It wasn’t a holiday splurge or an extravagant purchase that tipped me off. It was a charge on the Visa statement, a recurring monthly payment I didn’t recognize. The recipient was The Briarwood Academy, the most exclusive bilingual preschool in Boston. But our son, Leo, was in the second grade at the public school down the street. I didn’t hesitate. I drove straight to Briarwood, posing as a prospective parent. The admissions director was effusive, eager to sell me on their program. “You should look at one of our star kindergarteners, Noah Hayes,” she gushed. “His father, Michael Hayes, is our Parent-Teacher Association’s most distinguished representative.” My husband’s name is Michael Hayes. I waited in my car across the street, a knot of ice forming in my stomach. Soon enough, I saw him—my Michael—walking out, holding the hand of a small boy. A woman with a radiant smile stood beside them, handing the boy a snack. My hand was steady as I picked up my phone and dialed his number. My voice, when I spoke, betrayed nothing. “Hey, are you at the office?” He paused for a beat before answering. “Just got in. It’s a crazy day, a big meeting. I’ll call you later.” I disconnected the call without another word. I raised my phone, zoomed in, and let the camera capture the perfect, happy little family in crystal-clear focus. “Michael,” I whispered to the screen. “Your distinguished life is officially over.” 1 Michael came home after midnight. He stepped into the living room, and his stride faltered for a fraction of a second when he saw me sitting there in the dark. He recovered instantly, pasting a weary smile on his face as he loosened his tie. “Olivia, honey. Why are you still up?” He came over and sat beside me on the sofa, his arm draping naturally over my shoulders. “Couldn’t sleep. I was just going through some old things.” I opened my hand. Lying in my palm was the simple silver band he’d given me when we had nothing—our first ring. “Remember this?” His eyes fell to the ring, and his whole body went rigid. “Of course, I do,” he said, his voice dropping into a low, sentimental register. “We… we had it so tough back then.” He launched into the well-worn story of our scrappy beginnings, a narrative of shared struggle and eventual triumph. It was a beautiful story. If I hadn’t driven to Briarwood today, it might have even moved me to tears. After laying a sufficient foundation of nostalgic emotion, he finally made his pivot. “Thinking about the old days… it makes me think of Rick.” Rick was his buddy from the army, who’d died in a car crash years ago. “That tuition payment,” he began, his tone confessional. “I never told you. I’ve been paying for his kid’s school, anonymously. I set it up under Rick’s name so it wouldn’t be traced back to me.” He sighed, a masterful performance of weary nobility, and took my hand. “He went so suddenly, Olivia. Left his wife and kid with nothing. I couldn’t just stand by.” He squeezed my hand. “It’s a delicate situation. I didn’t want to make them feel like a charity case, so I kept it from you. I didn’t want them to feel any pressure.” He looked at me, his eyes brimming with a sincerity that was almost flawless. I just watched him, silent. He must have mistaken my silence for stunned acceptance, or maybe he felt his performance needed an encore. He actually pulled out his phone and played a video. “Look, this was last week. I took his son, little Danny, to the hospital for a check-up.” On the screen, a frail-looking boy with a pale face sat on an examination table. Michael was kneeling in front of him, gently fixing the collar of his shirt. A shard of ice pierced my heart. He wasn’t just betraying me. He was using a sick child as a prop to weave an unbreakable lie. He turned off the phone and reached up to stroke my cheek. The hand that had once been my greatest comfort now sent a wave of physical revulsion through me. “Olivia, I know how soft your heart is. I didn’t want you to carry this burden with me.” His voice was a gentle murmur. “All you need to do is relax. Just be the happy, carefree Mrs. Hayes.” The happy, carefree Mrs. Hayes. He had stripped me of the right to my own reality, caging me in a life of blissful ignorance, expecting me to sing for him. That single sentence cauterized the last remnant of love I had for him. I looked up and managed a smile. “You carry so much, my love. Thank you.” Satisfied, he kissed my forehead and headed for the shower. The moment I heard the water running, I pulled out my phone and called my best friend, Maya. My voice was shaking, but every word was laced with venom. “Maya, I need you to find out everything you can about a woman named Chloe Sterling.” I took a breath. “He wants me to be a fool for the rest of my life. Fine. I’m going to show him exactly how a fool can drag a king to hell.” 2 Maya was faster than I ever could have imagined. The next morning, a single text from her lit up my phone. Be careful, Liv. This isn’t just an affair. He’s liquidating your assets. My heart hammered against my ribs. I rushed to my laptop, trying to log into my personal investment account. A cold, sterile pop-up box appeared on the screen: [ACCOUNT ACCESS DENIED. ADMINISTRATIVE HOLD.] Every bank account, every stock, every mutual fund held in my name—frozen. I stormed into his home office. Michael was sitting at his desk, a complex spreadsheet glowing on the monitor. He heard me enter but showed no flicker of panic, calmly closing the window. He swiveled in his chair, his face a mask of gentle concern. “Olivia? What’s wrong?” “My accounts. What the hell is going on?” I shoved my phone in his face, showing him the error message. He glanced at it, his expression placid. “Oh, that. It’s just a temporary measure. The company is undergoing its annual financial audit, and regulations are tight this year.” He explained it with the practiced ease of a CEO addressing a clueless subordinate. “To avoid any risk of insider trading, they’ve placed a temporary hold on all accounts linked to senior executives and their immediate families. It’s standard procedure.” It was a perfect explanation. Plausible. Airtight. He then pulled a credit card from his wallet and handed it to me. “You can use this supplementary card in the meantime. It only has a five-thousand-dollar limit, so you might have to cut back a little. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.” He was using corporate policy as a shield while systematically cutting off my financial lifeline. “Why didn’t you tell me this was happening?” I demanded. Michael stood up and walked toward me, letting out a soft, pitying sigh. He opened his desk drawer, pulled out a piece of paper, and handed it to me. It was an appointment confirmation for a “Comprehensive Psychiatric Evaluation.” The patient’s name was Olivia Hayes. He spoke in a tone dripping with sorrow and feigned helplessness. “Olivia, you haven’t been yourself lately. You’re emotional, paranoid… I’m worried about you.” He gestured to the paper. “I’ve made an appointment for you with Dr. Albright. He’s the best in his field.” His eyes met mine, filled with a chillingly false compassion. “Once you’re feeling more stable, we’ll sort out the account situation. I promise.” I finally understood. He was going to have me declared mentally unstable. He was forging a weapon out of love and concern, an invisible cage that would render all my protests, all my accusations, the meaningless ramblings of a madwoman. The blood in my veins turned to ice. Just then, the doorbell rang. Michael went to answer it, his expression shifting instantly into one of profound grief and exhaustion. Two men in neat, professional attire—not white coats, but something far more unnerving in their quiet authority—stood on the doorstep. Michael spoke to them, his voice heavy with sorrow. “Thank you for coming. My wife… she’s been in a very bad way. She needs help.” This wasn’t an appointment. It was an involuntary commitment. He was going to brand me as insane in front of the world, so that every truth I spoke would be dismissed as delusion. The two men flanked me, their hands gently but firmly on my arms, guiding me toward the door. As I passed Michael, he gave me a small, reassuring smile. His lips formed the silent words: “It’s for the best.” But his eyes told a different story. In their depths, I saw the cold, triumphant truth he didn’t dare speak aloud: with me declared mentally incompetent, he would gain uncontested control of the controlling shares in the company I had inherited from my father. It was a checkmate. Just before they led me into the waiting car, I summoned every ounce of my strength and twisted free from their grasp. I looked at Michael’s suddenly alarmed face and spoke in a low, clear voice, using a code only he would understand. “Michael, you seem to have forgotten something,” I said, my words a stiletto’s point. “You never learned how to play the game my father left me.” I saw his pupils contract in a flash of pure shock. The car door closed, sealing me in. I immediately activated the emergency beacon on my watch, a direct line to Maya. “Execute Plan B,” I whispered. “He wants to put me in a madhouse? Fine. Let’s show him what a public crucifixion looks like first.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385976”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The year I hit rock bottom, I took a hundred thousand dollars to pretend to be my sister and care for her blind fiancé. The day he got his sight back, I vanished. The next time we met, I was on one side of a press conference, and he was on the other. I was a nobody, an intern with a press pass. He was Ethan Prescott, back at the helm of his family’s empire. A seasoned journalist from the Times was asking the question on everyone’s mind. “Mr. Prescott, it’s been said that during your recovery, your fiancée, Ms. Sutton, was your rock. We hear wedding bells are in your future?” A ghost of a smile touched his lips. He lifted his hand, flashing a simple ring on his finger. “Yes. Olivia and I are getting engaged.” But his eyes, through the designer lenses of his glasses, drifted past the rows of eager reporters and landed, for just a moment, in the shadowed corner where I was standing. 1 The conference room buzzed with gossip before he arrived. “The guy we’re interviewing today? He’s the one who really runs the Prescott Group now.” “I heard five years ago he went blind, got kicked out of the family and everything. If it wasn’t for his fiancée sticking by him, he probably would’ve ended it all.” “Shh, keep it down—” I sat on the folding chair at the back, forcing a smile onto my face. My nails dug so deep into my palms I was surprised they didn’t draw blood. Suddenly, Mark, the senior reporter I was shadowing, turned to me. “Leah, be a doll and grab me a bottle of water, will you? My throat’s sandpaper.” I had just reached the water cooler by the main doors when they swung open. The familiar silhouette filled the doorway, and my brain went completely blank. Three years had done more than just change Ethan Prescott; they had forged him into someone new. The slender frame of the boy I knew was gone, replaced by the broad shoulders of a man. The lines of his face were sharper, harder. And his eyes—the eyes that were once lost in a beautiful, milky haze were now clear, cold, and cutting. “Excuse me.” His voice was low and detached. His gaze swept over me through his glasses, the way you’d look at a coat rack or a piece of furniture. A complete stranger. There was no flicker of recognition, not a single pause. Flanked by a security detail, he moved toward the stage. As he passed, a cool, woody scent—sandalwood and something else I couldn’t name—trailed in his wake. I stood frozen for a few seconds before the reality of it hit me. Of course he didn’t recognize me. The two years I spent with him were the lowest point of his life. He’d been exiled from his family, his sight stolen in a car crash. He had no idea what I looked like. …It was better this way. By the time I returned with the water, the interview was underway. Ethan sat on stage, fingers steepled under his chin, commanding the room with an unnerving calm. He was fielding questions about market projections and corporate restructuring. Suddenly, a side door opened. Olivia Sutton swept in, a practiced smile on her face as she addressed Ethan. “Sorry I’m late, darling,” she cooed. “Things on set were just frantic.” She gathered the hem of her magnificent champagne-colored dress and took the seat reserved for her beside him. The room, silent for a beat, erupted in a flurry of camera flashes and excited murmurs. The atmosphere turned electric, intimate. Mark took a sip of water and glanced from the stage to me, his eyes widening in discovery. “You know, Leah,” he whispered, “you and Olivia Sutton look kind of alike.” I pressed my lips into a thin line, managing a weak laugh. “She’s a movie star, Mark. You’re flattering me.” Of course we looked alike. She was my sister. 2 “It’s said that during your illness, Ms. Sutton here was by your side through it all. Is it true that you two are close to tying the knot?” The air in my lungs turned to stone. I watched Ethan on the stage. He let that small, controlled smile grace his lips again. He raised his left hand, the ring on his fourth finger catching the light. It was a simple silver band. Plain. Unadorned. …It was the one I’d bought him. The one I worked two part-time jobs to afford, just to see him smile. On the finger of the heir to the Prescott fortune, a ring that cheap was a paradox. A riddle. He didn’t seem to notice. His thumb stroked the worn metal, a gesture so familiar it made my chest ache. “Yes,” he said. “She and I are getting engaged.” As he spoke, his gaze swept the audience once more. It was a calculated, sweeping glance, but it paused, for a fraction of a second, on me. In my corner. Then it was gone. The microphone was passed to Olivia. “Ms. Sutton, we hear you’re currently filming Director Hayes’s new picture. He rarely casts newcomers. Did Mr. Prescott’s influence play a part in that?” She smiled, a portrait of gracious honesty. “Of course.” “I’ve always been confident in my own abilities,” she continued, “but I won’t deny that Ethan has opened so many doors for me. I believe I’ve earned that kind of devotion.” Her candor won a ripple of appreciative murmurs. Someone else called out, “Could you tell us a story from that time? About how you supported each other when he was at his lowest?” The radiant smile on Olivia’s face froze. In the strange, suspended silence that followed, time seemed to slow down. After a long moment, it was Ethan who broke the tension with a soft laugh. He took the microphone. “There’s not much to tell.” His voice was smooth, dismissive. “The memories she and I share… they’re ours. That’s all that matters.” A sudden, hot sting filled my eyes. I gripped my pen, my head ducking down in a panic. If I closed my eyes, I was right back there. Ethan, in his youth, had been arrogant and reckless, making enemies easily. After his fall from grace, some of them came looking for trouble, showing up at our small apartment to torment him. I’d thrown myself in front of him, and they’d shoved me down a short flight of stairs. I landed hard, my body a canvas of scrapes and blood. The sight of it scared them off. They scrambled away, shouting insults over their shoulders. I gritted my teeth, pulled myself up, and tried to pretend nothing had happened. I walked back to him. “Let’s go. We’re going home.” But Ethan’s hand shot out and grabbed mine. “You’re hurt. We have to go to the hospital.” “I’m not—” “I can smell it! I smell blood!” His voice cracked, rising in panic. A tear escaped from one of his clouded eyes and rolled down his cheek, like a star coated in ash. His arms, still the lean arms of a boy, wrapped around me in a desperate, tight embrace. And when he spoke, the name he whispered was my sister’s. “Olivia.” “When I get better,” he vowed, his voice thick with emotion, “I’m going to give you the biggest wedding the world has ever seen.” 3 After the interview, the sky had turned a bruised purple. A fine, misty rain was falling outside the convention center. Mark patted his pockets. “Damn. Leah, I left the memory card inside. Can you run back and get it?” I ran, my shoes slapping against the wet pavement. The elevator chimed, the number 1 lighting up. The doors slid open. And I came face-to-face with the two of them. Olivia had her head tilted, chattering away to Ethan about some trivial drama from her movie set. He wore a mask of indifference, but he was listening. Patiently. The posture of intimacy was unmistakable. When she saw me, Olivia’s expression soured into a look of pure disgust. “…Sorry,” I mumbled, turning to take the stairs instead. “Wait.” Ethan’s voice stopped me. I froze, my back to him. “You needed the elevator, didn’t you? Go ahead.” I turned back slowly, deliberately lowering my voice to a mumble. “Thank you, Mr. Prescott.” He told me to go ahead, but he didn’t move. He and Olivia blocked the entrance, his eyes fixed on me. “You were at the press conference today? One of the reporters?” he asked. “I don’t recall you asking a question.” I kept my eyes down. “I just graduated, Mr. Prescott. I’m an intern. I don’t have questioning privileges yet.” “I see.” He said it softly, his tone unreadable. Beside him, Olivia shot me a venomous look before tugging on his arm. “Ethan, let’s go. We have that dinner with Director Hayes tonight.” Ethan’s gaze finally left me. “Right.” 4 I stood alone in the ascending elevator, my mind a million miles away. After my parents divorced, my father took Olivia and married into the wealthy Sutton family. From my earliest memories, I’d never even met her. Then, five years ago, she found me. “I’ll give you a hundred thousand dollars,” she’d said. “You take my place. You go take care of someone for me.” My mom had just passed away from a long illness, leaving behind a mountain of medical debt. I had no other choice. I agreed. It was only after I said yes that I learned who I was supposed to care for: Ethan Prescott, the heir to the Prescott fortune. And her fiancé, who’d had a terrible accident shortly after their engagement was announced. “He’s a blind cripple,” she’d sneered, her face twisted with revulsion. “A washed-up reject from a rich family. Who would want to waste their time on that? If it weren’t for my reputation, I would’ve broken off the engagement months ago.” At the time, Olivia’s acting career was just taking off. She’d landed a breakout role and was on the verge of stardom. The last thing she needed was a reputation for being cruel and faithless. So she outsourced the burden to me. Ethan had lived eighteen years as a prince. The sudden, brutal change had shattered him. His temper was a weapon, and in those first few months, I was his primary target. I was pelted with a constant barrage of sarcasm and cold fury. But I was being paid to do a job, so I never talked back. Until one day. I’d gone to the cemetery to visit my mother’s grave and got back a little late. He launched into his usual tirade. “Olivia, stop the act! Don’t think I don’t know how much you hate this, how disgusted you are with me! You’re only here because you’re afraid of what people will—” He never finished the sentence. Because I lunged forward, grabbed his shirt, and kissed him. It was my first kiss. I had no idea what I was doing. It wasn’t gentle or romantic; it was fueled by weeks of frustration and a flicker of anger, more like a bite than a kiss. Ethan went completely still. Silent. The tips of his ears turned a shade of deep crimson. “You—!” Fueled by a spark of malice, I bit his lip, just a little. Then I pulled back, my hands braced on his shoulders, my breath coming in ragged gasps. “Did you feel that?” I whispered, my voice shaking. “Do you still think I’m disgusted by you?” 5 I found Mark downstairs with the memory card. “Attagirl, Leah,” he said, pleased. “You’re a hard worker. Listen, there’s a dinner tonight, some industry people. You should come, meet some contacts. Networking is half the job in this business.” I thanked him, my stomach twisting into a nervous knot. When our cab pulled up to the restaurant, my heart stopped. Parked out front was a familiar black Rolls-Royce. I froze. “Mark… are the Prescotts here tonight?” He turned and gave me a sly wink. “The dinner is with Mr. Prescott. Don’t underestimate your old pal Mark’s connections.” It was too late to back out. I had to plaster on a smile and follow him inside. Thankfully, the private dining room was enormous. We were at a table of junior reporters and media assistants, a world away from the main table where Ethan sat with industry titans. Mark was true to his word, introducing me to a dozen different editors and producers. “This is Leah Dawson, our newest intern. Sharp as a tack, this one. Leah, say hello.” As the rookie, I couldn’t escape the ritual of toasting each new acquaintance. By the end of it, my head was spinning. I barely managed to excuse myself before bolting to the restroom, my hand clamped over my mouth. I retched until my stomach was empty. After rinsing my mouth and splashing cold water on my face, I walked out. The hallway lighting was dim and yellow. In the shadows by a large window stood a familiar figure. My heart hammered against my ribs. My first instinct was to pretend I hadn’t seen him, to just walk away. I took one step, and his voice came from the darkness behind me. Each syllable was deliberate, weighted with a thousand unspoken emotions. “Leah. Dawson.” My feet were glued to the floor. I swallowed hard, listening to the slow, measured sound of his footsteps approaching. I squeezed my eyes shut. The footsteps stopped right in front of me. His presence was a physical thing, the scent of him—that cool, woody fragrance—filling the air between us. I opened my eyes. He was looking down at me, his own eyes as deep and dark as the ocean. “…Mr. Prescott.” My throat was tight with anxiety. “How did you know my name?” He didn’t answer right away, just studied my face for a long moment before straightening up. “Your colleague,” he said, his voice flat. “He’s been introducing you to the entire room. Loudly.” Thinking of Mark’s booming voice, I felt a hot blush creep up my neck. “Oh. I’m sorry about that. He’s very supportive of the interns, maybe a little too enthusiastic. If we disturbed you, I apologize.” I was rambling, trying to smooth things over, terrified I’d somehow gotten Mark into trouble. Ethan went quiet again. Under the warm, yellow light, he narrowed his eyes slightly, a smirk playing on his lips. “In your eyes, Ms. Dawson, do I seem like a man who gets easily disturbed?” I looked down at my shoes. “That’s not what I meant.” The next thing I knew, a gold-embossed business card was being held out in front of me. “You’re still an intern, correct?” he asked. “There’s an opportunity. Are you interested?” 6 I was still dizzy when I got back to the table. Mark immediately grabbed my arm. “You okay, Leah?” I rubbed my throbbing temples. “Sorry, Mark. I had stomach surgery a while back. I can’t really hold my liquor.” He frowned, about to say something, but his gaze fell to the business card in my hand. His eyes widened in disbelief. “Is that… is that Mr. Prescott’s personal card?” I nodded, my mind replaying the bizarre encounter. That card was the stuff of legends in our industry, a direct line to the man himself, something money couldn’t buy. There’s no such thing as a free lunch. I looked up at him in the hallway, careful to keep my voice even, professional. “This is a very generous offer, Mr. Prescott. Why would you give it to an unknown intern like me?” A corner of his mouth lifted. “Let’s just say… I have a good feeling about you.” It was an arrogant, infuriatingly Ethan-like answer. The Ethan I knew, after we’d grown closer, would show flashes of that same reckless petulance. Especially in certain moments. I would grit my teeth, swallowing the soft sounds threatening to escape my lips as my fingers tangled in his hair. “…You can’t see, so stop moving around so much.” In the dim light of our small apartment. The boy would tilt his head back. Soft bangs would fall across his unfocused eyes. He’d lick his lips, and his fingers would press lightly against the pulse in my neck. “Other parts of me work just fine,” he’d whisper. “So you need to be louder.” “Let me hear you.” … I snapped back to the present, muttered some excuse to Mark, and tried to act normal for the rest of the night. The next day at the office, my boss called me in. His smile was unusually warm. “Leah, you know that hit reality talk show, Heart of the Matter? They’re doing a live special. Pack your bags. You’re going to be on the panel as a special guest contributor.” It was only after I started the prep work that I realized. The guests for the next episode were Olivia Sutton and Ethan Prescott. After the press conference, the news of their engagement had exploded online. It was the perfect pre-show publicity. The comment sections were a frenzy of adoration. “They went through hell together and now they’re at the top of the world. This is a real-life fairy tale.” “I heard the Sutton family’s company was about to go under, but Prescott’s group bailed them out and now they’re thriving again.” “Power couple goals. If you don’t ship them, you have no soul.” I scrolled past it all, my finger hitting the close button. The show’s host, a charismatic woman named Dahlia, was going over the script with me. “If we can just get a few juicy details about those two years,” she mused, “the ratings will go through the roof.” “…” I gripped my pen, my voice barely a whisper. “Got it.” Every single detail of those two years… I knew them better than anyone. And I couldn’t say a word. 7 Leveraging the Prescott name and resources, Olivia Sutton was now one of the biggest stars in the country. The moment the show went live, millions of viewers tuned in. Under the hot glare of the studio lights, I heard Dahlia begin. “So, Ethan, Olivia… you’re on the verge of marriage. Can you share a little bit of that journey with us?” Olivia turned to him, her smile soft and radiant. “All those terrible rumors about him back then,” she began, her voice full of emotion, “I never believed a single one. To me, Ethan was always, and will always be, the man I love.” She gazed at him, her eyes practically overflowing with adoration. Ethan, however, was looking down, a strange, wry smile on his lips. “…Liar.” The studio went silent. “You’ve forgotten, haven’t you?” he continued, his voice dangerously soft. “How you couldn’t stand the sight of me right after I lost my vision?” Olivia froze. Her eyes darted toward me, in the contributor’s chair, for a split second. A flash of pure hatred crossed her face before being replaced by her practiced smile. “Oh, darling, I barely remember that. I suppose our love has grown so much, all I can recall are the sweet moments.” I glanced at the monitor showing the live social media feed. The screen was flooded with comments like “So cute!” and “Aww, he’s teasing her!” I put down my script, picked up my microphone, and addressed my question to Ethan. “It sounds like you two have differing perspectives on that time. Perhaps there’s more to the story? Could you tell us how you worked through those initial challenges?” I expected him to deflect. To retreat behind his wall of corporate poise. But after a moment of silence, he spoke. “When my eyes first went, I was… lost. I hated the world, and I took it out on her. I didn’t like her very much back then.” “She was busy, working all the time, and still had to find moments to take care of me. One day, she was completely exhausted. She had fish stewing on the stove, ran downstairs to buy salt, and forgot to turn off the burner.” “By the time she got back, the kitchen was on fire.” My throat closed up. In the haze of memory, I could feel the searing heat on my skin again. The air was thick with smoke and the smell of burnt wood. I’d dragged Ethan out of his room, grabbed the front of his shirt, and slapped him across the face, my voice raw and shaking. “Do you want to die?” My whole body was trembling. He didn’t fight back this time, didn’t meet my anger with his own. He was just… silent. For a long, long time. Then he asked, his voice hoarse, “Wouldn’t that be better? For you? Wouldn’t it be a relief?” And in that moment, I saw it. The high and mighty Prince Prescott was gone. All that was left was a broken boy, bluffing and snarling to hide how terrified he was. A lost puppy. So I shoved him back into his smoke-stained room. The walls were black with soot. I started unbuttoning his shirt, one button at a time. My voice was low, rough. “I didn’t get any dinner tonight. I guess you’ll have to do.” He seemed to realize what I was doing. “Are you sure—” I silenced him with a kiss, hard and desperate, swallowing his words. “Ethan,” I whispered against his lips. “I never thought you were a burden.” That night, the world fell away, leaving just the two of us in a chaotic, tangled mess. And now, here he was, telling that story to the world. But the woman sitting beside him, the fiancée he shared this intimate memory with, was Olivia. Everyone in this room, everyone watching at home, believed that memory belonged to them. A bitter, suffocating feeling rose in my chest. From where I sat, so close to the stage, the faint, familiar scent of him wrapped around me like a shroud. Pervasive. Overwhelming. And no longer mine. He paused, letting the story hang in the air before the studio audience broke into applause. Then he delivered the final line. “I will never forget the moonlight that night. She said it was so bright, it lit up everything.” “I couldn’t see it,” he finished, his voice soft, “but I listened to her describe it all night long.” My hand tightened on my pen, my head bowing low. My eyes burned. 9 My impromptu question, which veered off-script, had unearthed details no one had ever heard before. The interview was a massive success. By the end of the show, viewership had broken ten million. For the first time, the public got a glimpse into the private history of the enigmatic head of the Prescott Group. Everyone was buzzing. Backstage, Dahlia clapped me on the shoulder. “That’s a reporter’s instinct right there! That question was so sharp, he had no choice but to answer. Brilliant, Leah!” Just then, she saw Ethan and Olivia approaching and her praise died in her throat. Ethan’s gaze, cool and unreadable, landed on me. “You wrote that question?” I nodded. Olivia’s voice was laced with venom, disguised as a friendly warning. “You have a real knack for hitting where it hurts, Ms. Dawson. But let me give you a piece of advice. Stick to your professional ethics. Don’t start wanting things you could never possibly deserve.” I didn’t say anything. I just looked at Ethan. His expression was grim. “Ms. Dawson is clearly very capable,” he said, his voice flat. “From now on, she will be the primary media liaison for our company.” Olivia whipped her head around to stare at me. In her eyes, for a split second, I saw a flash of undisguised terror and hatred. She cornered me later, when no one else was around. Her voice was a low, vicious hiss. “You’re a greedy little bitch, Leah Dawson.” “You took my money. What the hell are you doing back here?” I looked at her calmly. “I graduated. I came back to work.” It was a simple, honest statement. “Work? Do you think I’m an idiot?” She suddenly snapped, throwing her handbag at me. It hit the floor with a heavy thud. “Get out of my sight. Go tell him you’re turning down the job. If you don’t, I’ll make your life a living hell.” Her Hermès bag lay on the ground, its contents spilled across the floor. I ignored it and walked away. Olivia Sutton was a woman of her word. Suddenly, my life became a series of closed doors. Two major assignments that were supposed to be mine were given to other interns at the last minute. Then, one evening just before I was about to leave the office, my boss called me into his office. “Next month is the Prescott Group’s annual development conference,” he said, beaming. “It’s one of the biggest media events of the year. I want you to host it.” I was stunned into silence. “It was Mr. Prescott himself,” he added. “He specifically asked for you.” After work, I walked outside. Parked across the street was that all-too-familiar Rolls-Royce. The window rolled down, revealing Ethan’s impassive face. “Ms. Dawson. Since you’re so curious about my past, why not come and ask me about it directly?” I lowered my head. “I have no interest in your private life, Mr. Prescott. It was purely for work.” “Even for work, I gave you my personal card. You could have called.” I bit my lip. “…It didn’t seem necessary.” Because in that moment, I was struck by the reality of it all. This was three years later. He was the powerful CEO of the Prescott Group. He wasn’t that broken, angry boy who, after I’d disciplined him, would cling to me, pitifully begging for kisses and comfort. The Sutton family was a shadow of its former self. Without Ethan’s tacit permission, Olivia would never have dared to target me so openly. Maybe… maybe that past was a source of shame for him. A time of weakness he didn’t want to be reminded of. I started to walk away. “Stop.” He opened the car door, his long legs unfolding as he stepped out, blocking my path. “Ms. Dawson,” he said. “Can we talk?” I clutched my bag to my chest, my voice hoarse. “What is there to talk about, Mr. Prescott?” A faint smile touched his lips. His eyes, for the first time, held a trace of something other than coldness. Something that looked almost like… exasperation. “About work,” he said. “Can we talk about work?” 10 Over the next few weeks, Ethan sought me out twice more. We went over the key announcements for the conference, meticulously checking facts and figures. At the end of our last meeting, as if it were an afterthought, he handed me a file. “This is a new large-scale tourism project we’re launching in partnership with the state. It hasn’t been announced yet. You can break the news at the conference. Consider it an exclusive.” I hesitated for a moment, then took the file. “Thank you.” When Mark found out, he was ecstatic. “Leah, I think the big boss really likes you! Maybe you should subtly mention how Olivia Sutton has been making your life difficult?” I was editing my host’s script, and I offered a small, sad smile. “No, it’s fine.” “Why would he stand up for a stranger against his own fiancée?” The day of the conference arrived. The hall was packed to capacity. The seat in the center of the stage, reserved for Ethan, was empty. Under the flashing glare of a hundred cameras, I began announcing the Prescott Group’s upcoming major partnerships. Suddenly, a reporter I didn’t recognize shot to his feet, his voice booming across the hall. “Where did you get this information? This is confidential! Did you steal it?” My face hardened. “My collaboration with the Prescott Group has been conducted through entirely official and professional channels.” “Professional? A woman who sleeps her way to the top has the audacity to talk about professionalism?” he yelled. “I have proof!” Someone else was walking onto the stage. It was Olivia. She stared at me, her expression a mask of pity. “Leah, I know it’s natural for a young reporter like you to be drawn to a man like Ethan. I wanted to spare you this embarrassment, but you’ve left me no choice.” Behind me, the giant screen flickered, the corporate PowerPoint replaced by a series of lurid, intimate photographs. The woman in the photos was me. “You sent him these pictures,” Olivia announced, her voice ringing with false sorrow. “You showed up at his hotel room in the middle of the night wearing nothing but a slip. And here is the security footage of you checking into a hotel with your boss.” The screen changed again. A grainy video showed me and my boss walking into a hotel lobby side-by-side. “You’re a predator, a—” An uproar swept through the audience. Just then, the main doors of the hall were thrown open. Ethan Prescott strode in, impeccably dressed, his eyes sweeping across the room with a razor’s edge. His gaze passed over my face without a flicker of emotion, as if I wasn’t there. My heart sank into a cold, dark abyss. The stage lights felt like an interrogation lamp, pinning me in place for a public execution. The room was filled with angry murmurs. “She’s a disgrace to our profession.” “Disgusting. Absolutely pathetic.” “Fire her. Blacklist her from the industry.” I didn’t look at anyone. My eyes were fixed on Ethan. I watched as he approached Olivia, his voice dangerously quiet. “What did you just say?” Olivia’s eyes instantly filled with tears, her voice trembling. “Ethan, she fooled you. She used the pretense of an interview to get close to you, to steal corporate secrets and damage the company. She even slept her way into hosting this conference!” Ethan was silent for a moment. Then he looked at me. “Do you have anything to say?” 11 Anything to say? I saw the hatred and triumph in Olivia’s eyes and was struck by the sheer, soul-crushing absurdity of it all. She was only two years older than me. We had the same mother, the same father. After our mom died, we should have been the only family the other had left in the world. A bitter, mocking smile twisted my lips. I gripped the microphone. “I have this to say—” My voice was clear and steady, amplified throughout the silent hall. “Mr. Prescott, your fiancée is a pathological liar who is actively committing slander. If you intend to stand here and watch her fabricate this story simply because you love her, then I will be forced to report that fact in my press release today. The public has eyes. I doubt they will trust their investments in projects led by a man with such a flagrant disregard for the truth.” Threatening the old, reckless Ethan would have been a gamble. Threatening the new, ruthless Ethan should have been suicide. A man like that, challenged so publicly, was supposed to react with fury. But he didn’t. He simply walked up the steps and onto the stage. He came to a stop a few feet away, standing at my level, our reflections mirrored in the polished floor. He said my name, his voice impossibly soft. “Leah Dawson.” A sudden, sharp wave of grief washed over me. I couldn’t bear to hear him defend her. I turned my head away, my words clipped and precise. “All of the accusations made against me are baseless lies. My interactions with Ms. Sutton’s fiancé, Mr. Prescott, have been strictly professional. We have had no private contact—” “No contact?” Ethan’s voice cut through mine. “You gave me a ring,” he said, his voice rising just enough to carry. “And now you’re not going to take responsibility for me?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385975”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

They were late to my fifth birthday party. My own party. When Mom and Dad finally walked in, they had a girl with them. She was small and thin and silent, and they led her by the hand. Mia. My new sister. I ran to hug my mother, my arms outstretched, but she sidestepped me. The momentum sent me stumbling, and I fell backward into the cake. The three-tiered, princess-themed castle of a cake they had so carefully picked out for me. Buttercream and frosting clogged my nose and mouth. For a second, I couldn’t breathe. Panic flared in my chest. I scrambled out, sputtering and crying, my party dress ruined. I reached for my father. “Daddy, hold me.” He started to lift his arms, but then his face crumpled with a pained sort of apology and he let them drop. “Milly, don’t be upset with your mom,” he said, his voice low. “From now on, you have to take care of your sister. If Mia’s happy, Mom will be happy. Understand?” Later that week, some of the older kids from down the street pushed Mia into the sandbox. I saw it happen from our window and flew out the door, all fists and fury, and drove them away. When we got home, I decided to be a grown-up. I drew a bath for her, just like Mom used to do for me, to wash the sand from her hair. The bathroom door burst open. Mom stood there, her face a thundercloud. Then her hand cracked across my cheek, the force of it snapping my head to the side. “You had our love all to yourself for five years! Why is that still not enough for you? Now you’re trying to drown your sister?” Her eyes were bloodshot. She grabbed a fistful of my hair and dragged me out of the bathroom and into the laundry room. She shoved me, hard, into the drum of our front-loading washer. “There’s a wickedness in you,” she hissed, her face close to the glass door. “Maybe this can finally wash it out. You can come out and apologize when you decide to stop hurting your sister.” From the living room, I heard Dad’s muffled voice. “Keep it down, honey. Mia’s almost asleep. Don’t wake her.” Mom didn’t even look at me again. She just slammed the heavy door shut. What she didn’t realize, what she’d forgotten, was the child-lock feature she’d insisted on when they bought it. For my safety. It clicked shut. A synthesized voice filled the small space. Sanitize cycle engaged. Water temperature will reach 200 degrees Fahrenheit. The first jets of scalding water hit my back. The pain was so total, so immediate, I thought my skin was melting off. Maybe this was what it took. If I let the machine wash me clean, would Mom love me again? 1 Mom always said she used the Sanitize cycle to make sure my clothes were completely germ-free. It was the only setting she ever used. The moment the boiling water hit my skin, blisters erupted. The slightest movement sent waves of agony through me. Between the cycles of water filling the drum, I hammered my small fists against the thick glass of the door. “Mommy, help me! It’s Milly! It hurts, Mommy, it hurts so bad!” The water pooling at my feet had already boiled the skin off my soles. “Stop that racket! You sound like a banshee!” Her voice, sharp and angry, cut through the wall. “If you wake up your sister, you’ll be in for it.” The plea died in my throat. I remembered last week, when I’d run outside to give Mom her phone after she’d left it behind. I’d tripped on the porch steps and scraped my knee. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” she’d sneered, standing over me. “The second I try to take Mia to the park, you fake an injury to get attention. You want the neighbors to think I’m a monster, that I favor her.” She had knelt, her face inches from mine. “If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I’ll send you to live with your grandparents. You will never set foot in this house again.” My body went rigid inside the machine. No. I don’t want to leave Mom and Dad. The water started pouring in again. I curled into a tight ball, shoving my fist into my mouth to stop the scream, biting down so hard I tasted blood. I wouldn’t make another sound. Clumps of my hair, boiled loose from my scalp, swirled in the rising water. I’m sorry, Mommy. Milly made the washer dirty. My thoughts grew fuzzy. I tried so hard, I really did. Why was I always making Mom angry? After Mia came home, I gave her all my best toys. I used to be selfish, Mom always said so, but Mia couldn’t talk, and that was sad, so I wanted to take care of her. Dad said if I was good to Mia, Mom would be happy. But why didn’t Mom hug me anymore? Why didn’t she smile at me? Every time I ran to her, she’d just push me away, her face a cold mask. Was I still not good enough? The front door opened. It was Dad, home from work. A surge of joy went through me. I rushed toward him, wanting to be swept up in his arms. But I passed right through him and hit the wall on the other side. I froze. I looked down at my hands. They were translucent, shimmering like heat off summer asphalt. I… was I dead? “Milly sleeping in today?” Dad’s voice was warm. “Strange she didn’t come running to the door.” He hadn’t seen me. He hadn’t seen my body, what was left of it, mangled and wedged against the drain, my shredded legs having finally stopped the machine’s cycle. Mom tiptoed out of Mia’s room, a finger to her lips. “Shhh, Mia’s napping. That girl… who knows what she’s up to. I gave her a little time-out today and now she’s sulking, refusing to even come out for lunch. I’ve been too soft on her.” Dad rubbed her back gently, though his expression was uneasy. “Honey, I think you’re taking things out on Milly. We know the truth. Mia wandered off on her own all those years ago. It had nothing to do with Milly.” Mom fell silent for a moment, then shrugged his hand away. “I know that. But when I think of everything Mia went through, while Milly was here, living in the lap of luxury… I just feel like I failed Mia.” Dad sighed. I hovered in the air, a coldness deeper than death seeping into me. Mia’s disappearance… they thought I was involved? No wonder. No wonder Mom never held me close anymore, never called me her precious baby. I remembered once, she’d accidentally smiled at me, a real, warm smile, and then her face had shuttered and she’d shoved me to the floor. “Brat. Who told you to come over here? Get back to your room.” I thought if I was just good enough to Mia, the old Mom would come back. But she was already gone. Mom had stopped loving me a long time ago. “Alright, alright,” Dad said gently. “When Milly’s done being mad, I’ll have her apologize. Let’s just eat. You know you’ll feel bad if she actually starves herself.” Mom turned her face away, but she went to the kitchen and set the table with four plates, four sets of silverware. And the little spoon with a cat face on the handle, the one I’d wanted for months. My heart softened. That was Mom. A tough exterior, but deep down, she still cared. Dad opened my bedroom door. It was empty. “She’s not in here. Do you think she’s hiding somewhere?” He turned, his steps moving toward the laundry room. “Don’t you dare go looking for her!” Mom snapped. “Let her hide. If she wants to throw a tantrum over a few cross words, she can stay hidden forever.” She slammed the silverware down on the table. “She probably went to one of her friends’ houses. That’s just like her. To hurt her sister and then run off to play without a care in the world. She’s a little monster.” The cat spoon snapped in her hand. I lowered my gaze, twisting my ghostly fingers together. Mom hadn’t noticed. Milly didn’t have any friends anymore. Kids are vultures. They know exactly who has a parent in their corner and who doesn’t. After my birthday party, I became the target. They’d stick a leg out to trip me, shove me on the stairs. When the teachers asked what happened, they’d put on their most innocent faces. I never told on them. I didn’t want to cause Mom any more trouble. But the day I saw them bullying Mia, I lost it. I grabbed their hair and I fought. I fought until they ran away crying. After that, the bullying doubled down on me. I didn’t care. As long as Mia was safe, they could do whatever they wanted to Milly. To stop Dad from looking for me, Mom pulled a pile of new clothes from a shopping bag. “Mark, look at these. Aren’t they cute?” “Are these for both our girls?” he asked, a smile in his voice. “We’ll have Milly try them on when she gets back.” I drifted closer to look. They were beautiful. Every single one was in a style I loved. Mom’s smile vanished. She snatched the clothes back from him. “They’re all for Mia. Milly has more than enough clothes. She doesn’t deserve anything this nice.” A wave of shame washed over the flicker of joy I’d felt. I floated into a corner, trying to make myself invisible. What were you thinking, Milly? Mia is the one who suffered. Of course they’re for her. Besides… I’m already dead. It’s a good thing Mom didn’t buy me anything. It would have been a waste. Mom is so smart. I forced a smile onto my face, but my throat felt tight. “I need to wash these first,” Mom said, folding the tiny dresses. “Can’t have Mia wearing them straight from the store, she might get a rash. She’s going to look like the most beautiful little princess.” She started walking toward the laundry room. No! My heart seized. I flew to the door, trying to see my body curled inside. I’m so ugly now. It will scare her. Mom will have nightmares. Milly used to be there to comfort her. Now that Milly’s gone, who would bring her a warm glass of honey water at 40 degrees when she woke up in the middle of the night? Her footsteps grew closer. The doorknob turned. I held my breath, my very essence. “Hey, what’s this scratch on Mia’s arm?” Dad exclaimed from the living room. Mom’s footsteps immediately changed direction. “It must have been Milly,” she shrieked. “It must have been her! She can’t stand us being nice to Mia, so she’s hitting her in secret!” No, it wasn’t me! It was that mean boy! I spun in frantic circles around her, but she couldn’t hear me. Mia, unable to speak or write, just cried and shook her head violently. Mom swept her into a fierce hug, tears streaming down her face. “It’s all my fault. I’m so sorry, baby. I thought you and your sister could become friends, but all I did was give that monster a chance to hurt you. Don’t you worry. Mommy will protect you from now on. I will never let your sister hurt you again.” I stared at her, then down at my own ghostly arms and legs, covered in a network of faded bruises and scratches, far more than the single mark on Mia’s arm. But Mom hadn’t bathed me or tucked me into bed in a long, long time. She never saw them. “Milly used to be such a sweet kid,” Dad said, his brow furrowed. “She wouldn’t do something like this. Let’s not jump to conclusions. What if we’re wrong? We should find her and ask her what happened.” “If I’m wrong, I’ll apologize,” Mom said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “But how could I be? Since Mia came back, I’ve tried my best to be fair, but Milly is always finding new ways to play the victim, to make everything about her. She’s angry we don’t dote on her exclusively anymore, so she takes it out on Mia. How can such a little girl be so full of poison?” “What are you talking about? She’s eight years old! What does she know?” Dad looked toward my empty room, worry clouding his eyes. “And she’s been gone all day. Aren’t you even a little bit worried?” “Worried? Why should I be? She hurt her sister. The best thing would be if she just dropped dead outside! Because if she comes back, I swear to God, I’ll kill her myself.” “You’re being irrational. I’m going to go look for her.” Dad headed for the door. I rushed to grab his sleeve. Don’t go, Daddy, Milly’s not out there. Milly’s home. And please, don’t fight with Mom because of me. It’s not worth it. The moment the front door opened, sunlight streamed in, hitting my spectral form. The pain was searing. I recoiled back into the shadows of the house. In Mia’s room, Mom was crying, rocking her back and forth. “It’s Mommy’s fault. I didn’t protect you. If your sister ever touches you again, I’ll beat her to death.” A dull blade twisted in my chest. Stop it, Milly, I told myself. Don’t be sad. She’s just saying that because she’s angry. I was always a mischievous kid. After Mia disappeared, Mom was so terrified of losing me, too, that she spoiled me rotten. When I was five, I broke my great-grandmother’s antique vase, a family heirloom, and Mom didn’t even scold me. And besides… I looked in the hall mirror at my completely transparent reflection. Mom’s right, Milly. Mia’s been through so much. It’s only fair that Mom loves her more now. Even though I was only eight, I was bigger and stronger than Mia. I was a big girl now. No, a big ghost. I could take care of myself. Mom wiped her tears and picked up the pile of new clothes again, heading back toward the laundry room. No, Dad’s not here. If she sees me by herself, she’ll be terrified. I pressed my whole being against the laundry room door, trying to hold it shut. But she opened it with ease, her solid form passing right through mine. I threw myself over the washing machine. Is there any way to make her leave? Please, don’t look at what’s left of Milly… There was a knock at the front door. Thank God. Mom set the clothes on a shelf and walked to the door, pulling out her phone as she went. On the screen, I saw the smart-home app. She tapped a button. Remote Pre-Wash Cycle: Start. The machine, which had been jammed by my shredded legs, jolted back to life as a new torrent of water dislodged the blockage. It was over. Now I was going to completely ruin Mom’s favorite appliance. I beat against the machine, trying to make it stop, but the drum spun faster and faster. A pinkish, bloody foam began to seep from the cracks in the door seal. “Mrs. Thompson, you need to look at my son! Your daughter, that little monster, beat him up!” My ears perked up. It was the mean boy’s mother. Kyle’s mom. She used to come over and complain all the time, and every time, Mom would defend me fiercely and send her packing. I covered my mouth to hide a smile, floating out to see how quickly Mom would get rid of her this time. “That horrid child!” Mom’s face was a mask of strained apology. “I am so, so sorry. I know it must be Milly’s fault. Please, don’t worry, I will make sure she apologizes to Kyle.” My heart seized. A dull, gnawing pain started in my chest. Mom… what are you saying? You know Milly never starts fights. And why should I apologize? He was hurting Mia. I wasn’t wrong. If it happened again, I’d hit him again! I flew in front of Kyle and swung my fist. He didn’t see me. He wasn’t scared. My smile faltered. I looked down at my transparent hands. I was dead. I could never protect Mia again. “Kids need discipline. A firm hand,” Kyle’s mom said, her voice smug. “If you ask me, you’re too soft on her.” “You’re right. Your Kyle is so well-behaved. Not like my Milly. She does nothing but cause trouble.” Mom’s eyes were full of disgust when she said my name. “She’s getting worse and worse. Lying, fighting, stealing… she’s just a bad seed.” Why are you saying that, Mommy? Milly doesn’t do those things. Tears welled in my eyes, but I clenched my little fists, refusing to let them fall. Kyle’s mom’s eyes shifted slyly. “Well, you know what they say. You can see the whole person by the time they’re seven. You see those stories online, right? Teenagers killing their parents for the insurance money? That Milly of yours has a dark streak. And you let her spend all day with your other daughter? Aren’t you afraid she’ll do something to Mia when you’re not looking? Kill her, or cripple her?” I would never! I love Mia more than anyone! My face flushed with rage. Mom’s expression darkened. She looked at the scratch on Mia’s arm and said nothing. The silence stretched until Kyle’s mom began to look awkward. “I’m sorry, I’m overstepping—” “No, you’re right,” Mom whispered. “She needs to go… I can’t bear the pain of losing another daughter…” Panic seized me. I stared at Mom, bewildered. But I was being good, wasn’t I? I didn’t scream or cry in the washer, I didn’t wake Mia up. Why do you still want to send me away? “Exactly!” Kyle’s mom beamed. “Here, let me give you some parenting tips.” She turned to her son. “Kyle, why don’t you take the little girl outside to play?” No! He’ll hurt her! I forgot my own sorrow and lunged for Mia’s hand, trying desperately to hold her back. But Kyle grabbed her arm and pulled her straight through my body. I looked outside. The midday sun was a blinding white glare. I clenched my jaw and flew out after them. The burning sensation of the sun was a thousand times worse than the boiling water. “Agh! It hurts!” I couldn’t help but scream, but even as my essence felt like it was dissolving, I had to get Mia back. “A ghost! It’s a ghost!” For a fleeting second, my form became partially visible. My agonized face terrified Kyle. He shoved Mia to the ground and ran, screaming. In that same instant, my own soul grew thinner. My entire right arm vanished. I had a feeling I was about to disappear for good. “It was Milly! She turned into a ghost to scare me and Mia!” Kyle shrieked, a dark stain spreading on the front of his pants. “How dare she!” his mother yelled. “Terrifying a child like that! If my son has nightmares, I’m not just suing you, I’ll make sure that girl pays with her life!” She scooped up her son and stormed off. “I’m warning you, you need to punish her severely this time. If you don’t, I’ll make sure the authorities do!” Mia, frantic, was making sharp noises, her hands flying in a flurry of gestures. I had learned some sign language for her. She was saying: Sister was protecting me. Sister is hurt. Mommy, save Sister. But Mom didn’t understand. She was trembling with rage. She pulled out her phone and called Dad. “Milly has gone too far. I am so disappointed. It wasn’t enough that she was hitting Mia, now she’s pretending to be a ghost to traumatize her.” She paused, listening. “A misunderstanding? How could it be? The boy saw her with his own two eyes. Do you think everyone is a pathological liar like Milly? I don’t care if she’s pretending to be a ghost. If she ever really becomes one, I’ll hire a priest to exorcise her, to scatter her soul to the winds so she can never be reborn!” Yelling into the phone, she stormed into my room and began tearing it apart. “That little viper. And here we were, worried about her. You get home right now and you take her to your parents’ house. I never want to see her again in my life. If she grows up and gets herself killed, don’t even bother telling me!” I followed her, watching as she violently shoved all my belongings into a suitcase. Every word was like one of the dull little knives from my kindergarten art set, stabbing into my heart. It hurt, and then it was just numb. Is that really how you see me, Mommy? A constant, ugly little stain? Tears finally fell, splashing silently onto my ghostly hands. I knelt on the floor, trying to pick up the toys she had bought me over the years. But they crumbled into dust in my grasp, just like my heart. Neither of us knew that a convoy of police cars was pulling quietly into our neighborhood. A neighbor stood on our lawn, waving them down. “Over here, officers! It’s this house! There’s… there’s bloody foam leaking out from the side of the house!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385974”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After I was cast as the other woman, I had the wife eating out of the palm of my hand. Not only did she start calling me a friend, she practically gift-wrapped her husband and pushed him in my direction. Unfortunately, she had a brother who was a human lie detector. Every time I’d successfully driven a wedge between the happy couple, I’d look up and meet his knowing, heavy-lidded gaze. It was enough to make my blood run cold. Later, I overheard her ask him, “Why are you always so cold to Mia?” He stubbed out his cigarette. “Because every time I see her, she hits me with that wide-eyed, damsel-in-distress look. She’s trying to reel me in.” He paused. “I’m just giving her some space. You can’t make it too easy for them. They don’t appreciate what they don’t have to work for.” She just stared at him, completely baffled. 1 The shouting match inside the sprawling Palisades mansion was escalating again. Declan’s voice was dark and obsessive, the sound of a man completely unhinged. “Audrey, the only way you’re getting a divorce is over my dead body.” The declaration was followed by the sharp shatter of glass and a choked-back sob. That was my cue. I pressed the doorbell. After a moment of charged silence, the heavy oak door creaked open. Declan stood there, a mess. A fresh cut split his lower lip, and angry red scratches snaked up his neck. It wasn’t hard to guess what had just happened. I lowered my gaze, pretending not to notice a thing. “Declan,” I said, my voice soft. “Thank you again for the job at the firm. I… I made you some congee.” His stormy eyes fell to the pink thermos in my hands, and the rage in his features seemed to soften, just a fraction. “It was nothing. Don’t mention it.” He attempted a smile, but it was a grim, tight-lipped thing. He made no move to take the thermos. “Sorry, something’s come up at work. I have to go.” As Declan brushed past me and disappeared down the driveway, I stepped into the foyer. Audrey was perched on the edge of a white sofa, her back ramrod straight. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, but her spine was steel. When she saw me, a flicker of light returned to her defiant gaze. A pair of dimples appeared as she managed a small, sad smile. “Mia. You’re here.” I nodded, lifting the thermos with a deliberately bright smile. “Audrey, I brought…” My voice caught. I changed course mid-sentence. “I brought you some congee. I remember you said your stomach was bothering you last time. It’s supposed to be very soothing.” A nagging voice, the one I call my ‘script,’ buzzed in my head. That was for the husband. You’re lying again. I wrinkled my nose, lowering my voice to a whisper only it could hear. But he didn’t want it. Are you really going to let the first thing I’ve ever successfully cooked go to waste? Before I was dropped into this life, I couldn’t even boil water. Even with the script’s guidance, this simple rice porridge was the only thing I could manage. As if to prove my point, I subtly angled my hand, revealing a patch of red skin on my wrist from a careless burn. The voice faltered. Fine. But you still have to say the lines. You have to drive them apart. A small, triumphant smile played on my lips. 2 The script had bent the rules. I couldn’t push it. My eyes fell on the elaborate, untouched breakfast spread on the marble island—avocado toast, fresh fruit, a silver pot of coffee. I let out a wistful sigh. “You’re such a natural at this, Audrey. Not like me. All I can do is make porridge, and even then, I just end up being a bother to… Declan.” My breath hitched. Spencer had materialized behind me, silent as a ghost. Damn it all. It was always like this. The moment the poison left my lips, I’d find myself pinned by his clear, piercing eyes. He was like a radar custom-built to detect my specific brand of bullshit. I pressed my lips together. Audrey, oblivious, was already ladling the congee into a bowl. “Spencer! What are you doing here?” she asked, her smile genuine for the first time. “Have you eaten?” He stood there in a perfectly tailored suit, the top button of his shirt fastened, radiating a cool, almost severe elegance. His gaze landed on the thick, white porridge. “I have,” he said flatly. Audrey shrugged, a flicker of disappointment crossing her face. “Your loss. It’s Mia’s first time cooking. She made it for me.” A flicker of surprise—or something like it—crossed Spencer’s face. His eyes then moved, with unnerving precision, to the red burn mark on my wrist. His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, his dark eyes clouding over with a subtle displeasure. “Is that so?” I instinctively hid my hand behind my back. It might have been my imagination, but Spencer’s expression seemed to darken further. He gave me one last, deep look before striding over and plucking the bowl from Audrey’s hands. She swatted at his arm, indignant. “Hey! You said you weren’t hungry! Why are you stealing my congee?” “Suddenly thirsty,” Spencer replied, his tone casual, but his eyes were fixed on me. “Is that a problem?” His question was for his sister, but his gaze was a challenge meant only for me. I just stood there, completely frozen. 3 My problem with Spencer wasn’t personal, not at first. It started a few weeks ago, on my first attempt to execute the ‘late-night chat’ scene. The script demanded I show up at the husband’s door in a silk nightgown. Except, I went to the wrong room. The thought of discussing nonexistent feelings with Declan was excruciating, so I improvised. I turned the seduction scene into a job interview. For thirty minutes, I sat in the dark and cried to the shadowy figure on the sofa about how hard it was to find a job in this economy. By the time I realized my mistake, it was too late. The lamp clicked on. Spencer was lounging on the sofa, looking impossibly relaxed and rumpled. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that was far more captivating than it had any right to be. He looked… amused. “Is it really that hard to find a job?” he asked, his voice a low, gravelly murmur, thick with sleep. I was momentarily stunned. Then, scrambling to my feet, the hem of my short nightgown fluttered up, offering a fleeting glimpse of pale thigh. Spencer’s eyes darkened. “Are you done crying?” he asked, his voice suddenly raspy. His gaze felt predatory, and a strange flutter of panic went through me. I stammered an apology and fled. Ever since, I’d run into him everywhere. And every time I mentioned Declan’s name, Spencer’s face would turn to stone. I couldn’t tell if he’d figured out my whole act, but the uncertainty made me nervous. “Audrey, it’s my first day at Declan’s firm, so I should probably get going.” I stood up, desperate to escape. “Wait,” Audrey called out. “How are you getting there? Do you have a car?” I froze. My plan had been to hitch a ride with Declan—a perfect opportunity to stir the pot and save on an Uber. But he’d stormed out before he’d even had his coffee. I was stuck. “It’s fine, Audrey. I’ll just call a car.” Getting a ride-share out here in the hills was a nightmare, but for the right price, someone would eventually show. She shook her head, her brow furrowed with concern. “Absolutely not.” Her eyes scanned the room, landing on Spencer. They lit up. A sense of dread washed over me. Sure enough, before I could protest, she said, “My brother is the safest driver I know. He can take you.” Years of practice kicked in. I bit my lip, forcing my eyes to well up with manufactured vulnerability as I glanced at Spencer’s stoic face. “Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly trouble him… Spencer.” “It’s no trouble,” Spencer said, his voice flat. He didn’t even look at me. “It’s on my way.” Audrey frowned. “Your office is downtown, Spence. Declan’s is on the Westside. Are you sure you’re not getting your directions mixed up?” The skepticism in her voice was palpable. For a split second, I saw a muscle twitch in Spencer’s jaw. “I have a meeting with Declan,” he said, the words sounding like they were ground between his teeth. He paused, his eyes finally flicking to me. “It’s just a ride. Don’t read into it.” “I-I wasn’t,” I stammered. 4 Under Spencer’s heavy gaze, I buckled myself into the passenger seat of his immaculate sedan. The silence was thick enough to cut with a knife. Suddenly, the car pulled over on an unfamiliar street. “This isn’t the office,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “I know,” Spencer said, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Wait here.” I watched him walk into a pharmacy. A few minutes later, he was back, pressing a small tube of burn cream into my palm. “If you don’t know how to cook, don’t,” he said, his voice low and gruff. “You’ll just hurt yourself. And the result is… hard to swallow.” I barely managed to keep my expression neutral. He was the one who insisted on eating it. “And another thing,” he said, turning to face me fully. I instinctively shrank back against the window. Spencer let out an exasperated sound. “Am I that terrifying?” He sounded genuinely baffled. I waved my hands frantically. “No, no! It’s just… you turned so fast, your handsomeness startled me.” I did my best to blush, clasping my hands in my lap, trying to look as sincere as humanly possible. His own hands, which had been reaching for his phone, clenched into a fist. The tips of his ears turned a faint shade of pink. He cleared his throat. Then he tossed his phone into my lap. His expression was dead serious. “Why did you send me this?” When did I send him a photo? Confused, I picked up the phone. My blood ran cold. 5 On the screen was the photo the script had forced me to send to Declan. Me, in a tight-fitting dress that hugged every curve, with a ridiculously flashy diamond necklace drawing attention to my collarbone. The script’s prompt was to ask his opinion on the necklace—a classic, manipulative move. I’d cringed, sent it, and then, overcome with regret, unsent it moments later. I never imagined I’d sent it to Spencer by mistake. And he’d saved it. My first instinct was to delete it. He snatched the phone back before I could, his movements whip-fast. He checked to make sure the photo was still there, then let out a breath he seemed to have been holding. His eyes, dark and intense, were back on me. “Care to explain?” My mind raced. “I’m so sorry! I meant to send that to Audrey, to get her opinion on the necklace. I must have… clicked on your name by accident.” My voice dwindled as his stare grew more piercing. It was a pathetic excuse. His contact photo was nothing like Audrey’s. It was, however, almost identical to Declan’s. I thought about the original story, about how Spencer, upon discovering Audrey had given me her kidney, had me thrown into the ocean. Adrenaline surged through me. My cheeks flushed, and a genuine mist of fear clouded my eyes. He clearly didn’t believe my flimsy lie. To avoid being completely exposed, I decided to surrender. “I’m sorry.” His hand came up, and his thumb brushed gently, quickly, against my lower eyelid. It was the lightest of touches. His eyes were shadowed with an emotion I couldn’t decipher. “You just love to reel me in, don’t you?” “What?” I hadn’t heard him clearly. His words were fast, almost angry. Meeting my wide, innocent eyes, I saw the tension leave his shoulders, the fists at his sides unclenching. The car started moving again. “Just try not to send things to the wrong person again,” Spencer said. From his low, strained voice, I understood the warning. He must have seen how terrified I was and decided to let it go. A wave of relief washed over me. “Okay,” I nodded, trying to look as docile as possible. “I won’t.” When he dropped me at the entrance to the office building, he didn’t even wait for me to get out before driving away. My mouth, which had opened to say thank you, closed. Maybe the meeting with Declan was just an excuse. An excuse to warn me not to send him suggestive photos. The more I thought about it, the more convinced I was that Spencer could see right through me. I made a mental note: stay as far away from him as possible. 6 My new position was Declan’s executive assistant. It came with a built-in office rival. From the moment I sat down, I could feel her eyes on me, sharp and possessive. I nudged the script with a mental question. Who’s that? The system scanned and delivered. That’s Jenna, Declan’s classmate and longtime assistant. Capable, but she’s in love with him. She not only tries to seduce him but also frames the wife for having an affair. She’s also the one who drugs him later in the story. So, it was her. Reading the original story, Jenna was the character I despised the most. She hid behind the “best friend” and “loyal colleague” titles, secretly pining for Declan but never having the courage to confess. She was fine with the status quo as long as he was single. But the moment Declan showed the slightest interest in Audrey, Jenna panicked. At a company gala, she drugged his drink and tipped off the press, hoping to force his hand. But through a twist of fate, Audrey stumbled into the room instead. It happened to be right when Audrey’s family business was going through a crisis. Declan, betrayed and furious, assumed Audrey had set the whole thing up to trap him. That flicker of love he’d started to feel was crushed under the weight of his anger. He married her anyway, but from that day forward, their marriage was a cold war of unspoken resentment and pain. The script added, Declan actually loves Audrey deeply. The deeper the love, the more he couldn’t accept her “betrayal.” Once the truth comes out, the groveling will begin. I almost scoffed. By the time the truth came out, Audrey would be missing a kidney and I’d be sleeping with the fishes, courtesy of Spencer. Declan’s redemption arc could go to hell. I was more interested in helping Audrey get a divorce. The script seemed to read my mind. Don’t waste your time. The bond between the main characters isn’t that easy to break. I couldn’t stand its smug tone. I mentally hit the mute button, cutting it off mid-sentence. Its tinny, indignant curses echoed in my head, and for the first time all day, I felt a genuine sense of satisfaction. 7 As Declan’s assistant, I had a front-row seat to Jenna’s masterclass in manipulation. Business trips, client meetings, contract negotiations—she was always by his side. But it didn’t stop there. A common cold, a headache, cramps—every minor ailment was an emergency that required Declan’s personal attention. I watched in silence as he, the CEO of a multi-million dollar company, personally brewed her a cup of ginger tea with brown sugar. The script’s voice resurfaced, dripping with sarcasm. If only I’d been assigned to Jenna. You’re an amateur compared to her. I ignored it and pulled out my phone. I was just about to “accidentally” send a picture of the cozy scene to Audrey when she appeared in the doorway. She stood there, her face pale, staring at Declan and Jenna. Her eyes, usually so bright, looked like dull, lifeless stones. It was heartbreaking. I silently cursed them both. My body moved before my brain could catch up. “Audrey,” I said, rushing to her side. I took her hand; it was ice-cold. I tried to pour some of my own warmth into her. She forced a smile. “I’m okay.” But the dimples in her cheeks were filled with bitterness. The moment he saw Audrey, Declan instinctively pushed Jenna away. “It’s not what it looks like…” he started to explain. But Jenna cut him off before he could finish. “Audrey, please don’t be angry,” she said, her voice dripping with false sincerity. “My cramps were just really bad, and Declan was just being a good friend.” The way she lowered her eyes, playing the victim, made my teeth ache. I couldn’t help but ask myself a question. Hey, script. Am I this annoying? I feel like Audrey can see right through Jenna’s act. Why is she always so nice to me? The script’s voice was flat, deadpan. Because all of your manipulations are aimed at the husband. The wife has no reason to be mad at you. Right now, Jenna is aiming at her. Of course she’s angry. She’s not an idiot. Even the script could see how furious Audrey was. Declan, however, seemed to be completely blind. The fact that he’d almost explained himself to Audrey seemed to infuriate him. His face hardened. “Stop being so dramatic. We’re just friends.” The last glimmer of hope in Audrey’s eyes died. She let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Dramatic?” She was too heartbroken to even argue. 8 Audrey turned and walked away, her movements sharp and final. She looked fragile, like a single gust of wind could shatter her. I started to go after her, but Declan was faster. He grabbed her arm, his face a mask of rare, unfiltered panic. “Stop making a scene. There’s nothing going on between us.” Audrey ripped her arm from his grasp. “Think whatever you want.” She met his frantic gaze, her voice weary and cold. “Declan, I’m tired. I don’t care what your relationship is with her. Let’s just get a divorce.” Divorce. The word was music to my ears. I almost jumped for joy. But for Declan, it was like a lit match to a barrel of gunpowder. His face went rigid, his eyes like chips of ice. “Don’t even think about it.” He grabbed her arm again, so tightly I could see her wince. “You think I’m going to let you run off to that doctor of yours, to Leo?” His voice dropped to a low, menacing growl. “You started this, Audrey. You’re stuck with me for life.” Even from several feet away, the intensity of his rage was suffocating. I couldn’t imagine what it felt like for Audrey, trapped in his orbit. The script piped up again, smug as ever. See? He’s completely in love with her. He gets jealous when she even talks to another doctor, he just doesn’t realize it yet. After the truth comes out and he grovels, they’ll get their happy ending. To hell with their happy ending. A hot wave of anger washed over me, so strong it burned away my carefully constructed persona. I marched over and threw myself at Declan. “Let her go!” I yelled, pulling at his arm. “Stop bullying her!” Seeing me jump in, Audrey started to struggle again, afraid I would get hurt. Out of nowhere, Jenna appeared. In the chaos, she lunged forward and slapped Audrey. Hard. Twice. I saw red. “You son of a bitch, Declan! You just stood there and let her do it!” 9 Jenna had moved so fast, Declan didn’t have time to react. By the time he finally let go of Audrey’s arm, looking utterly stunned, it was too late. “I’m sorry, I…” CRACK. Audrey, her expression shattered, swung her hand across his face with all her might. “Get out,” she screamed, her voice raw with pain. “Both of you, just get out!” A flicker of malicious satisfaction crossed Jenna’s face before she quickly replaced it with a mask of pathetic sorrow. “I’m so sorry, Audrey, I didn’t mean to. I just saw you two fighting and I… I got scared for Declan.” She cast a pleading, tear-filled glance in his direction. “If you’re going to divorce him over this, then… then you can hit me back. I won’t mind. I don’t feel pain.” She bit her lip, looking for all the world like she was on the verge of collapsing. Audrey was raised better than to get into a physical fight. I, however, was not. I slapped Jenna across the face. She froze, stunned, for two full seconds before she launched herself at me like a wild animal. She was coming at me with everything she had. The world seemed to shift into slow motion. I could see Audrey’s horrified face, her hand reaching out to pull me back. But my body was already falling, stumbling backward. The back of my head hit something hard. And then, everything went dark.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385973”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On what was supposed to be my wedding night, I lifted the white silk veil with a heart full of joy. But the bride beneath it wasn’t my fiancée. It was the gardener’s daughter, the girl they always said wasn’t all there. Willow. A wave of snickering rippled through the room. Ryan, Ava’s best friend, grinned with pure malice. “Well, rules are rules, Ethan,” he said, his voice slick with schadenfreude. “You lifted the veil. Tradition says the groom has to spend the wedding night with the bride.” He winked. “I’ll take one for the team and keep Ava company tonight.” Just then, Ava herself drifted into the room, a picture of unbothered elegance. “It was just a joke, Ethan,” she said, her voice laced with a familiar, dismissive chill. “Don’t be so sensitive.” 1 “Besides,” she added with a shrug, “she’s a simpleton. She won’t know the difference. It’s not like you’ll lose a piece of yourself by spending one night with her.” Looking at her, at the casual cruelty in her smirk, I didn’t feel anger. I felt a profound sense of clarity. I laughed, a low, hollow sound. “If I’m the one who lifted her veil,” I said, my voice steady, “then one night isn’t enough.” I turned my back on them and their shocked faces. “If I’m going to be responsible for her, it has to be for life.” The room fell silent. My groomsmen, who had been ready for a night of drunken revelry, just stared, their mouths agape. “Make Ethan spend the night with a girl who’s mentally disabled? Ava, what the hell were you thinking?” one of them finally muttered. “It’s your wedding day,” another added, shaking his head. “There are lines you don’t cross.” Ava just arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “What’s it to you? I’m his fiancée, and I’m not bothered. Why should he be?” She stepped toward me, her tone dropping into a threat. “You embarrassed Ryan at the charity auction last month. You cost him his bonus. Tonight was about settling that score.” “So, you have two choices,” she declared. “Spend the night with the freak, or this wedding is off.” Being threatened by Ava wasn’t new. But this… this was beyond cruel. It was absurd. Last month, Ryan, my own assistant, had accompanied me to a major charity auction. I’d given him clear instructions, a strict bidding limit. He ignored every word, getting caught in a bidding war and forcing the company to acquire a piece of art for nearly half a million dollars over budget. Company policy dictated immediate termination. I gave him a lighter sentence—forfeiture of his mid-year bonus—as a favor to Ava. And yet, she was convinced I had orchestrated the whole thing just to humiliate him. She refused to listen to reason, calling me cold and ruthless. She’d made me kneel in the lobby of my own damn building all night and hand-write a ten-thousand-word letter of apology to Ryan before she’d finally dropped it. I thought it was over. I never imagined she would resurrect it like this, on our wedding day. In that moment, any remaining warmth I felt for her turned to ice. To settle a score for Ryan, she had concocted this grotesque theater, designed to make me the laughingstock of our entire social circle. She was standing there, radiating confidence, so utterly certain of my devotion that she believed I would willingly walk into this fire for her. She had no idea that even the most intense love can be extinguished when it’s treated with such reckless contempt. I let out a short, sharp breath and turned away from them completely. I walked over to the girl in the borrowed wedding dress, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, happily unwrapping a piece of candy. I knelt down on one knee before her. I took her hand. It was small and warm. I looked up into her face. “Willow,” I said softly. “Will you marry me?” Ava’s gasp was sharp and loud. “Ethan, are you insane? I told you to spend one night with her, not actually marry the idiot!” Ryan grabbed her arm, hissing in her ear. “Ava, calm down. He’s bluffing. It’s a power play to make you back down. If you lose your cool now, he wins.” Hearing that, Ava composed herself, a smug little smile playing on her lips. “Fine, Ethan,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension. “And remember to get a new ring tomorrow. I don’t want anything that simpleton has touched.” I ignored her. She rolled her eyes in frustration. “Well, since the groom seems to be occupied, I guess that means we can finally have a proper bachelor party for me,” she announced to the room. “Drinks on me. Let’s not let the night go to waste!” She turned and walked out, pulling Ryan along with her, without a single backward glance. I remained on one knee, my hand hovering in the empty air, a vast, hollow feeling spreading through my chest. Just then, a soft, warm hand gently placed itself in mine. I looked up, and my eyes met Willow’s. A slow, gentle smile spread across her face. Her voice was a quiet whisper, but it cut through the silence of the room with perfect clarity. “I do.” I was taken aback. For some reason, while her mannerisms seemed simple and childlike, the eyes looking back at me were crystal clear, lucid. The thought vanished as quickly as it came, and I dismissed it. I softened my voice, speaking to her as one would a child. “Willow, if you’re agreeing to marry me, we have to go to City Hall first. We need to get a marriage license to make it real.” I paused, holding her gaze, and asked again, my voice serious. “This isn’t a game, Willow. Are you absolutely sure?” She didn’t answer with words. She just clapped her hands together, her face lit with pure, unadulterated joy. Seeing her so happy, a bitter smile touched my own lips. I drove us to the County Clerk’s office myself. The process of filling out the paperwork was a chaotic ordeal. When it was time to sign, she gripped the pen and scribbled wildly, finally managing a shaky, crooked version of her name. When we did the fingerprints, she was fascinated by the red ink, getting it all over her hands and even smudging it on her cheek. She just giggled at her reflection, looking like a little kitten. Soon enough, two crisp, new marriage certificates were in our hands. Willow held hers like it was a priceless treasure, her eyes shining. She clutched it to her chest, refusing to let go. As we walked out of the building, I called my driver. I gently stroked Willow’s hair. “Willow, I need you to go with the driver, okay? I have something I need to take care of. I’ll be back very soon.” She looked at me, confused, but nodded obediently. I turned my car around and headed for the bar. When I pushed open the door to the private room, only Ava and Ryan were left. She was dabbing his mouth with a damp towel, her movements careful and tender. His shirt collar was stained with vomit. I remembered Ava’s obsessive cleanliness. Once, when I had a terrible flu, I’d been sick in the middle of the night. Her first reaction was to leap out of bed, pinching her nose. “Ethan, you’re disgusting! Can’t you make it to the bathroom?” she’d snapped. I was the one who, burning with fever, had to strip the bed and change the sheets. She never once asked if I was okay. She spent that night at Ryan’s place. Yet here she was, completely unfazed by the filth on him. Ryan, his eyes glassy with drink, saw me and grinned. “Ethan, my man. I thought you were supposed to be enjoying your wedding night with the pretty little fool. What happened? Regret it already?” Ava didn’t stop cleaning his face. “Ryan, shut up,” she murmured, before finally turning her gaze to me. Her tone was flat, bored. “Ethan, I think you’ve learned your lesson today, so I’ll let it slide.” “We can have another ceremony in a few days. I have to get Ryan home. He’s had way too much to drink.” Watching the obvious care she had for him, and contrasting it with the cold indifference she’d always shown me, the frozen part of my heart felt a sharp, dull ache, as if pierced by an icicle. The last ripple of emotion I had for her stilled into absolute silence. I nodded slowly. Then, I pulled the marriage certificate from my jacket pocket. “Do whatever you want. But there’s no need to reschedule the wedding. Willow and I are already legally married.” The sight of the certificate wiped the bored expression from Ava’s face. Her complexion turned ashen. “Are you kidding me, Ethan? You actually went and legally married that… that thing?” she seethed. “You must be as sick in the head as she is to pull a stunt like this. If word gets out, how am I ever supposed to show my face in public again?” Even now, all she could think about was her own reputation. The idea that the CEO of the Cole Corporation had left her at the altar to marry a mentally disabled girl—the public humiliation would be unbearable for her. Ryan let out a drunken snort. “Wow, Ethan. I have to hand it to you. Going this far just to make Ava angry? That takes dedication. But humiliating yourself is one thing. Why drag Ava down with you?” Their words were a mockery. They were the ones who set this whole grotesque play in motion. When I said I’d marry Willow, Ava did nothing to stop me. And now it was somehow my fault? Just then, Ryan gagged again, spewing vomit onto the sleeve of Ava’s designer dress. She cried out but didn’t push him away. Instead, she frantically looked around for something to clean it with. The cocktail napkins were all used. Her eyes landed on me. “Ethan, your handkerchief! Give it to me, quickly!” she demanded. I froze. The handkerchief she was talking about was one she had embroidered for me when we first started dating. It had our initials stitched into the corner. She’d called it a symbol of our love, something I should carry with me always. For all these years, I had. It had never left my pocket. And now, she wanted it to wipe another man’s vomit off her dress. My heart didn’t just break. It shattered into dust. After a long moment of silence, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the handkerchief. I didn’t hand it to her. I threw it on the floor at her feet. “We’re done, Ava.” She bent down, snatched it up, and immediately started cleaning her sleeve, shouting at me over her shoulder. “It’s just a stupid piece of cloth! Are you really going to be this dramatic? I can wash it! Or, God, I’ll stitch you a new one when I have time!” I didn’t bother replying. I just turned and walked toward the door. A new one? There was no future for us. Seeing me leave, her voice grew louder, laced with fury. “Go on, walk out! You really think I need you, Ethan?” “You’re going to regret this! And when you do, don’t come crawling back to me!” It was late when I returned to the villa. Willow was curled up on the living room sofa, fast asleep. She was still clutching her marriage certificate tightly in her arms. Seeing her like that, something inside my chest softened. I walked over quietly, intending to carry her to the bedroom. But my movement startled her awake. Her eyes were hazy with sleep, but when they focused on me, they lit up. “You’re… you’re back.” “Yeah.” I smiled, leaning down. “From now on, if I’m late, you don’t have to wait up. Just go to bed when you’re tired, okay?” After I got Willow settled in her room, I went to my study. A moment later, my phone screen lit up. A text from Ava. [Ethan, if you come back and apologize to me right now, I might consider forgiving you.] [Be angry, throw a tantrum, I don’t care. But you do not get to disgust me by actually marrying that imbecile!] I stared at the screen, feeling nothing. The words that once would have twisted my insides into knots now just seemed… annoying. I didn’t reply. I just blocked her number. The world suddenly felt very quiet. The next morning, I took Willow out. I realized that in all the years I’d known of her, she’d never had a phone of her own. I thought it would be better if she had one, in case I ever needed to reach her. At the mobile store, after we got her a new number, I saved it in my contacts. When the field for the name came up, I paused for a moment, then carefully typed in one word: “Wife.” As we were leaving the mall, we ran headlong into Ava and Ryan. Ava’s gaze was like a razor blade, slicing from our intertwined hands to my face. Her expression was a mixture of fury and derisive amusement. “Ethan, are you ever going to get tired of this little game?” she sneered. “Parading this… thing… around in public. Have you no shame? What about the Cole family name?” Ryan chimed in, his tone condescending. “Come on, man. It’s gone far enough. Ava’s not angry anymore. Just apologize and we can all put this behind us.” “Excuse me,” I said, my voice flat and devoid of emotion, cutting them both off. “I need to take my wife to pick out a wedding dress.” Hearing me call Willow my wife so intimately, Ava finally snapped. “Ethan! Have you forgotten how you begged me to be with you? Have you forgotten that you swore you would only love me for the rest of your life?” “How long are you going to keep up this pathetic charade with this simpleton? Are you really telling me you’re not going to marry me anymore?” I met her furious gaze without flinching and delivered the final blow. “That’s right, Ava,” I said calmly. “I don’t want you anymore.” And as the color drained from her face, I gently guided Willow past her, and we didn’t look back. 2 Three days later, Willow and I held our wedding. As expected, Ava showed up. She didn’t come alone. She brought Ryan, her entire clique of sycophantic friends, and a swarm of media reporters she’d clearly tipped off. Our small, private ceremony was suddenly overrun. Before Ava could even speak, the reporters descended on me like vultures. “Mr. Cole, is it true that you’re marrying a woman with a known intellectual disability simply to spite your former fiancée, Ms. Lynch? Have you considered the emotional damage this will cause her?” Ava stood behind them, her face a perfect mask of wounded innocence. Her voice trembled as she spoke. “Ethan, I know you’re still angry with me, but how could you do this? How could you try to punish me like this? What will people think?” Even though I had prepared myself for this, standing there under the glare of a dozen cameras made a hot wave of humiliation wash over me. Ava saw my discomfort, and a triumphant smile flickered across her lips. She pushed through the reporters and glided towards me. “Ethan,” she said, her voice now a patronizing coo. “You went to all this trouble, didn’t you? All just to win me back.” “I won’t hold it against you. All you have to do is apologize. Kneel, right here, in front of everyone, and beg for my forgiveness. If you do that, I might… consider it.” She tilted her chin up, her face a portrait of smug certainty. She was so sure that I would take the escape route she was offering.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385972”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I came back to two years ago, a baby tucked inside me. In the dim light of the private booth, the campus charity case was sinking her teeth into Leo Donovan’s belt. She acted like she didn’t see me, her tongue flicking out playfully. “Big brother,” she cooed, “I’ve left my mark on you now.” I acted like I didn’t hear her. I walked straight past them, heading for Leo’s twin brother. Someone tried to stop me. “Audrey, Leo’s over there.” Leo’s face darkened. “Audrey, get over here.” I didn’t break my stride. I stopped in front of Liam Donovan. The man, all lazy grace and coiled energy, lifted his eyes. There was a spark of something dangerous under the polished, gentlemanly surface, a magnetism that pulled you in. “Looking for me?” he asked, one eyebrow arching. I nodded, holding out a folded paper. A sonogram report. “I’m pregnant,” I said, my voice steady. “It’s yours. Want to raise it with me?” Liam: “?” The air in the room evaporated. Every breath was held captive. Leo slammed his glass on the table, shooting to his feet. “Audrey,” he snarled, “say that again. Whose baby is it?” 1 The silence was a vacuum. Everyone in that room knew Leo and I were a couple. What none of them knew was that two hours ago, I was done with him. Liam’s long, pale fingers took the report from me. He studied it for a moment, his expression unreadable, then lifted his gaze to mine. His eyes, long and dangerously beautiful, were a swirl of shadow and light. A single syllable escaped his throat. “Hm?” “It’s yours,” I repeated. “Are you going to take responsibility?” He didn’t answer, just kept looking at me, his stare so intense it felt like it could see right through me. “Or,” I added, “we could discuss this somewhere else.” I held his gaze, my own completely serious. He seemed to be trying to decide if this was some elaborate, cruel joke. Finally, a strained voice broke the silence. “Audrey… you’re kidding, right?” A chorus of nervous agreement followed. “Yeah, this isn’t funny at all.” “We were just playing a game. Daisy just bit his belt, that’s it. We all saw. Leo didn’t do anything, he didn’t even touch her.” “Audrey, you can’t be doing this just because you’re scared he’ll dump you, right? Trying to scare him into line?” “We all know how crazy he is about you. You can’t mess with him like this.” “Daisy, come on, you gotta help him out here. Explain it to her.” The girl they called “Daisy” was the arts department’s star sob story, a girl named Daisy Miller. She stood beside Leo, her voice a fragile whisper. “But… the look on her face… she doesn’t seem like she’s joking, does she?” Her words plunged the room back into a frozen stillness. Leo’s jaw was tight as he strode toward us, snatching the sonogram from Liam’s hand. He scanned it, and a bitter, incredulous laugh escaped him. “Audrey, is this seriously it?” he said, his voice dripping with disbelief. “Just because I took pity on Daisy, because I’m helping her out, you pull my brother into this insane little drama?” Drama? Oh, this was no drama. This was a reckoning. 2 I need other people’s love to live. It’s not a metaphor; it’s a biological fact. The moment no one on this earth loves me, my heart will stop. I will simply die. In my last life, after my grandfather passed, I believed the love keeping me alive was Leo’s. That’s why I never really cared about Daisy. Daisy was the classic hard-luck case. She’d made a viral post on some social media platform, a cutesy plea for help. 【I’m about to starve to death, is there any kind human out there willing to adopt a poor college girl?】 【I’m just so clumsy and helpless, I really need a big brother or a daddy to take care of me.】 【Disclaimer: This is adoption, not a sugar daddy situation! #AdoptACollegeGirl】 She’d posted a picture of herself, looking doe-eyed and innocent. Someone from campus recognized her and reposted it to the university’s online forum. She blew up overnight. Guys flooded her DMs with disgusting offers; girls tore her apart for being a manipulative pick-me. Leo found her crying in a corner, shattered by the backlash. He saw a damsel in distress, so he stepped in. He helped her, and then, on a whim, he “adopted” her. After that, she was always there, a little shadow glued to his side. I wasn’t okay with it at first. Leo accused me of being cold-hearted, and we didn’t speak for days. Then, Daisy started trying to win me over. She was sweet, deferential, playing up her tragic backstory to earn my sympathy. As another woman, I couldn’t help but soften. I figured, what’s the harm? It was an adoption, not an affair. All that mattered was that Leo still loved me. I never once doubted his love. Not even at the very end. But my life ended just moments after Liam’s did. 3 In my past life, I accidentally drank something that had been spiked. I ended up spending a chaotic, blurred night with a drunk Liam. When I woke up next to him, the shock was paralyzing. I couldn’t face it. I ran away to a quiet mountain town and hid for a month. During that time, Daisy got into a car accident, and Leo was by her side, taking care of her every need. Liam, however, followed me. He tracked me down in that little town and asked me a single question. He asked why, when they had both loved me, I had chosen Leo over him. Leo and Liam were identical twins, but their eyes made them worlds apart. Leo had these perfect, almond-shaped eyes that made him look earnest and intense all at once. Liam was cursed with devastating upturned eyes, the kind that could look at a garbage can and make it feel like the most cherished thing in the world. Leo was the cool, reserved one. Girls fell all over him, but he kept a careful, respectful distance from everyone. Liam was the wild one, the charmer who always knew the right thing to say, constantly surrounded by beautiful girls who claimed to be his girlfriend. So, I gave him my answer. I told him I felt like he’d had too many girlfriends, and I’d never even had a boyfriend. I told him I thought he was a player, that his feelings had a short shelf life. And then I said the cruelest thing. I told him I thought he was… used. That being with him would have felt like a bad deal for me. The color drained from his face when he heard that. It was like something inside him shattered. He tried desperately to explain, to tell me something, but I didn’t want to hear it. I cut him off. I told him to pretend it never happened, to never tell a soul. A month later, I found out I was pregnant. The day I got back from the mountains, I walked in on Leo and Daisy locked in a passionate, desperate kiss. I stumbled back, out the door, my world tilting on its axis. I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t see the car losing control, barreling right for me. In that last, terrifying second, Liam shoved me out of the way. He took the impact that was meant for me. The last words he ever said were, “As long as you’re okay…” 4 Two hours ago, I woke up back here, the baby still safely inside me. This was right after Leo had “adopted” Daisy, during the cold war he’d started because I didn’t approve. When Liam died in the other timeline, the love that sustained me vanished in an instant. That’s when I finally understood. Leo hadn’t loved me for a long, long time. In my first life, I never came to this bar. I never saw this disgusting little display. Thinking back now, he probably had filthy thoughts about her from the very beginning. I looked at the fury on Leo’s face, at the timid girl cowering beside him, and a wave of nausea rolled through me. “Leo,” I said, my voice flat. “You’re disgusting now. I don’t want you anymore.” “What did you just say?” His eyes were rimmed with red, his voice dangerously low, each word laced with ice. “You think I’m… disgusting?” “Yes. You are.” I nodded, my gaze dropping to the belt still hanging loosely from his pants, the buckle undone. The teeth marks were clear, the dark leather still damp. It was sickening. “You told me no one would ever touch that belt but me. You said a man’s belt was like his honor. You let someone else lick it. Now it’s dirty. And so are you.” Leo’s pupils constricted. His face went white. “No, it wasn’t—I…” Just then, Liam’s voice cut through the tension, lazy and sharp. “It wasn’t what? You looked like you were enjoying it just fine a minute ago.” Leo choked on his words, his face flushing with humiliation. I had no desire to stay in that room a second longer. I grabbed Liam’s arm and started pulling him toward the door. “Forget him,” I said. “Let’s go talk somewhere else.” 5 I told Liam a version of the truth. I told him I was from two years in the future. That in that future, Leo was dead. That he had made his intentions for me clear and we were engaged. That after we got together, I got pregnant, and then, somehow, I woke up back here. Liam listened, his eyes lowered, casting his face in shadow. His expression was impossible to read. He didn’t speak. He just pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, slipped one between his lips. As he brought a lighter up, I stopped him. “Smoking is bad for the baby,” I said softly. “…” His hand froze. “So,” I pressed, “you don’t believe me?” He lowered the lighter, his long fingers pinching the unlit cigarette. His throat moved as he swallowed. “I’m more inclined to believe,” he said slowly, “that you saw him flirting with another woman and you’re doing this to punish him.” My fingers tightened around the chain of my purse. He didn’t believe me. “Then come with me.” I grabbed his wrist and dragged him back into the booth. The atmosphere was still thick with tension. Leo was slumped on the leather seat, his face a thundercloud, staring intently at the sonogram in his hand. I snatched it from him, pointing to the line item for my age. “Look. It says I’m twenty-two. You know perfectly well I’m only twenty this year.” I turned back to Liam. “And if you still don’t believe me, we can go to the hospital and get a paternity test—” Before I could finish, Leo roared my name. “AUDREY!” “The baby is mine,” he seethed, “I won’t let you pretend he’s the father.” Liam’s gaze drifted down to me, a knowing, almost melancholic look in his eyes. “We’re identical twins,” he said quietly. “Our DNA is the same. A paternity test would show that either of us could be the biological father.” I paused. I hadn’t thought of that. Then, a slow smile spread across my face. “Fine. Since neither of you believe me, I’ll just choose option C.” I turned on my heel and walked out. “I’m keeping the baby and cutting the father.” 6 They both came after me. I was already in my car, the door clicking shut just as they reached it. Leo slammed his palms against the window. I didn’t even look at him. I just hit the gas and drove away. My phone, which had been in my purse when I arrived in this time, started buzzing relentlessly. It was my phone from the future, but somehow, the number worked. When I got home, I ignored the flood of missed calls. I opened my chat with Liam. The history was from two years in the future, of course. There were only four messages. The ones I sent him right after I found out about Leo. —【Liam, I’m pregnant.】 —【Where are you? I’m coming to find you.】 —【At the XX Hotel】 —【I’m on my way.】 The timestamp at the top of the screen read October 10, 2037. Today was April 26, 2035. I remembered sending that last message, then looking up to see the two of them through the window, their clothes already on the floor… The memory made my stomach churn. The raw, sickening taste of betrayal. My nerves felt like they were being chewed on by a million tiny ants. It was true. Love and men were both unreliable. So, I was going to place a bet. I was going to make them both into fuel to keep me alive. I hit the screen record function on my phone. Waited five seconds. Then I tapped the input box and held down the microphone icon. “Liam,” I said, my voice clear and steady. “Do you believe me now?” I sent the message. I stopped the recording. I sent him the video file of the screen recording. Then, I turned on Do Not Disturb, tossed my phone aside, and went to take a shower. Time for bed. 7 The next morning, the first thing I did after my brain came online was reach for my phone. 99+ missed calls. 99+ unread messages. Leo’s chat window was a novel of desperation. 【Audrey, pick up the phone.】 【We were just playing a game. I didn’t touch her.】 【I don’t agree to you cutting me out. And I damn well don’t agree to you letting my brother be the father to my child.】 【It was a game. Nothing happened. Can you stop being so dramatic?】 【Daisy is innocent. She’s poor, she hasn’t seen much of the world. We didn’t do anything.】 【…】 【Are you making this huge scene just because you don’t want me helping Daisy?】 【Audrey, when did you become so cold and heartless?】 【Audrey, answer me.】 【Daisy literally just touched my belt, can you please not be like this?】 【Please stop trying to hurt me like this.】 【Audrey, I’m not dirty. You can’t leave me…】 … Hah. Daisy this, Daisy that. He spoke her name with such familiarity. I switched to Liam’s chat. 【…I believe you.】 【Audrey, let me raise the baby with you.】 【I’ll do my best to be a good father.】 【And I’ll… I’ll take care of you and the baby.】 【I’ll protect you both.】 【?】 【Why aren’t you answering?】 【Did you see my message? I said, I want to raise our baby with you.】 【Audrey, don’t play with me. I’m taking this seriously.】 【…】 【Audrey, you didn’t make up with Leo, did you?】 【I won’t allow it. I won’t let you raise our child with him.】 【Audrey, answer me when you see this…】 After quickly skimming the messages, I typed out a reply to Liam: 【Come get me. We’re going to the hospital for a check-up.】 Then, I switched back to Leo’s chat. I typed the exact same message: 【Come get me. We’re going to the hospital for a check-up.】 I waited exactly two minutes. Then I sent another message to Leo: 【Never mind. Sent to the wrong person.】 This time, his reply was instantaneous. 【???】 【Wrong person? Who were you trying to send that to? LIAM?】 【AUDREY!!!】 【I told you, I will not let you raise our child with my brother.】 The messages kept coming, a frantic barrage. I simply turned off my phone and went to get ready. When I came downstairs, sure enough, both Leo and Liam were waiting in the living room. 8 In the living room, Liam was lounging on the sofa, a vision in a black silk shirt and matching trousers. He was completely absorbed in his phone, his beautiful, long-fingered hands scrolling through something. He looked casual, but there was an undercurrent of predatory grace to him. Leo, on the other hand, was a storm cloud. He stood stiffly, his lips pressed into a thin line, glaring at Liam with an intensity that was practically suffocating the room. The moment he saw me, Leo shot to his feet. “Audrey…” I pursed my lips, a slight frown touching my features. “What are you doing here?” I asked coolly. Leo stared at me, a wounded look in his eyes, a faint ring of red slowly appearing around them. “Audrey, I told you,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I won’t let you do this. You can’t treat me this way.” “Daisy and I did nothing. It was just a stupid game.” “Hah.” Liam let out a soft, dismissive laugh without looking up from his phone. “A normal game where you let someone lick your belt. Sounds perfectly normal to me.” Leo spun on him, his control snapping. “Liam, shut your mouth!” he roared. “Stop trying to cause trouble. She and I are engaged. That makes you the other man here.” Liam chuckled, a short, dry sound. The sharp line of his Adam’s apple bobbed. “The other man. Has a nice ring to it.” Leo looked like his head was about to explode. “Liam, you’re my brother! Are you trying to steal my fiancée? Have you no shame?” I stood on the spiral staircase, arms crossed, enjoying the show. Tsk. This was even more entertaining than I’d anticipated. Leo was a hysterical mess. Liam, on the other hand, was perfectly composed, with just a hint of delightful madness. “You’re talking about shame?” Liam finally looked up, his eyes glinting. “You, the guy who was getting his belt licked by another girl?” Leo looked like he’d been punched in the gut. He was speechless. K.O. Liam Donovan. Absolutely lethal. The man was a master at pushing buttons. 9 My family and the Donovans have been friends for generations. I grew up with Leo and Liam; they were the closest things I had to childhood sweethearts. Our families had arranged a marriage for me since we were kids, with the understanding that I would choose between the two brothers when the time came. When we were old enough for crushes and confessions, they both told me they liked me. But Liam was always a magnet for girls, constantly surrounded. I saw him as a flirt, a butterfly who couldn’t be tied down. Not solid and dependable like Leo. At that age, my feelings were black and white. I disliked how popular Liam was, so I kept my distance, growing closer and closer to Leo. After Leo and I started dating, we held hands and kissed, but we never took that final step. The pressure was getting to me, and I couldn’t seem to relax. A friend in an older sorority suggested that maybe being with my boyfriend would help ease the stress. That night, we’d both had a little to drink. The alcohol and the charged atmosphere made things feel inevitable. My thinking was simple. We loved each other. He was going to be my husband anyway. It wasn’t a big deal. That was just over a month ago. The sonogram showed the pregnancy was at five weeks. So, it was understandable that Leo was so certain the child was his. He ended up getting in the car with us. He sat in the front passenger seat. After helping me into the back, Liam once again pulled out his phone, completely absorbed. Leo was like a ghost haunting the car, twisting in his seat to glare at Liam, his face a mask of fury. I glanced at Liam’s screen and understood immediately. He was looking up prenatal appointment procedures and checklists. No wonder Leo was so furious. And Liam, cool as a cucumber, was treating him like he was invisible, which only made Leo angrier. His breathing grew heavy, like an old bull. It felt like he might actually spontaneously combust from rage. Finally, he exploded again. “Liam, can you stop looking at that?” I shot him a cool look. “He’s the baby’s father,” I said calmly. “Shouldn’t he be the one looking at it?” “The baby is mine!” “Oh,” I said, my voice dripping with boredom. “So you want to be the dad? Then you should be looking at it too. Why are you stopping someone else from being prepared?” I paused for effect. “Frankly, I think he’s much better suited for the role than you are.” Leo froze. The bull-like huffing stopped. He pulled out his own phone and furiously started searching for prenatal care information. Liam looked up from his screen and gave me a long, meaningful glance. 10 At the hospital, Leo had spent the entire car ride frantically studying prenatal protocols, thinking he could seize control of the situation. It was useless. Liam gently helped me into a chair, took my ID, and went to get in line at the registration desk without giving Leo a single glance. Leo just stood there foolishly, his hand still outstretched towards me. “Audrey, give me your ID. I’ll go register.” I just pointed toward the front of the line, where Liam was already at the window. Leo’s face fell. A moment later, Liam returned, holding the registration slip. His voice was a soft caress. “Come on. Obstetrics is on the second floor.” We waited in line. We waited for my name to be called. Then, we started the round of tests. A fetal DNA test can be done at five weeks. So, I had them both do one. A non-invasive test. Just a blood draw. They both knew I was terrified of needles. They got theirs done quickly. Then it was my turn. “Audrey, don’t be scared, I’ll—” Leo started, but before he could finish, Liam was beside me. He wrapped an arm around me, his large hand covering my eyes. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “It won’t hurt.” “Liam, get away from her. She’s my fiancée, she doesn’t need you.” Leo reached out to pull him away. Liam didn’t budge. “The baby is mine,” he stated, his voice calm and even. Leo’s voice rose, sharp and cracking. “The baby is MINE!” His shout echoed, drawing the attention of everyone in the waiting area. Whispers erupted from all corners. “What’s going on? Two guys fighting over one girl?” “Not just any guys, they’re twins. Maybe she’s married to both of them, you know, like in the old days.” “Whoa, that’s some serious drama.” Even with my eyes covered, I could feel the stares burning into me. After the blood was drawn, the world came back into focus. I stood up, pointed at Liam, and addressed the gossiping crowd. “Everyone, please don’t misunderstand. The baby I’m carrying is his,” I said, indicating Liam. Then I looked at Leo, who looked like the poster child for wronged men, and pointed to my own head. “He has some issues up here. He likes to compete with his brother over everything. Just ignore him.” A wave of understanding washed over the crowd. “Oh, so he’s got problems.” “That explains it.” Just then, a thin, sharp smile touched Liam’s lips. He looked at Leo. “You haven’t forgotten that you were unbuckling your belt for another woman just yesterday, have you?” “Liam!” Leo’s voice was a furious warning, the red in his eyes deepening. It was impossible to tell if it was pure rage or something else entirely. “What kind of decent person plays a ‘let me lick your belt’ game with a girl?” Liam continued, his voice dripping with disdain. “I can assure you, guys with self-respect and a sense of boundaries don’t play games like that. In the future, don’t go out with me. Having a brother as indecent as you is embarrassing.” Three clean sentences. Every one a kill shot. Leo’s metaphorical health bar instantly dropped to zero. He looked like a defeated rooster, turning and practically fleeing from the scene. 11 “Liam.” I watched him, a slow, teasing smile on my face. “When did you get such a sharp tongue? I never noticed before.” Liam rubbed his fingertips together, his voice soft as melting snow. “That’s because you only ever had eyes for Leo. You never paid any attention to me.” “…” How was I supposed to respond to that? I grabbed his arm, standing on my toes to get closer. “Liiiiaaam,” I drew out his name. “Don’t tell me you’re still upset that I chose him instead of you back then.” He stared down at me, his expression unmoving. His eyelashes were long and thick, framing eyes the color of dark, rich ink. They were deep and bottomless. “Am I allowed to be?” he asked quietly. “Of course,” I said, my eyes curving into crescents. “You can be upset all you want. What does that have to do with me?” I leaned in a little closer. “It’s not like I’m going to change my mind.” He didn’t reply to that. Instead, he said, “I had some breakfast sent over. You should eat before your next test.” In the VIP lounge, I decided to play it up. I complained that my arm was sore from the blood draw and refused to hold my own chopsticks. Liam, ever patient, simply picked them up and started feeding me. “Have a bite of this dumpling.” “Shrimp shumai.” “Feed me some of the congee.” “Mmm, how come I never realized food tastes so much better when you feed it to me? Is it because I never let you before?” I mused aloud between bites. “Damn, I should have unlocked this ‘big brother’ feature way earlier. If I had, I probably would have chosen you from the start.” I kept up the stream of sweet talk, laying the emotional validation on thick. Liam’s breathing deepened slightly, but his face remained impassive. His ears, however, were traitors. They were bright red. “Audrey,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “After the appointment, we need to find a place to talk. Properly.” I blinked my wide, innocent eyes at him, my expression full of apology. “Oh, I’m so sorry, brother. I have a meeting at the office right after this. If you’re not in a rush, could we do it in a couple of days? You know me, juggling my studies and managing the company… I’m just so busy.” Liam’s gaze dropped, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You shouldn’t overexert yourself in the first trimester.” “Don’t worry,” I chirped, patting his arm. “I know my limits. I’ll protect our baby.” 12 The second the check-up was over, I said a swift goodbye to Liam. I ran into Leo and Daisy at the hospital entrance. Daisy was biting her lip, her expression a perfect blend of innocent purity and stubborn grievance. Her pale face looked like it was on the verge of tears, a picture of fragile beauty. The moment she saw me, she shrank closer to Leo, as if seeking shelter from a storm. A flicker of contempt crossed my face. I couldn’t believe how much I’d trusted Leo in my last life, how I’d dismissed her as harmless, completely missing her manipulative little act. I got into my car and deliberately rolled down the window. As we passed them, I had the driver honk the horn. It worked. Leo’s head snapped up. He saw the undisguised disgust on my face. His own face went pale, a flicker of panic in his eyes. I turned away, staring straight ahead as the window slowly slid shut. The rise and fall of my chest betrayed the turmoil inside. It was the suffocating absurdity of being betrayed. Leo. So, had you two been sneaking around all along? I thought, even with my strange dependency on love for survival, that my life could be simple. I thought after Mom, Dad, and Grandpa were gone, at least I would always have Leo’s love. It’s the biggest mistake you can make in a relationship, isn’t it? Assuming they’ll love you forever. Three days later. The hospital. The paternity test results were in. I called both Leo and Liam to meet me there. Unexpectedly, Leo brought Daisy with him. For the past two days, Leo had been trying to contact me nonstop. I’d found him so annoying that I blocked his number. He’d resorted to bombarding me with texts, none of which I’d read. He looked exhausted, with dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes. His voice was raw and hoarse, thick with a pathetic sort of grief. “Audrey…” “That day at the hospital… Daisy and I weren’t doing anything. You wouldn’t talk to me, so I had to ask her to come and help me explain.” I let out a cold laugh. “Oh, so it’s ‘Daisy’ now? Weren’t you calling her your little ‘sweetie’ before? That sounded so much more intimate.” Leo flinched. “Audrey, please don’t be like this,” he pleaded. “There’s really nothing between us. The game… everyone was just egging me on, saying I was a bad sport if I didn’t play along, so I…” I looked at him, my face devoid of emotion. “Leo, don’t you dare try to blame this on other people,” I said, my voice flat. “It’s not the first time your friends have dared you to do something stupid. In the past, you always had principles. You had boundaries. This time, she broke them. You broke them. You’re not clean anymore. So whether it was a game or not, in my eyes, you betrayed me.” Leo’s face went slack, his lips parting as if to speak. He looked at me with the wide, uncomprehending eyes of a child who’s just been punished, lost and panicked. “I…” At that moment, Daisy, clutching the strap of her purse, looked at Leo with a heartbreaking expression of sympathy. She bit her lip, her voice trembling with what was supposed to be righteous indignation, but was really just pure, unadulterated bitchiness. “It was just a game. You’re making such a big deal out of nothing. Leo was probably just afraid of being called a spoilsport. Why do you have to be so difficult about it? You’re being incredibly petty, you know that?” 13 THWACK— The word was barely out of Daisy’s mouth before Leo was sent sprawling to the ground by a vicious kick. Liam stood over him, his eyes narrowed into dark, dangerous slits, radiating pure menace. “Leo!” he snarled. “Did you teach her to talk to Audrey like that? We’ve spent our entire lives protecting her, and you let some outsider disrespect her like this?” Leo lay on the pavement, dazed. “I didn’t,” he stammered. “Daisy, apologize to Audrey. Now.” Daisy’s face was as white as a sheet, her body trembling. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. I gave Leo one last, cold look. “Wait here.” With that, I grabbed Liam’s hand and walked into the hospital to get the DNA report. As expected, the results identified both of them as the baby’s biological father. When we came back out, Daisy was gone. I handed Leo his copy of the report. “Congratulations,” I said, my voice dripping with irony. “You’ve both been identified as the father.” Leo stared at the paper, his voice choked and raw. “Audrey, the baby is mine. I won’t let you leave me. I won’t let you raise our child with him.” He grabbed my hand, his eyes shining with a broken, desperate light. “If you don’t like Daisy, I’ll stop helping her. I’ll cut off all contact. I was wrong, okay? Can you please stop using my brother to punish me?” I leaned in close to his ear, my voice a soft, cruel whisper. “Leo, don’t you get it yet? I don’t want you anymore. It doesn’t matter whose baby it is. What matters is who I decide the father is going to be.” I straightened up, pulling my hand from his grasp. I walked over to Liam and stood beside him, my voice loud and clear for Leo to hear. “Liam will be a much better father for my baby.” Then, I leaned toward Liam’s ear. “He’s not dead yet, brother,” I murmured. “And he still loves me very much. I can’t exactly tell him I’m a time traveler, and he’s convinced the baby is his. So if you want the job, you’re going to have to fight him for it. You’re going to have to steal it from him. Show me how much you want this. Show me you’re willing to fight for me.” I paused. “And while you’re at it, do me a little favor. Beat him up. Make sure you get his face.” “If you win, come see me tomorrow. If you lose…” I let the word hang in the air. “Well, the baby takes after me. We’re drawn to winners. We don’t like having a loser for a father.” Just then, my car pulled up. I stood up straight, blinking innocently, my face a perfect mask. “Since you both want to be the dad so badly, you can figure it out between you. My business manager needs me for something, so I have to go.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385971”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I’d just wrapped a six-month stint overseas, landing back in New York just in time for our anniversary. My first stop was Auden & Co. on Fifth Avenue; I wanted to get my wife, Ava, something special, a custom timepiece to mark the occasion. The sales associate, a man who’d known us for years, smiled warmly. “Mr. Blackwood, it seems you and Ms. Ava are perfectly in sync. She was just in yesterday and bought a matching pair herself. An early anniversary gift, she said.” The words hit me like a physical blow. I froze. An image flashed in my mind: her assistant, Leo, posted a picture on his Instagram story last night. On his wrist was the distinctive band of an Auden & Co. watch. His caption was a brazen little smirk in text form: *She said my time is hers now. 😉 * I pulled out my phone, my fingers numb as I dialed Ava’s number. It rang twice before a man’s voice, thick with sleep and irritation, answered. “Yeah? Who’s this? It’s the middle of the night.” A pause, a yawn. “Look, the boss just finished up, she’s in the shower. Call back tomorrow.” A bitter, humorless laugh escaped my lips. “Who am I? I’m her husband.” I let that sink in. “Tell her she’s fired. And so are you. Don’t bother coming into the office tomorrow.” 1 I hung up before he could respond and turned to my own assistant, who was waiting by the car. “Notify security,” I said, my voice flat. “As of tomorrow, Ava Blackwood and Leo Cruz are not permitted on Apex Innovations property. And get our lawyers on the phone. Freeze all assets in her name. I want divorce papers drawn up.” He nodded, his face a mask of professional discretion, and disappeared into the evening traffic. I had the driver take me home, the weight of the last six months pressing down on me, now compounded by a betrayal so sharp it felt like a shard of glass in my gut. I walked into our bedroom, the scent of her perfume still lingering in the air. Then I imagined Leo in this room, in our bed, and a wave of nausea washed over me. I turned around and walked down the hall to the guest room. … The next day, I slept until the afternoon. When I finally woke, my phone buzzed incessantly for a full minute as a deluge of notifications came through. The screen was a wall of missed calls and over a hundred messages from Ava. They started last night with cautious, almost gentle inquiries, then escalated to furious, frantic demands by morning. I cleared them all with a single tap. After a brief call with my assistant, I showered and went downstairs for lunch. Before I could even sit, our housekeeper, Maria, approached hesitantly, holding out her phone. “Mr. Blackwood, it’s Mrs. Blackwood. She insists on speaking with you.” The meal wasn’t ready yet, so I took the phone. I didn’t even have a chance to say hello before her voice, shrill and furious, erupted from the speaker. “Ethan! What the hell is your problem? Do you have any idea how humiliated I was today?!” The hard-won peace from a rare full night’s sleep evaporated. The rage I’d suppressed last night came roaring back. “Watch your tone, Ava,” I said, my voice dangerously quiet. “Your public image is the least of your problems right now. And if you ever speak to me like that again, I promise you, your reputation will be the first of many things you lose.” I hung up. A few minutes later, the phone rang again. This time, her voice was still tight with anger, but it was strained, reined in. “Ethan, I went to the office this morning. Security wouldn’t let me in. They said I was terminated. What’s going on?” I picked a single, out-of-place sunflower from the vase on the dining table, its bright, cheerful face a mockery. “It’s exactly what it sounds like,” I said calmly. “I put you in charge of Apex because I was out of the country. Now I’m back. It’s only natural that you step aside.” “And Leo?” she shot back, her voice rising. “He beat out dozens of candidates for that job. You’re firing him just because he didn’t kiss your ass on the phone?” My voice turned to ice. “Him? I don’t recall hiring an assistant whose job description included wearing matching watches with my wife and sleeping in my bed.” Silence. Then, a stammer. “You… you know?” “The watch was a corporate bonus for his performance,” she said, the words rushing out in a defensive torrent. “And he stayed over because the storm was terrible. Our house is halfway up the mountain, you can’t get a car service up here in that weather. But he slept on the couch! Nothing happened!” I cut her off, my voice devoid of emotion. “And last night?” “Last night was nothing! We had to entertain clients, we got two separate rooms. The shower in his room was broken, so he used mine. Honestly, Ethan, are you serious? The kid asked you who you were, you cursed him out and threatened his job. I’m a married woman. It’s not like that between us.” A dry, harsh laugh escaped me. “Please, Ava. Don’t treat me like a child. A storm, and our driver couldn’t take him home? A broken shower in a five-star hotel, and he couldn’t just call the front desk for a new room? Did you really think because I was in a different time zone, I was blind?” The reports from my private investigator burned in my memory. The cold fury in my chest intensified. “The first month I was gone, you bought him a three-million-dollar condo near the office. Three months ago, it was a new Porsche. Last month, you used the company jet for a ‘business trip’ to the Maldives. Did you think I wouldn’t find out? Did you think I was a fucking idiot, Ava?!” The words came out like venom. I was done playing games. “He will return the car and sign the deed to that condo back over to me,” I said, each word a block of ice. “Or he’s going to prison, and you’re going to walk out of this marriage with nothing but the clothes on your back.” She tried to backtrack. “I didn’t give them to him, they were just… on loan. Besides, you know how much your mother wants a grandchild. If we get divorced…” “You think I care?” I interrupted coldly. “The only reason you’re not getting served with divorce papers this very second is because adultery isn’t a crime. Don’t push me.” I ended the call, leaving her in the ringing silence. 2 After lunch, I skipped the office and headed to the gym in the basement, spending the next few hours working out until my muscles screamed and my mind was blessedly empty. The next morning, I walked into my office, feeling the clean burn of exertion, ready to take back the reins of my company. The sight that greeted me sent a fresh surge of adrenaline and fury through my veins. My wife, Ava, was on the sofa, pinned beneath her assistant, Leo. They scrambled apart the moment I entered. Ava pushed him off her, her face a mask of panic. “Ethan! I can explain!” Leo tumbled to the floor, crying out as his elbow smacked the corner of the glass coffee table. But Ava didn’t even glance at him. Her eyes were locked on me, wide with desperation. “It’s not what it looks like! He twisted his ankle and fell on me, I swear!” “Shut up,” I said. The words were quiet, but they cut through her frantic explanation like a razor. I sidestepped her as she reached for my arm. “Who let you in? I made it perfectly clear you were both terminated.” My assistant appeared in the doorway, followed by a trembling receptionist. “Mr. Blackwood,” the young woman stammered, her face pale. “I tried to stop them, but Ms. Blackwood and Mr. Cruz refused to leave the lobby. When the representatives from OmniCorp arrived for the meeting, she said she knew them and just walked in with their group. I… I didn’t know what to do.” I took a deep breath, trying to control the violent tremor in my hands. “It’s not your fault,” I said, waving them away. “Go on.” Once they were gone, I ignored Ava’s pleading gaze and began to survey my office. My office. The air was thick with a cloying cologne I despised. On the credenza where a framed photo of Ava and me once sat, there was now a small, tacky glass sculpture of a sun. And hanging in my private closet was a man’s jacket that was not mine. Leo, still on the floor, began to sob, a theatrical, self-pitying sound. “Mr. Blackwood, please don’t misunderstand. There’s nothing between me and Ava. The jacket… I just forgot to take it home with me last time.” Ava moved to stand in front of him, a lioness protecting her cub. “That’s enough, Ethan. He’s just a kid. Stop trying to intimidate him. His clothes got soaked in the rain one day, so I had a new jacket delivered for him. I only brought him here today to collect his personal things. You can’t just fire someone and not let them get their belongings… Ah! What are you doing?!” Crack. The sharp, clean sound of a slap echoed in the silent office. I had pushed past her, and the blow that landed on Leo’s face cut off the rest of her sentence. “Ethan, what the hell are you doing?!” she screamed, her voice raw with fury. “Why did you hit him?!” I turned to her, my expression unreadable, and slapped her too. My gaze was pure contempt. “Why him? Did you think you were exempt?” I said, my voice dangerously low. “He opens his mouth and feeds me lies, he should expect the consequences. And you… you let him.” 3 We had a meeting with a partner firm on the top floor later. The sight of Leo crying while covering his face and Ava sporting a fresh handprint on her cheek was not exactly professional. I looked at Ava, my voice cold. “Are you going to continue this pathetic scene here, or are you coming home with me?” Her face was a mask of fury, but she finally bit out a “Fine,” and followed me. In the parking garage, she took the keys and got into the driver’s seat. Just as I was about to get in, Leo darted forward and tried to open the passenger door. “Get out,” I snarled. “My car doesn’t carry parasites.” “Ethan! That’s a horrible thing to say!” Ava snapped, frowning at me. I laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. “Horrible? He has the nerve to sleep with a married woman, but he’s too delicate to be called a name?” Leo immediately adopted a wounded, innocent expression. “I was just offering to drive… to help you clear up this misunderstanding. I never wanted to cause any trouble between you.” I didn’t even look at him. My eyes were locked on Ava. The silent pressure was too much. She finally got out, walked around the car, and pulled Leo away from the door. “Just take a cab,” she said, her voice tight. “I’ll reimburse you.” He slunk away, looking back with a resentful glare. I didn’t want the staff to witness the drama, so as soon as we got home, I led Ava straight upstairs. She must have thought we were going to the bedroom, but I walked right past it, toward my study. She rushed ahead to block the door, her voice laced with anxiety. “Why don’t we talk somewhere else? You’ve been gone so long, the study must be incredibly dusty.” I ignored her, pushed her aside, and opened the door. The scene inside sent a wave of hot, blinding rage through me. My father’s portrait was on the floor, the glass cracked. On top of it was a small, dark, and unmistakable pile of animal feces. The desk and the floor around it were littered with scattered files, stained with dried, yellow patches of what I knew was urine. The air was thick with the foul, sharp stench of it. I gagged, my voice trembling with fury. “Who did this?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385970”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My husband, Liam, took me to the hospital for a check-up. The results showed a cyst on my kidney. His old college flame, now a celebrated surgeon, told me there was a high probability it would become cancerous. The only way to save my life, she said, was to remove the kidney immediately. After she took it, I learned the truth. She had deliberately exaggerated my condition. Her younger brother was dying of kidney failure, and my kidney was a perfect match. She used my body to save his life. When I confronted them in a rage, Liam simply handed me a stack of divorce papers. “If I’d known you couldn’t get pregnant, I never would have married you in the first place.” “You’re the one who signed the organ donation consent form. The police can’t help you.” “Just get out. I’m sick of looking at you.” Staring at their triumphant, smiling faces, I was consumed by a grief so absolute it felt like a physical force. The world went black as I choked on my own blood, my heart giving out from the sheer shock of their betrayal. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the passenger seat of Liam’s car, on the way to the hospital for the surgery. 1 “Chloe, come on, hurry up. I’m pulling the car around.” Liam’s voice echoed from the entryway as he slipped on his loafers. “Dr. Reed cleared her whole morning for you,” he called toward the bathroom. “We can’t keep her waiting.” The front door clicked shut. I braced my hands on the cool marble of the vanity, taking a long, deep breath, my own reflection a ghostly figure in the steam-filmed mirror. I couldn’t believe it. I had been reborn. I was back on the very day my life had shattered. This was the day I learned the true meaning of betrayal, the day the mask of the man I’d shared my bed with was finally ripped away to reveal the monster beneath. It was just a simple renal cyst. Benign. No pain, no symptoms, no real danger. But Liam had insisted I get a second opinion. He’d sworn up and down that Evelyn Reed was the best urological surgeon in the state, that he wouldn’t be able to rest until she gave me a full workup. He needed peace of mind, he’d said. I’d actually been touched. I thought he was worried about me. Looking back, my naivete was breathtaking. In my first life, I’d arrived at the hospital and Evelyn had greeted me with a warm, professional smile. She ran her tests, her mannerisms efficient and reassuring. Then, she’d called us into her office, her expression shifting to one of solemn gravity. “Chloe, you need to prepare yourself.” Her voice was low, serious. “Your situation is more precarious than we thought. There’s a significant chance of malignancy.” The words struck me deaf and dumb. I just sat there, frozen. Liam, ever the actor, jumped in with a performance of frantic concern. “What do we do? What’s the treatment? Evelyn’s voice was firm. “A nephrectomy. We remove the left kidney, and the threat is gone.” Paralyzed by fear, I was putty in their hands. Between Evelyn’s dire warnings and Liam’s frantic, seemingly loving pleas, I signed whatever they put in front of me. I assumed it was standard pre-op paperwork, the endless waivers and consent forms you always have to sign. How could I have known that tucked inside that sheaf of papers was a consent form for organ donation? The truth didn’t come out until after the surgery, when Liam stood over my hospital bed and coldly tossed the divorce papers onto my blanket. It was too late then. Everything was already lost. Remembering the raw, helpless agony of that moment, I clenched my jaw, my voice a harsh whisper in the quiet bathroom. “This time,” I vowed, “if I don’t drag you both down to hell, I’ll be wasting the second chance God gave me.” 2 At the hospital, Liam led me straight to Evelyn’s pristine office. After another round of scans, Evelyn sat across from us at her large mahogany desk, my chart open before her. Her face was a mask of professional concern. “Chloe, you need to be ready for this,” she began, her tone grave. “You need to have this surgery as soon as possible. If we wait, the risk of it turning malignant is very high.” I put on a performance of my own, my eyes wide with manufactured panic. But this time, my phone was in my pocket, silently recording every word. Liam played his part perfectly. “Just a cyst? How can it be cancerous? Are you sure there isn’t a mistake?” Evelyn sighed, a picture of weary expertise. “While the chances of a renal cyst becoming cancerous are low, ‘low’ doesn’t mean ‘never,’” she said. “Of course, if you’re not comfortable, you’re free to seek a second opinion at another hospital.” Before I could even speak, Liam cut in. “No, no, of course we trust you! It’s just… it’s a lot to take in.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Isn’t there medication? Something to manage it?” Evelyn shook her head, her expression resolute. “In your wife’s case, the situation is already too advanced. Surgery is the safest, quickest way to eliminate the root of the problem. Medication would be a shot in the dark.” A cold smile played on my lips as I watched them weave their web. They had really thought this through, all to get their hands on my kidney. Fortunately, before we’d left the house, I’d made a call. My parents died when I was young, and my uncle was the one who raised me. He’s not a man you trifle with. He’s got connections all over the city, and as it happens, the president of this very hospital is one of his oldest friends—they practically grew up together. Last time, I was so disoriented by Liam and Evelyn’s manipulation that I’d forgotten to call him. By the time I did, the surgery was over and it was too late. This time, my uncle was already on his way. All I had to do was stall, give them enough rope to hang themselves, and let their ugly truth come out into the light. By the time my uncle was done with them, their careers would be ruined, their lives in tatters. I picked up the chart from her desk. “I think… I think I’d like to go to another hospital. Just to be sure.” Evelyn’s brow tightened almost imperceptibly. She shot a quick glance at Liam. Liam immediately grabbed my hand. “Chloe, honey, we don’t have time to waste,” he pleaded. “Any other hospital is just going to tell you the same thing. Dr. Reed is the best. With her operating, you know you’ll be in safe hands.” I shook my head, pulling my hand away. “I just need to process this. I’m not mentally prepared. I need to think.” Evelyn’s voice took on a sharper edge. “Your condition is critical. Every day you delay increases the risk,” she said, her professional patience wearing thin. “Frankly, I’m only making time for this diagnosis as a favor to Liam.” Liam jumped back in, his voice thick with emotion. “Honey, she’s so busy. We need to do this now so we can put it behind us and move on with our lives. If you wait… if something terrible happens… what would I do without you?” Before I could answer, he turned to Evelyn, his voice decisive. “Let’s just do it. Let’s get her into surgery now.” 3 Evelyn nodded and summoned two of her residents, both young men who looked barely out of medical school. They moved to my sides, their hands gently but firmly taking my arms to lead me toward the operating room. I began to struggle, my voice rising in panic. “No! I haven’t agreed to this!” My shouting drew the attention of people in the hallway—patients and their families turned to stare. My uncle wasn’t here yet. If they got me into that OR, it was over. Seeing the curious glances, Liam wrapped an arm around me, pulling me into a hug and covering my mouth with his hand. His face was a mask of sorrow. “Chloe, please,” he whispered, loud enough for the onlookers to hear. “If you won’t do this for yourself, do it for me. For our family.” He turned his tear-filled eyes to the small crowd. “This disease… we can’t wait. Dr. Reed is personally performing the surgery. What are you so afraid of?” He looked back at me, his voice cracking. “I promise you, if anything happens to you on that table, I won’t live a day without you.” It was a masterful performance. He had successfully cast himself as the desperate, loving husband, and me as the irrational, terrified wife. The onlookers, strangers who knew nothing, began to murmur their support. “Dr. Reed is the best. She did my mother’s surgery last year, and my mom is doing great now.” “You can’t be afraid of the doctors. You have to get treatment early with these things.” “My dad was like that. Always too proud. A small problem turned into a big one, and he refused treatment. We lost him last year. If he’d just listened to the doctors, he might have had a few more years.” Everyone was on their side. To them, I was just a stubborn woman in denial, too foolish to accept the help being offered by a brilliant doctor and a devoted husband. They had no idea that the brilliant Dr. Reed just wanted to harvest my kidney for her brother. They couldn’t imagine that the devoted Liam would serve me with divorce papers before my anesthesia had even fully worn off. 4 I was pushed into the sterile, cold operating room. Evelyn produced a clipboard with a stack of forms. She’d fooled me once. It wasn’t going to happen again. As she tried to hand me the pen, I thrashed, knocking it to the floor. My refusal to sign made her frown, her jaw tightening with irritation. That’s when Liam stepped forward. He picked up the pen and took the clipboard. “I’ll sign for her,” he said calmly. “I know her signature. I can forge it perfectly.” One of the residents, a younger man with nervous eyes, spoke up hesitantly. “Sir, that’s… that’s against protocol.” Evelyn shot the young man a look that could freeze fire. “What protocol is that, Dr. Miller?” she asked, her voice dangerously quiet. “You are my residents. You should understand how I work by now.” Her voice dropped even lower. “Protocols are for guidance. People are what matter. Her husband has consented. Are you questioning my judgment?” She let the threat hang in the air. “If you feel this is improper, you are welcome to go report me to the dean’s office right now. We’ll see who they escort out of this hospital—you or me.” The young resident’s face paled. He looked down at his shoes, silent. The other residents wouldn’t even meet my eyes. Their futures were in her hands; none of them dared to cross her. Seizing the moment of distraction, I wrenched myself free and made a break for the door. Liam was faster. He caught me in an instant, his arms clamping around me like steel bands. His handsome face was twisted into an ugly snarl. “Chloe, stop it!” he hissed. “Don’t make this any harder! We’re doing this for your own good!” Evelyn’s voice was like ice. “If it weren’t for Liam, I wouldn’t be wasting my time on this circus,” she snapped. “You’re only hurting yourself with this melodrama.” They were still playing their parts, even now. The righteousness of their expressions made me sick with fury. With a surge of adrenaline, I swung my arm free. The sound of the slap echoed through the room. I had hit her, hard, right across her perfect face. She’d been too close, too arrogant. The blow stunned her into silence. “Chloe, are you insane?” Liam roared. Evelyn’s face was a blotchy red, her eyes burning with hatred. She touched her cheek, then gritted her teeth. “No more games,” she said to the residents. “Get the anesthetic. We’re starting now.” “This is illegal!” I screamed. “This is assault! I’ll sue you! I’ll ruin both of you!” This whole procedure was a sham, a conspiracy between the two of them. There were too many broken rules, too many cut corners. If any of it got out, they’d be finished. Last time, I’d been a fool. I signed the papers, leaving no evidence of their coercion, and paid the ultimate price. But this time was different. The recording was on my phone. And my uncle was coming. If I could just hold on a little longer, their world would come crashing down. 5 “What are you all standing there for?” Evelyn barked at her residents, seeing me continue to fight. “Hold her down!” They hesitated for a second, then rushed forward, their combined weight pinning me to the operating table. Liam helped, his knee digging into my thigh. Evelyn’s face was dark with rage as she approached with a syringe. “You’re a despicable, cheating bitch, Evelyn!” I spat, my voice raw. “You sleep with a married man and conspire with him to murder his wife! You two belong together in hell!” Liam and Evelyn’s faces went black. The residents stared, their eyes wide with shock. “She’s delirious. She doesn’t know what she’s saying,” Liam said through clenched teeth, his voice a low growl. “Ignore her.” Evelyn’s expression was murderous as she poised the needle over my arm. A wave of despair washed over me. Had I come all this way, only to suffer the same fate?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385969”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The night before my engagement party, I took a tumble down a flight of stairs. After being unconscious for a day and a night, I overheard the doctor telling my fiancé that I might have amnesia. A wicked little idea sparked in my mind—a prank on Graham. So, I pretended. “Who are you?” The smile on Graham’s face froze for a fraction of a second, and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. But in the next instant, he wrapped his arm around the woman standing beside him, pulling her into his embrace. “I’m your best friend’s boyfriend.” 1 Ava was my best friend. And at this moment, she was being held in my boyfriend’s arms. A flicker of surprise crossed her face, but it was quickly swallowed by a wave of joy she could barely contain. “That’s right! I’m your best friend, Sadie. And this is my boyfriend!” A tremor shot through my body, a violent, electric shock. It felt like all the blood in my veins was reversing course, rushing back to my heart in a painful flood. I had started a small, silly joke. I hadn’t expected to become the punchline. “You’re kidding, right?” I managed to force the words out. This had to be a joke. They must have seen through my act and decided to play one back on me, right? “Why would we be kidding?” Ava said, wiggling the fingers of her right hand. An enormous diamond on her ring finger caught the sterile hospital light and threw it back in my face, nearly blinding me. “See? Graham and I were supposed to have our engagement party today. We had to cancel it when you had your accident.” That ring. A ten-carat, Asscher-cut diamond. The one Graham had spent months designing just for me. Now it was on my best friend’s hand. “You two…” I started, my voice trembling. “When did you get together?” Ava leaned her head against Graham’s chest, looking up at him lovingly. “Oh, us? We’ve been together for five years.” Graham’s expression tightened. He shot a nervous glance in my direction, gauging my reaction. When he saw nothing but blank confusion, a subtle sigh of relief escaped him. Five years. I had been with Graham for five years, too. So, it had been happening from the very beginning. My best friend and my boyfriend, a shared life behind my back. 2 Graham made a quick call. A few minutes later, a devastatingly handsome man appeared in the doorway of my hospital room. Declan. Graham’s best friend, and the one person in our circle who seemed to truly despise me. Both Graham and Declan were scions of New York’s oldest, wealthiest families. I was from a small, forgettable town in Ohio. From the moment Graham introduced me, his trust-fund friends made it clear they thought I was a gold digger. Their condescension was a constant, low-grade hum in my life. Declan’s was the loudest. He was the master of the dismissive glance, the cold shoulder. He hadn’t even deigned to RSVP to our engagement party. And now, here he was, his deep-set eyes locked on mine. “This,” Graham announced with the smooth, unbothered air of a master manipulator, “is your boyfriend.” He paused for effect. “Declan.” Just like that, my boyfriend was switched out like a player on a bench. Graham delivered the lie without a single flicker of hesitation, but I couldn’t believe Declan would go along with such a ridiculous, cruel charade. A slow, deliberate smile spread across Declan’s lips. “That’s right,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “I’m your boyfriend.” I was so profoundly shocked, I couldn’t speak. Graham handed me off to Declan as if I were a piece of luggage, then left with Ava. Declan and I stood there, staring at each other in a silence that stretched for what felt like an eternity. Finally, I broke it, my voice barely a whisper. “Take me home.” 3 Declan handled my discharge paperwork, and I numbly followed him out of the hospital and into a sleek black car that whispered through the city streets. He told me we’d been together for years. As I walked into his sprawling, minimalist penthouse overlooking Central Park, I saw no trace of myself anywhere—no photos, no clothes, no clutter. But I played my part, nodding along like a fool. He found a pair of women’s slippers for me in a closet. When I slid my feet into them, they fit perfectly. With a startling gentleness, he swept me into his arms, carried me to the couch, and laid me down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. I flinched, instinctively trying to pull away, but he cupped my chin, holding me steady. There was nowhere to run. “Easy, Sadie,” he murmured. “I’m going to make you something to eat.” I’d almost forgotten. I hadn’t eaten in days. It struck me as odd that a man like Declan, a titan of industry, didn’t have a chef or even a housekeeper. It was hard to picture him coming home after a day of corporate warfare to cook his own dinner. Drawn by the sounds, I found my way to the kitchen. He was standing at a marble island, methodically cracking eggs into a bowl. A voice message was playing from his phone, which was propped up against a knife block. It was Graham. “Just look after her for me for a bit, man.” Declan’s voice, a low response: “Aren’t you afraid she’ll break up with you when she gets her memory back?” Graham’s laugh was arrogant, dismissive. “Afraid? Please. The whole city knows how much she loves me. She could catch me in bed with another woman and she’d still marry me.” “If you want to be with Ava, why not just break up with Sadie?” “Because I do love Sadie,” Graham said, his tone shifting as if that explained everything. “She’s just… boring in bed. Utterly vanilla. Once I’m done having my fun, I’ll come get her. She’ll be right where I left her.” Declan didn’t reply, focusing on whisking the eggs with intense concentration. “Declan,” Graham’s voice sharpened with a sudden possessiveness. “You’re my best friend, so I know you’d never go for a girl like Sadie anyway. But I’m warning you: don’t touch her. She’s the woman I’m going to marry.” Before Graham could finish, Declan ended the call. My knees felt weak. I grabbed the doorframe to keep from collapsing. So that was the truth. The man who had showered me with affection, who had made me feel cherished, was a complete fabrication. All along, he’d seen me as dull. Uninteresting. Declan looked up and saw me. He put down the bowl, wiped his hands on a towel with swift precision, and crossed the kitchen in three long strides. He pulled me into his arms, his body a solid wall against my trembling. “What are you doing up?” he asked, his voice soft. “Isn’t it… isn’t it fun?” My own voice was a strained whisper. I shook my head. “I just… I wanted to see if you needed any help.” Declan’s hand came up to gently stroke my hair. “My Sadie doesn’t do things like this. You don’t lift a finger.” His thumb brushed my cheek. “Leave everything to me.” Another lie. He was a better liar than Graham. Every day of my life with Graham had been a cycle of domestic labor. He hated having strangers in the house, so we never had a cleaner. As his girlfriend, I had assumed the role of his unpaid housekeeper. I woke up early to cook his breakfast, I did his laundry, I scrubbed every inch of his massive townhouse until it gleamed. My hands were rough with calluses, the skin etched with fine lines from cleaning products. I had seen him as my future husband, so I’d done it all without a single complaint. “So… your wife wouldn’t have to do any housework?” I asked, my voice muffled against his chest. I could feel the strong, steady beat of his heart. “Of course not,” he said, his voice resonating through me. “You’re the person I love most in the world. I would never let you do any of it.” His tenderness was so convincing, so absolute, that for a moment I almost forgot this was all just a game. Declan’s cooking was incredible. And everything he made was exactly to my taste—that perfect blend of sweet and spicy I adored. “Declan, do you like sweet and spicy food too?” “I made it because you love it,” he said simply. A knot of confusion tightened in my stomach. How could he possibly know that? Even Graham, after five years, had no idea. Graham hated anything sweet. I had trained myself to cook without a pinch of sugar. But Declan knew. It must be a coincidence, I told myself. A lucky guess. That night, I fell asleep in Declan’s enormous bed. Sometime in the middle of the night, I felt him slide in behind me, his arm curling around my waist. His body was a furnace, radiating a warmth that seeped into my bones. It felt safe. I love the heat, so I didn’t move. I let him hold me. I felt his lips brush against the hair at the nape of my neck, followed by a whispered, mournful sigh. “How did he ever let you get so thin?” 5 I slept more deeply than I had in years, and when I woke up, the sun was already high in the sky. Declan’s phone was buzzing incessantly on the nightstand. With a low groan of annoyance, he disentangled himself just enough to grab it, answering the call before settling back against me, pulling me tighter into his arms. “Declan, don’t forget about the get-together tonight.” The voice was clear. It was Graham. Declan idly began twirling a strand of my hair around his finger. It tickled. I made a small sound of protest, a little “tsk,” not realizing it would be audible over the phone. “What was that noise?” Graham’s voice sharpened instantly. “Are you in bed with someone?” Declan hung up without a word. He silenced the phone and tossed it aside, then enveloped me completely, his body pressing against mine. The space between us suddenly felt charged, dangerous. The heat radiating from him intensified. I tried to push him away, but his arm was like a steel band around me. “What are you doing!?” My voice was a mix of shock and anger. He didn’t loosen his grip. “What am I doing?” he murmured, his voice husky. “I’m doing what boyfriends and girlfriends do.” His beautifully shaped lips moved closer to mine. My heart hammered against my ribs, a wild drumbeat of panic and a strange, illicit thrill. A backlash of misplaced morality choked me. I shoved him with all my might, scrambled out of bed, and fled to the en-suite bathroom. Before I could slam the door, I heard his low, rumbling chuckle from the bedroom. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My face was flushed a shade of crimson that was far from normal. I stayed in that bathroom for nearly half an hour, waiting for my pulse to return to something resembling a resting rate. He had told me we used to kiss all the time, that we’d done everything intimate couples do. He was lying again. The thought was so absurd it almost made me laugh. 6 That evening, Declan took me to dinner. It wasn’t until we arrived that I realized it was the get-together Graham had called about. Ava was there, along with the entire trust-fund crew from the city’s upper crust. Ava was seated next to Graham, wearing a strapless white cocktail dress. Around her neck was the Starlight Sapphire, the necklace Declan had bought for me at an auction last week. I had deemed it too precious to wear, keeping it safe in a glass display case in my walk-in closet. I would just look at it every day, admiring how it caught the light. Graham had teased me, asking if I was ever going to actually put it on. Of course I was. I was saving it for my wedding day. But it was becoming painfully clear that my wedding day with Graham was never going to happen. “Sadie!” Ava cried, jumping up from her seat. She rushed over, grabbing my hand with the same familiar warmth she always had. “Tonight is kind of a do-over for our engagement party.” Her eyes, sparkling with unconcealed triumph, bored into mine. “I’m so, so happy you could make it!” An engagement party? So this was it. Their official celebration. Her smile was a blatant provocation. I almost dropped my facade right then and there, the truth clawing at my throat. But Declan’s arm slid around my waist, pulling me firmly against his side. His movement was so smooth it also served to disengage my hand from Ava’s grip. Graham hadn’t been paying attention, but the sight of me in Declan’s arms made his eyes narrow. “What are you two talking about?” he asked, his tone low and laced with something dark. “Nothing,” Declan replied evenly. He guided me to a pair of empty chairs at the far end of the long table, as far away from Graham and Ava as possible. The dinner was a cacophony of loud toasts and louder laughter as Graham and his friends drank. The noise pounded in my head. Through it all, Declan was a quiet presence beside me, methodically placing food on my plate. “Hey! Declan!” one of Graham’s friends shouted down the table. “How come you’re not drinking tonight?” Declan didn’t even look up from arranging a piece of salmon on my plate. “I’m driving later.” “Let Sadie drive.” “Driving is stressful,” Declan said, finally lifting his eyes. His gaze was steady. “I don’t like her to do it.” A chorus of oohs and aahs went around the table. The women cooed; the men whistled. The only person not smiling was Graham, whose face had hardened into a granite mask. “How thoughtful of you, Declan,” Graham said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. The festive atmosphere instantly chilled. Someone, sensing the shift, tried to liven things up. “Hey, it’s an engagement party! The happy couple should kiss!” Ava needed no encouragement. She leaned into Graham, pressing her lips to his. For a moment, his expression remained stony, but then the tension eased from his shoulders and he sank into the kiss, deepening it. They kissed like they were the only two people in the room, a tangled, desperate mess of lips and tongues. I thought I had reached the absolute limit of my disappointment in him, but watching them, a wave of nausea so profound it brought tears to my eyes washed over me. It was disgusting. My vision blurred. I fled the table and ran to the restroom. Standing just inside, I heard one of Graham’s friends ask him a question through the door. “Is it a rush, man? Cheating on her right in front of her face?” Graham’s laugh was reckless and wild. “A rush? You have no idea. Besides, Sadie’s lost her memory. And even if she gets it back, she’s never going to leave me.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385968”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My sister adopted a merman. A frail, beautiful creature from the Blackwood Registry. And then she threw him at me like a stray she’d lost interest in. So I cared for him. I nurtured him, watched him grow from a boy into a man, his body becoming strong and powerful under my roof. But his eyes were always fixed on my sister, and in them, I saw only hatred for me, the woman he believed had torn them apart. He killed me in my sleep. A brutal, intimate betrayal before he set my entire world on fire. Then, I opened my eyes. And I was reborn. This time, I went straight to the bar. This time, I bought the twin fox Beastkin, the ones with eyes that promised sin and salvation all at once. Two tails, sleek and silver, were already tracing patterns against my skin before the ink was dry on the contract. “Sweet Ava,” one of them purred, his voice a low thrum against my ear. “If you can’t tell us apart, there will be a punishment.” 1 The air in the club was thick with smoke and secrets. I let my gaze drift over the Beastkin attendants—all muscle and curated charm—but my interest didn’t spark until my eyes landed on a booth tucked into the shadows. There they were. A pair of fox twins. They wore tailored server uniforms—crisp white shirts, black silk vests—that seemed more like high fashion than work attire. Fox ears, silver-white and alert, twitched above their dark hair. The top buttons of their shirts were undone, black bowties hanging loose, revealing the elegant lines of their necks. In the dim, hazy light, they were intoxicating. One was the epitome of gentle grace, every movement so fluid he looked like he’d stepped out of a classical painting. The other was all fragile beauty, his eyes wide and faintly red-rimmed, inspiring a desperate, primal urge to protect him. The manager, following my gaze, practically trembled. “Miss Sinclair,” he stammered, his voice hushed. “Anyone but them. They’re—” He never finished. A cool glance from the booth cut him off, and he snapped his mouth shut. The one with the gentle face, the graceful one, picked up a tray of drinks and approached my table. He bowed, a perfect, elegant arc of his body. “Miss,” he said, his voice as smooth as aged whiskey. “My brother and I are in… a difficult situation. Our father’s debts are substantial. Would you consider buying a bottle?” His twin stepped up beside him, his voice a shy whisper. “We’d be willing to do anything for you, ma’am…” I was drowning in their beauty. The question escaped my lips before I could stop it. “How much to buy you both?” 2 Every human, upon coming of age, is granted the right to register a Beastkin companion. It’s a rite of passage, a status symbol, a partnership. I am Ava Sinclair. The Sinclair heiress. I’d turned my back on the family empire to chase my own dream, carving out a name for myself as an actress. I hid my background, wanting to succeed on my own terms. But my face was my fortune, and coupled with a talent for the craft and a carefully curated public image, Hollywood had been good to me. Then my cousin, Audrey, returned from her studies abroad and, in a grand show of familial duty, volunteered to take over the Sinclair Corporation. To prove her maturity and compassion, she registered the weakest, most pitiable merman from the Blackwood Registry, Finn. But then came the performance: she was embarking on a charity mission to rural West Virginia, she’d cried, and it was simply no place to care for such a delicate creature. She begged me, with perfectly crafted tears, to look after him for her. In reality, she was disgusted by him. I, on the other hand, had longed for a Beastkin companion for years. But my father, a man who valued pedigree above all else, always dismissed them as beneath our station. He’d forbidden it. So when Audrey pleaded, I caved. I took Finn in. I never imagined his heart was made of sea-stone. I poured my affection into him. I gave him everything. But his gaze was always distant, fixed on a memory of Audrey. He grew to resent me, convinced I was his jailer. So he murdered me and burned my house to the ground. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that very day. The day Audrey “saved” Finn. This time, however, I was lounging in an exclusive, underground bar. My phone buzzed incessantly with messages from her. I ignored them. My attention was entirely captivated by the breathtaking fox twins. And a new, audacious idea was beginning to form. 3 My assistant, Chloe, had been pacing anxiously. The moment she heard my key in the lock, she pounced. “Ava, my God! If your father finds out you were in a place like that, he’ll have my hide. He’ll have your hide.” My father had always been strict with me. Other heiresses had cycled through a dozen Beastkin by the time they were my age, but I was expected to remain pristine, untouched. When Chloe saw the two fox Beastkin trailing behind me, she froze. “Who—what are—?” “I found them at the bar,” I said with a dismissive wave of my hand. “They looked pathetic. It was an impulse buy.” Chloe’s jaw dropped. The world had changed, and human-Beastkin relations were governed by strict protocols. The only legal way to acquire a companion was through an official, sanctioned Registry. The only exception was the mysterious Hale family. The Fox Kin. They ran the largest casinos in the country, their power absolute and untouchable. The only reason Chloe had even agreed to let me go to that bar was because it was Hale territory—a neutral ground where the Beastkin attendants were famously off-limits, their contracts strictly for serving drinks and providing conversation. On-site service, let alone a permanent sale, was unheard of. And yet, here I was, with two of the most stunning Fox Kin I had ever seen. I misinterpreted Chloe’s gaping shock, assuming she was just terrified of my father’s wrath. I patted her shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry, I was discreet. No one saw me.” One of the fox’s tails, a magnificent brush of silver fur, swayed near my hand. I gave it a playful squeeze and found the texture addictive. “Besides,” I added, my voice light, “it’s just a bit of fun. It’s not like I’d ever choose them as my official companions.” Behind me, where I couldn’t see them, two pairs of identical eyes narrowed, and a dangerous current passed between them. 4 To celebrate my new acquisitions, I’d not only dropped a small fortune on the bar’s most expensive champagne but had also, in a fit of bravado, drunk far too much of it. My tolerance for alcohol was notoriously low. One moment I was lucid, the next, the world was tilting on its axis. A strange heat was coiling in my stomach. I ignored it, my voice a lazy murmur. “Alright, that’s enough for tonight. I’m going to bed.” Chloe nodded, moving to help me to my room, but a figure smoothly intercepted her. It was the gentler twin, the one who moved like poetry. Rhys. He gave Chloe a small, polite nod, his voice soft but carrying an authority that was impossible to refuse. “Miss Ava drank so much because of my brother and me. It’s only right that we take care of her.” The other twin, Liam, nodded eagerly, his pretty face a mask of concern. “You’ve had a long night too, Chloe. We can handle it from here.” Chloe looked into Liam’s wide, misty fox eyes and, to her own apparent surprise, found herself nodding. She turned and walked out of my penthouse like a woman in a trance. In my room, the world was a blur. I was lying on the cool silk of my bedsheets, my head spinning, sleep refusing to come. Moonlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting the room in shades of silver and black. My phone on the nightstand lit up, the opening chords of a ringtone about to shatter the quiet. A long, elegant hand shot out and silenced it before the first note could sound. Another hand took the phone and simply turned it off. A tongue, impossibly warm and slightly rough, like a cat’s, traced a line across the back of my hand, sending a shiver through me. In the haze, I felt someone lift my foot. Fingers gently worked at the buckle of my red stiletto. Click. The shoe fell to the floor. A furry tail coiled around my calf. My hand instinctively reached out and grasped it. The tail paused for a fraction of a second, then pressed more insistently into my palm, the fur like silk. It was ticklish. As my consciousness finally began to fade, a voice whispered in my ear, a velvet trap. “Ava. Tell me… whose tail is this? Guess wrong, and you’ll have to be punished.” 5 I woke to a splitting headache. A glass of water was being held to my lips. It was Liam. His big, expressive eyes blinked at me, the corners of his mouth turned up in a sweet, shy smile. He was still wearing last night’s uniform, the black and white fabric now hopelessly rumpled. He looked utterly devoted. “Th-thank you,” I managed, my voice hoarse. His gaze was intense, unwavering, as he watched me drink. His fluffy tail gave a happy little twitch. My cheeks grew warm under his scrutiny, and I took another long sip of water to hide my blush. The bedroom door opened silently. Rhys entered, carrying a tray laden with a steaming, fragrant breakfast. He placed it on a small table near the bed. It was uncanny how they could share the same face, yet project such different auras. Where Liam was all soft vulnerability, Rhys carried himself with a scholarly elegance. His dark hair fell casually across his forehead, and he wore a pair of thin, silver-rimmed glasses. A single, dark blue gem glittered in his earlobe. But if you looked closely, you could see a razor-sharp intelligence in his eyes, a glint of steel beneath the gentle exterior. The night I bought them, I’d demanded their files from the bar manager. The report was simple: Ordinary. Clean. Pitiful. Two brothers orphaned by their father’s gambling addiction, sold to the bar to pay his debts. It was the perfect backstory. So perfect that I never once suspected it was a lie, the first move in a game I didn’t even know I was playing. Rhys knelt gracefully, his movements fluid and natural, and slipped a pair of silk slippers onto my feet. At the same time, Liam pulled out the chair at the breakfast table for me, his expression earnest. Suddenly, a commotion erupted from downstairs. A crash, followed by shouting. In perfect unison, both twins frowned. I walked out of my room and onto the second-floor landing, looking down into the grand foyer. A merman, his form not yet fully matured, was thrashing against the grip of my household staff, roaring. Ugly wounds on his torso were still weeping blood, a gruesome sight. Then, he must have caught my scent. The raging stopped. He looked up, his reddened eyes locking onto mine with a terrifying intensity, as if he wanted to devour me whole. But when he spoke, his voice was laced with a broken, wounded betrayal. “Ava Sinclair,” Finn snarled. “Why didn’t you come for me yesterday?” 6 In that instant, I knew. He’d come back, too. Finn was reborn. The phantom agony of a blade sliding between my ribs flared in my memory, hot and sharp. I clenched my fists, forcing down the wave of hatred. I turned away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. I gestured to my head of household, Arthur. “See to it that I never have to see an unknown Beastkin on my property again.” Arthur bowed. “At once, Miss Sinclair.” He was about to signal the security team, but something in my words—unknown Beastkin—seemed to snap Finn’s last thread of control. With a furious roar, he slammed his powerful tail against the marble floor. “You made me a promise!” he bellowed, his voice cracking with rage. “You promised you’d be with me forever!” His wild eyes caught sight of the two elegant foxes standing just behind me. His fury escalated. He lunged, not at me, but at a nearby pedestal, swiping a priceless Sèvres porcelain vase to the floor. It shattered, sending razor-sharp fragments flying. Several pieces embedded themselves in his tail, adding fresh wounds to the old ones. “Was it for them?” he spat, venom dripping from every word. “Did you leave me to rot at the Registry so you could buy these two filthy foxes?” Even in his weakened state, the primal strength of a merman was formidable. It took more than a dozen of my best security guards to finally subdue him. I didn’t spare him another glance. I turned and walked back into my room, shutting the door on the chaos. The sounds from the foyer gradually faded until there was only silence. I collapsed onto my bed, burying my face in the pillows. I couldn’t understand it. I just couldn’t. In my first life, I had given him everything, loved him so completely. How could he have been so cruel? How could he have killed me without a second thought? Liam started to move toward me, a comforting word on his lips, but Rhys put a hand on his arm, shaking his head slightly. So they just stood there, my two beautiful foxes, silent sentinels in my quiet grief. Two days later, there was another visitor. I was lounging in a silk robe when Arthur’s respectful voice came through the door. “Miss Sinclair, your cousin, Miss Audrey, is here.” 7 Audrey had officially registered Finn at the Blackwood Registry. But then, the unthinkable had happened. The little investment she’d made for her public image, the little sister she used as a dumping ground, had gone silent. Dozens of texts and calls had gone unanswered. To make matters worse, that ungrateful merman had somehow escaped his holding pen. Tracking him down would cost time, money, and effort—resources she couldn’t spare, not when she had her own life to live. And that was before considering his volatile temper and delicate constitution. This whole affair had become a PR nightmare waiting to happen. She needed her patsy. Left with no other choice, Audrey had reluctantly come to my door. What she wasn’t prepared for was the sight of me, her supposedly pure and obedient little cousin, draped languidly across the laps of two stunningly handsome fox twins. If she looked closely, she could see the faint, star-like scatter of red marks on the back of my hand and peeking above the collar of my robe. … I knew exactly why she was here. But I was far too comfortable, far too content in the arms of my new companions, to be bothered with her problems. There had been a time, in my past life, when things between Finn and me had started to thaw. A brief, hopeful period. Then Audrey had stopped by my villa, ostensibly to visit him. That very night, Finn was drugged. He went into a feverish, violent rut, and I, abiding by my father’s strict rules, refused to touch him. I spent the entire night and the following day by the side of the cold bathtub, replacing the cool water on his skin, talking him through the agony. Afterward, he accused me of drugging him myself out of jealousy, then playing the saint to mock him. It wasn’t until the night before he killed me that I found it. Tucked away in a forgotten corner of the guest room Audrey always used, I found the empty packet of the very same aphrodisiac. Thinking of her smiling, treacherous face made my stomach turn. I didn’t even have the energy to pretend anymore. My voice was flat, dripping with contempt. “Spit it out, Audrey. I don’t have all day.” 8 Audrey froze for a second, the crocodile tears she’d been summoning drying up before they could fall. She had never heard her sweet, pliable cousin speak to her with such open hostility. But she was a born actress. She recovered instantly. She bit her lip, her voice trembling with manufactured vulnerability. “Ava, darling… I rescued a merman from the Registry, a poor, traumatized soul. But with my charity mission in the mountains… taking him with me would be cruel. It could aggravate his injuries. I heard… I heard he might have accidentally ended up at your villa the other night…” After Arthur’s men had subdued Finn, I’d had him delivered directly to Audrey’s doorstep. A few cuts and bruises were nothing to a Beastkin. If he was so devoted to her, then fine. I would be the good Samaritan and let him shatter his own illusions against the reality of her cold indifference. “I’m a very busy woman, Audrey,” I said, leaning back into Rhys’s solid chest. “Why would I have time to look after someone else’s companion?” The coffee table was covered in magazines, my face gracing half of them. I was an A-list star, a brand unto myself. My net worth eclipsed anything Audrey could ever hope to achieve. “But besides you and Uncle, I have no other family,” she pleaded, her voice cracking. “I don’t know who else to turn to.” “Then take him with you,” I suggested, my tone deceptively sweet. “I’m sure your devoted merman would be absolutely thrilled.” I caught a glimpse of a pair of wide, innocent eyes peering from behind the doorway. Finn. I couldn’t resist twisting the knife. “Besides,” I purred, running a hand through Liam’s silky hair. “I already have two of my own. I can’t have them getting jealous, now can I?” I beckoned with my finger. Liam, who had been waiting in the wings, immediately scampered over. He knelt on the plush rug at my feet, rubbing his face against my hand like a contented cat. The fur of his silver-white ears was exquisitely soft. “Oh, and by the way,” I added. Audrey’s face flickered with hope, thinking I was about to relent. “Your companion broke my vase. You’ll be paying for it.” In the end, Audrey left with a face like thunder, her credit cards several million dollars lighter. As she walked out the door, Rhys’s gaze followed her. The look in his eyes was so cold, so utterly devoid of warmth, that a shiver of pure dread snaked down Audrey’s spine. 9 With Audrey and Finn out of my hair, the next two days were a blissful escape. It turned out that living with people whose worlds revolved entirely around you was incredibly good for the soul. The only downside was when they announced they had to leave for a while. “The casino manager contacted our family,” Rhys explained, his voice calm and mature as he adjusted his glasses. “We have to go back and deal with the final settlement of our father’s debts.” Unlike Liam, Rhys had a natural reserve. He was tall and slender, and his posture created an aura of elegant distance. He also rarely let his ears or tail show. Except at night. Two small suitcases were already packed and waiting by the door. All they needed was my permission. “If you need assistance, I can send Arthur to handle it for you,” I offered. Liam pressed closer, nuzzling against my side like an affectionate puppy. “Thank you, sweet Ava, but my brother and I can manage this.” “Alright, then. Be safe.” Liam’s ears drooped. He hesitated for a long moment before pressing a small, fluffy object into my palm. It was a keychain, fashioned into the shape of a miniature fox tail. “I made this from my own tail fur,” he whispered, his cheeks pink. “If you miss me, you can touch it.” I gave the tiny tail a playful squeeze. In front of me, Liam let out a soft whimper, his blush deepening. Rhys, standing behind him with his arms crossed, simply raised an eyebrow. Defeated, Liam sighed and reluctantly pulled a second, identical keychain from his pocket. This one carried Rhys’s signature scent, a clean, cool fragrance like sandalwood. 10 With Rhys and Liam gone, the penthouse felt unnervingly quiet. Lonely. I spent the entire day toying with the fox tail keychains. They were small but exquisitely made. That night, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Suddenly, a dark shape appeared at my window. A head of messy dark hair popped into view. It was Liam, looking at me with pleading, puppy-dog eyes. “Sweet Ava,” he whispered, pressing his face against the glass. “Can I please sleep with you tonight? Secretly?” It turned out that Rhys was the pillar of their small family, the one who handled all the serious business. Liam, left with nothing to do, was bored out of his mind. So he’d started a new routine: sneaking over to my place every night and slipping back home before dawn. We made a pact to keep it our little secret from Rhys. A few days later, sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the music room. I was leaning against the grand piano, my chin propped on my hand, listening to the fox boy play. The melody that flowed from his fingertips was beautiful and poignant, a love song just for me. When the final note faded, he rose from the bench, leaned in, and brushed his lips against mine. I tangled my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. When we finally broke apart, we were both breathless, his heart hammering against his ribs. He looked at me, his eyes full of a desperate, earnest hope. “Ava,” he breathed, asking the question that seemed to consume him. “You like me best, right? Even if… even if I only have one tail?” He was like a child, always so needy for validation, so jealous of his brother. I smiled, a slow, indulgent curve of my lips, and murmured the easy lie. “Of course.” 11 Out of the blue, I received an offer that sent shockwaves through the industry. The ultra-exclusive luxury brand owned by the Hale family—the mysterious Fox Kin—wanted me to be their new global ambassador. This was unheard of. The Hale family, legend said, was protected by an ancient spirit of their bloodline, which was the source of their incredible luck and power. The current patriarch was a bona fide genius who had cornered the market in nearly every major industry in the country. Their foray into luxury goods was recent, but they operated on a level so far above the rest that they’d never bothered with celebrity endorsements. This was an opportunity I couldn’t refuse. The campaign was being shot in Paris, which meant Liam and I wouldn’t be able to see each other for a few days. On his last night, he was impossibly clingy, a storm of hurt and resentment brewing in his expressive eyes. I treated it like a childish tantrum, soothing him with patient reassurances before boarding the plane the next morning. The shoot was flawless. The makeup artists and stylists worked their magic, amplifying my features until I was something otherworldly. I came alive in front of the camera, a creature born for the spotlight. The photographer couldn’t stop raving. When we wrapped, my team went to exchange pleasantries with the brand executives. The shoes they’d put me in were exquisite torture, but I didn’t want to complain on someone else’s set. I excused myself to the restroom for a moment of relief. I kicked off the heels, leaving them in a corner, and padded barefoot across the cool marble floor. The sound of running water filled the opulent space. Suddenly, a pair of hands circled my waist from behind. My body was pulled back against a hard chest, and I was lifted effortlessly onto the marble countertop. For a terrifying second, my mind flashed with tabloid headlines of robberies and murders. A cold sweat broke out on my back. I squeezed my eyes shut and opened my mouth to scream. Then a familiar, cool voice cut through my panic. “Miss Sinclair,” he said. “It’s me.” 12 “Rhys?” He hummed in affirmation. I stared at him, bewildered. “What are you doing here?” He shifted me on the counter so I was facing him. Then, like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat, he produced a pair of stunning red stilettos. After gently wiping the dust from the soles of my feet, he knelt and buckled them on. They fit like they were made for me. Impossibly comfortable. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the brand’s original shoes—the spring season’s limited-edition, sold-out-everywhere shoes—directly into the trash can. My jaw dropped. “Those were the spring limited edition!” Even I would have felt a pang of regret throwing away something so expensive, and Rhys was supposed to have a gambling-addicted father to worry about. “But they were causing you discomfort,” he said simply, as if that explained everything. He rose to his full height and stepped closer, cupping my face in his left hand. His thumb traced the outline of my lips. And then he kissed me. It was nothing like Liam’s hesitant, gentle kisses. This was a kiss of possession, of claiming. As he kissed me, a cascade of silver fur erupted behind him. One tail, then two, then three… eight. Eight magnificent, silver-white tails fanned out, each moving with a life of its own. They were like sentient appendages of silk and steel. Two coiled around my wrists, pinning them to the counter. Two more wrapped around my ankles. Others slid beneath the hem of my dress, tracing patterns on my skin. Two of the most mischievous ones burrowed into my lap, demanding attention. My legs, pressed against his, felt a strange, hard pressure against my calf that made me flinch. I kicked my feet restlessly, my voice a trembling mess. “Rhys—wait, something’s not—it’s uncomfortable—” He silenced me by moving his lips to my neck, his touch sending a jolt of lightning through my system. I went rigid, my mind short-circuiting. The fox boy, sensing my reaction, seemed pleased. His tails moved with even more confidence. Then he lifted his head, his dark eyes boring into mine, and he asked the question. “Me or Liam,” he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous purr. “Who will you choose, Ava?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385967”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel