My wife said she didn’t understand the “silent treatment,” yet in three years of marriage, she never once tried to make up with me. The first time she did it, I was proud. We ignored each other for seven days straight. The seventh time, I started to panic. I tried everything I could think of, but she wouldn’t break. By the eleventh time, I had learned to swallow my own emotions. I would apologize before Sophia even had to say a word. I thought she was just born cold, that no one could ever warm her heart. Until the third year of our marriage, when I accidentally scorched one of her dresses while ironing. Sophia didn’t say anything, but that night, she packed a bag and checked into a hotel. On the third day of being blocked and ignored, I went to her office with a handwritten apology. As I passed by her glass-walled room, I saw her leaning over, a fond smile on her face as she spoke to her pouting male assistant. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, “I shouldn’t have raised my voice. It’s been 57 minutes and you haven’t said a word to me. Can we please not do this silent treatment thing?” I froze. The apology letter in my hand felt like it was on fire. So, she did understand the silent treatment. The person she wanted to coax just wasn’t me. 1 The apology letter had become our unspoken ritual over the past three years. Every time she shut me out, it was my handwritten note that served as the bridge back to her. The first time I wrote one, my eyes were red with humiliation. One part of me screamed at how pathetic I was, debasing myself for a woman like this. The other part just couldn’t stop writing. Because the silence was just too damn hard to bear. Then came the third time, the ninth, the seventeenth… an endless, soul-crushing cycle. Even on the way to her office today, I was obsessing over it: Was my handwriting neat enough? Did my words sound sincere? Surely, after she read it, she wouldn’t be angry anymore. But now, watching the genuine warmth in her eyes as she looked at her assistant, a chill shot up from my feet and seized my entire body. So, she did understand the silent treatment. The person she wanted to coax just wasn’t me. While Sophia was in a meeting, I asked her assistant to meet me. As I ordered our coffee, I studied the young man across from me. He wasn’t as handsome as me, his features were merely pleasant. He was thin, lacking any real masculine presence. As for family background, Sophia and I came from similar standing; he was just an intern. By every measure, he couldn’t compare to me. But I had still lost to him. In three years of marriage, Sophia had given me the silent treatment countless times, and not once had she tried to break it. I had convinced myself she was just a cold person, that it was her nature. Today, I learned that was a lie. Sophia could smile with affection. She knew how painful the silence could be. She knew you had to swallow your pride to make a man happy. But I didn’t understand. Where did I lose? That’s why I asked him to meet me. I needed the answer. Alex hadn’t expected my question. The nervous “caught by the wife” expression on his face froze. Disbelief flashed in his eyes. “That’s… all you want to know?” The letter in my hand felt scorching hot. I crumpled it into a ball and shoved it into my bag. Then, with a sincerity that was almost painful, I asked again. “Yes. That’s all I want to know. Can you tell me? Where did I lose?” 2 Alex smirked. Then, realizing I was serious, the smirk slowly morphed into a look of pity, of compassion for a lesser being. He took a sip of his coffee, revealing a classic Rolex on his wrist. “Last month, Sophia took me to a gala. I complained that the smell of champagne clinging to her dress was too strong.” “The next day, this watch was on my desk.” I stared at him, stunned. Sophia had been drinking heavily that night. When she came home, her face was flushed. I’m allergic to alcohol; even the strong scent gives me a rash. So I had offered to sleep in the guest room. She had flown into a rage and didn’t speak to me for a week. “And this tie,” Alex gestured to the dark, patterned tie he was wearing, the gold thread in its design shimmering in the light. “Sophia was three minutes late letting me off work because of a client meeting. She bought this for me on her business trip to Paris as an apology.” I nodded, feeling a sense of detachment, of unreality. The week before her Paris trip had been my birthday. A week in advance, I had reminded her to get me a gift. Three days in advance, I had reminded her to set an alarm so she wouldn’t forget to wish me a happy birthday. She still forgot. And when I confronted her, her first reaction was anger. “You know how busy I am,” she had snapped, before coldly grabbing her suitcase and leaving for the airport. I was so hurt I didn’t speak to her for two weeks. During those days, when neither of us would back down, she had still remembered to buy a tie for Alex? I wanted to laugh, but my eyes were burning. “Is there more?” I asked, my voice hollow. Alex gave me a surprised look, as if he couldn’t understand why I was actively seeking out more pain. “The reason for your current fight,” he said, leaning in. “You probably don’t know. The dress you ruined… I was the one who gave it to her.” “She promised me she would wear it to her client meeting this week.” It all clicked into place. No wonder. It was just a dress. How could that be enough to make her move out? I thought about last night, how I had swallowed my pride and carefully written each word on the page. Sophia, I know I was wrong. I’ll be more careful with the housework. I won’t be so clumsy again. Sophia, I’ll buy you another one, exactly the same. Please don’t be angry with me. Thinking about it now, it was just… pathetic. I couldn’t sit there any longer. I nodded at Alex and turned to leave. I knew where I’d lost. And I knew exactly how my marriage to Sophia had to end. It would begin with this silence. 3 Leaving the café, I went straight to a law firm. I paid extra to have a divorce agreement drafted immediately. While I was waiting, I ran into Sophia. It seemed her company’s legal team was having some issues, and she was here to negotiate a new partnership. The moment she saw me, her brow furrowed. “What are you doing here?” She seemed to assume I was there to apologize. Her eyes instinctively darted to my bag. “I don’t have time to read your letter right now. Wait until I’m finished…” “Mr. Hayes, we’re ready for you.” A lawyer, Mr. Evans, poked his head out of his office and waved me in. I stood up. Sophia grabbed my arm. “You’re here to see a lawyer?” Before I could answer, she let go, her expression turning dismissive. “You even made a lawyer’s appointment just for a chance to run into me.” She sighed, as if granting a great favor. “Fine. Since you went to all this trouble, we’ll have dinner tonight.” I knew this was her signal for reconciliation. The old me would have lit up, nodding eagerly. But this time, I wanted to be the one who didn’t understand. I smiled politely. “I have plans tonight. Maybe some other time.” The next time we have dinner, it will be to discuss our divorce. Without another word, I walked past her and into Mr. Evans’s office, leaving Sophia standing there, utterly bewildered. It felt good. 4 It was dark by the time I finished with the lawyer. Sophia hadn’t waited for me. The receptionist said she left the moment her meeting was over, as if she were trying to escape someone. That someone, of course, was me. I knew my place. This wasn’t the first time she’d publicly snubbed me. But it was the first time I didn’t feel sad. I went to the mall and bought myself the watch I’d always wanted. Then I went to an arcade and played games for hours. Finally, I went for hot pot, something I’d been craving for ages. Sophia was a neat freak and couldn’t stand the smell of chili and spices that clung to your clothes afterward. So, I was never allowed to eat it. The last time I’d had it was a year ago. We were in the middle of a three-day silent treatment over something trivial. I was used to it, but that day was our wedding anniversary. Out of spite, I went to a hot pot restaurant, ordered the spiciest broth, and came home smelling like a chili bomb. We had a massive fight. She had asked me, her face like ice, why I would deliberately do something that I knew would upset her. I had asked her, my eyes red, why she would give me the silent treatment on our wedding anniversary. Why couldn’t you just… try to make up with me? I don’t remember her expression that day. But I remember the bone-deep chill of her indifference. It’s a cold that still makes me shiver. But that was all in the past. I scooped up a large piece of beef, my heart content. It was late when I got home. I showered and was about to go to bed when a message from Sophia came through. “Have you seen my green hair clip? I need it for tomorrow.” In three years, this was the first time she had ever messaged me first during one of our silences. I stared at the screen for a few seconds, wondering if it was a prank. After checking her name several times, I slowly typed back. “It’s in the glass cabinet in the walk-in closet, third shelf. Do you want me to call a courier?” Before, no matter where she was, I would have dropped everything to bring her what she needed. But now, it was almost midnight. I needed my sleep. Silence from her end. Just as I was putting my phone down, another message arrived. “Tomorrow is our anniversary. What do you want? That model kit?” I froze. That was the gift I had asked for last year. A year too late. When I didn’t reply, another message came. “You came to the office today? There’s nothing between Alex and me. Don’t cause trouble for him.” Her words hit me like a splash of cold water. Of course. She was defending her little lover. No wonder she suddenly remembered to get me a gift. She was afraid I would hurt her precious boy. I laughed out loud, then hit the voice message button, my tone a mix of self-mockery and release. “Don’t worry. I won’t do a thing.” Because I’m already preparing to leave you. I glanced at the clock. It was well past midnight. A bit late to ask her to come over. After a moment’s thought, I sent one last message. “Sophia, don’t stay at the hotel anymore. Come home tomorrow night.” “I have an agreement I need you to sign.” 5 The next day, I woke up early and started packing. I considered making dinner, but then thought better of it. Sophia never liked my cooking. If she came home to a table full of food, she’d probably just get annoyed again. I smiled to myself and ordered a lavish spread from a restaurant instead. By 6 PM, Sophia hadn’t replied. I took the food from the delivery guy, gave him a generous tip, and asked him to take the trash bags by the door. The bags weren’t heavy. They were filled with all the apology letters I had written over the years. Sophia had kept them in her desk. I’d found them and thrown them all out. By 7 PM, Sophia hadn’t arrived. I wasn’t worried. I started eating and happened to scroll past Alex’s social media feed. [Tripped on the way out and my ankle is killing me. Luckily, Sophia was there to drive me home.] When was the last time I sprained my ankle? The 17th? My ankle had swollen up like a balloon. The pain was so bad I took painkillers and passed out. I’d missed her calls. Without a word, she had blocked my number and only unblocked it a few days ago. I still remember what she’d said: “Leo, it’s just a sprained ankle. Are you going to die?” No, a sprained ankle won’t kill you. But her coldness killed my heart. I yawned, gave Alex’s post a “like,” and went back to my food. My phone immediately buzzed. A single question mark from Sophia. I didn’t reply. Ten minutes later, I heard a key in the lock. Sophia stormed in, looking furious. But she stopped short when she saw the half-eaten takeout containers on the table. “You didn’t cook?” I flinched, instinctively touching a small scar on my hand from a cooking burn. “You don’t like my cooking, remember?” She was speechless, a flicker of annoyance in her eyes. But she never showed her true emotions to me. She handed me a gift box. “Anniversary present. Open it.” I took it and glanced inside. Yep. The year-old model kit. “Thank you.” My polite response seemed to throw her off completely. Her gaze hardened. “I didn’t mean to be late. There was an emergency at work. I came as soon as I could.” She continued, a defensive edge to her voice. “Driving him home was just… convenient. It was on my way. Don’t get the wrong idea…” I nodded. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.” I truly didn’t. But my indifference seemed to infuriate her. There was even a hint of a pout in her tone. “Then why didn’t you get me a gift?” The moment the words left her mouth, she looked surprised at herself. It was completely out of character. But her pride, especially with me, was ironclad. Her expression quickly darkened. She shot me a cold glare and turned to leave. I knew what this was. The start of another silent war. “Wait.” I called out to her, walking to a drawer and rummaging through it. She turned back, a slight smirk on her lips as she walked up behind me. “What are you looking for? My present…?” “Found it!” I spun around, my voice buzzing with an excitement I couldn’t contain. “I had a lawyer draft a divorce agreement. Sign it.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386304”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

We were driving through a blinding blizzard in Aspen when my husband kicked me out of the car. He needed to lighten the load, he said, to ensure his “one true love” made it to her piano competition on time. I clung desperately to the door handle, begging, but he floored the gas. The car dragged me across the icy asphalt for thirty feet before my grip failed. Lying in the snow, watching his taillights fade into the white void, my heart turned to ash. I thought I would die on that mountain. Instead, a passerby found me. The trauma didn’t kill me; it woke me up. The memories I had lost in a plane crash eight years ago came flooding back. The first thing I did after waking up was erase the woman I had been for the last eight years. 1 “Miss, are you absolutely certain? Once we process this, the identity of ‘Kate Monroe’ will cease to exist. There will be no record of her.” I nodded, my expression hollow. “I’m sure.” My name wasn’t Kate Monroe anyway. I was Vivian Sterling. Eight years ago, I survived an aviation disaster but lost my memory. I washed up in the city, confused and alone. The Anderson family took me in, and eventually, I became their daughter-in-law. Jackson Anderson and I were once truly in love. We were the golden couple of our social circle. Until two years ago, when his first love returned from abroad. Then, everything rotted. I looked up at the massive LED screen in Times Square. It was broadcasting the National Piano Championship live. Just as expected, without me there to delay them, Lily Summers had taken first place. On screen, Jackson was smiling—a gentle, adoring look I hadn’t seen in years. “Lily is the champion of my heart. No one compares. As her manager, I couldn’t be prouder.” “Oh?” the interviewer teased. “Apologies, Mr. Anderson. I assumed the champion of your heart would be your wife.” Jackson chuckled, a dismissive sound. “In terms of marriage, yes, my wife is first. But when it comes to talent? It’s Lily, absolutely.” Watching from the sidewalk, I let out a short, sarcastic laugh. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t used in nearly a decade. “Pete. Come get me in New York. Seven days.” I turned away from the noise of the city and walked into a tattoo parlor. “Afternoon, miss. Looking for some ink?” “The name over my heart,” I said, my voice flat. “Remove it.” “J.A.? Those initials must mean a lot to you.” I looked down at my chest, then offered the artist a bitter smile. “Not anymore.” Four hours later, I walked home carrying a custom cake. Jackson was already back, lounging on the sofa, scrolling through his phone. He glanced up. “What’s the occasion? Why the cake?” The last embers of hope in my chest died out. Today was my birthday. “Nothing important,” I said softly. “Just felt like buying one.” “Perfect timing, actually. Lily won the competition today. I’ll take that to her celebration dinner.” He tossed his phone aside. At the mere mention of Lily, his eyes softened, his lips curving into a smile. I stood silent for a moment, then nodded. I went to the bedroom to change. Jackson barged in a moment later. “Kate, you should come to the party. You won that title five years in a row; your presence would be a great endorsement for her.” He stopped, frowning at my chest. “What happened to your tattoo? Why is it bandaged?” 2 “I got hurt when you dragged me with the car.” A flicker of guilt crossed Jackson’s face. “Well, thank god it’s just a scrape. That tattoo is the proof of our love; we can’t have it damaged.” I gave a perfunctory nod. “Mm. Understood.” His expression relaxed. “Go get ready. We need to leave for the party now.” The moment I slid into the passenger seat, the little bobblehead bear on the dashboard chimed. It was a custom recording, and Lily’s sickly-sweet voice filled the cabin. “Kiss kiss, big brother! Have a beautiful day!” Jackson’s face stiffened slightly. “Lily just recorded that as a joke. Don’t overthink it.” “Mm,” I replied, staring out the window. I didn’t say another word. I sat rigid, staring at the blurring city lights. Because under my heel, I could feel a tube of lipstick. It was Lily’s favorite brand. But I didn’t want to expose him. I didn’t want a fight. I had already decided to leave; arguing now felt like screaming at a wall. Halfway there, Jackson’s phone buzzed with messages from Lily. He had forgotten that his phone was still synced to the car’s display. Lily-Cat: When are you getting here, Jackson? I’m hungry. Jackson: Hungry again? Didn’t I just feed you in the car? You greedy little kitten. I stared at the screen, my mind involuntarily painting a picture of exactly how he had “fed” her in this very seat. Then it hit me. The lipstick under my foot… The nausea hit me like a physical blow. My mysophobia—my obsessive need for cleanliness—flared up, violent and overwhelming. I screamed for him to stop, threw the door open, and retched onto the pavement. 3 “Hurry up, Kate!” Jackson shouted, checking his watch. “I’m on a tight schedule!” There was no way in hell I was getting back into that car. Seeing me hesitate, Jackson scoffed and slammed the door. “Get in or don’t. I’m done coddling you!” He drove off. By the time I arrived at the venue, the party was in full swing. Towards the end of the night, Jackson grabbed my arm, wincing. “Kate, go buy me some ibuprofen. My stomach is killing me.” I wanted an excuse to leave anyway, so I turned and walked out. I was halfway to the elevator when I realized I’d left my phone. I doubled back to the private room, only to hear voices leaking through the crack in the door. “Jackson and Lily are getting bolder, aren’t they?” “Can you blame them? There’s a pharmacy downstairs. Kate will be back in ten minutes. They have to make every second count.” I gripped the door handle, my hand trembling uncontrollably. Everyone knew. The entire social circle knew they were sleeping together. I was the only fool playing house. From inside, Jackson’s voice drifted out, breathless and disjointed. “You guys… keep it down. If my wife hears… I’ll kill you.” Laughter erupted. “She’s not even here! She’ll never know.” I couldn’t listen to another second. I turned and fled. When I returned with the medicine, they were all sitting on the sofas, playing a drinking game. One of his friends spoke up. “Kate, you were the last to arrive, and you’re the only one who hasn’t given Lily a gift yet. Let’s guess what she brought!” During my years as the Anderson daughter-in-law, Jackson and his parents controlled every dime. I had no personal wealth. Seeing my hesitation, Jackson whispered, “Just give her a red envelope. Put it on my tab.” I set the medicine box on the table and spoke, my voice eerily calm. “The piano I used for five years. If you don’t mind it being second-hand.” The room went silent. Gasps echoed around the circle. That piano was a handcrafted masterpiece by Maestro Vane. It was the only one of its kind in the world. Jackson had spent six months begging Maestro Vane to sell it to him. It was his second-anniversary gift to me. The guests looked at me with expressions ranging from shock to pity. After arranging for movers to transport the piano, I went home to pack. My bedroom door slammed open. Jackson stood there, his face twisted in anger. “What the hell is wrong with you? You gave away the piano I bought you? To someone else?” 4 I looked up at him, my eyes dry. “Lily is better than me. A better pianist deserves a better instrument.” Jackson’s voice dropped to a whisper. “How did you know I said that?” “It was broadcast on every screen in the city, Jackson. I saw it on the street.” He froze. Those were his words to the reporter. He couldn’t deny them. “Even so! You can’t just give it away! That was a symbol of our anniversary!” I smiled faintly. “So?” Jackson stared at me, sensing a shift. “Kate… what does that mean? Are you trying to leave me?” “If you fall in love with someone else,” I said, “I will leave you. Permanently.” Jackson laughed, a cruel, arrogant sound. “Go ahead and try. Everything you have in this world, I gave you. Without me, where would you go? Don’t forget, Kate, you can’t divorce me unless I agree to it.” But I wasn’t Kate Monroe. I was Vivian Sterling. And that marriage license meant nothing to me. Jackson stepped closer, his voice dropping to a menacing purr. “Don’t even think about leaving. Be a good girl and stay home. I’ll give you whatever you want. Remember your place, wifey.” I smiled. We’ll see about that. For the next four days, I systematically erased my existence from the house. My clothes in good condition went to charity. The old ones went into the fireplace. I deleted every social media account associated with “Kate Monroe.” I went to the government offices and transferred all relevant documents. Jackson noticed none of this. He and Lily had flown to Monaco to celebrate her victory. Monaco was practically their second home. They flew there whenever the mood struck. Three days left. Lily sent me a photo. A little girl eating a candied apple. Baby wanted sweets today, so Daddy made her the biggest one he could find! ~ It wasn’t the first time she’d sent photos, but I had never understood the connection. Why send me a child? This time, the girl’s face was visible. The realization hit me like a physical slap. The girl was a miniature copy of Jackson and Lily. It was their daughter. So this was why he never wanted children with me. Pathetic. Two days left. Jackson organized a private fireworks display for Lily. An eight-million-dollar show. Big brother said it was worth it just to see me smile. Eight million dollars. It was beautiful, I had to admit. He once promised to watch fireworks with me. He never did. And now, he never would. One day left. This time, Lily didn’t send a photo. She sent an audio file. It was a recording of them in bed. His low, guttural groans. Her high-pitched cries of pleasure. I listened to it once. I smiled, a cold, detached thing. I placed the phone on the desk next to a sealed envelope. I shouldered my only backpack and walked out of the “home” I had lived in for eight years. My extraction team was waiting at the airport, standing in perfect formation. As I was about to board the private jet, Jackson called. Wifey, I’m back from my trip. I’m coming to pick you up for dinner. He was back, alright. With Lily and his illegitimate daughter in tow. Dinner is in an hour, I typed back. Can you make it? Through the glass terminal wall, I saw him. He was kneeling, tying the little girl’s shoelaces. He was about to reply when Lily leaned down and kissed him. “Honey, you promised to take us to the amusement park first! If we don’t go now, we won’t have time to fly Bella back to Monaco later.” The little girl tugged his hand. “Daddy, please! I want to go on the rides!” Finally, a message appeared on my screen: Kate, something came up at work. Let’s move dinner to three days from now. I let out a soft laugh and powered off the phone. I put on my oversized sunglasses. Flanked by bodyguards, I walked through the terminal, brushing right past Jackson. He spun around, staring at my back. “That woman… she looked just like Kate.” Lily laughed, linking her arm through his. “Don’t be ridiculous. That woman is surrounded by security. She’s clearly a VIP. Since when is Kate Monroe a VIP?” Jackson chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re right.” “Come on, Bella! To the amusement park!” The intercom crackled overhead, the final announcement of my old life fading away. Flight G1382, you are cleared for takeoff. Have a safe journey.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386303”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I was in labor. My husband, Marcus, insisted on being in the delivery room. He wanted to be the one to cut the cord, to witness the miracle. Everyone called Marcus Wright the husband of the decade. Then, halfway through the most excruciating pain of my life, he walked in with his young, pretty assistant. She was curious, he said, and wanted to watch. Through the agony of being nine centimeters dilated, I bit my lip until it bled. “Get her out!” The assistant, Zoe, stared at the most private part of me, her eyes wide with a mixture of horror and morbid fascination. “Wow,” she breathed, loud enough for the whole room to hear. “It can stretch that wide? You could probably fit two fists in there!” She turned to Marcus. “Mr. Wright, should I book Sarah a ‘tightening’ surgery for after?” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Such a shame. It’ll probably never go back to the way it was…” Seven hours of torment later, a baby’s cry filled the room. After congratulating me, the nurse held up our daughter. “Dad can come see his little girl now.” My eyes were webbed with broken blood vessels. I raised a trembling hand. “Don’t show her to him.” “He’s not her father anymore.” … “Sarah!” “Do you have any idea what you’re saying?” The delivery room fell silent. The joy on Marcus’s face evaporated, replaced by a cold hardness. His grip on my hand tightened. “You’ve been through a lot. You’re not thinking clearly right now. Once you’ve rested, we can—” “I am thinking perfectly clearly.” “The ones who need to get the hell out are you and your assistant.” My entire body was shaking, a storm of pain and fury. The tearing sensation between my legs was a physical echo of my heart splitting in two. Marcus’s expression iced over. “Sarah, are you saying these things just to hurt me? Is this because I brought Zoe in?” Zoe flinched, hiding behind him with tears welling in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Sarah! I begged Mr. Wright to let me come. Please don’t blame him!” “I just… I speak my mind. If what I said upset you, you can hit me…” Before she finished, Marcus instinctively stepped forward, shielding her completely. “Sarah, you were her age once. Why make things difficult for a girl in her twenties?” “This is the day our child was born. It’s supposed to be a happy occasion.” He reached out to touch my sweat-soaked face. “Don’t be difficult, okay?” I laughed, the sound brittle and bitter. In my twenties, I was working myself to the bone to help Marcus secure his position at my family’s company, Stea Industries. I had three miscarriages from the stress and exhaustion. Back then, Marcus had knelt by my hospital bed, his eyes red, and sworn to me, “Sarah, I promise, I will become a man worthy of you. I will protect you for the rest of our lives!” Now, our fourth child was finally born, healthy and screaming. And he was shielding another twenty-year-old girl, telling me to behave. I gripped the bedrail, my heart a dead weight in my chest. “Marcus, that vow is broken. Is there any point to this marriage anymore?” “We’re getting a divorce. Don’t make me say it again.” “I don’t agree.” His voice was cold and firm. “Sarah, this is our daughter’s birthday. Why do you have to make such an ugly scene?” With the last of my strength, I ripped the diamond ring from my finger and threw it at his face. “That’s hilarious. You think I, Sarah Stea, need your permission to get a divorce?!” “You are no longer her father.” The nurses began wheeling my bed out. Through the blur of the IV drip, I saw Zoe collapse into Marcus’s arms, sobbing. He wrapped his jacket around her, holding her close. And then, as my world faded, they started kissing. 2. Back in the recovery room, my lawyer was already there. Marcus was refusing the divorce. He would see me in court. “Fine,” I nodded, dialing a number on my phone. “If he wants a war, he’ll get one.” I spoke into the receiver. “Yes. Let’s meet.” “I want Marcus Wright out of Stea Industries. I never want to see his face again.” After hanging up, I picked up my sleeping daughter. Her features were so much like his; it was disorienting. I had been so overjoyed to be pregnant with her, enduring the weight gain and morning sickness without a single complaint… All I had wanted was to keep a shred of dignity. Instead, at my most vulnerable moment, I had been turned into a spectacle. My phone buzzed, shattering the quiet. “Sarah, what the hell did you do?!” It was Marcus, his voice laced with a fury I had never heard before. “What’s wrong?” I bit out. “Finally have time to discuss the divorce?” “Don’t play dumb with me!” he roared. “Why did you have Zoe kidnapped?” “You just became a mother! How can you stand by and watch another woman miscarry? She could die!” A gasp of icy air filled my lungs. So, Zoe was pregnant with his child. All this time, while I was enduring my own difficult pregnancy, dreaming of our future, he was creating another one. “Marcus, I don’t know anything about a kidnapping. And I have no interest in your little girlfriend’s drama.” He was silent for a moment. “You’d better be telling the truth. If anything happens to Zoe, I will make you pay for it tenfold!” He hung up. The threat lingered in the air. A nurse who had overheard the call looked at me with awkward pity. “Mrs. Wright… whatever is going on, please try to rest. Your tearing was severe. You need to focus on healing.” I thanked her and took the care instructions. The next day, our family’s driver came to take us home. I had him put the baby in the car while I gave my lawyer some final instructions. My demand was simple: Marcus gets nothing. Not a single penny. “Understood, Ms. Stea, but…” The lawyer took the file, his eyes darting nervously behind me. Suddenly, a hand clamped over my mouth. A group of men grabbed me, dragging me into a waiting van. “Our boss said if Zoe doesn’t come back, you’re going down with her!” one of them snarled. “I can’t believe the great Sarah Stea would stoop to kidnapping. You’re disgusting!” They were rough, their bodies pressing hard against my abdomen, which was still tender and swollen from childbirth. A wave of agony washed over me, and I blacked out. I don’t know how long I was out. When the blindfold was ripped from my eyes, I was staring at a bright screen. In the video, Zoe was on the floor, the white dress she wore stained with blood. Men were kicking her stomach over and over. She looked like a broken doll. “I’m sorry, Ms. Stea, I was wrong…” she sobbed. “I’ll never say those things again! Please, let me go!” The video cut to black. Marcus stepped out of the shadows, his eyes stripped of their usual warmth. He grabbed my chin. “Sarah, have I been too lenient with you? Is that why you’ve become so cold and cruel you’d harm an unborn child?” “Tell me. Where is Zoe?” I met his gaze, my own as cold as ice. “I don’t know.” He didn’t believe me. He leaned in closer. “Sarah, for the sake of everything we were, I’m giving you one last chance.” “I. Don’t. Know.” Seeing my defiance, a cruel smile touched his lips. “Still as stubborn as ever.” At his command, I was dragged into a sterile, white room. It looked like an operating theater. “Let me go! Marcus, this is illegal imprisonment!” I struggled, but my limbs were strapped to a table. I was completely helpless. “Well then,” his voice echoed from above me, “that ‘repair’ surgery Zoe booked for you? Let’s get it done today.” The doctor hesitated. “Mr. Wright, your wife just gave birth yesterday! This is far too soon…” Marcus was silent for a long moment. He glanced at the video of Zoe, then his voice turned to steel. “Don’t give her any anesthesia. I want her wide awake for the entire procedure.” “She can stay like this until she’s ready to talk.” 3. “I’m sorry, ma’am.” With the doctor’s sigh, a cold, sharp blade touched my skin. The first cut sent a tremor through my very soul. With the second, my body no longer felt like my own. Pain, white-hot and absolute, consumed me. But I clung to one thought: the person I had called for help would find me. I just had to hold on. “Talk, Sarah.” “Or this is going to get much, much worse.” I bit my lip, forcing the agony to keep me conscious. When Marcus leaned close, I spat a mouthful of blood and whispered, “Marcus, if I wanted to destroy Zoe, I’d have her blacklisted from every company in New York. I’d make her crawl out of this city like the pathetic stray she is.” “Kidnapping? That’s your level, not mine.” He froze. For a second, a flicker of hope ignited within me. He gently stroked my thigh. His voice was soft, just like when we first met, but his words were chilling. “It’s been ten years, Sarah. You’re not the untouchable Stea heiress anymore, and I’m not that poor boy you picked up.” “Don’t think I’ll fall for that act.” Then, a sharp prick in my arm. “Adrenaline,” he ordered. “Don’t let her pass out.” The world, which had been blurring at the edges, snapped back into sharp, agonizing focus. The scalpel continued its work, and I was powerless to even faint. “Mr. Wright! Mr. Wright!” Someone was pounding on the door. It burst open, and Zoe stumbled in, her dress soaked in blood. “It’s me! I’m back! Marcus, help me…” “Zoe!” His eyes filled with shock and relief. He rushed to her, scooping her into his arms as she began to scream her accusations. “Those men… they made me apologize for what I said in the delivery room!” “They kicked my stomach! They said if they kicked it enough, the baby would just fall out…” Her gaze locked onto me, her eyes burning with hatred. “You bitch! I said one thing, and you tried to kill me and my baby!” Just then, the main doors to the suite swung open again. Marcus strode toward me. “Sarah, Zoe has a sharp tongue, but that’s all it is. And for that, you had her brutalized?” “You think because you’re a Stea, you can decide who lives and who dies?!” “Apologize to her. Now.” I stared past him at the open door. There was nothing but Zoe’s blood trail. No one else was coming. Had Marcus truly covered his tracks so perfectly? Was no one going to find me? “No.” Blood was pooling beneath me. I forced the word out through gritted teeth. “I will never apologize for something I didn’t do.” Marcus’s fist clenched at his side. I had only ever seen him this angry twice. The first time was after my third miscarriage; he hated himself for being too powerless to protect me. The second time was now. “Fine. Very well.” “This was your last chance, Sarah. You threw it away.” The door opened one last time. A large man walked in, holding a bundle. I heard a baby’s cry. “What… what is that…” My eyes flew open in terror. It was my daughter. She was supposed to be safe at home. 4. “You’re so naive, Sarah.” “In all my years at Stea Industries, I learned to always have a backup plan.” Marcus’s eyes were filled with pure venom. “Marcus, you monster… she’s your daughter!” At the word “daughter,” his face grew even colder. “How do I know that? Zoe told me she’s seen you with another man this past year.” I gasped, a wave of nausea and fury rising in my throat. “You can’t touch her!” He ignored my pleas. “Apologize to Zoe. This is your final chance.” At his signal, the man holding my daughter lifted her into the air. “You don’t want to see our child smashed on the floor, do you?” He smiled, and began a cruel countdown. “Five… four… three…” Time was running out. I was breaking. My daughter—the child I had lost three times, the child I carried for ten months—she was a part of me. How could I watch this happen? My vision went red. A scream was trapped in my throat, silent and suffocating. Just as the man prepared to drop her— BANG! A gunshot cracked through the air. The man collapsed. The baby fell, but was caught securely in a pair of strong arms. “Marcus. Who gave you the nerve?” The man was smiling, but it was a terrifying sight. Marcus was frozen in place. “Caleb Sterling?” He tried to regain his composure. “I’m with my wife for her surgery. What are you doing here?” Caleb walked to my side, gently shifting my daughter to one arm and scooping me up with the other. My blood soaked into his expensive jacket, dripping onto the pristine floor. “I’ve known Sarah Stea for twenty years,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “I have never seen her bleed this much.” His lips were curved, but his eyes held a chilling, manic glint. He was the one man in New York’s high society that no one dared to cross, a “mad dog” in a bespoke suit. But as he heard my pained groan, his expression softened. “Caleb… it hurts…” “I know. Don’t be scared. I’m getting you out of here.” The room was now filled with Caleb’s men. His cold gaze swept over the scene, landing on Zoe. She was immediately seized and thrown back into the operating room. Caleb gestured to the bloody table. “I believe you had an appointment for a ‘repair’ surgery?” “Since you’re so fond of the idea, why not try it yourself?” “Oh, and remember. No anesthesia.” Zoe’s face was chalk-white. She clung to Marcus’s sleeve. “Mr. Wright, save me! It’ll kill me…” But this time, no one could save her. As Caleb carried me out, his eyelashes fluttered. “Sarah, hold on.” “Your daughter is waiting for you at home.” He rushed me to the best hospital in the city. When the doctors lifted the blanket covering me, they audibly gasped. “Severe postpartum tearing, massive hemorrhaging… My God, what happened to her?!” My gurney raced down the emergency corridor, machines beeping frantically. Caleb ran alongside, his hand never leaving the rail, until the very last second. “Sir, we’re going into the trauma unit!” “You have to let go!” In the split second before the doors swung shut, I grabbed his hand. “Don’t worry,” I rasped. “I won’t die until they’ve all paid.” “Please… take care of my daughter…” As my eyes closed, I heard Caleb’s resolute voice. “I’ll be waiting for you, Sarah Stea.” “And I promise you… everyone who hurt you? I won’t let a single one of them go.” “They will beg for a death that will never come. That is their final end.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386302”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Here is the translation and adaptation of the short story, localized for a Western audience with the requested formatting and stylistic adjustments. My husband is mute. At our wedding, it was his best friend, Kathleen, who spoke his vows for him. After we were married, his mother called me barren, a worthless wife, and he just stood there, face flushed red, unable to say a word in my defense. When Kathleen pushed me down the stairs, I lay on the floor, my head bleeding, and watched myself miscarry our child. My husband could only make strangled, desperate noises, powerless to help. Everyone told me the same thing: “It’s hard for him, too. He’s mute, Lucy. You have to be patient.” I believed them. Until the company gala. I left early and found him in the stairwell, shielding Kathleen from a group of drunk guys. I heard his voice, perfectly clear, for the first time. “Let her go,” he warned them, each word a cold, hard stone. “Or I’ll make sure you disappear from this city.” Kathleen looked up at him with pure adoration. “Liam,” she breathed. “You were so heroic.” Then my husband turned and saw my ashen face. And just like that, he was mute again. It turned out his voice only existed to protect one person. And it wasn’t me. 1. I stood frozen, watching Liam’s mouth move, the articulate threat dissolving back into the meaningless, guttural sounds I knew so well. His eyes were wide with panic, like someone who’d just had their most shameful secret exposed to the world. Kathleen’s expression faltered too, but she recovered instantly, rushing to my side and grabbing my hand. “Lucy, don’t misunderstand. Liam was just… he was so worried about me, he forced the words out.” Her voice was thick with a feigned vulnerability. “You know how he is. He’d do anything for me.” I ripped my hand from her grasp, my eyes pinned on Liam. He couldn’t meet my gaze. He looked down, a frantic sound caught in his throat as his hands flew into a flurry of sign language. [It’s not like that, Lucy. Let me explain.] I stared at his long, elegant fingers. The same hands that had gripped my hospital bed in a display of helpless agony the day I lost our baby. The memory was now a grotesque joke. A laugh escaped my lips, sharp and humorless. I turned and walked away. Liam reached for me, but I flinched away as if his touch would burn. “Don’t touch me.” My voice was so cold, I barely recognized it myself. He froze, the panic in his eyes deepening into despair. Back home, I locked myself in the bedroom. I used to think our quiet house was a peaceful sanctuary. Now, it just felt suffocating. Every corner reeked of lies. A little while later, there was a knock on the door. It was Liam. He didn’t try to enter. He just dragged his fingernails down the wooden door, a high-pitched, grating sound. Once. Twice. It was our private signal. It meant something was urgent. It meant he was begging me. I ignored it. After half an hour, the scratching stopped. I thought he’d given up, and a strange, unwelcome flicker of relief passed through me. Then my phone buzzed. It was a call from Kathleen. I didn’t answer. She followed up with a barrage of texts. “Lucy, Liam’s gone. He was so upset. I’m worried he’s going to do something stupid.” “He loves you so much. Please don’t be mad at him because of me.” “My cat seems sick, and I’m all alone and scared. Do you know where Liam is?” The last message was a tearful voice note. I opened the bedroom door. The living room was empty. Liam’s coat and car keys were gone. On the coffee table was his notepad, left open. Scrawled across the page in a messy, desperate hand were the words: [Lucy, believe me. I only love you.] I stared at the sentence, and a wave of nausea rolled through me. He loved me? Was this his love? Running to another woman the second his lies were exposed? I picked up my phone and dialed a number. “Hello. I need a background check. Liam Vance, and a woman he’s close with named Kathleen Bell.” “I want everything. From the day they met until now.” 2. The next day, I went to work as if nothing had happened. Liam didn’t come home. His mother, however, called right on schedule. “Lucy, what did you do to upset Liam now? Life is hard enough for him as a mute man. Do you have to push him to his breaking point?” “Kathleen called me. She said you were being unreasonable. Liam’s at her place now. You need to go pick him up immediately!” I hung up on her. That evening, Liam finally returned, his face etched with exhaustion. Kathleen was trailing behind him, carrying a container of homemade soup. “Lucy, Liam was worried you hadn’t eaten, so he asked me to bring this over.” She smiled, a picture of innocence, as if the scene in the stairwell had been a figment of my imagination. My mother-in-law followed them in, immediately taking Kathleen’s hand and glaring at me. “Look at how thoughtful Kathleen is. Then look at you. Can’t even take care of your own husband!” “If it weren’t for Kathleen, who knows where Liam would have ended up last night!” Liam just stood there, head bowed, wringing his hands, the very image of guilt and helplessness. I watched them, my heart a block of ice. I walked to the dining table, picked up a document, and held it out to him. “Sign this.” His mother snatched it from my hand. “Sign what? A divorce? I’m telling you, Lucy, the Vance men do not get divorced!” Kathleen leaned in, her face a mask of concern for Liam. “Liam, don’t do anything rash. Lucy’s just upset right now.” She reached for his hand, but he recoiled as if burned, his pleading eyes fixed on me. I ignored him and spoke to his mother. “It’s not a divorce. It’s a company document. Urgent.” She looked skeptical but, seeing my resolve, said nothing more. Liam, seemingly wanting to ease Kathleen’s worry, took the pen and quickly signed his name at the bottom. His signature, like his appearance, was neat and clean. He looked up at me, his eyes wide and innocent as always. [Lucy, please don’t be mad anymore. Okay?] I took the document without giving him a second glance. Just then, Kathleen pointed to an emerald bracelet on my wrist. “Lucy, that bracelet is beautiful. Was it a gift from Liam?” It was. It was the gift he’d given me when he proposed, and I never took it off. I waited for his reaction. As expected, he froze, then began signing rapidly. [It was my engagement gift to Lucy.] Kathleen’s face fell in disappointment, her lip jutting out in a pout. “Oh… I see. It’s just so pretty.” She looked at Liam, her eyes full of longing. “You’ve never given me a gift like that, Liam.” A flicker of conflict crossed his face. He glanced at Kathleen, then back at me. Finally, he picked up the pen and wrote on the notepad. [Lucy, what if… you just let Kathleen borrow it for a few days? She has an important party next week.] In that single moment, my heart didn’t just break. It turned to dust. 3. I stared at the words on the paper for a full ten seconds. Then, I smiled. I unclasped the bracelet. But instead of handing it to Kathleen, I looked directly at Liam. “Are you sure?” He shifted uncomfortably under my gaze, avoiding my eyes as he nodded. [Just for a few days.] “Okay.” I nodded. Then, before any of them could react, I raised my hand. SMASH! The bracelet shattered against the marble floor, emerald fragments scattering like shrapnel. My mother-in-law shrieked. “Are you insane, Lucy?!” Kathleen gasped, hiding behind Liam, her face pale with shock. Liam shot to his feet, staring at me in disbelief. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. I stood amidst the glittering debris, my voice calm. “It’s broken. Now no one can have it.” I turned and went upstairs to pack. Liam followed, signing frantically at the door. [What is wrong with you? I’ll buy you a new one!] I ignored him, stuffing clothes into a suitcase. He grabbed my wrist. [Don’t go!] I threw his hand off. “Liam. We’re done.” He swayed, his face deathly pale. As I dragged my suitcase downstairs, his mother was still screaming insults at me. I walked straight to the door. Liam blocked my path, his eyes red, signing the same thing over and over. [I’m sorry. I was wrong. Please don’t leave.] I looked at him and found it all so pathetic. “Can your apology bring back my child?” He flinched as if I’d slapped him and froze. I pulled open the door and walked out. Behind me, I heard the sound of something else shattering, followed by his mother’s furious shouts. I didn’t look back. A few days later, my investigator handed me a thick file and several audio recorders. I spent the entire night acquainting myself with the “pure friendship” of Liam and Kathleen. It turned out, Liam wasn’t born mute. At age ten, a severe fever damaged his vocal cords, leaving him unable to speak for a year. During that year, he was showered with attention and care from everyone. Especially Kathleen, who became his self-appointed “spokesperson.” When his voice returned, he made a choice. He stayed silent. He discovered that being a mute got him more than speaking ever did. And Kathleen was the sole keeper of his secret. They were bound together by this twisted arrangement for twenty years. I listened to a recording of Kathleen bragging to a friend. “Liam? Of course he’s not really mute. He just can’t be bothered to talk to people who don’t matter.” “Lucy? She’s just a tool. The Vance family business needed her family’s connections. Why else would he marry her?” “It’s better that the baby’s gone. I was getting sick of looking at her.” I squeezed the recorder, my nails digging into my palm. 4. I thought I would be shaking with rage, but I was terrifyingly calm. The next day, I got a call from Kathleen. She was sobbing, claiming she’d accidentally broken my mother-in-law’s favorite antique vase and was about to be thrown out. “Lucy, can you please talk to Liam for me? He listens to you.” I let out a soft laugh. “Isn’t he at your place? Why don’t you talk to him yourself?” There was a pause, then more dramatic crying. “He… he won’t see me. He won’t answer my calls. I don’t know what to do.” I leaned back on my sofa, taking a slow sip of coffee. “Then you should get on your knees and beg him. Just like I was on my knees, begging him to save me the day I lost our baby.” Kathleen was speechless. I hung up, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction. A short while later, my doorbell rang. It was Liam. He looked haggard, with dark circles under his eyes. He was holding a small, elegant cake box. When he saw me, he forced a hopeful smile. [Lucy, I bought you your favorite cake.] He signed, watching my expression carefully. I didn’t let him in. I just leaned against the doorframe. “What do you want?” He seemed taken aback by my coldness. He started signing again, more urgently this time. [Kathleen didn’t mean it. She’s young and immature. Don’t hold it against her.] [I’ll talk to my mom. Don’t worry.] I watched him rush to defend her, the irony thick enough to choke on. “Liam, are you here to bring me a cake, or to be Kathleen’s lawyer?” His face drained of color, his hands frozen mid-air. I shut the door, cutting him off completely. That night, I received a picture message from an unknown number. It was a photo of the box from my old storage room—the box that held all of my baby’s things. The tiny clothes, the soft toys, the sweater I’d knitted by hand. Now, they were all piled next to a dumpster, spattered with filth. Beneath the photo was a single line of text. [Eyesores belong in the trash.] Blood roared in my ears. I drove to the old house like a madwoman. The storage room door was open, the inside ransacked. The contents of the box were scattered everywhere, trampled and ruined. The little wooden horse I’d carved for my child was snapped in two. I fell to my knees, gathering the soiled keepsakes one by one, tears streaming down my face. Just then, Liam and Kathleen arrived. Kathleen gasped theatrically. “Oh my god, what happened? Everything was fine when I left!” Liam rushed to my side, trying to help me up. [Lucy, don’t be like this. If they’re broken, we can buy new ones.] Buy new ones? I looked up, my eyes burning with a hatred so intense it felt like it could incinerate him. “Get out!” He recoiled, startled by my ferocity. Kathleen stepped forward, playing the peacemaker. “Lucy, don’t blame Liam. A burglar must have broken in! We should call the police!” I grabbed the broken half of the wooden horse and hurled it at her with all my might. “You did this! Kathleen, I’ll kill you!” The wood grazed her cheek, leaving a thin, red line on her perfect skin. She screamed and dove behind Liam, crying hysterically. “Liam, I’m so scared… she’s lost her mind…” Liam instinctively wrapped his arms around Kathleen, shielding her completely. He turned to me, his eyes cold with disappointment. And then, I heard his voice. He hadn’t used this voice to say his vows. He hadn’t used this voice to defend me from his mother’s insults. He hadn’t used this voice to call for help as I bled out on a hospital bed. But now, for a meaningless scratch on another woman’s face, he spoke. He had honed twenty years of silence into a razor-sharp blade, and he plunged it straight into my heart. “Apologize to Kathleen. Now.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386301”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 For ten years, my sister called me a jinx. Because the moment I, the long-lost son, returned home, her perfect life shattered. The company went bankrupt. Our parents jumped from their office window. My sister tried to follow them more times than I can count. But when my own heart failed from exhaustion, it was her on the operating table next to mine, giving me the heart that would save my life. “Live well, Asher,” she whispered as the anesthesia took hold. “But in the next life… please, just stay away from us.” My eyes were wide open as they wheeled her into surgery. During the transplant, my body rejected her heart. I stopped breathing. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the family’s lawyer first found me. I shook my head and gave him a small, respectful salute. “Thank you for the offer, sir, but the state raised me. It’s time I started paying that debt back.” … The lawyer looked at me like I was an alien. He couldn’t comprehend someone turning down a life of unimaginable wealth for a reason like that. “The Kingstons are one of the wealthiest families in the city,” he said, his voice laced with disbelief. “Do you have any idea what you’re giving up?” I just shook my head. If they were that wealthy, why send a lawyer instead of coming themselves? It was obvious they weren’t exactly thrilled about my existence. It’s pathetic that it took me a whole other lifetime to figure that out. I refused again and again, even signing a document swearing I would never make a claim on the Kingston estate. Finally, he left. I let out a long breath and started the slow walk back to the children’s home. I’d been working delivery jobs since graduation and had saved up a decent amount of money. Enough to buy some dolls for the younger kids and a new hand cream for our house mother. But as I reached the gate, I saw a figure standing there, poised and impatient. It was my sister, Chloe. “Asher Kingston,” she said, her voice sharp. “When you get home, I’m warning you, don’t say the wrong thing. Especially not to Caleb. He’s the most important person in our family.” Her words were a lightning strike that left me stunned and reeling. She remembered, too. She had been reborn. I swallowed the bitter taste in my throat and shook my head. “You have the wrong person. My name is Asher Stone.” “I don’t know you,” I added, my voice flat. “Please leave.” Chloe’s eyes narrowed, disbelief etched on her face. “What kind of game are you playing now? Trying to be clever?” “Don’t bother. Mom and Dad still don’t even know you exist. As far as they’re concerned, Caleb is their real son.” Hearing that, a profound sense of relief washed over me. Good. At least in this life, I wouldn’t be responsible for the Kingston family’s karma. Their bankruptcy, Chloe’s death… none of it would have anything to do with me. The thought was liberating. “Miss… I’m sorry, do you need something else?” I asked, my tone polite but distant. “If not, you’re blocking the driveway. There’s a lot of traffic here; it’s dangerous.” With that, I brushed past her. Inside the yard, a group of kids playing in the mud saw me and ran over, their faces bright with excitement. “Asher! You’re back!” “Did your family come for you? Are you leaving us?” I could feel Chloe’s stare on my back as I shook my head. “They’re all gone. You guys are my family now.” Ignoring the way her body went rigid, I took one of the kid’s muddy hands and led them toward the house. “Guess what I brought you guys? I heard you’ve been craving snacks. Let’s sneak some before Mrs. Gable finds out!” Their happy shouts echoed through the yard. I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt so light. The next morning, I was getting ready to head to my old high school to give a speech at the assembly for the incoming freshmen. Staring out the window, my mind was filled with dreams for the future. In my last life, when I arrived at the Kingston mansion, they were in the middle of celebrating Caleb’s birthday. My sudden appearance was an awkward interruption. They already knew Caleb wasn’t their biological son, but after so many years, he was the only son they had ever wanted. They said it was good that I was back. The company needed an heir. I changed my application from West Point to the finance program at Wharton. I threw myself into Kingston Industries. They gave me all the pressure and gave Caleb all the love. And then… what happened then? Caleb sold the company’s most vital secrets. We went bankrupt overnight. My parents couldn’t handle it; they died by suicide. Even Chloe became a ghost, haunted and resentful, looking at me like I was her enemy. She always said I was a jinx. If it wasn’t for me, she’d still be the beloved heiress of Kingston Industries, the happiest girl in the world. I never argued. I just worked, trying to give her the life she’d always known. I worked until my heart gave out. I closed my eyes, picturing my parents’ faces one last time. Mom, Dad. I can’t be a son to you in this life. I hope that without me, your family of four can finally be happy. When I opened my eyes again, the school gates were right in front of me, and a thrill of excitement ran through me. After the children’s home, this place was my second home. My favorite teacher, Mrs. Davis, met me at the curb. “Asher, are you still set on your plans?” I was about to smile and nod when a voice cut through the air. “Asher Kingston! I knew you hadn’t given up!” Chloe was running toward us, her face flushed. “You want to study finance, right? Well, I’ll have you know Dad already signed his shares over to Caleb. You won’t get a thing!” “The Kingston fortune belongs to Caleb!” Watching her hysterical outburst, I felt a sense of absurdity. Wasn’t I a victim in all this, too? If Caleb’s mother hadn’t switched us at birth and left me for dead, I wouldn’t have been found half-frozen on the steps of the home. If Caleb hadn’t betrayed the company, our parents wouldn’t have died. Was it all my fault? Not wanting to reveal my secret, I just lowered my head and tried to walk past her. But she grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin. “Our family is happy now, Asher. Why did you have to show up?” “Do you want to watch us fall apart all over again? Is that what will make you happy?” “How can you be so cruel?” I tried to pull away without hurting her. After all, she had saved my life once… Mrs. Davis stepped between us. “Excuse me, miss. Asher is my student. If you have a problem, you can speak to me.” “Please don’t harass a child.” She pulled me behind her, her eyes sharp. “Asher, do you know her?” I clung to her sleeve like a lifeline. “No! I don’t! She was at the children’s home yesterday saying all this weird stuff!” That was all Mrs. Davis needed to hear. She immediately called security. “It’s alright, Asher. I’m here.” In the security office, Chloe sat across from me, her gaze fixed on me, a storm brewing in her eyes. On my side, the school security guard, my teacher, the dean, and even the principal were all fussing over me. So this… this is what it felt like to be chosen? To be protected? “Don’t worry, Mr. Stone,” the principal said, shooting a look at Chloe. “We won’t let anyone bother you.” He cleared his throat. “Ms. Kingston, what is your business with our student?” “You know who I am?” Chloe scoffed, slamming her purse on the table. “Then you should know better than to lock me in here like a criminal! Let me out!” The principal wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, his voice firm. “Asher Stone is one of our most distinguished graduates and our city’s sole acceptance to the United States Military Academy at West Point this year. We have a responsibility to ensure his safety.” “I suggest you explain yourself, or I’ll have to report this to the academy’s liaison office.” Chloe’s eyes went wide with shock. She stared at me. “West Point? I thought you were going for finance?” The principal frowned. “Mr. Stone has been working toward this goal for three years. Where did you hear about finance?” Realizing her mistake, Chloe composed herself, smoothing her hair. “A kid from a group home like him? Getting into a top university? Are you sure he didn’t cheat?” “You should probably investigate your own students before you start bragging. You’ll let any stray in these days.” Even though I was prepared for it, her words still felt like a fist clenching around my heart. Before I could speak, Mrs. Davis shot back. “What did you just say? It’s clear you’re just here to cause trouble.” “Everyone at this school knows Asher has been the top student for three years straight. Are you calling all of us liars?” “And what’s wrong with being raised in a children’s home? A grown woman like you should know better than to be so prejudiced.” The dean nodded in agreement. Our school had a partnership with the home. They waived our tuition and provided dedicated counselors. They had watched me grow up. Chloe’s words were an attack on all of them. Even the old security guard was glaring at her. “We don’t welcome people like you here. Please leave.” “And if I see you bothering Asher again, the police will be having a talk with you.” As I watched Chloe’s retreating back, a mix of emotions swirled within me. Someone tapped my shoulder. It was Mrs. Davis. “Whether your name is Stone or Kingston, you are your own person,” she said gently. “If you ever need anything, my phone is on for you 24/7.” The principal and dean nodded, their expressions telling me they understood more than they were letting on. They were giving me space, and their unspoken support was overwhelming. I tried to hold back my tears, but a few escaped and splashed onto the table. They all pretended not to notice, guiding me toward the auditorium. “The students are waiting for your speech. Go on.” I nodded and walked onto the stage. As I spoke, I could see a familiar figure in the distance, watching me intently, as if searching for a crack in my armor. She didn’t find one. Afterward, Mrs. Davis drove me back to the home. Delivery trucks were parked at the gate, unloading boxes. I walked closer and saw Chloe directing the workers, pointing them toward the main yard. She saw me and clicked over in her high heels, her voice an accusation. “You’ve been reborn too, haven’t you, Asher?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And my name is Asher Stone,” I replied calmly. “You should try to remember that.” I walked past her, glancing at the piles of neatly stacked supplies. New mattresses, pillows, toys… everything the home needed. “Let’s make a deal,” she said, appearing at my side. She held out a check. “I’ve donated a million dollars. This is another million for you.” “Two million dollars. To buy out our relationship.” So, that was my worth in her eyes. Two million dollars. Less than the sports car she’d bought Caleb, yet it was meant to sever our bond for a lifetime. When I didn’t respond, she sneered. “Not enough for you?” “Do you know how long it takes a normal person to earn that much money?” “You should learn to be content with what you have and not long for things that don’t belong to you.” I knew what she was implying. My parents. Her. Kingston Industries. The family I never had. “Is it really that hard to earn a million dollars?” She threw the check at my chest and turned to leave. That’s when I finally spoke. I bent down, picked up the check, and tucked it into her designer handbag. “It only takes me about ten days to make a million,” I said, my voice quiet but clear. “And it only takes you about ten seconds to spend it.” She spun around, her face a mask of disbelief, her voice trembling. “You do remember!” “So what if I do? You’d be nothing without the Kingston name!” “Admit it! You only succeeded because Mom and Dad propped you up, because Caleb and I gave up the company for you!” A sarcastic smile touched my lips. “Did any of you ever ask me what I wanted?” “You just wanted a human ATM. Don’t make it sound so noble, like you were making some great sacrifice.” “I saw the immigration applications.” If I hadn’t stumbled upon the paperwork for their family of four in the study in my last life, I might have been fooled forever. The “family” I thought I was a part of was just another lie. Chloe clearly remembered, too. Her eyes darted away, and she fumbled for words. Finally, she managed a weak retort. “As long as you stay away from us in this life, none of that will happen!” “Really?” Hearing her still trying to evade the truth, I lost my patience. “Chloe, do you really think that as long as I don’t exist, everything will be fine?” “Do you need me to remind you what really happened?” She froze as if petrified. Shock, pain, regret—a thousand emotions flashed across her face. I knew, in that moment, she was finally ready to face the truth.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386300”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

At the peak of my fame, I died alone in a cheap apartment. My body wasn’t found for a week. There were no fans, no memorial service. Just a unanimous chorus of “Good riddance!” My own parents and the man who stole my life practically threw a party, celebrating that the world was finally free of a “bad seed” like me. A plastic sheet was my only shroud. The proof of my existence, turned to ash. It wasn’t until a new tenant moved in that the secret I had buried in a corner was finally unearthed. And the truth, after all these years, was finally dragged into the light. 1 “What’s up, everyone? Ruby’s moving into a new place today!” “I heard a huge star used to live here!” “Come on, let me give you the grand tour.” Ruby held up her phone, panning across the cramped apartment. “Uh… Ruby, you sure a celebrity lived here?” “Yeah, for real. What kind of star lives in a dump like this?” The live chat flooded with doubt. For a moment, confusion flickered across Ruby’s face. But she didn’t say anything, just carried the camera into the bedroom. “First things first, let’s see if the bedroom vibes with my style.” The bedroom was bleak. The window was open, and the sheer white curtains billowed in the breeze, lifting the edge of the heavy, drooping bedsheet. By the window, a pot of withered flowers rustled in the silence. “Hey, I think there’s something under the bed…” Ruby set her phone aside and grunted with effort as she pulled out a dusty old box. With a click of the latch, a yellowed, dog-eared notebook came into view. “Guys, look! It’s an old notebook!” she exclaimed, picking it back up. “Could be someone’s hidden treasure!” Ruby opened it. My bold, confident handwriting filled the first page. Asher. “Whoa! Isn’t that the actor who just died a few days ago?” “I think so! The one with all the scandals? The guy who crippled his own brother, Noah, to get ahead? And stole his girlfriend!” “That’s nothing! Who knows how many producers Asher slept with to climb the ladder.” “I heard he was a total psycho in school. Bullied kids, shook them down for lunch money. People he messed with probably still have nightmares!” “Ruby, sweetie, you should get out of there. You don’t want to be in a place where someone like Asher lived.” The chat was a waterfall of all my supposed sins. Just like that, Ruby’s stream blew up, hitting over 100,000 viewers. Funny. I was more famous in death than I ever was in life. Meanwhile, in a lavish living room, a young man paced nervously. “Stella, Asher’s trending!” the assistant blurted out. “Someone’s live-streaming from his old apartment!” The announcement cut through the cheerful atmosphere like a knife. “That bastard,” someone muttered. “Can’t even stay dead without chasing the spotlight.” “Seriously, what a buzzkill. He just ruined the whole mood.” My own parents, their faces tight with disgust. Noah, seeing his chance, spoke up in a soothing voice. “Dad, Mom, don’t be so angry. I’m sure my brother didn’t mean for this to happen,” he said, comforting them. “Let’s just eat first, okay?” But Stella, understanding the implication, stood up abruptly. “I’ll handle this right now.” “No need,” my father snapped. “Let’s see what kind of trouble he can stir up from the grave. Put the stream on the TV.” In an instant, Ruby’s voice filled the room. 2 “Guys, it looks like… a diary,” Ruby said, a hint of hesitation in her voice. “I feel kinda weird reading this…” She looked genuinely conflicted. It was my private life, after all. “Don’t worry about it, Ruby. He was a scumbag celebrity. What’s there to be afraid of?” “Yeah, who gives a damn about a dead guy’s privacy?” “Besides, all Asher ever wanted was to be famous. Let’s give him one last moment in the spotlight!” Ruby glanced at the chat, then at the soaring viewer count. Her resolve hardened. She decided to take the gamble. “September 2021. I ran into Stella—the girl I’d had a crush on all through high school. She was a beacon in the crowd, and just like that, I fell for her all over again. But this time, by some miracle, our worlds finally collided. The freshman welcome show was running short, so they combined my act with hers. I sang softly in the wings while she danced under the spotlight. It was magic. We were an overnight sensation. I became the campus heartthrob, she was the campus queen. I was finally standing on equal ground with her. And finally… she noticed me.” Hearing Ruby read those words, Stella’s expression softened. Her mind drifted back to college. That was the first time I had ever taken her breath away. On stage, I was luminous, pouring everything I had into my passion. She couldn’t help but feel a flutter in her heart. Beside her, Noah saw the change in her eyes and quickly interjected, his voice soft and frail. “Wow, Stella. So that’s how you and my brother met. It sounds… so romantic.” He sighed. “He was always the lucky one.” “Unlike me,” he added, his voice trailing off. “All alone, not even good at anything…” Noah’s words snapped Stella back to reality. Her face hardened. “Don’t compare yourself to him, Noah. You’re pure-hearted. Asher was a schemer. He could never be like you,” she said firmly. “Besides, if it weren’t for him, you would have been the one on that stage.” Reassured by her words, a smile finally returned to Noah’s face as he leaned into her embrace. “Thank you, Stella.” My parents watched them, beaming with affection. “Thank God that little monster is gone,” my mother whispered. “Otherwise, he’d be throwing another one of his tantrums.” As their perfect family moment unfolded, Ruby turned to the next page. “December 2021. Stella came to see me today! She asked me to be her partner for the New Year’s Eve Gala. A chance to be close to her? Of course I said yes. After the show, she treated me to dinner. We’re getting closer.” “February 2022. New year. Stella asked me out for dinner and a movie. I bought her a bouquet of roses… and she accepted them. Does this mean… she feels the same way about me?” “May 20th, 2022. Today was the best day of my life! Stella and I are together!” The entry was short, but Ruby could feel the raw joy pouring off the page. The confident, soaring script was there for the whole stream to see. “Is this guy for real? Everyone knows the superstar Stella and Noah were childhood sweethearts. What’s he got to do with it?” “Exactly! I remember Asher faked a bunch of videos of them as a couple just to get close to her!” “Seriously, why couldn’t he just be a decent person instead of lusting after his own brother’s girl?” “It’s obvious, isn’t it? Noah is just better in every way, and he was jealous.” The stream was once again a torrent of hate. 3 “Alright, alright! Let’s just keep reading,” Ruby said, trying to steer the conversation. “Wow, there’s a big time jump on this next one.” “December 2022. Dear Diary, sorry I’ve neglected you. Ever since Stella and I got together, all my time has been for her. I remember every little thing she does for me. She cares if I’m tired. She remembers the things I like. We’re so happy. Sometimes, I really feel like I don’t deserve her. But she always tells me to have more confidence, that I’m wonderful too. Damn. How did I get so lucky to find someone like Stella?” As Ruby read, a smile unconsciously spread across her face. The diary couldn’t capture everything, but she could feel my happiness, my sheer delight. “Reading this, Asher doesn’t seem that manipulative… you guys think he and Stella might have actually been a thing?” “It’s possible! But I’m not buying the innocent act.” “Wake up, you idiots. This whole diary could be something Asher planted to clean up his image after he died.” Hearing Ruby’s voice, Stella’s mind conjured an image of me—warm, gentle, the way I used to be. Back then, I was so full of light. And she had genuinely loved me. She was sure of it. So when did it all change? It was the moment she met Noah. “February 2023. Noah graduated and came back from overseas. He kept bugging me about meeting his ‘sister-in-law,’ so I introduced him to Stella. His major in college is actually a huge help for Stella’s singing. She’s been trying to get on this big talent show, but her song was missing something. Maybe Noah can help.” “April 2023. Stella aced her audition! She packed her bags and left for the show’s sequestered training camp. No phones allowed. The only way I can see her is on TV. A few days after she left, Noah showed up. He signed me up for ‘Dance Nation.’ I wanted to say no, but then I thought about Stella’s future, her career… and I accepted.” “June 2023. After rounds of auditions, I made it onto ‘Dance Nation.’ On the first day of filming, I saw Noah. He was effortlessly charming, making friends with all the other dancers and introducing me around. Having him there made things less intimidating. My technique is solid, and my rankings are good. But for some reason, no one wants to partner with me. I don’t get it. Finally, seeing me alone, Noah offered to be my partner. Two brothers, taking the stage together. Our star is rising. Stella, I’m catching up to you!” “June 30th, 2023. We finally got a day off after weeks of filming. I grabbed my phone, excited to share the good news with Stella, but her line was busy all day. Maybe… maybe she’s just busy. But then, I turned a corner and heard her voice. She was talking to Noah, her tone so gentle and caring. When did they get so close? I pushed open the door and startled Noah. But he wasn’t flustered at all. Instead, he made it a point to flirt with her right in front of me. “Don’t worry, Stella. I’ll give it my all!” And Stella, on the other end, was eating it up. “Good boy. Win that trophy, and I’ll give you a big reward.” Hearing her doting voice, I snapped. I lunged forward and snatched the phone from Noah’s hand. But before I could say a word, she hung up. Suddenly, my chest ached. A sharp, unbearable pain. What is happening? I wanted to confront Noah, but he just told me not to drag him down. I know I shouldn’t doubt them so easily, but once that dark thought takes root, it consumes you. It’s been messing with my head, and my dancing has gotten sloppy. For the semi-finals, Noah planned a high-risk move without telling me. I had no idea. I reached for him, trying to catch him… But he crashed hard onto the floor. Blood bloomed from his leg, staining the stage crimson. I don’t know how I got to the hospital. Time stretched into an eternity, the horrific image seared into my brain. Suddenly, I heard an enraged shout—”You bastard!”—and a hand clamped around my throat. The air vanished.” 4 “In that moment, I thought I was going to die. But I haven’t seen Stella yet. I can’t die like this. I clawed at the hands, fighting for air, but it was useless. The grip tightened, the world went dark. Through the haze, I thought I saw Stella’s face. “Asher, how could you be so cruel! How could you do this to Noah!” Her voice reached me, and the pressure on my neck released. I gasped, sucking in air, my vision slowly clearing. And in that moment, I wished I had died. The hands belonged to my father. The accusation came from Stella. The two people I loved most in the world wanted me dead. Dear Diary, even now, whenever I think of that day, I can’t breathe. I didn’t do anything. Why does everyone believe I was the one who hurt Noah? I wasn’t! I didn’t! I just… I wasn’t ready…” The diary entry ended there. Ruby felt the helplessness bleeding through the ink. But she was the only one. The viewers in her chat felt differently. “Asher is full of crap! He obviously pushed Noah! If Noah was injured, the championship was his!” “I remember that! After Asher ‘apologized’ to Noah, he dropped out of the show… The next time we heard about him, he was a homewrecker, right?” “Couldn’t win the trophy, so he decided to seduce a producer. Classy.” The vile comments scrolled endlessly across Ruby’s stream. My parents, listening to the story, looked on with cold indifference. “If it wasn’t for that little monster, Noah would still be dancing on stage today,” my mother spat. “If I’d known he’d turn out like this, I never would have had him.” Every mention of my name was laced with their disgust. Noah, nestled in Stella’s arms, began to tremble. “Dad, Mom, it’s all in the past. Please, don’t blame my brother anymore,” he whimpered. “I have Stella now, and my own dance studio, and I have you. I’m very happy.” What a picture of domestic bliss. A shame I wasn’t there to see it. “July 5th, 2023. Noah finally woke up. I was desperate to prove my innocence. I grabbed his hand, begging him to explain to our parents and Stella. To tell them he was the one who tried the difficult move behind my back. It wasn’t my fault! It wasn’t! But Noah just smirked at me. He told me he did it all on purpose. It was the only way to completely win over our parents and Stella. He was jealous of my talent, my natural ability, how I could get into the best schools without even trying. While he, with no real talent, had to go abroad just to pad his resume. That was the moment I understood. It was all a setup.” Hearing this, Noah’s expression darkened. He never imagined I would write everything down. But he wasn’t worried. For one, I had no proof. And two, my reputation as a toxic, promiscuous villain was already set in stone. No one would ever believe my side of the story. “I couldn’t believe it. The little brother I had protected for so long was capable of such cold-blooded scheming. In that moment, something inside me broke. I forgot he was injured. I grabbed his shoulders and shook him, my voice cracking as I asked him why. Why would he do something so extreme? He wasn’t just destroying me; he was destroying himself. But I never got an answer from Noah. Only a slap across the face from my father. And from Stella, the woman I loved, a look of pure hatred. “Asher, I am so disappointed in you.” Her words were like a thousand knives twisting in my heart. A wave of nausea hit me, and I could taste blood in the back of my throat. But even then, they showed me no mercy. I knew then. Noah’s plan had worked.” The entry stopped. But the tear stains on the paper were starkly visible, even through the camera’s lens. For the first time, the viewers in the chat seemed to feel a sliver of my despair. “Reading this… I can almost feel his despair… You guys think we might have gotten him wrong?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386299”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My labor was a nightmare. The doctors declared me critical six times. My husband, Marcus, rushed back from his military base overnight. He was covered in blood, his eyes blazing with a hatred so deep it scorched me. “To get me here to you, my best friend crashed his car into a rockslide. He’s dead, Morgan. He left behind a wife and a child.” His voice was a razor’s edge. “How am I supposed to repay that blood debt?!” His best friend’s widow, Sarah, lost her husband in a single night. And I lost mine. Marcus never came home again. I was left alone to work dead-end jobs, to raise our son, to endure the vicious whispers of our neighbors. At school, my son was taunted, called a bastard with no father. I couldn’t stand it. I went to the other family’s house to set things right. They beat me until my head was split open, leaving me to lie alone on a cold operating table. With trembling hands, I dialed my husband’s direct line. It was his aide who answered. “The Commander is watching Sarah Evans’s performance.” “He is not to be disturbed.” My heart turned to ash. I asked for a divorce. Marcus promised, he swore, that he would return to us for good in one month. “I’ll take our boy for a ride in the Jeep,” he said. “We’ll drive through town and show everyone what a big-shot father he has.” My son and I counted the days, crossing them off the calendar one by one. The day finally came. We saw the Jeep, surrounded by a throng of people. And in it, Sarah was laughing, a child in her arms. I held my sobbing son tight. “It’s okay, sweetie,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “We don’t need a daddy.” “Your grandpa’s army-green helicopter is way cooler than a Jeep, anyway.” … Oakhaven is a tiny town. A new bicycle is enough to get people talking for a week. A military Jeep was a spectacle. The narrow lane was completely blocked by gawkers. Marcus got out of the vehicle with a sigh. A little boy clung to his leg, whining. “It’s all muddy. It’s gross. I don’t want to get my new shoes dirty. Daddy, carry me.” My son, Leo, stomped his foot in fury. He tore his hand from mine and charged forward, shoving the other boy. “Get away from him! He’s not your dad!” The boy stumbled backward, caught by surprise. Sarah scooped him up, her eyes shooting daggers at Leo. “Where did this feral child come from? No manners at all.” Marcus raised his hand, ready to strike Leo for her son’s sake. Leo froze, his little fists clenched. In the stories I told him, this was the day his father would come home. He’d bring candy and toys and take him for a ride in a big car. He’d show all the bullies. He wasn’t a bastard. He had the best, strongest father in the whole world. But the day he had wished for, prayed for, had arrived. And his father was about to hit him in public, all to protect another child. Leo’s voice was a choked sob. “You lied, Mommy. He’s not my dad.” Marcus’s hand trembled in mid-air. His gaze fell on the small, dark birthmark on Leo’s forehead. Shock, guilt, and a flicker of something almost tender crossed his face. “That birthmark looks like a little star. Let’s call our son Leo, after the constellation.” He hadn’t been home since. Today was the first time in eight years he had seen his son in the flesh. But that flicker of warmth… It was extinguished by Sarah’s plaintive cry. “Marcus, are you just going to stand there and let him bully Cody?” The sound of the slap echoed through the crowd. I was frozen solid for a second before I ran to Leo, shielding him as he bit his lip to keep from crying out. I summoned every ounce of my strength and slapped Marcus back across the face. “You’ve got some nerve! Sarah says one word and you hit my son!” The slap, the shout. The onlookers swarmed closer, their eyes filled with scorn. They had been wondering how to get on the good side of the new Commander. This was their chance. They practically pointed their fingers in my face. “Morgan, are you crazy? Why would you hit the Commander?” “He’s Sarah’s husband! He’s supposed to defend his own kid, not yours!” “Your son started it! You’re just an unreasonable bitch.” “Worse than a bitch. She’s trash.” “Has anyone ever even seen her husband? God knows who she had that little bastard with.” The curses were like needles stabbing into my brain. Marcus looked uneasy but still positioned himself in front of Sarah and her son, protectively. He didn’t say a single word in my defense. I clenched my jaw, wrapping my arms around Leo, who was shaking with sobs. Sarah seemed to realize something, and a smug look spread across her face. She put on a show of magnanimity. “So you’re the one…” she started, then trailed off with a sigh. “Well, it’s not easy for a single mother. I’ll let it go.” But the crowd wouldn’t. “No way! Assaulting a Commander is a serious crime! She should be locked up for a couple of weeks.” “And that little bastard, Leo, yelling at the Commander like that.” “If word gets out, people might think the Commander has loose morals.” I could take their insults. But I would not let them shame my son. Swallowing the bitter acid rising in my throat, I stared straight at Marcus. “You tell them. Whose husband are you?” My defiant, tear-filled gaze seemed to pierce him. His Adam’s apple bobbed. He looked like he was about to speak. But his aide cut in with a sneer. “This is ridiculous.” “Everyone at Fort Sheridan knows Sarah is the woman Commander Thorne cherishes most.” “To make her happy, the Commander—a grown man—learned to dance, just to perform a duet with her on stage.” “In the four years I’ve served under him, I’ve never seen him late for morning drills. But since Sarah came along, he’s been late 28 times in a month. He can’t stand to be away from her.” Every word was a hammer blow to my heart. Over two thousand days and nights. I worked three jobs to raise our child, fending off unwanted advances in the dark. When I couldn’t bear it anymore and cried to him on the phone, his voice was always ice-cold. “Sarah’s husband died in that crash because he was rushing to get me to you.” “Taking care of her is my way of repaying your blood debt. You should be grateful, not an ungrateful wretch.” For all these years, I had clung to those words. Don’t expect, don’t bother, don’t complain. Even today, I had been planning to buy extra groceries to welcome Sarah and her son. To treat her like a sister. I never imagined that while Marcus bound me with chains of guilt, he was indulging in a passionate affair with his dead friend’s wife. Then what was all my suffering for? The crowd erupted. They surged forward. “How dare you tell that bastard Leo to call the Commander ‘daddy’!” “Trying to drag a good man through the mud!” “Plenty of men in this town have tried to help Morgan out over the years, but she always said she was married and chased them off!” “Turns out she just looks down on us country folk. Well, get the hell out then!” Someone yanked my hair back, hard. Leo tried desperately to push them away but was kicked to the ground. A cruel older boy stomped on his face. “Enough!” Marcus roared. Sarah’s face paled, and she clutched his sleeve. Marcus sighed, gently pushed her away, and came to help me and Leo up. “Everyone,” he announced, his voice strained. “Morgan is actually… my sister-in-law.” “After my older brother passed, the elders wanted me to take responsibility for both families. As an educated military man, of course, I couldn’t accept such an arrangement.” “But my sister-in-law… she seems to want me very much… which led to this misunderstanding.” A misunderstanding. A joke. It felt like he’d plunged a knife right back into the raw, gaping wound in my chest. He lowered his voice, trying to placate me. “Morgan, don’t make things difficult for Sarah.” “When you were in labor, if her husband hadn’t been rushing to get me to you, he wouldn’t have been driving so fast.” “You owe her this.” There it was again. That sentence. The one that kept me from blaming him, from blaming her. The one that forced me to swallow years of loneliness and hardship. But we made that child together. Why was the debt all mine to pay? My heart was cold. I didn’t want to fight anymore. If Sarah wanted him that badly, she could have him. We were even. I shook his hand off and spoke, my voice flat. “That’s right. I’m the Commander’s sister-in-law.” “Leo, call him ‘uncle.’” “No.” “Call him.” “Un… cle.” Marcus’s face stiffened. He didn’t answer, his eyes swirling with a complicated emotion. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? So why was he hesitating? He knelt, pulling a bag of milk candies from his pocket to give to Leo. I pushed his hand away and led Leo out of the crowd. I didn’t look back once. I had just started packing our things when the yard gate was pushed open. Marcus walked in, leading Sarah and her son by the hand. My face was a mask of ice. “What are you doing here?” He pushed past me with his luggage. “Alright, stop sulking. You’ve been waiting all these years for me to come back, haven’t you? I could have been transferred to the capital, but I know you don’t like the dry northern air, so I came back to Oakhaven. From now on, our family of five will live a good life.” For a second, I thought I’d misheard him. “A family of five? Marcus, what in God’s name do you think I am?” “My wife, of course,” he said. He paused, then turned back with a smile. “But publicly, you’re still my sister-in-law. Don’t let it slip, alright? It would be awkward for Sarah.” He walked into the master bedroom and started throwing my and Leo’s bedding, clothes, and books out into the hall. He took out a brand-new set of sheets and carefully made the bed. Those strong hands… they had once pulled me from a raging flood. They had tended to me tirelessly in the hospital. I had fallen in love with him at first sight. I had defied my father, cut off all ties, just to marry him. Now, he was using those same hands to make a bed for another woman. It was time for things to go back to the way they were supposed to be. I knelt and whispered to a sobbing Leo. “I called Grandpa. He’s coming to get us soon.” “Grandpa is amazing. He even has a helicopter. You’ve always wanted to fly like the birds, haven’t you?” Leo’s swollen eyes lit up, and he nodded vigorously. “Mommy, I’m hungry.” I nuzzled his cheek and went into the kitchen. Sarah leaned against the doorframe, a smirk on her face. “You’ve got some patience, I’ll give you that,” she said. “I’ve moved into your house, and you still have the heart to cook for Marcus? What, are you planning on taking care of me when I have his second child?” I didn’t even look at her. Frustrated, she glared at me, then seemed to come to a decision. She lowered her voice. “You know, my husband Jake’s death had nothing to do with you. When you were in labor, Marcus insisted Jake take a detour to the bakery on the west side of town before going to the hospital. Everyone thought he was getting something for you. But really, it was because I’d whined about wanting some chestnut cakes. Who knew there’d be an accident on that little road?” She giggled, covering her mouth. “Marcus and I were first loves. We were separated when we were sent to the countryside for re-education. Now, after all this time, we’ve found our way back to each other. It’s destiny.” It felt like my heart had been crushed in a fist. I couldn’t breathe. For eight years, I had believed his lie without a single doubt. I had humbled myself time and time again, all to atone for a sin that wasn’t mine. I thought if I was just small enough, quiet enough, Marcus might think of me and Leo while he was “repaying his debt” to Sarah. I was so wrong. He was just happily, guiltlessly building his life with her on the wreckage of mine. A triumphant smile played on Sarah’s lips. “Today, I’m going to make you give up for good and get out of this family.” She took a knife and sliced a deep gash into her own arm, then let out a piercing scream. “Morgan, if you’re angry that I took Marcus, just say so! I’ll leave!” “You don’t have to do this…” Marcus burst into the kitchen. He fumbled for gauze to wrap her wound and then roared at me. “Wasn’t it enough that you got her husband killed? Now you’re trying to kill her too? You’re nothing but an ungrateful, backstabbing wretch!” The sheer absurdity of it made me want to laugh. “I’m the wretch?” I sneered. “And you, sleeping with your dead best friend’s wife… that makes you a man of honor?” The truth hit its mark. His face went white. “You… you have the nerve to ask me that?” he stammered. “How did a single woman raise a son all these years? I never asked you how many men you slept with.” Ugh. Disgusting. I pressed a hand to my stomach, fighting back a wave of nausea. Marcus grabbed my wrist. “And you have the audacity to play the victim?” he snarled. “It’s the first day and you’re already acting this jealous. How are we supposed to live together for the next few decades?” “Is this how you hurt Sarah?” He picked up the knife and moved to cut my hand. “Don’t you hurt my mommy!” Leo suddenly darted in front of me, his little arm outstretched. Startled, Marcus lost his grip. The knife fell. “Aaargh—!” Leo crumpled to the ground, his arm hanging limply, the bone shattered, held on only by skin and sinew. Blood pooled on the floor. My fingertips went numb. I whirled on Marcus, screaming. “Get the car! Take him to the hospital!” His face tightened, and he grabbed the car keys, ready to run. But Sarah started sobbing, clutching her arm. “My arm hurts so much, Marcus. What if I can never dance again?” He looked into her tear-filled eyes, and the guilt that had just appeared on his face vanished. He clenched his fists and turned on me, his voice cold. “You need to learn your lesson today. Apologize to Sarah right now, or I’m not taking Leo to the hospital.” “Are you insane? Marcus, that’s your son! He could die if you wait!” He blocked the doorway, his dark eyes empty and cold. “He’s your son, too. I want you to remember this. Remember the fear and pain of losing someone you love. Maybe then you’ll understand what Sarah has been through, and you’ll settle down and help me take care of her for the rest of our lives.” Sarah shot me a triumphant, mocking look. She mouthed a single, silent word. Loser. I stood frozen, my heart torn in two. One half seethed with the humiliation of eight years spent atoning for a lie. The other half was consumed with terror for my son. He was covered in blood, his breathing growing faint. I bit down on the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood. My knees buckled. I knelt. I bowed my head to Sarah, who looked down on me from her throne of deceit. I slapped my own face, hard. “I’m sorry,” I sobbed. “It was my fault. I’ll never hurt you again. Please, just let Marcus take Leo to the hospital…”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386298”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

At the celebration for his company going public, Julian Conrad drank from the glass his secretary handed him, a smudge of her lipstick still on the rim. When he came home that night, I asked for a divorce. He rubbed his temples, cutting me off with a wave of his hand. “It was just for show, Isabelle. Is this really necessary?” He scoffed. “And where would you go without me?” I hadn’t expected that. I stood there, frozen. In that moment, he seemed to realize his mistake. He fought through his drunken haze, trying to take it back. But before he could, I asked softly, “The woman living in the Harborview apartment—is she just for show, too?” … My voice was quiet, but it hit Julian like a thunderclap. His breathing hitched. He dropped the playful act, his body tensing as he took a step back. “How did you know?” How did I know? Because his little darling couldn’t wait to introduce herself. Before I could answer, Julian’s demeanor shifted. The calm was gone. “Mona is… different from the others,” he admitted. “But Isabelle, you don’t need to go to her.” I knew what he was worried about. He was afraid I’d do what I always did—hear a whisper of a rumor and show up on the woman’s doorstep, ready to ruin her life, just like all the others before her. But not this time. This time, I genuinely wanted out. Seeing how desperate he was to protect her, I realized this Mona must be special. In the past, he’d let me deal with the other women, real or imagined, however I saw fit. And as for her being “well-behaved”? If she were truly so well-behaved, she wouldn’t have shown up in front of me in the first place. But I wouldn’t expose her. Julian would find out the truth on his own soon enough. “If she’s so wonderful,” I said, my voice flat, “wouldn’t it be better for you to divorce me and marry her?” He shook his head, his refusal firm. “You’re different, Isabelle. I’ll never divorce you.” For a fleeting second, his words sparked a familiar anger in me, but it was quickly extinguished by his next, arrogant statement. “So, you don’t need to bother Mona. She will never be a threat to your interests.” His mercenary tone made my stomach turn. I don’t know when it happened, but he had started to measure everything, even love, in terms of profit and loss. He’d forgotten that when we first got married, it was in his grandfather’s old house in the countryside, surrounded by nothing but muddy fields. “Julian,” I said, my voice barely a whisper, “if it was all about your ‘interests,’ if it was all about money… why would I have married you in the first place?” He froze, just for a moment, then looked me up and down and let out a laugh. A cold, mocking laugh. “Isabelle, before you say something like that, you should take a look in the mirror. Look at what you’re wearing, what you own.” “Without me, could you afford clothes that cost thousands of dollars? Jewelry with six-figure price tags?” He stepped closer, wrapping an arm around my waist without waiting for an invitation. He pressed his body against mine, his voice a low, intimate murmur. “Isabelle, my money is yours. My heart is yours.” “So don’t worry about where my body is, okay?” His warm, alcohol-scented breath ghosted across my neck. I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened on my shoulder. He saw my struggle and chuckled, then released me. He leaned in, his dark eyes cold and piercing as they met mine. “Don’t be too greedy,” he warned. “You’ll end up with nothing.” A phone call saved me from the suffocating moment. It was Mona. Julian was right. On my own, I could never afford this life. Without him, I had nowhere to go. After my mother died and my father remarried, I had no family, no home. I twisted the ring on my finger, the diamond catching the light. I remembered its price tag clearly: seventy thousand dollars. The matching necklace was two hundred and twenty thousand. The dress I was wearing was nearly six. It was more money than I could ever earn in a lifetime. But so what? Jewelry wasn’t a necessity. I could wear a fifty-dollar dress and be just fine. His words didn’t sway me. They only strengthened my resolve. The next few days were a blur of law firms. Each one ended in failure. I’d exhausted nearly every option in the city. When I finally dragged myself home, exhausted and defeated, Julian was waiting for me in the living room. He set down his newspaper, a look of calm satisfaction on his face. “Find a lawyer, Isabelle?” I knew then why I had failed. He’d known what I was going to do. He’d gotten to them all first. “I told you,” he said, his voice soft. “We’re not getting a divorce.” He held out a handkerchief. “You’re sweating.” I slapped it away. He just smiled, unfazed by my anger. “Don’t look at me like that, Isabelle.” “You’ve been a housewife for too long. You’ve forgotten that the world isn’t black and white.” I scoffed, turning away. No, I was learning that lesson very quickly. “Mona had a lapse in judgment,” he said, his tone placating. “She bothered you. I promise, she won’t dare come near you again.” “Can you end it with her?” I asked, looking him in the eye. He sighed. “Isabelle, don’t be so idealistic.” “If it’s not Mona, it will be…” I dropped my gaze, tuning out the rest of his words. I stared at the intricate pattern of the carpet, my mind already packing a suitcase for a teaching trip. That morning, I’d seen an ad for a volunteer teaching program. During the thirty-minute cab ride to the first law firm, I’d put together my application and sent it in. On the way home, I saw I’d been accepted. Things with Julian were at a stalemate. Leaving the city seemed like the best option. When the program was over, I’d find a lawyer from out of state. Seeing that I wasn’t arguing, Julian fell silent. After a moment, he spoke again. “I won’t end things with Mona, but I promise, she will never be seen in public with me. She will never threaten your position. And all my money is in your name. Can’t you just stop being so dramatic about love and affection?” He reached for my hand, but I stepped away. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “What more do you want?” “Look at the men I know. They’re all like this. Most of them are worse.” I knew he was right. His business partner, for example, had a string of mistresses. But just because other people did it, did that make it right for us? Seeing the irritation on his face, I swallowed my words. “I’m tired,” I said. “I’m going to bed.” It wasn’t a lie. Days of rejection and condescension had worn me down. I fell asleep almost instantly. When I woke, the sun was setting. My phone buzzed. It was a message from the volunteer program coordinator. I accepted her friend request, and a message immediately popped up. [Ms. Ross, we’ll be meeting at the city airport in one week to fly out together.] I replied, and she sent over a list of necessary documents and things to keep in mind. It had been so long since I’d dealt with paperwork. I was exhausted, but for the first time in a long time, my heart felt light. I saw Julian at the hospital and finally understood why he’d been gone for the past two days. He was with Mona. They were walking into the obstetrics and gynecology department together. I glanced at the appointment board. It would be a while until my turn. I found a seat not too far from them. After a long wait, Mona came out of the office, a barely concealed joy on her face. A cold premonition washed over me. Mona was pregnant. But Julian… he had a low sperm count. We’d been married for ten years and never had a child. If Mona was really pregnant, would he finally agree to a divorce? I decided to stop hiding. I walked up behind them. A flicker of hope, the thought of freedom, brought a smile to my face. But it died just as quickly. “Get rid of it.” I was standing two steps behind them when I heard Julian’s cold, merciless words. Mona looked stunned. The joy vanished from her face, replaced by a ghastly pallor. She swayed on her feet. She pleaded with him with her eyes, but he was unmoved. In fact, a flicker of annoyance crossed his face at her disobedience. “I won’t acknowledge this child,” he said, his voice hard. “You can’t have it. I won’t have a bastard.” Mona seemed to misunderstand. She saw me, and rushed forward, dropping to her knees at my feet. “Mrs. Conrad,” she sobbed, “I know I’m shameless. I know I’m immoral. But please, I’m begging you, let me have this baby.” She clung to my legs, trapping me. I was afraid of falling, so I stood perfectly still, shooting a look at Julian that said, This is what you call not bothering me? “Please, Mrs. Conrad, it’s a life,” she wailed. “Please, I’m begging you.” A crowd was gathering. People were starting to whisper, piecing together the drama unfolding before them. As the murmurs grew, Julian’s face darkened with anger. But Mona was shamelessly committed to her performance. Out of the three of us, I was the only one who felt the humiliation. “Mona.” Julian’s voice was a low growl from behind me. The woman at my feet flinched. She looked back at him, her eyes brimming with tears, a desperate plea for pity. It wouldn’t work. This was Julian Conrad, a self-made man who had clawed his way to the top of the city’s business world in just eight years. His heart was harder than anyone’s. But I was wrong. He looked at Mona, let out an almost imperceptible sigh, and stepped forward to help her up. “Stop crying,” he said, his voice softening. “We’ll talk about this at home.” He gently wiped away her tears, his arm around her shoulders, supporting her. Was this really Julian? It felt like a dream. By the time I came to my senses, they were gone. Leaving me standing alone in the hospital corridor, a laughingstock for a growing audience of strangers. I tilted my head back, blinking away the tears. What a waste. I’d missed my appointment. I’d have to get back in line. It was almost dark by the time I finished my check-up and got home. I didn’t turn on the lights. I just stood in the entryway, looking at the cold, empty house. Every detail was to my taste, yet it all made me feel sick. Because every corner held a trace of him. “You’re back?” Julian’s voice came from the bedroom. He walked out and handed me a glass of water. It was a familiar gesture, the one he always used when he wanted something from me. “Mona doesn’t want to get rid of the baby,” he said, placing the glass in front of me. He watched me, testing the waters. “I was thinking… maybe we could let her have it, and you could raise it as our own.” I turned to look at him, and he quickly averted his gaze. As if catching himself, he looked back, his voice suddenly full of false confidence. “The Hamiltons from Sterling Group did the same thing, didn’t they? Their current CEO was an illegitimate son they brought home to raise.” His words sent my heart plummeting. The Hamiltons. The laughingstock of our social circle. The man who brought his illegitimate son home, pushed out his own legitimate child, and now lived with both his wife and his mistress under the same roof. I remembered the first time Julian had told me about them, the contempt in his voice. And now, he had become the very person he despised. Perhaps my stare was too intense, because he quickly changed the subject. “Why were you at the hospital today? Are you sick? I thought your last check-up was fine.” …

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386297”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The sixteenth time I went to bail Nathan out of jail. This time, I brought the divorce papers with me. Sophia was sobbing, her story tumbling out between breaths. “Clara, please don’t be mad. Some guys were harassing me at the club again, and Nate was just trying to protect me.” Nathan looked at me, his voice a soft, placating murmur. “Clara, can we please just talk about this at home? Don’t make a scene here.” Everyone stared at the bitter smile on the wife’s face. No one expected me to slap my husband across his. “Fine,” I said, my voice clear and cold. “You two can go home and get married.” “Just sign the divorce papers and leave me alone.” 1 A bitter night wind whipped through my hair. I looked down at the evening gown and heels I had so carefully chosen for the occasion, and a wave of self-loathing washed over me. I’d lost count of how many times Nathan and I had fought over Sophia. Ever since his ex-girlfriend had returned to the country, my emotions had been a runaway train. Even today, on my twenty-sixth birthday. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Nathan, telling me not to be angry, that he remembered my birthday and had a gift for me. Once, those words would have filled me with joy. That’s how it always was. He’d offer a gift, a small gesture of affection, and I would forget all my hurt and grievances, my love for him rekindled. But not this time. I scrolled through our chat history and saw the sixteenth apology for something involving Sophia. And in that moment, something inside me settled. The anger was gone. The hurt, the sadness—they had vanished too. All that was left was the tired certainty of knowing the ending before the story even begins. See? I knew what he was going to say. Every apology was because of her. The strange thing was, this time, it didn’t hurt at all. I bought myself a hot chocolate. And I walked home alone. For me, I guess love can die in an instant. 2 It was past five in the morning when Nathan, bailed out by someone else, finally showed up at my door. He hammered on the door, shouting that he wouldn’t divorce me. He broke a window pane to let himself in, bringing with him the cloying scent of Sophia’s gardenia perfume. “Clara, I’m sorry. I was wrong. Please, forgive me.” He reeked of alcohol and tried to touch me, to pull me into an embrace. He had no idea that the thick perfume clinging to him made me want to retch. I grabbed his wandering hands and threatened to call the police. His attitude soured instantly. “What’s the problem? We’ve been married for five years. What’s one more time?” “Clara, don’t forget, you were the one who said you didn’t mind that I had an ex. Now you’re going back on your word. You women are such fickle creatures.” Sensing he’d gone too far, he softened his tone. “I already apologized for what happened at the station. Can we please just stop fighting?” He reached for the sash of my robe. “I said, get out. If you don’t leave now, I’m calling the cops.” This was the small apartment I had bought before we were married. I have no idea how he even found this place. I could feel his anger building behind me, a familiar storm I had weathered too many times. I took him by surprise, grabbing a knife from the kitchen block. When I brandished it with a look of pure disgust and told him to get the hell out, his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, and a look of urgency crossed his face. He quickly tried to placate me one last time before stepping out to take the call. I knew who it was. Who else would he be so eager to talk to in the middle of the night? I could hear his voice from the hallway, laced with laughter and the soft, sweet tones he used to use with me, back when we were first in love. Tears streamed down my face as I tried to block it all out. I didn’t stay in the apartment. I checked into a nearby hotel. 3 I called my best friend. I needed a place to stay for a while. She was thrilled to have me. As for Nathan, I knew we were done. Truly done. I planned to have my things moved out of the apartment as soon as possible. My friend, a staunch bachelorette, knew I was heartbroken. She took a week off work and dragged me to amusement parks, determined to cheer me up. She knew me. Five years of love doesn’t just disappear. A part of me, deep down, was still holding on. We did everything I’d never dared to do before: bungee jumping, skiing, skydiving. Exhausted but happy, we finally headed back to her cozy little apartment. But Nathan was there, waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs. He spoke first, his voice strained. “Clara. You seem to be in a good mood, now that I’m gone.” “Yes. You’ve been busy, and so have I.” I had no interest in making small talk. “I’m sorry,” he said suddenly. “For ruining your birthday.” In the past, his jealousy would have been a secret thrill. Now, it was just… pathetic. “You don’t have to apologize. We’re not right for each other. When it’s over, it’s over.” I just wanted the conversation to end. He hesitated, a look of disappointment on his face when I didn’t explode with anger. “Actually, there’s something I need to tell you,” I began. “I think this relationship…” He cut me off, as if he knew what was coming. “Clara, I’ve already compromised.” Seeing the look on my face, he backtracked. “I’m so sorry. It was my fault. Please don’t…” I shattered his illusion. “We are not a good match.” “And I need you to consider my feelings. Your birthday wasn’t the first time, but it will be the last.” “You can look at your chat history. The apologies are endless. So many that… I’m just so, so tired.” Nathan was silent for a long time. He couldn’t meet my eyes. “I’m sorry, Clara,” he whispered. “Please don’t be angry…” I understood. He was still running. He knew there was a problem, but his only solution was to bury me in apologies until I gave up. The slam of the door echoed in the hallway. This time, I was the one who had slammed it. It was a release. An end to the emotional entanglement. A final, honest confession to myself. 4 I had already found a new apartment online. I hailed a cab with my two suitcases. As I settled into the back seat, my phone rang. It was Nathan. “Even if we break up, can’t we at least be friends?” he asked, his voice full of a bitter sadness. “I’m only just realizing what a terrible husband I’ve been.” “For the past two years, I’ve taken you for granted. I haven’t taken care of you.” “No wonder you left me. I was awful.” “Clara, I’ll change. I’ll be the man you fell in love with again. I’ll be even better.” “I won’t let you down again.” I sighed. “There’s no point, Nathan. We’re done. We don’t need to see each other again.” I hung up. I adapted to my new life with surprising ease. I was busy. Organizing my new home, buying furniture, focusing on my job, studying for certification exams in my spare time. My days were full from the moment I woke up until my head hit the pillow. It was a happy kind of busy. I never thought about Nathan. Not once. I didn’t care about his life, his relationships. I thought we would never see each other again. The world is a big place. Our paths had diverged. But one day, I came downstairs and saw him. He had found my new apartment. “What are you doing here?” I blurted out. “Coming home,” he said, pointing to the apartment across the hall. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” “I’m not.” He held up a grocery bag. “I just bought some things for hot pot. Want to join me tonight?” “Nathan, are you insane? Why would you move here?” “I’m not insane. I’m being perfectly rational.” He was actually smiling. “You’re an adult. You have your own home. Why are you wasting money on rent? This place is on the opposite side of the city from your office. You’re almost thirty, why are you acting like a child?” He just smiled. “I’m glad you still care about me, Clara.” I tried to leave, to check into a hotel, but he wouldn’t let me. He grabbed my arm and tried to drag me back to our old home. “That’s not our home anymore.” “Nathan, you can’t un-ring a bell. Let’s get a divorce.” “Why are you so obsessed with getting a divorce?” He just couldn’t wrap his head around it. In his mind, I was the one who was always accommodating, the one who couldn’t live without him. We’d been together since college. He was the student body president, handsome and brilliant, with a legion of admirers. I was the quiet, studious girl. Everyone said I was punching above my weight. To be honest, at first, he thought so too. If Sophia hadn’t gone abroad to study, I never would have had a chance. So he couldn’t understand why I would want to leave him. He thought he was doing me a favor by choosing me. And a charity case has no right to make demands. He was searching for an explanation. He thought I must have found someone else. “Clara, are you just trying to punish me for neglecting you? I swear, I’ll never do it again. I promise!” “Can we just drop the divorce talk for now?” He tried to kiss me, but I pushed him away. The thought of him and Sophia made my stomach turn. I wanted nothing to do with him. That evening, he showed up at my door with several containers of food he had cooked himself. My heart sank when I saw the plate of shrimp. I’m allergic to shrimp. After all these years, he still didn’t know. I never ate seafood. I just ate some plain rice. He thought I had no appetite and tried to put a shrimp on my plate. “I’m allergic to shrimp,” I said flatly. His chopsticks froze mid-air. He retracted his hand awkwardly. “I’m sorry, Clara. I do remember, I just… my head’s been all over the place tonight.” “It must be because you mentioned divorce. You can’t joke like that again.” 5 His words meant nothing to me anymore. A little while later, his phone rang. It was Sophia. He was instantly frantic. “What am I going to do? Sophia is allergic to cats! She can’t be around animals! How could she be so careless?” “I have to go to the hospital!” I watched him pace like a caged animal, my own heart as still as a frozen lake. I kept eating my rice. If I didn’t take care of myself, who would? He rushed out without another word to me, though he did manage to shout another “sorry” over his shoulder. I couldn’t understand his obsession. Not long after he left, my boss, Leo, called. “Clara, are you free for a drink?” I thought for a moment, then agreed. Leo said he was nearby and would pick me up. I was surprised when he pulled up in a sports car. He was dressed as impeccably as always, but his usually cool demeanor was flushed with alcohol. Leo had gone to the same university as me, a year behind me. He was a campus legend—handsome, wealthy, the whole package. I never expected to end up working for his company. We usually communicated through messages; we rarely saw each other in person. Tonight, he’d invited me out, and honestly, I needed a drink. But when we got to the bar, he just started downing glass after glass of whiskey. “You know,” he slurred, “love is a ridiculous thing. Of all the women I’ve met, you’re the most… reli… able.” He passed out. I managed to get him to his car before I realized I didn’t know where he lived. I couldn’t very well take him to my place. So I took him to a hotel. And there, in the hallway, I saw Nathan and Sophia, coming out of the room next to ours. Our eyes met. We were all stunned. “What… what are you doing here?” Nathan demanded, as if I was the one who needed to explain. “What are you doing here?” I shot back. “Shouldn’t you be at a hospital for a cat allergy?” “I… I…” he stammered. Sophia glared at me. “I asked him to come. So what? You can bring a man to a hotel, why can’t he?” I laughed. “He can do whatever he wants. We’re getting a divorce. Your games have nothing to do with me.” A complicated expression crossed Nathan’s face. He grabbed my hand. “Clara, you can’t be so cruel! You promised you’d love me forever!” I yanked my hand away from his. “Nathan, I’ve caught you red-handed. Are you still going to deny it?” “Let me explain! It’s not what you think! Sophia and I are just friends! We were just talking about some things!” I pushed open the door to their room. It was a mess. Used condoms and stockings were strewn across the floor. “This is what you call ‘talking’?” He was speechless.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386296”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The day my baby was due, I was in a horrific car crash on the way to the hospital. I was alone. My husband, an ER doctor, wasn’t there. He was off saving his first love after she’d tried to kill herself by slitting her wrists. I didn’t call him. I just watched as my mangled car exploded, consumed by a sea of fire. In my last life, a single desperate call from me was all it took. He’d abandoned Eliza at her apartment and rushed to my side. Our baby and I were saved, but Eliza bled to death, alone. Alex didn’t find her body for three days. He told me he didn’t blame me, that it was his choice. He even promised to make it up to me, to finally give me the wedding I deserved. But the night before the ceremony, he knocked me unconscious and dragged me to Eliza’s apartment. In the same bathtub where she’d bled out, he took a scalpel to me. He made me feel her pain, slice by agonizing slice. He even ripped our child from my womb while I was still alive. His eyes were bloodshot, a crazed reflection staring back at my mutilated body. “It was just a car crash! You would have survived!” he screamed, his voice cracking. “But Eliza… she died because of your call! Tonight, you’ll know exactly what she went through!” When I opened my eyes again, I was back. The day of the crash. 1 A deafening roar of metal, then the world was a nightmare of tumbling steel and shattering glass. Pregnant and bleeding, I was thrown around the cabin like a rag doll. My electric car, now a crumpled wreck, began to spew acrid white smoke. I couldn’t believe I was back here, at this exact moment. Reality hit me like a second impact. With every ounce of strength I had, I clawed my way out of the driver’s side window, my upper body spilling onto the asphalt. But my legs were pinned, trapped in the twisted metal. Bystanders kept their distance, their faces pale with the fear of an explosion. My cries for help were swallowed by the ringing in my ears. The crowd wasn’t going to help. It was up to me. My hands, slick with blood, trembled as I fumbled for my phone and dialed 911. A searing pain ripped through my abdomen, and a cold sweat drenched my forehead. The voice on the other end was one of Alex’s colleagues. I’d met her a few times. She recognized my voice instantly, and her tone turned to ice. “Clara, Dr. Monroe is tied up today. He told us you might call the main line if you couldn’t reach his cell. Look, I know what you’re going to ask, but I really can’t tell you where he is. This is a priority line, so please don’t waste our resources. I have to go.” “Wait!” I screamed, a new wave of panic washing over me as she started to hang up. Just then, the impact of the crash finally dislodged a pile of junk from the passenger side door panel—a shower of Eliza’s forgotten cosmetics rained down on the seat. I ignored them. “Don’t hang up! You don’t understand, I’m not looking for Alex! I was in a car accident, right at the intersection in front of the hospital! The car could explode any second, you have to send someone—” She cut me off, her voice dripping with annoyance. “Clara, stop the theatrics, will you? Dr. Monroe isn’t here. Even if we sent an ambulance, you wouldn’t see him. Please, just stop. This line is for saving lives. Do you understand? You’re tying up public resources. I’m begging you.” Her voice softened, but only with a patronizing pity. “He didn’t mean to ignore your calls, you know. He’s dealing with a life-or-death situation. You’re pregnant, just focus on that. Go home, rest, and don’t overthink things. He’ll explain everything when he’s done.” Then, the line went dead. A tear of pure despair traced a path through the grime on my cheek and splattered onto the pavement. I never imagined Alex would be so cruel, so thorough. He had cut off my every escape. I’d called his department before when Eliza had summoned him away with some flimsy excuse, but I’d never lied. I’d never faked an emergency. Seven years of marriage, and this is what he thought of me. No wonder he’d been so merciless in my past life, so detached as he carved me up for her. But there was no time for grief. Death was closing in. The heat inside the car was becoming unbearable, a pressure cooker about to blow. I took a ragged breath, my eyes falling to my swollen belly. I have to get out. With a primal scream, I pushed again, trying to drag my lower body through the shattered window. Glass shards sliced into my palms, embedding themselves deep in the flesh. I moved another six inches. My strength was fading. I collapsed onto the pavement, gasping for air. The skin on my back felt like it was roasting, and in just a couple of minutes, the car was completely shrouded in thick, black smoke. More people had gathered now. A few brave souls started shouting for help, asking if there was a doctor in the crowd. Suddenly, I heard the sound of hurried footsteps. It was Dr. Evans, the Head of the ER. Alex’s boss. 2 Dr. Evans took one look at the situation and immediately began organizing. He rallied a few of the braver onlookers, and together, they managed to pull me free of the wreckage. The second I was dragged to safety, the car erupted in a massive fireball, swallowing itself in flames. With practiced hands, Dr. Evans began assessing my injuries. A small crowd of good Samaritans huddled around us, their voices a worried murmur. “Why would anyone let a pregnant woman drive by herself? Her family must be out of their minds!” “Is she okay? I called 911, but the line was busy forever. When I finally got through and gave the location, they told me to stop playing games and hung up before I could even say ‘car crash’! What kind of psychos are they hiring at that hospital?” “Honey, you shouldn’t be out alone when you’re this far along. You look like you could go into labor any second. What’s your husband’s number? I’ll call him for you.” The genuine concern in their voices, from the very people who had been too afraid to approach just moments before, brought a lump to my throat. I shook my head weakly, the tearing pain in my body a dull roar in the background. Even total strangers on the street could show me this much kindness. Yet the man I’d been married to for seven years was ready to sacrifice me and our child for the woman who had once shattered his heart. The seven-year itch… it was more like a fatal poison. It felt like fate was slapping me in the face, showing me just how blind and foolish I had been. No one else seemed to notice, but with every comment from the crowd, Dr. Evans’s expression grew darker and darker. After a quick examination, he pulled out his own phone and dialed the ER. The moment the call connected, his voice boomed with fury. “Get an ambulance to the main intersection, now! Are you all blind? Didn’t you hear about the crash? If I hadn’t been passing by on my way to work, we’d be looking at a body! How many goddamn calls does it take to get you people to do your job? Who the hell do you think you are?” “Do you have any idea how critical the ER is? If you can’t handle the pressure, then pack your bags and get the hell out!” Five minutes later, I was being loaded into an ambulance. Just then, my phone, which someone had recovered, started ringing. Dr. Evans kindly answered it and held it to my ear. The voice on the other end was Alex’s, and it was filled with rage. A shiver of pure dread ran down my spine. “You called the department again? Seriously, Clara? When are you going to stop this? I told you I was busy today! Why do you always have to bother me at the worst possible time? The baby’s almost here, act like a goddamn adult for once!” “My job is stressful enough without you calling over every little thing! Can’t you function without me for five minutes? Every woman on the planet gets pregnant, but you’re the only one who acts like a complete psycho!” “If I hadn’t come over here today, Eliza would have bled out! Do you get that? Can’t you be considerate for once in your life? I’ll come home when I’m done. Stop bothering me!” I could hear Eliza’s faint, pitiful sobs in the background. After his tirade, without asking a single question about why I might be calling, without giving me a chance to speak, he hung up. The image of his cold, merciless face from my past life flooded my mind. Tears streamed from my eyes, soaking the gurney pad. My breathing hitched, ragged and shallow. A violent contraction seized my womb, and I finally felt it. A warm gush of crimson blood mixed with amniotic fluid, spreading beneath me. But even this pain was nothing compared to the agony of a thousand cuts he had inflicted upon me before. As they wheeled me into the ER, the colleague who had taken my call saw my pale, blood-streaked face on the gurney. Her eyes went wide with horror. She rushed over, stammering apologies, claiming she thought the car crash was just another one of my excuses to find Alex, that hanging up on me was all a terrible misunderstanding. Dr. Evans, sensing something was deeply wrong, questioned her. That’s when he learned that I was Alex Monroe’s wife of seven years. His face turned purple with rage. He immediately pulled out his phone and dialed Alex. 3 He put the call on speaker, making sure I could hear every word. “Alex, where are you right now? Your wife’s been in an accident. She’s going into surgery. Get your ass back here, now!” I expected Alex to at least hesitate, hearing his boss’s command. I was wrong. His voice was cold and firm. “Dr. Evans? Did Clara run crying to you? Don’t believe a word she says. She’s completely unhinged. All she does is pick fights with me at home. I’m a doctor, I can’t just refuse to treat someone because my wife gets jealous!” “If I’d been a minute later today, my patient would be dead! She’s still not stable!” “Just get Clara admitted for observation. And maybe you can talk some sense into her for me. If she won’t listen, fine. Let her believe what she wants!” Dr. Evans was so stunned by Alex’s attitude that he could barely speak. He gritted his teeth, a vein throbbing on his forehead. But before he could unleash his fury, a soft, fragile voice drifted through the phone. Eliza’s voice. “Is that Clara? Are… are you leaving? Then I’ll be all alone again, won’t I? I guess it makes sense… with your baby coming so soon. It’s my fault for not being able to let you go…” As if terrified she might say more, Alex abruptly ended the call. Another brutal contraction hit me, and the world went black. As Dr. Evans rushed me into the operating room, my mind drifted back, back to my first life. The last time, I had called Alex the second the crash happened. He had been on his way to Eliza’s. Hearing my panicked voice, he’d turned around instantly. He’d pulled me from the driver’s seat with his bare hands and carried my bloody body into the ER himself. He didn’t rest until he knew I was out of danger. But the trauma had been too much, and the baby didn’t come that day. By the time he got me home and raced to Eliza’s apartment, all he found was a cold corpse in the bathtub. The gash on her wrist was deep enough to see bone. He said nothing. He handled her funeral arrangements alone. When he finally reappeared two days later, he was calm, as if nothing had happened. He told me Eliza was gone. He saw the guilt on my face and just shook his head, his expression blank. He told me he didn’t blame me. He said the incident made him realize how fragile life was. He couldn’t wait any longer; he wanted to give me a real wedding. I looked into his eyes, the same eyes I had loved for years, and I chose to believe him. That was my mistake. The night before our wedding, he knocked me out and dragged me to her home. He tied my hands and feet, curling my body into the same tub where she had died. The love I thought I saw in his eyes was gone, replaced by a chilling, blood-red hatred. He was a madman who had lost his one true love. The scalpel in his hand gleamed under the dim bathroom light. As my world crumbled, he spoke, his voice a low whisper. “It was just a car crash. You wouldn’t have died. But Eliza… without me, she really died…” “Do you know how deep her wound was? Do you know how much blood she lost that day?” “She was lying right where you are, in this exact position. The blood pooled around her ankles. All my years of medical training… I never knew a human body could hold so much blood. It was all I could see…” “But don’t worry,” he hissed, a monstrous smile twisting his lips. “You’ll find out soon enough.” He placed a framed photo of Eliza on the edge of the tub, so she could watch him avenge her. The first cut sent a bolt of agony through me so intense I nearly passed out. But my screams and pleas meant nothing to him. He was deaf to them. He worked with a chilling precision. Our baby, who was so close to being born, took its first and last breath in that cold, sterile air. I thought that was the end of his revenge. It was only the beginning. He raised the scalpel again and again, raining down blows on me and our child. He chanted like a man possessed, a specter in his own private hell. “This deep… right here… this much blood… Eliza must have been in so much pain. She must have needed me so much…” In the last second before I died, I counted. A thousand cuts. He had carved a thousand cuts into my body and the body of our baby. Afterward, he left our corpses in the tub. He held a wedding ceremony with Eliza’s urn. My soul lingered, watching him, seeing the insane obsession in his eyes. Only then did I finally understand my own foolishness. But it was too late. I should have known seven years ago, the day she returned from overseas on our wedding day. The day he got that call and left me standing alone at the altar. It didn’t matter that she was the one who had abandoned him, that he was the one who had come to me for comfort. Next to Eliza, I never stood a chance. A wedding without a groom, a marriage without love. I held it all together by myself for seven years. And now, it had finally ended in a bloodbath. 4 When I opened my eyes again, I was in a hospital room. A nurse was gently explaining that they hadn’t been able to save the baby. My hands drifted to my stomach. Only the loose, empty flesh remained as proof that a life had ever been there. I stared blankly at the ceiling tiles, my hand reaching for my phone on the nightstand. I was about to text Alex two words—I want a divorce—when his call came through first. I answered. Before I could speak, he unleashed a torrent of fury. “What the hell is this crap online? Did you post this? Are you insane? Do you have any idea how much damage this is doing to the hospital? Take it down, now! I can’t take another day of this. Spreading rumors is illegal, you know that? Can’t you just be a normal person for once?” “Take it down, or we’re getting a divorce!” He hung up before I could even process what he was saying. Pure, unadulterated hatred drowned out every other thought. My nails dug into my palms, my knuckles white with strain. This time, Eliza was fine. He hadn’t done anything overtly criminal, so I had no grounds to call the police. Remembering his words, I opened my phone. I saw it immediately. Some bystander had filmed the aftermath of the crash and posted it online. The internet had seized on the key detail: a desperate 911 call that was ignored. The hospital’s ER was being crucified online, trending for all the wrong reasons. If Dr. Evans hadn’t shown up at the end of the video, offering a small glimmer of competence, the entire hospital might have been forced to shut down from the backlash. I searched for the hospital’s official social media page; it had already been deleted under a tidal wave of angry comments. The ER had made a fatal error. I had no reason to defend them or ask for the video to be taken down. In fact, I was enjoying the show. I clicked over to Eliza’s Instagram. In stark contrast to the hospital’s chaotic meltdown, her page was a picture of serene, curated perfection. Not a single hint of a self-destructive tendency. She had even posted an update while I was in surgery. A picture of a sunset, with the caption: The perfect partner is the best medicine for any illness of the mind. I let out a bitter, sarcastic laugh and liked the post. Her acting was truly superb. Enjoy your ‘perfect partner,’ I thought. He’s all yours. A minute later, my phone rang again. Alex. I didn’t answer. I just declined the call and blocked his number. Immediately, a text notification popped up. Why are you harassing Eliza? If you have a problem, take it up with me. Stop acting like a psycho in front of her! I quickly typed back: Let’s get a divorce. Then I blocked him on that platform, too. Just then, a commotion erupted in the hallway outside. A feeding frenzy of reporters had descended on the hospital lobby, demanding to speak with the head of the ER. Nurses and security guards were shouting, “No cameras!” but it was useless. Dr. Evans came out of his office to try and control the chaos, identifying himself as the doctor in the video, but he was drowned out. The hospital director arrived in a panic, but the press wasn’t buying any of his placating statements. Bowing to the immense pressure, the hospital served up the colleague who had taken my 911 call. She stood before the cameras, weeping hysterically, claiming she had been manipulated by Alex and that her professional failure was an honest mistake. Then, the director’s next call was to Alex. He was ordered to be at the hospital within thirty minutes. Worried I’d be swarmed by reporters, Dr. Evans came into my room, advising me to stay put. He promised they would handle it, admitting that the hospital was at fault. I had just nodded when my room door was kicked open. Alex stormed in. He completely ignored Dr. Evans, his face a mask of fury as he bellowed at me. “I told you to explain what happened! Are you deaf? You know damn well what the situation was! If you don’t retract this story, I’ll sue you for slander! You’ve pushed it this far—is this what you wanted? To force me to divorce you?” “Fine,” I said calmly. “Let’s get a divorce.” He didn’t seem to hear me. His gaze dropped to my flat stomach, and his eyes widened in shock. He paused for a second, his angry gaze sweeping over the empty, sterile room. His voice, when it finally came, was hesitant. “The baby?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386295”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel