suspecting him of?” “Why is this Wyatt kid going after Nathan so hard? Does he actually have proof, or is this just malicious bullying?” All the color drained from Wyatt’s face. He looked like a ghost. He shot a desperate, terrified look at Sylvia. “Professor, I swear I didn’t mean anything malicious! I was just trying to protect…” He was still trying to play the innocent card, but I wasn’t going to let him. Before Sylvia could open her mouth to yell at me again, I placed my cardboard box squarely on the concrete. Right in front of dozens of people, I pulled my things out one by one and handed them to the armed officers. A water bottle. A gym towel. A few extra T-shirts. My electric razor. It was just a pathetic pile of totally normal, boring things. After about ten minutes of thorough searching, the officers looked at each other and shook their heads. The lead officer turned to me, looking deeply embarrassed. “I apologize. Wyatt told us Professor Sylvia had declared a code-red emergency.” “We reacted to the perceived threat without waiting for the official authorization paperwork. That was our failure.” He gave me a stiff, respectful nod. I nodded back. Then, the officer turned slowly to face Wyatt. His voice was like a block of ice. “We have completed the search. Per protocol, we will now be escalating this incident to the Federal Security Bureau exactly as Nathan requested.” The courtyard went dead silent. Hundreds of eyes locked onto Wyatt. It was painfully obvious to everyone now. This wasn’t about security. This was a targeted, malicious hit job. Wyatt’s face burned a humiliating crimson. The look he shot me was so full of venom it was practically glowing. Sylvia looked absolutely humiliated. She glared at me like she wanted me dead, then turned on her heel and stormed away. I packed my boring things back into the box, picked it up, and didn’t spare Wyatt a second glance as I walked away. Everyone in that courtyard thought I was throwing my life away by quitting the lab. They all thought I was destined to fail, that I would never land a decent research project again. They were eagerly waiting to watch me burn. Later that night, Wyatt actually had the nerve to tag me in the massive university group chat. “Nathan, if you ever struggle to find work, just let me know.” “Since we used to be in the same lab, I wouldn’t mind doing you a favor and helping you out.” I raised an eyebrow and let my thumbs fly across the keyboard. “You should probably focus on surviving the federal disciplinary hearing for impersonating a lead researcher and abusing armed security first.” I hit send. The massive group chat instantly died. Half the people in there had no idea what went down in the courtyard. I wasn’t in a rush to explain. A second later, Wyatt’s private messages flooded my screen. He was completely unhinged. “What the hell are you so arrogant about?! As long as Sylvia has my back, nothing is going to happen to me!” “You are just a pathetic loser running away with your tail between your legs! You have absolutely no right to talk down to me!” “Look at how miserable your life is. Even though I joined the lab after you, the second I say you are bullying me, every single person takes my side.” I lowered my eyes, staring at the screen. I honestly couldn’t comprehend why he hated me so much. When he first joined, I did everything in my power to take care of him. We were the only two guys our age in Sylvia’s entire lab. I thought we were a team. I practically held his hand through his first six months. Wyatt clearly sensed my silence, and another message popped up. “Nathan, I absolutely despise that stupid, calm look on your face. I hate how you act like nothing bothers you.” “More importantly, I demand that all the attention in the room be on me. I am supposed to be the golden boy. You were just in my way.” I didn’t reply. I just locked my phone. A strange sense of peace washed over me. So that was it. I didn’t waste another second thinking about him. Since I suddenly had a ton of free time, I booked a flight to Bali for a mini-vacation. Halfway through my trip, I logged into the university portal and saw a massive, campus-wide disciplinary notice. [Wyatt violated federal security protocols. He bypassed the authorization board, invoked a lead researcher’s name to illegally deploy armed security, and maliciously defamed a colleague in public.] Wyatt was stripped of all academic awards and stipends for the current year and the next two years. He was also ordered to submit a ten-thousand-word public apology letter. The moment the notice hit the server, the entire university went into an uproar. I smiled, taking a slow sip of my cocktail while staring at the crystal blue ocean. I let out a long, satisfied breath. Just then, my phone rang. It was an unknown number. I answered it. “Nathan, hello. This is Professor Evelyn.” “I have spent the last few days reviewing your publication history and raw data logs. Your work is absolutely brilliant.” “My lab is currently desperate for someone with your specific skillset to lead our core experimental division. Would you be interested in joining us?” My heart slammed against my ribs. Professor Evelyn was an absolute god in our field. Her lab was the undeniable gold standard across the entire country. I had never, in my wildest dreams, imagined that someone of her caliber would personally extend an olive branch to me. In my past life, I was so blinded by my stupid loyalty to Sylvia’s toxic lab that I completely missed out on opportunities like this. I fought to keep my voice steady. “Thank you so much for the opportunity, Professor Evelyn. I would be incredibly honored to join your team.” But before I could even finish celebrating, my phone started ringing again. It was Wyatt. His voice was completely frantic, bordering on hysterical. “Nathan! Something went wrong! You have to come back to the lab right now!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “450048”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Three years after being institutionalized, my psychiatrist husband Chad finally brought me home—only to find Mary and their son living there. “When are you telling her about the divorce?” Mary asked. “Not yet. I don’t want to trigger a relapse,” Chad muttered, avoiding my gaze as he hugged her. Hidden in the hall, I listened until numbness set in. Entering the master bedroom, I found unfamiliar furniture and a huge family portrait above the bed. A bitter laugh escaped me. From beneath the overturned oak wardrobe came faint whimpers. A tiny, bloodied hand clawed through the gap. I threw my weight against the wardrobe, but it wouldn’t move. “Chad! Your son’s trapped!” I screamed, grabbing his arm. Mary shoved me back, eyes blazing. “My son’s safely locked in the playroom! Stay away from him!” She slammed the bedroom door shut, locking it. Chad sighed, offering two small white pills. “Take these, Harper. They’ll stop the hallucinations.” Staring at the pills, cold confusion washed over me. Was the blood real? Was I imagining everything? “I just hope you don’t regret this,” I whispered. 1 “Chad! I told you not to bring this psycho back into our house!” Mary was screaming hysterically, violently smashing vases and picture frames across the living room floor. “Are you trying to drive our entire family insane?!” My eyes were totally empty as I stood on the second-floor landing, staring down at Chad’s exhausted profile. He lowered his voice, trying to soothe her. “Mary, please stop. Harper has nowhere else to go. This is technically her house too.” Mary let out a shrill, mocking laugh. “This is the home of our family of three!” “Did you forget how she grabbed a knife and plunged it into her own stomach, butchering her own baby?!” “Harper is a complete lunatic! If you let her stay, she is going to murder our son one day!” I froze. My hands curled into tight fists, my fingernails biting so deeply into my palms that they broke the skin. Baby? My baby… A violent surge of adrenaline exploded in my chest. I rushed down the stairs, lunged forward, and slapped Mary entirely across the face. I glared at her, my eyes filled with absolute, murderous rage. “Ahhhh!!!” “Harper, you psycho! Are you trying to kill me?!” Mary clutched her swelling, bright red cheek and scrambled behind Chad, cowering like a terrified animal. “It was you.” I stared dead into Mary’s eyes. “It was you. You were the one who drove that knife into my stomach!” I whipped my head toward Chad. “You saw it too! Didn’t you?!” The air in the room froze solid. Both Chad and Mary completely stiffened. A second later, Mary’s face twisted into an ugly, panicked snarl, like a cat whose tail had just been stomped on. “You hear that?! She isn’t cured at all! She is exactly the same crazy b*tch she was three years ago!” Mary pointed a shaking finger directly at my face. “You are a monster! You butchered your own child, and now you are trying to frame me for it!” My emotions spiraled entirely out of control. I screamed back at her, my voice raw and tearing. “I didn’t! I never hurt my baby!” That tiny life I had never even gotten to meet. The baby I still dreamed about every single night. Mary had taken a knife and butchered it while I watched. All the blood drained from Mary’s face, but then it flushed crimson with anger. “Chad, look at her! She is having another psychotic break! I told you she wasn’t fixed!” “If you let her stay in this house, I am packing up our son and leaving!” Chad wrapped his arms tightly around Mary, gently rubbing her back to calm her down. Then, he turned and looked at me. His brow furrowed deeply, his eyes swirling with a complicated mix of pity and exhaustion. “Harper, you suffered a severe dissociative psychotic episode that day. You were the one who…” He reached into his pocket, pulled out two fresh pills, and gently patted the top of my head like I was a sick dog. “Just take the medicine. It’s all in the past now.” “Don’t blame yourself. You were sick. But you definitely can’t blame Mary either.” I started to laugh. I laughed so hard that tears spilled over my eyelashes and burned my cheeks. I looked at the pills in his palm and pushed his hand away. “You literally gave me my medication five minutes ago.” I wasn’t crazy. I remembered that day with absolute, terrifying clarity. Mary, Chad’s clinical assistant, had gripped the handle of that knife. She had stroked her own flat stomach, looking down at me with a sickening, triumphant smirk. “I’m pregnant with Chad’s baby.” 2 “Harper, you must be exhausted. I had a room set up for you.” Chad guided me down the hall and pushed open the door to a tiny guest room. “I didn’t touch any of your things. Everything is right here.” He looked at me, his expression suddenly stern. “You need to behave. If you cause trouble, I will have no choice but to send you back to the ward.” Without waiting for a response, he quickly stepped out of the room and closed the door. He was probably rushing back downstairs to comfort Mary. I looked around the tiny space. It used to be a storage closet. It was so small it could barely fit a twin bed, and there wasn’t a single window to let the sunlight in. All of my belongings were shoved into a single, massive cardboard box in the corner. It was taped shut so tightly it looked like a coffin. I ripped the tape open. Inside were all the things I had bought when I was pregnant. Parenting books. Fairy tale collections. The tiny onesies and little shoes Chad and I had picked out together. And right at the bottom, tossed aside and buried under a thick layer of dust, was our framed wedding photo. Tears fell off my chin, splashing onto the glass and blurring our smiling faces. Through my tears, I couldn’t stop laughing. Chad. We weren’t even officially divorced yet, but you were already living with another woman like husband and wife. You even raised a son with her. Were me and my dead baby just a sick joke to you? I carried a genetic predisposition for severe mental illness. When I was in college, the psychological torment became too much for my mother, and she took her own life. It was Chad who grabbed my hand and pulled me out of that suffocating darkness. He literally changed his major and studied psychiatry specifically to save me. He promised he would stay by my side forever. He promised he would protect me from ever having an episode. And he promised that even if I did get sick, he wouldn’t be afraid. He would cure me. We fell in love. We got married. And then, I got pregnant. During my pregnancy, my hormones wrecked my emotional stability. I started experiencing minor, terrifying auditory and visual hallucinations. Chad’s private practice was booming, and he couldn’t stay home with me. So, he brought his clinical assistant, Mary, to live in our house and take care of me. Slowly, I started noticing things. The lingering glances. The flirty, hushed conversations. The undeniable, sickening intimacy between them. The heavy psychiatric medication Chad prescribed made me chronically drowsy. But one night, I woke up early. I walked out to the living room and saw Mary sitting squarely on Chad’s lap. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, and she was giggling uncontrollably. “What the hell are you doing?!” Chad scrambled up, terrified. He rushed over and wrapped me in a tight hug. “Harper, relax! Mary was just giving me a clinical update. Don’t let your paranoia take over.” “There is a hickey on her collarbone.” He pinched my cheek, offering a helpless, patient smile. “You silly girl. You are hallucinating again.” I violently shoved him away, my emotions spiraling. “Chad, I am looking right at you! You are constantly holding her, constantly flirting with her! Do you think I am completely blind?!” A cold needle pierced my arm as Mary pushed a heavy sedative into my vein. Her voice was sickeningly soft. “Harper, Dr. Montgomery and I are just colleagues.” My tongue felt thick. “Really?” “Yes. Just close your eyes and go to sleep. You will feel better when you wake up.” After that night, my “symptoms” escalated rapidly. I saw Mary dumping white powder into my nightly glass of milk. Chad swore it was just a prenatal calcium supplement. I heard a baby crying in the empty nursery in the middle of the night. Chad told me it was just the neighbor’s cat in the alley. And then came the night I supposedly grabbed a kitchen knife, walked into Mary’s bedroom, and nearly plunged it into her heart. “Harper, you were sleepwalking again.” Chad was carefully bandaging a deep cut on my hand, his eyes incredibly tired. “Last night, you stood over Mary’s bed holding a butcher knife. You absolutely terrified her.” “Your condition is deteriorating rapidly.” He gently stroked my hair. “We need to increase your dosage, okay?” I stared into his bloodshot eyes, suddenly unable to tell who was actually sick. Was it me? Or was the entire world losing its mind? The agonizing inability to separate reality from hallucination absolutely shattered me. I started self-harming. I took razor blades and sliced into my own arms, just to feel something real. Because the physical pain was so much easier to process than the psychological torture. Chad started looking at me with undisguised exhaustion. Until the day Mary walked into the living room and explicitly told me she was pregnant with Chad’s baby. My eyes were totally hollow. I backed away, whispering frantically. “No. No, it isn’t real. You are a hallucination. Get away from me!” Mary stepped forward, backing me into a corner. Her cold, venomous voice drilled directly into my skull. “Chad stopped loving you a long time ago.” “Look at yourself, Harper. Your hair is falling out. You look like a corpse. You are constantly screaming about conspiracies. What kind of man could possibly tolerate a freak like you?” “You should do everyone a favor and kill yourself, just like your crazy mother did!” Every single word she said precisely snapped the fragile, terrified strings holding my sanity together. I lunged forward, desperate to tear her face off. Mary smiled a triumphant, evil smile. She violently shoved the handle of a kitchen knife into my hand. Before I could process what was happening, she forced my own hand backward. The blade tore through my skin, sinking deep into my pregnant belly. Hot, thick blood poured out of me, soaking my clothes. The physical connection between a mother and child is absolute. The agony ripped my soul apart. I looked toward the crack in the study door. I saw a pair of eyes watching me. I begged for help. The excruciating pain swallowed me whole. My knees buckled, and the world violently spun out of control. Through the haze, I swear I saw my baby grow tiny wings, crying softly as it floated up toward the ceiling. Mary started screaming at the top of her lungs. “Harper, no! Stop hurting yourself! Your baby is in there!” “Harper!” Chad threw open the study door and sprinted into the room. He scooped my bleeding body into his arms, a look of pure, horrified devastation on his face. Mary dropped to her knees, sobbing hysterically. “Chad, I tried to stop her! She just grabbed the knife and stabbed herself…” “She… she has completely lost her mind.” When I finally woke up, I was strapped to a bed in a psychiatric ward. My stomach was totally flat. That “treatment” lasted for three excruciating years. 3 “Bang!” Just as my fingers brushed against a rusted key inside the cardboard box, the door to my tiny room was violently kicked open. Mary lunged inside. She grabbed a fistful of my hair and brutally dragged me out of the room and toward the stairs. “Harper, you psychotic b*tch! How dare you hurt my son?!” A tearing agony ripped across my scalp. I lost one of my slippers, my bare foot violently slamming against the wooden stairs, leaving dark purple bruises across my skin. Chad was sitting in the living room, reviewing patient files. Hearing the screaming, he snapped his head up. His face went totally pale. “Mary! What the hell are you doing?!” Mary threw me onto the hardwood floor and shoved her phone directly into Chad’s face. “Look! Look at what this psycho did to our son!” On the screen was a photo of a terrified little boy. There was a glaring, red handprint across his cheek, and his tiny arms and legs were covered in jagged, bloody scratches. Chad sucked in a sharp breath. He slowly turned his head to look at me, his face turning black with fury. “It wasn’t me!” I pushed myself up onto my elbows, desperate. “I swear! I just saw a child pinned under the wardrobe! His little hand was reaching out, trying to scratch at the wood. His fingernails were completely peeled off…” “Stop lying!” Mary shrieked. “You disgusting freak! You smashed the lock, broke into his playroom, and tortured my son!” “I am going to kill you!” Mary raised her hand and slapped me across the face again. This time, Chad didn’t even try to stop her. My cheek burned like fire. A high-pitched ringing echoed in my ears. “Harper! I bring you back to this house out of pity, and you are trying to drive us all insane?!” The very last trace of warmth in Chad’s eyes completely vanished. Mary collapsed against the sofa, sobbing violently. “Chad, this time she just tortured him. What about next time?” “Next time, she is going to murder all three of us in our sleep!” “This is exactly what psychopaths do! You are a doctor, you know this better than anyone!” Chad closed his eyes, taking a long, deep breath. When he opened them again, there was nothing left but overwhelming disgust and total exhaustion. “You need to go back to the hospital. You can’t stay here.” “I am telling you the truth!” I lunged forward and grabbed his forearm. “Go upstairs and look in the master bedroom! Go look under the wardrobe! That poor baby…” “Enough!” Chad violently threw my arm off of him. The force sent me crashing backward into the glass coffee table. The table shattered into pieces. Jagged shards of glass sliced into the palms of my hands. Thick drops of blood fell onto the floor. Drip. Drip. “I am done.” Chad stared at my bleeding hands. A microscopic flash of guilt crossed his eyes, but it was immediately swallowed by sheer exhaustion. “You are never going to get better. And I… I am so incredibly tired, Harper.” His voice dropped to a cold, dead whisper. “Maybe the path your mother took is the only way you will ever find peace.” Boom. It felt like a bomb went off inside my skull. All the blood drained from my face. It felt like every single bone in my body had just been crushed into powder. Then, like a complete lunatic, I started to laugh. “You don’t have to call them. I will leave myself.” The man who promised to spend the rest of his life protecting me, the man who swore he would never let me end up like my mother—he was dead. No. He had been dead for years. I was just too pathetic to realize it. I dragged myself off the floor, walked back to the tiny storage room, and picked up the rusted key. It was the key to my late mother’s apartment. I wasn’t completely homeless, despite what Chad wanted to believe. Then, I reached into the box, pulled out the yellowing divorce agreement Chad had drafted a year ago, and signed my name. I dragged the final stroke of the pen out long and hard, severing every last tie to my past. When I walked back downstairs, Chad was standing at the bottom of the steps, watching me. We stared at each other in total, suffocating silence. Neither of us said a word. Outside, a taxi honked its horn impatiently. It was time to go. As I walked out the front door, he followed me all the way to the cab. “Harper…” Chad’s eyes were a chaotic storm of emotion. Conflict. Guilt. Exhaustion. “I can drive you.” “No.” I turned around and took one final look at the house we had shared for years. A single tear slipped down my cheek. “Here is the key to your house. And the divorce papers are signed.” “From this second forward, we owe each other absolutely nothing.” Chad stared at the key and the papers in my hand. He didn’t take them. His voice was thick and raspy. “Just focus on getting your treatment. Once you are stabilized, we can talk about the divorce.” “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid. Just go back to the ward and let them help you.” In that exact moment, a strange, suffocating sense of panic suddenly gripped Chad’s chest. “I am done with treatment.” I smiled softly. “If I am crazy, then I am crazy.” “But you really should go check on the kid pinned under the wardrobe in the master bedroom.” “I know the hospital director told you I was stabilized, but consider it peace of mind.” Chad’s entire body went rigid. The panic in his chest spiked, and he instinctively looked up toward the window of the master bedroom. I turned around, opened the door of the cab, and slid into the back seat. As the car slowly pulled away from the curb and merged into traffic, I didn’t look back once. “Ahhhhhhh!!!!!” An agonizing, blood-curdling scream erupted from the second floor of the house. Mary burst through the doors onto the second-floor balcony, stumbling and collapsing against the railing. Clutched in her arms was the crushed, lifeless, brutally mangled body of a small child. “My baby… my baby… she murdered our baby!!!” “Chad! Stop her! Harper is a murderer!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “450047”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel