1 Five years after our breakup, Harrison Chase was worth billions and had a beautiful fiancée. At a reunion, someone brought me up. “Elara never comes to these things. What’s she so busy with?” “Hah. She’s busy hitting on rich guys at 30,000 feet.” “…On a plane?” “Yep. She’s a flight attendant for Crestview. I saw her on a flight. You should have seen the way she smiled at the business-class guys. So fake.” “Seriously? A flight attendant? Figures. She always loved money.” At the head of the table, Harrison, who hadn’t spoken, squinted. His hand clenched into a fist. “A flight attendant?” “Yeah, Harrison. After all these years, you’re not still hung up on her, are you?” He reached over and took his fiancée’s hand. The massive diamond on her finger blinded everyone in the room. “Forgot her ages ago. My wedding is next month. You’re all invited.” The table erupted in congratulations. Only I, floating in the corner, looked down. 2 It’s been a year since I died. The old class group chat organized a reunion. The moment they heard Harrison Chase—the tech billionaire—was attending, the chat exploded. Thirty different profile pictures, all active. Only mine was grayed out, silent at the bottom of the list. I’m dead, after all. I can’t use a phone anymore. The empty apartment was just as I’d left it. On my desk, my old anti-cancer meds were still sitting there. On the day of the reunion, I drifted over. It was a huge private room at a seven-star hotel. I floated around, looking at everyone. Finally, the last person arrived. I held my breath. That tall frame, the long legs… it was Harrison. He was wearing a bespoke European suit—understated, but impeccably tailored. I stared, mesmerized. A second later, a beautiful woman appeared at the door and took his arm. “Harrison, are these all your old classmates?” My breath hitched. At the party, everyone was drinking, laughing, and networking, but mostly, they were all trying to get close to Harrison. Suddenly, someone scanned the room. “Is Elara the only one who didn’t show?” “Please. She vanished after graduation. Who knows what she’s up to.” “Even Harrison, a literal tech god, shows up on TV now and then. She’s the real mystery. Probably married some rich guy and became a trophy wife.” The gossip flew. Finally, the class social chair, Liv, who hadn’t said a word, took a sip of her wine. “Trophy wife? More like serving trophy wives. She’s a flight attendant for Crestview Air. Busy as hell.” Liv was beautiful, married to some minor tech exec. I’d served her and her husband on a flight about a year ago. “You’ve seen her?” Everyone was curious now. “A flight attendant? That’s one way to meet rich guys. She’s a quick thinker, I’ll give her that.” “Crestview? How come I’ve never seen her?” “Crestview is famous for having the most gorgeous crews.” “I’ll have to book a flight with them sometime…” As they talked, I looked over at Harrison. He was silent, his expression dark. The hand resting on the arm of his chair was clenched so tight the veins were popping. The class president, sitting next to him, saw his fist and quickly signaled for everyone to shut up. He raised his glass to Harrison. “To Harrison. Some people just aren’t worth remembering.” Harrison didn’t move. He just sat there, frozen. The whole room held its breath. Beside him, his beautiful fiancée looked uncomfortable. She gently placed her hand on his. A few seconds later, he snapped out of it. He picked up his glass and touched it to the president’s. “Forgot her ages ago.” He took a sip of wine, then covered her hand with his. “I have good news. My wedding is next month. I hope you all can come.” 3 That night, I drifted aimlessly through the city. I was exhausted. I floated back to my apartment. A light was on. Strange. It was Sarah. My best friend. She had a bucket of water and was cleaning my apartment. My old phone was on the table, plugged in. She worked in silence. My eyes burned. Suddenly, my phone buzAzed. She put down the mop and picked it up. It was the class group chat. “Mr. Chase, what’s the exact date for the wedding? And where’s the venue?” Someone else posted a photo from the party. Harrison and his fiancée, Tessa, sitting together. “Look at them! A perfect match. So beautiful.” “A thousand times better than someone we know. All looks, no substance.” Thud. Sarah’s hand trembled, and the phone fell to the floor. She slowly sank to her knees, covered her face, and started to sob. She opened my photo album, her fingers tracing my smiling face. “You idiot,” she whispered. “He’s getting married. Did you know? And you… you were whispering his name right up until the end.” Sarah turned off the phone and went back to cleaning. When she left, she took my phone with her. I didn’t understand. I followed her back to her apartment. Being alone in that empty place was unbearable. The only thing I looked forward to was Sarah visiting once a month, charging my phone. When it lit up with notifications, I could read them. It was my only connection. My only entertainment, now that I was dead. 4 Sarah was poor, even more so than I was. She was a single mom. Her daughter had a congenital heart defect. She put the phone down and went to put her daughter to bed. I couldn’t sleep. I floated around her apartment. Finally, a screen lit up. It was my phone. A news alert. I froze at the headline. #Aura Dynamics CEO in Late-Night Accident on I-5, Vehicle Strikes Guardrail# Harrison was the CEO of Aura Dynamics. The accident was on the freeway, near the bridge. Was he hurt? I didn’t wait. I flew, as fast as my spirit could move, toward the bridge. The section of the freeway was blocked off. A mangled Maybach was crumpled against the guardrail. My heart (or what was left of it) pounded. I phased through the crowd, looking for him. He wasn’t there. I was frantic. “Mr. Harrison, your arm is bleeding. I’m taking you to the hospital.” I spun around. He was sitting on the pavement, away from the wreck. His arm was hanging at his side, blood dripping from his knuckles. It hurt to see. He didn’t say a word. He just got into the car that had arrived for him.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385956”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I was bored on the bus, scrolling through my phone, when a post on a forum caught my eye. The title was: “I had a horrible childhood, and now I’m jealous of my daughter. What do I do?” The top comment was: “Just make her repeat your life.” The replies were a firestorm of outrage. But I froze. The top commenter’s profile picture was identical to my mom’s. I was just killing time, but this post pulled me in. The original poster said she’d grown up with nothing. Now, seeing her newborn daughter surrounded by loving parents and doting grandparents, she felt a twist of bitter jealousy. She was asking for advice on how to handle it. Most of the replies were kind, suggesting postpartum depression and talking to her husband. Others recommended taking a vacation after her maternity leave to relax. But that one top comment was jarring: [Make her live the same life you did.] [Otherwise, how is it fair that you suffered so much, and she gets a better life for free?] People were tearing her apart, calling her a monster. But the commenter just doubled down: [I’m already doing it. I never had new clothes, so I don’t let my daughter have new clothes.] [I never had enough to eat, so I lie to my daughter and tell her we’re poor, to make her skip meals and ‘conserve.’] [As soon as I started doing it, I felt so much more balanced.] The comment section was horrified. But I just felt a cold dread creeping up my spine. Because the profile picture was my mom’s. A low-res photo of a sunflower. And the coincidence was sickening. My mom always told me we were poor, forcing me to wear my cousins’ old hand-me-downs. They were always the wrong size, and I was relentlessly bullied for it. I remember my aunt gave me a dress once. My mom smiled and accepted it. The moment my aunt left, she took a pair of scissors and cut it to shreds. She told me, with a serious face, that the world was full of bad men, and wearing dresses was “unsafe.” I believed her. I didn’t own a new piece of clothing until I went to college and paid for it myself with my work-study money. Looking at all these coincidences, my stomach sank. Could this “Top Commenter” be my mom? Do mothers like that really exist? My hand was shaking as I kept reading. The replies were brutal: [You’re a vile human being. If you didn’t want a kid, you shouldn’t have had one. What’s the point of giving birth just to torture her?] [People like you should be sterilized. You’re a waste of resources.] The Top Commenter shot back, full of scorn: [You all feel so sorry for her, but do you even know what she’s like?] [She’s been a bad seed from day one. She stole a barrette from a classmate and then lied, telling me she saved up to buy it.] [That’s a laugh. I never give her an allowance. How could she ‘save’ anything?] [When I exposed her lie, she didn’t even feel ashamed. She ran to her teacher, playing the victim, saying she’d collected cans for weeks. I was so angry I dragged her back and made her apologize to the entire class.] [A daughter with no morals. Why should I be good to her?] The replies were stunned: [She’s your daughter. You didn’t believe her? You humiliated her in front of her whole class? She’s the unluckiest person in the world to have you as a mom.] [If I were your daughter, I would never, ever forgive you.] The commenter was unfazed: [Please. I’m a woman. I can see right through her little games.] [She’s a compulsive liar. Vain. Materialistic.] [I grew up without barrettes and I turned out fine, didn’t I?] [If I don’t crush those ideas out of her now, she’ll end up embarrassing me for the rest of my life.] 2 My blood ran cold. I did buy a barrette when I was a kid. All the other girls in my class had one. I was so jealous. I spent weeks collecting cans from the school dumpsters after class and redeeming them at the recycling center. When I finally had enough, I bought one. My mom saw it. She, who was always so gentle, went insane. She ripped it out of my hair. “You shameless little bitch!” she screamed. “Who did you steal this from?” I was terrified. I tried to explain. She didn’t believe me. She dragged me to school and went from classroom to classroom, asking if anyone was missing a barrette. Humiliated, I told my teacher the truth. My mom slapped me, hard, right in front of her. “You’re lying to your teacher now? Is this how I raised you? You’re embarrassing me to death!” In the end, even though there was no “victim,” I was forced to stand in front of my class and read a written apology. After, my mom told me it was for my own good. She didn’t want me to get into the “habit of comparing” myself to others. She said we were poor, and we had to be humble. We couldn’t buy things we couldn’t afford, and we definitely couldn’t steal. Looking at her rough, calloused hands, I was convinced. I felt sick with guilt. Here we were, barely scraping by, and I was wasting money on stupid trinkets. I never bought anything like that again. While other girls were discovering makeup and pretty clothes, I was the gray, frumpy ugly duckling. I told myself it was fine. Every family was different. My parents were doing their best. But now, I was reading a different story. I kept scrolling. Her replies were so unhinged that someone finally asked: [You treat your daughter like this. Aren’t you afraid of backlash? Aren’t you scared she’ll hate you?] She replied, full of pride: [I’m not stupid. You give them a slap, then you give them a sweet. I’ve got her wrapped around my little finger. She still tells me she loves me and wants to take care of me when she’s older.] I let out a bitter laugh. After every screaming match, after every slap, my mom would always calm down and give me a small piece of candy, or say a few soft words. And I would burst into tears, convinced I was the one who had done something wrong. That I wasn’t grateful enough. I never imagined it was all a calculated performance. She was just forcing me to live her life. Just to make herself feel “balanced.” I looked at the gift I’d bought her, sitting in my lap. I felt sick. 3 The bus slowed to a stop. We were at the station. This was my winter break. I was finally home. I’d had a million stories to tell my mom. I wanted to tell her about my classes, about life in the city, about all the new things I’d seen. Now, I just sat there. I stood in the terminal for a long time. I decided I had to confront her. I had to know. As I started walking, I glanced at the thread one last time. That’s when my blood turned to ice. The Top Commenter had posted again: [I wanted to make the little bitch get a job at the local factory after high school. But she had to go and get into a good college. A good one. Now everyone back home talks about how smart she is, how she ‘made it out.’] [Every time I see her proud face, it makes me sick.] [If I’d had her opportunities, I’d be a thousand times more successful.] [She’s only a junior, and she hasn’t been home in two years. She’s already got an attitude. Once she graduates, she’ll be gone for good, won’t she?] [Hmph. When she gets back this time, I’m making sure she never leaves. She’s not getting away from us.] I gripped my phone, my knuckles white. I hadn’t been home in two years because I was working two jobs to pay for tuition and rent. My mom knew that. She’d always praised me for being so responsible. What did she mean, “never leaves”? The replies asked her what she was planning. She didn’t hide it: [I found her a husband. She’s getting married as soon as she’s back.] [She can live in the next town over. That way, we can all ‘look out for each other.’] The forum exploded. They called her evil, inhuman. My mom was indignant: [It’s a parent’s right! I got married and stayed here, why is she any different?] [None of you understand what I went through. She can’t understand my suffering unless she walks the same path.] [Besides, you have to suffer to build character. I’m doing this for her own good.] People in the thread threatened to report her, to call the police. That finally scared her. She deleted her account. My vision blurred. All the complicated, swirling emotions boiled down to one, single thought. I have to get out of here. I have to leave this family. I wiped my eyes and turned to buy a ticket back to my college town. I hadn’t taken two steps before I froze. There, standing at the only exit, were my mom and dad. And a strange man. They saw me. Their faces lit up. “Maya! We’re over here!” I was trapped. This station was tiny. There was no other exit. I couldn’t go back to their town. But if I made a scene here, they’d just play the “worried parents” card. The cops, if they even came, would see it as a “family dispute” and tell us to handle it ourselves. I couldn’t alert them. I had to play along. I had to find a chance to run. I put on a bright, fake smile and walked toward them. “Mom! Dad! What are you guys doing here?” My mom grabbed my arm. “You haven’t been home in two years! Of course we’d come to pick you up!” “Look, your dad came, too.” If this were yesterday, I’d have been thrilled. My dad had always been cold, reserving all his affection for my cousin, Kevin. He’d take Kevin fishing, buy him things, like he was his real son. My mom always sighed that I wasn’t born a boy. I’d spent my childhood feeling inferior to my cousin. I glanced at the strange man next to them. “Mom, who’s this?” “Oh, this is Bucky!” she said, way too enthusiastically. “You remember Bucky, right? He used to babysit you! He has a truck, so he was nice enough to give us a ride.” Bucky looked me up and down, a weird, appraising stare. Then he gave my mom a subtle nod. I instinctively took a step back. I didn’t remember Bucky, but I’d heard about him. He was the town loser. Pushing forty, no job, just drank and gambled. The only thing he had was a small inheritance his dad left him to “find a wife.” Even the most desperate people in town avoided him. And my mom wanted to marry me to him. My eyes started to sting again. 4 It was around noon, and our town was still a long drive away, so we stopped at a diner. At the table, I put a piece of pot roast on my plate. My mom sighed. “I never had food like this when I was a kid. We were lucky to get scraps. You kids have it so good.” This was her routine. On the rare occasions we had meat, she’d wait for me to take a bite, then start her ‘childhood suffering’ speech. I would always, always, feel a pang of guilt, put down my fork, and push the meat to her and my dad. This time, I pretended not to hear her. I smiled, took a huge bite, and kept eating. If I was going to make a run for it, I needed the energy. My mom looked stunned. But Bucky was there, so she couldn’t say anything. She just quietly started eating. Halfway through the meal, I felt my pocket. Wallet, debit card, ID. All there. Thank God I always keep them on me. I wiped my mouth. “I’m going to the restroom.” My mom’s eyes flicked to my suitcase by the table, then to my half-eaten plate. She knew I’d never waste food. She nodded. I stood up. I walked. The exit got closer. My heart was pounding. I was almost at the door when the waitress called out, “Hon, you’re going the wrong way. Restroom’s over there.” My blood ran cold. The next second, I heard my mom’s chair scrape back and her voice, sharp with suspicion. “Maya! Where are you going?” I bolted. If I went back to that town, it was over. My mom and dad tried to chase me, but the waitress blocked them, holding the bill. “Hey! You haven’t paid!” Bucky shoved past them and ran after me. The street was crowded. I sprinted into the thickest part of the crowd. “HELP!” I screamed. “KIDNAPPER! HE’S TRYING TO TAKE ME!” People immediately turned. A few men blocked Bucky’s path. Bucky, to my horror, started yelling, “She’s not being kidnapped! She’s my wife! I caught her cheating, and she’s trying to run! Don’t let her fool you!” I couldn’t believe his nerve. But the crowd wasn’t stupid. One man laughed. “Your wife? Buddy, you’re old enough to be her father. We’re not idiots.” “Somebody call the cops! Get this creep away from her.” Bucky looked terrified. What he was doing wasn’t that far from kidnapping, and my parents weren’t there to back him up. He turned and ran, disappearing into an alley before anyone could get their phone out. I gasped, catching my breath, and ran in the opposite direction. I blacklisted their numbers. I knew they’d wait at the bus station, so I found a cab and paid him to take me to the next county over. After three different buses, I was finally back in my college city. My luggage was gone, but it was just clothes. I didn’t care. I cleared out my dorm room, called my friend Jenna, and went to her place. They’d be back. They’d come to the school. But I was mostly done with my classes. I could file for an internship waiver and finish my credits off-campus. I just needed to find a job. They couldn’t wait at the school forever.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385955”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

01 My brain was melting from boredom on the Amtrak, trying to get home for Thanksgiving. The entire train station was a sea of people. I finally get outside, my suitcase wheel is sticking, and there isn’t a single Uber or Lyft available. I had no choice. I had to call my mom for a rescue. I pulled out my phone, dialed, and the moment I said, “Mom?” the screen went black. Dead. You have got to be kidding me. A gust of icy wind hit me, and I shivered. I glanced to my side and saw a glowing screen. And a pink scarf. I didn’t even think. I spun around, bowed slightly, and blurted it all out in one breath. “Baby, I am so sorry, can I please borrow your phone?” The person jumped, clearly startled, and just shoved their phone at me. Aw, what a sweet girl. I looked up. My heart stopped. Bad news: not a girl. Good news: an incredibly, absurdly hot guy. Oh God, my mouth. When will I ever break the habit of calling every girl I see “baby”? His face was all sharp angles and a perfect nose. He looked like he was sculpted, not born. Is this what they call “misery loves company”? No, “blessing in disguise”? He noticed me staring and awkwardly looked away. “Go ahead.” I swallowed, peeled my eyes off his face, and dialed. “Mom? Can you come get me? The train station is a total nightmare. I can’t get a ride.” After getting a short, “Fine, I’m coming,” I hung up and handed the phone back. He took it but stayed standing next to me, apparently waiting for his own ride. The poor guy’s ears were bright red from the cold. I was trying to figure out how to salvage this, maybe even slide in and get his number, when a middle-aged woman rushed toward us. The guy looked up. And froze. He blurted out, “Mom? What are you doing here?” Oh. He called his mom, too? But the woman just beamed at him. “What kind of question is that, silly?” “Your girlfriend called me, of course!” She then turned and grabbed my hand. This time, I was the one who froze. Total system failure. 02 The guy—Liam, as I’d soon learn—reacted fast. So did I. We both glanced at his call history at the same second. His eyes snapped back to me, and he stared at me like I was a puzzle he was trying to delete from his brain. My face was burning. I couldn’t say a word. It was all my stupid, cold, and apparently very thirsty brain’s fault. It saw “Mom” in his contacts, and I just… pressed it. His mom, however, was blissfully unaware. She grabbed my suitcase from my hand and shoved it at him. “Liam! Seriously? You’re making your girlfriend carry her own luggage?” “If it wasn’t for this pink scarf I gave you—for ‘good luck’—how would you ever have landed such an adorable girlfriend?” She looped her arm through mine and started pulling me toward the parking lot, smiling. “Sweetie, you are just beautiful. My son is so lucky.” “My car’s right over here. Let’s get you warmed up. Ignore this goofball.” “Oh, I’m so excited, I forgot to ask! What’s your name, dear?” I was completely steamrolled by her enthusiasm. “Um,” I stammered, “I’m Josie.” She nodded, satisfied, and completely ignored Liam, who was trying to explain from behind us. “Mom, she’s not my girlfriend—” She shot him a look. “Not your girlfriend, but you’re standing together?” “She was waiting for her mom. I was waiting for a cab.” “Not your girlfriend, but you lent her your phone?” “Her phone died—” His mom made a “tsk” sound, giving him a look that clearly said, You really think I’m that stupid? “You, be quiet. I say she is, so she is.” Liam just sighed and followed us. I tried to explain multiple times, but her enthusiasm was a brick wall. She insisted on taking me to their house for dinner. “Josie, your phone is dead, right? You’ll come over, we’ll eat, you can charge it as long as you want. Plenty of electricity.” “After dinner, I’ll make Liam drive you home.” I definitely felt some electricity. Mostly from the daggers he was staring into the back of my head. 03 The second his mom opened the door, I was hit with the smell of amazing food and a chorus of meows and barks. I looked down. Oh, this was a high-level household. Two cats, two dogs, all piled on a rug. They saw us and came running. My heart melted. Sorry, Toast, Mommy’s found a new port of call tonight. I dropped to my knees, arms open. “Babies! Hello, babies! Come to Auntie Josie, mwah, mwah, mwah…” A cold voice came from above me. “Do you do that with everyone?” I was busy scratching a Samoyed. “Do what?” “Call them ‘baby.’” I froze. I looked up at Liam, trying to explain. “You’re… you’re different.” He cut me off with a dry laugh. “Don’t bother.” I went back to the pets, trying to cover my embarrassment. “You have such a great setup. Cats and dogs, the whole package.” “You’re pretty great, too. You’ll probably… get one… soon.” His face instantly darkened. I realized what I’d said and tried to backtrack. “No! I mean! You’re… fast-handed!” “You know, like… cats! You gotta be quick. You snooze, you lose. That’s… their motto…” “Enough. Just stop.” He turned and walked away. I wanted to die. Good job, Josie. You made it worse. 04 After dinner, his mom—who I now adored—said goodbye, and I was handed off to a very grumpy-looking Liam. The drive was silent. “Thanks, Liam,” I said, just to say something. He was programming the GPS, his smile tight. “No problem. It’s the least I could do for my… 70-mile… round trip.” The GPS, at that exact moment, decided to glitch. “YOUR ROUTE IS THIRTY-FIVE. THIRTY-FIVE. MILES.” “THIRTY-FIVE.” “THIRTY. FIVE.” WHAP. He slapped the screen, and it went silent. He smiled at me. “Don’t mind that. It acts up all the time.” “No, no, it’s my fault, my fault…” “Oh? And what, exactly, is your fault?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. I blanked, trying to think of the right answer. My phone rang. I’ve never been so happy to hear it. It was my mom. “Are you done at your friend’s? You need to come home. Your cat, Toast, he stinks again.” “You need to take him to the vet. Something is wrong…” Toast is my precious, noble silver shaded baby. How could he stink? “Mom, my child doesn’t stink! Are you sure you’re bathing him right?” “Of course I am! I bathe him, he smells fine, and two days later, he stinks again!” “I don’t believe you,” I argued. “When I have him, he’s perfect. His little paws smell like popcorn. He can’t stink.” “You never listen. Just get home and see for yourself. He needs a doctor.” I hung up and felt Liam’s eyes still on me. I thought maybe he’d softened up, hearing me be all responsible. But his expression was just… weird. Finally, he said, very seriously, “You should probably spend more time with your child.” He’s not wrong. Good advice. I nodded. “Mhm, mhm.” He saw me agreeing and added, “I know it must be hard… but if your kid has a problem, you should really see a doctor.” A… mor-what-now? I was genuinely confused. But he looked so serious. A hot guy can’t be wrong, right? It must be me. So I just nodded again. “Mhm, mhm, you’re so right.” “So… what’s your number?” “…” 05 I got his number. And… nothing. I’d text ‘Good morning,’ ‘Good afternoon,’ ‘Good night.’ He would leave me on ‘read.’ I was rolling around on my bed in despair. My mom threatened to kick me out. I told my best friend, Peaches, about it. She’s a self-proclaimed “dating guru” and swore she could help me land this guy. Her advice: My texts were boring. I wasn’t showing my “passion.” She immediately forwarded me a TikTok link: “100 Lines to Make Your Crush OBSESSED.” I scrolled through it. Me: [You sure this isn’t… worse?] Peaches: [Trust me. I’ve had 30 relationships using this.] Me: [Wait, WHAT? Since when?] Peaches: [Online. This last one started two days ago. We just broke up.] Me: […What’s your average relationship length?] Peaches: [Like… two, three days?] Me: […Never mind.] I thought about it all night. I decided to give it a shot. What did I have to lose? My texting game took a… sharp turn. My mornings: [Skipped breakfast, I’m starving. Can you beat me up? I need to feel something.] [Pay attention to me. My cat can do a backflip.] My afternoons: [Can you just say you like me?] [Your mouth isn’t doing anything else, right?] [You left me on ‘read.’ That’s fine. At least you’re reading.] My evenings: [God, this room is so hot. Without your cold shoulder, I don’t know how I’ll survive…] [Liam…] Finally, he cracked. He texted me late one night: [Can you please stop?] [Stop what? :innocent_cat_emoji:] [Never mind. What do you want, Josie?] [I want you to talk to me :crying_cat_emoji:] He was silent for a long time. [You’re a mother. You shouldn’t be acting like this.] I was completely lost. […You don’t have a family?] I typed so fast I hit send before I could think. I frantically tried to explain: [No, wait, I mean! I have a family, you have a family, that doesn’t mean we can’t talk!] A bright red “Message Failed to Send” popped up. He’d blocked me. 06 I was heartbroken. The relationship was dead before it even started. My mom, seeing me moping, finally dragged me out of bed and told me to take Toast to the vet. I held Toast, sighing. “Oh, Toast. You’re stinky again. You must have caught my sadness…” Toast: […] I decided to splurge. I took him to the most expensive vet clinic in town. After a long wait, the vet tech called me. “Next, uh… ‘Toad’?” Toad? I stood up, furious. “His name is TOAST.” I stormed through the door, ready to yell at the doctor. “Can’t you even read? My child’s name is—” The handsome man at the desk froze. He slowly looked up. Crap. It was Liam. “Josie,” he said, his voice flat. “This… is your child?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385954”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The second year of my arranged marriage to Julian Vance, my college boyfriend suddenly moves back to the city. My husband, usually a man of icy, perfect composure, hands me divorce papers. I stare at them. “What’s this?” His voice actually trembles. “Your old flame is back. I’ll get out of the way.” Me: “…Huh??” 1 I got home from the networking dinner at almost eleven. I kicked off my heels, rubbing the ache in my neck as I walked in, only to be blocked by my husband. Julian was staring at me, his face a cold mask. “You were drinking?” “A little.” He let out a sharp, cold laugh. “You don’t usually drink. What, so happy to see an old flame?” My brain was sluggish from the wine. It took a second to realize he was being passive-aggressive. I looked up, meeting his eyes. “If you have something to say, just say it. I’m exhausted.” His gaze drifted over my face, then suddenly locked on one spot, his eyes turning to ice. “Why is your neck red?” I instinctively reached up to scratch it. “I don’t know, a big bite, probably?” His tone was laced with sarcasm. “Was that ‘bug’ named Connor Grant?” Connor Grant. My ex-boyfriend’s name. Suddenly, Julian’s weird mood made sense. Before I could say anything, he thrust the papers in his clenched fist toward me. “Sign it.” My eyes dropped. I read the words at the top: DIVORCE AGREEMENT. No exaggeration, I sobered up instantly. “What?” I said, incredulous. “Why are you suddenly doing this?” “Isn’t this what you want?” he said. “Connor just got back, and you immediately run off to have drinks with him, coming home with…” His eyes darted back to my neck, and he fell silent. “I wasn’t drinking with him,” I argued. “I was with Mr. Kincaid from TransCore. I told you about that project.” “You were drinking with Connor.” He latched onto it. “Yes, he was there,” I explained, “but I didn’t know he would be! He and Kincaid are friends. They were all networking. I could hardly kick him out, could I?” The more ridiculous thought, I kept to myself. What right would I have to kick him out? We’re not even friends… Julian was silent for a moment. “Forget the TransCore deal. The margins are low anyway. I’ll find you something better.” A golden opportunity dropping from the sky was great, but I was still stuck. “Why do you care so much about Connor?” Julian and I have an arranged marriage. After a year, we’re still barely acquaintances. Our conversations revolve around meals and sleep, with the occasional update on our respective work. That’s it. This… robot-like mode even extends to our married life. We are intimate every Friday night. Three times. Exactly. In the year we’ve been married, there has not been a single exception. I’d complained about this to my best friend, Maya. She was floored, but finally just sighed, “I guess that’s just Julian for you.” Julian is a legend in our circle. Everyone grew up hearing their parents talk about him, living in his shadow. Being good at one thing is normal. Being good at everything, like him, is freakish. And on top of it, he’s hyper-disciplined and emotionally stable. It’s impossible not to admire him. I used to admire him, too. Until I married him. How is this high-spec AI my husband? The “golden boy” is definitely meant to be admired from afar. Living with him is a serious test of your sanity. The AI-husband spoke. “Why shouldn’t I care?” I clarified, “We dated, sure, but that was years ago. We broke up. I’m your wife now. There’s… nothing between us.” “I hope you mean that.” “What?” “I don’t allow flaws in my life. That includes my marriage,” he said. “I won’t have my marriage end because you cheated.” “…” So that’s what this was about. I gave him my most sincere guarantee. “I won’t.” Julian got the answer he wanted and turned, walking into the bedroom. 2 By the time I finished washing up, it was nearly midnight. I was lying in bed, half-asleep, when I heard him ask, “What do you want for breakfast tomorrow?” “What are the options?” “Crab and pork wontons, pan-fried beef potstickers, or strawberry pancakes.” “Potstickers,” I said. “Extra crispy this time.” “Mm.” Maybe I didn’t eat enough at the dinner, because the thought of Julian’s beef potstickers made my stomach growl. The high-spec AI was also a Michelin-star-level chef. I’ve eaten plenty of good food in my life, but Julian’s cooking was always on another level. The first time I had his crab wontons, they were so good I almost swallowed my own tongue. I swallowed. “Are the… potstickers already made?” “Yeah,” he said. “Made them tonight. While you were out drinking with Connor.” “…” I turned my head to look at him, suspicious. I had a strange thought: The Julian who mentioned Connor didn’t sound like an AI at all… If I didn’t know him better, I’d almost think he was jealous. My jealousy. But how was that possible? The robot spoke. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing.” I pushed the ridiculous thoughts out of my head. But his little interruption meant I couldn’t possibly ask for the potstickers now. I was terrified he’d just shoot back with: Didn’t Connor feed you when you were out drinking with him? 3 I woke up late the next morning. Julian’s beef potstickers were already packed in a high-end thermos. He handed me a bottle of a freshly made kale-and-date smoothie and said a quiet, “See you.” Watching him leave, I suddenly thought that, robot or not, he did take pretty good care of me. I ate breakfast at my desk. Just as I was about to start working, my best friend Maya texted. Maya: Heard Connor Grant’s back in town! 😱 Me: Yeah, I know. Had drinks with him last night. Maya: WTF! **Maya:** SO FAST?!**Maya:**BABE! You’re a married woman! You gotta be careful seeing him!` Me: … This was my biggest headache. I hadn’t dated anyone in the years since Connor and I broke up, simply because I didn’t want to. But somehow, the rumor started that I was still hopelessly hung up on him. I tried to explain. It only made it worse. Even Maya, my best friend, thought I was just in denial. I called her directly. “I have explained this one million times. I have zero feelings for him.” “Okay, okay,” she said, not sounding convinced at all. “But you drinking with him… you better hope Julian doesn’t find out.” “…” “He already knows.” “HE WHAT?!” I was tired of talking about Connor, but I was suddenly very excited to talk about Julian’s non-AI behavior last night. I gave her the play-by-play of his strange reaction. I emphasized the part where he was so psycho he handed me divorce papers over it. “I mean, isn’t his perfectionism a little… extreme?” Maya saw it differently. “I don’t know, Chloe… sounds to me like he’s trying to keep you.” “What?” “He hands you the papers, you get scared, you back off from Connor. Makes sense.” “What if I’d actually signed them?” “Would you?” “…No.” Leaving aside the complex merger of our two family empires, on a practical level, I was not willing to divorce a catch like Julian. “The god is finally descending from Olympus!” Maya declared. Her dramatics made me roll my eyes. “It’s more like the high-spec AI is finally getting a personality patch.” “You should test him,” Maya said, her voice giddy. “See if it’s just a system glitch or if he’s actually turning human.” “How?” Her next words were loaded with suggestion. “Well, it’s Friday, isn’t it? Tonight, you two…” 4 Maya’s plan was simple. It also made me blush. All I had to do was… ask for more. His “Friday, three times” schedule was so unwavering that if I could get him to break it… well, that would prove the robot’s programming had changed, right? I hesitated. I debated. I almost chickened out. Finally, we were in bed. He leaned over me, our eyes met for a few seconds, and then he reached for the silk scarf on the nightstand, covering my eyes and tying it gently behind my head. I’d never questioned it before. I just figured it was his kink. But tonight, with a mission on my mind, I asked, “Why do you always cover my eyes?” Julian didn’t answer. He just kissed me. The wet, soft pressure on my lips pulled my thoughts away. Gradually, I forgot I was even supposed to be investigating the eye-covering thing. The world tilted and spun. He held me in his hands, lifting me high, setting me down gently, my heart constricting over and over. Finally, round three was over. Julian pulled the sweat-dampened scarf from my eyes. I was staring straight into his—calm, placid, emotionless. Even after seeing those eyes a hundred times, I still wanted to scream. How?! How, after doing…that…is he always so damn CHILL? He stroked my cheek, a placating gesture, and started to pull away— Rage and determination surged through me. I snapped my legs shut, locking them around his waist. Julian wasn’t expecting it. He toppled forward, his whole body landing heavily on mine. My hands instantly snaked around his neck. As he stared at me, completely stunned, I purred, “Can we go one more time?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385953”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After I was forced to give my heart to my husband’s old flame, I died in the hallway of the private hospital he founded. Before I died, my six-year-old son begged him three times. The first time, Leo grabbed the man’s hand and said I was spitting up blood. The man sneered. “Finally getting smart, are we? Teaching your kid to lie for you?” He had his bodyguards drag Leo out of the room. The second time, Leo grabbed his sleeve, saying I was in so much pain I was delirious. The man frowned. “It’s just a heart transplant. The doctor said she won’t die.” The bodyguards dragged Leo out again. The third time, Leo collapsed on the floor, clutching his pant leg, sobbing that I was unconscious. The man finally snapped. He grabbed Leo by the neck and threw him out of the room. “I told you, Chloe won’t die. If you bother Ava’s rest again, I’ll throw you both out of this hospital.” To save me, Leo offered his most treasured possession to a nurse—his baptismal locket. “Auntie, I don’t want a long life anymore. I just want my mommy to live.” The nurse took his locket, preparing to move me to the last available room. But Ava, my husband’s old flame, had someone block the door with her pet dog’s carrier. “Sorry, kid. Ethan was worried I’d get bored without my baby, so this room is for my dog.” To make room for Ava’s dog, my hospital bed was pushed into the hallway. As the door closed, Leo clutched the locket he’d just taken off. He balled his little fist, already turning purple, and pounded on the door. “Auntie, please give the room back to my mommy!” “Auntie, Leo is begging you, please open the door!” His small voice echoed down the hall, but it couldn’t move Ava, who was busy playing with her dog inside. The more Leo cried, the louder she cooed. “Good boy, we don’t pay attention to dirty things.” Leo’s voice grew hoarse. This was the same child who would cry for me to kiss a scraped knee. Now, he just wiped the blood from his knuckles on his shirt. With tears streaming, he said, “Bad lady! Leo traded his locket for that room! Why does your dog get it?!” “You’re a bad lady!” His voice was so raw you could barely understand him, his questions laced with a heartbreaking fragility. I lay on the gurney, tears and blood mixing on my face. I’m sorry, Leo. Mommy couldn’t protect you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. The door never opened. Leo walked back to me, his eyes swollen shut. “Mommy, I’m sorry. I’m useless. I let the bad lady take your room.” “Mommy, I’m sorry.” I could feel my life slipping away. I knew I was dying. But I couldn’t scare my Leo. With my last bit of strength, I forced a smile. “Leo, sweetie, Mommy’s a little cold. Can you go get me a blanket? Please?” He stared for a second, then frantically wiped his tears and nodded. “Okay! I’ll go get one right now!” “Mommy, you have to wait for me! You have to wait!” As I watched his little back run away, I closed my eyes. “Leo, I’m sorry. Mommy can’t wait.” When I opened my eyes again, I was a ghost, following my son. He was smart. He knew going home would take too long, so when he saw an open door, he ran right in. A young woman was lying in that bed. Her husband was carefully tucking her in, not missing a single corner. Beside them, a little boy, maybe five, was holding a cup of warm water. “Mommy,” he said sweetly. For some reason, Leo looked like he was about to cry. But he couldn’t. He had to get a blanket for his mom. The couple was startled. The man gently brushed the dust off Leo. “Are you okay, little guy? Where’s your mom?” Leo nervously picked at his hands, then worked up the courage. “Mister, my mommy is sick. She’s really cold. Can I please borrow a blanket?” “I can give you my locket for it. Please, help my mommy.” The man’s expression softened. He immediately pulled a new, sealed blanket from the cabinet and handed it to Leo. “Take it. I hope your mom feels better soon.” After so much cruelty, this one act of kindness made Leo speechless. He hugged the blanket, bowing over and over. “Thank you, mister. Thank you, auntie. Thank you.” The man waved his hands. “Don’t thank me. We didn’t even buy it.” “The founder of this hospital, Mr. Stone, gave one to every family. He’s celebrating his wife’s successful surgery.” “See? His picture and his wife’s are printed right on it.” “If you really want to thank someone, just wish Mr. Stone and his wife a long, happy life together.” Leo froze. He remembered Ethan throwing him out of the room. He also remembered… a time when Ethan (Ethan Stone) would lift him onto his shoulders, laughing as they ran across the lawn. The tears just wouldn’t stop. “I will. I’ll thank… Mr. Stone.” My heart ached more than it did on the operating table. Looking at Leo’s dull eyes, I remembered. Ethan used to love us. He’d stay up all night trying to pick the perfect name for Leo. He’d buy out entire toy stores for his birthday. When I had a cold, he’d hold Leo and read him silly fairy tales. But that all ended the day Ava came back. She used her “weak heart” to frame me and Leo, over and over. Playing the victim, faking helplessness, she won all of Ethan’s sympathy. Then she tricked Leo into putting a caterpillar on her bed, faked a heart attack, and made sure Ethan walked in to see it. Everything changed after that. In the hospital room, the man nodded, pleased. “By the way, where’s your dad? Why isn’t he with you?” Leo looked down. His tears dripped onto the plastic bag, onto the smiling photo of Ethan and Ava. His voice was a whisper. “My daddy… he’s dead.” After saying goodbye, Leo ran back to the main building, clutching the blanket. He slammed right into Ava, who was holding her little dog. She scowled, her perfect makeup twisting in disgust. “Get out of my way, you little bastard.” “Do you know how expensive this dress is? I could sell you and you still couldn’t afford to clean it.” “You’re just like your mother. Fucking trash.” Ava, her face dark, kicked him. Hard. Leo, caught off guard, flew backward. The blanket went flying. He ignored the pain and scrambled for it, but Ava stepped on his hand. She ground her stiletto heel into his fingers, looking down at him. “I’m warning you, you little bastard. If you ever pull that pathetic act in front of Ethan again, I’ll have you and your slut mother thrown out.” “Do you hear me?” Her eyes were vicious, like she wanted him to disappear. I bit my lip, rage and pain drowning me. I lunged, trying to pull her foot off him, screaming. Get off my son! Do anything you want to me! Don’t you dare touch my son! I screamed until I had no voice, but she couldn’t hear me. She was enjoying the sight of Leo’s face, red with pain, and pressed down harder. Leo’s arm started to spasm, but he refused to cry. He looked up, his swollen eyes staring at the glamorous Ava. “My mommy is not trash. She’s the best mommy in the world.” “You’re a bad lady. I won’t let you hurt my mommy.” With that, he opened his mouth and bit her ankle, hoping she’d move. Ava, already furious, was enraged. Her sharp heel slammed into his fragile stomach. “You little bastard!” I shrieked, diving to shield him. But he passed right through me, his head cracking against the wall. He coughed up a mouthful of blood. He still didn’t cry. He just stubbornly reached out, feeling along the floor. “Blanket… blanket… Mommy needs the blanket…” Ava wasn’t done. She put her dog down, walked over, and slapped him hard across the face. “Ava?” Ethan’s disbelieving voice cut through the air, startling everyone. Leo’s empty eyes suddenly lit up. He tried to speak through his split lip.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385952”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When I loved him the most, I wove a bracelet for Liam from a lock of my own hair. He was a die-hard pragmatist, the kind of guy who didn’t believe in anything he couldn’t see or touch. But he still wore that bracelet for me for four years. Then, on graduation day, his “little freshman” protégé, Sophie, got hurt. He rushed to the hospital, frantic, and lost the bracelet in the chaos. He just shrugged it off. “You know I don’t believe in that stuff, Claire.” A week later, Sophie gave him a bracelet. Also made from her hair. When someone at a party accidentally spilled a drink on that one, Liam’s face turned to thunder. “If anything happens to her because of this,” he snarled, “I’ll kill you.” In front of everyone, he beat the guy badly enough to send him to the hospital. In that instant, I just felt… tired. So incredibly tired. So I called my dad. “You know that Sterling heir you mentioned?” I said. “The one who’s been in a coma for five years? I’ll marry him.” 1 My thesis had some formatting issues. My advisor called, so I rushed back to campus, only to walk right into Liam in the middle of a fistfight. I was just walking by when a girl next to me grabbed my arm, craning her neck to see the action. “Damn, I never knew Liam could fight like that.” I was about to tell her she had the wrong person, but the name “Liam” froze me. The girl kept talking. “All this over a bracelet? He’s trying to kill the guy.” “Jeez, it was just a splash of latte.” “Must be from his girlfriend, then. He’s treating it like it’s made of gold.” A hair bracelet? If I remembered correctly, the one I gave Liam… he’d lost it last week. We had a massive fight about it. He said he was a realist, that he didn’t believe a bracelet made of hair could “protect him” or that losing it would bring me bad luck. He said I was overreacting. He even had the nerve to grin and say I could just make him a new one, and he’d promise to be more careful this time. I was so furious at his dismissive attitude that we had the worst fight of our relationship. We hadn’t spoken in a week. I didn’t expect to see him again like this, finding the bracelet and fighting for it. It was so unlike him. Before I could think, I pushed into the crowd to stop him. But just as I broke through, a petite girl rushed past me and threw herself straight into his arms. “Liam, stop! Please, don’t be impulsive. It’s just a bracelet, it’s not worth getting in trouble for me.” Her words stopped me in my tracks. I watched as Liam, his face already bruising, reached out and gently ruffled her hair. The gesture was shockingly natural, his smile arrogant. “It’s not every day I accept a gift,” he said, “and this idiot ruined it. I have a right to be pissed.” “Besides,” he added, “you made this from your hair to keep me safe. He got it dirty, and I was worried it would affect you. That’s why I lost my cool. Don’t be scared.” As he spoke, he rolled up his sleeve, ready to go another round. Liam’s skin is pale, and the red hair bracelet wrapped around his wrist stood out, almost beautiful. Yes, red. This wasn’t the one I made him. He’d always said bracelets were girly, “especially red ones.” That’s why the one I made for him was black. I still remembered the exact tone of disgust in his voice. Seeing that red bracelet on his wrist now, I felt like a complete and utter clown. And I recognized the girl, too. It was Sophie. On graduation picture day, Liam was supposed to be with me. He never showed. I found out later that Sophie had “fallen down some stairs.” Liam “happened to be passing by” and took her to the hospital. That’s when he lost my bracelet. I’d never been angry at him for being kind. But I never, ever thought there was something “unclear” between them. I don’t know what I was feeling. I just stood there like a puppet, completely numb, until the sirens of a police car and an ambulance arrived at the same time. The first took Liam. Sophie went with him. The second took the guy he’d beaten. The main characters were gone, and the crowd broke up. The girl who had grabbed my arm finally turned, realized her mistake, and mumbled an apology. Then she grabbed her actual roommate, and I heard them talking as they walked away. “Not gonna lie, they look good together. I saw them making out in the woods by the library the other day, too.” Her friend hesitated. “But isn’t his girlfriend in our year?” “Yeah. They’ve been together since high school. Seven years. Guess he just got bored…” Their voices faded, leaving me alone on the sidewalk. 2 Liam and I were desk partners freshman year of high school. His dad donated enough money to build the new gym. In return, our homeroom teacher treated Liam like a prince. Knowing his grades were terrible, she assigned me to sit with him—”peer-to-peer tutoring”—and wouldn’t let me refuse. I was furious. I went home to my dad. My dad immediately funded the new science wing and the library. The teacher started fawning over me. After one day as Liam’s desk partner, I was moved to the opposite corner of the room. He was a cocky, restless guy. He probably felt like I’d embarrassed him, so he cornered me in the hallway after school. He was clearly trying to intimidate me. But I can be resourceful. With the hallway full of people, I dropped my backpack, sat right down on the floor, and wailed. I accused him of being a monster who “used me and then dumped me.” People passing by stared and pointed. An 80-year-old grandma, who was there for some event, actually hobbled over and hit him with her cane. Liam’s face was bright red. He didn’t dare touch the old woman, and I was still crying on the floor, so he couldn’t move. Then, not wanting to lose the fight, I scrambled up and told the grandma it was actually me who dumped him. She asked why. I said, “He can’t get it up.” Then I grabbed my bag and ran for my life, terrified he was going to kill me. After that, we were declared rivals. We hated each other. But somehow, all that fighting… morphed. One sunny afternoon, we were sitting on the bleachers, and he suddenly turned to me. “Claire,” he said, “let’s go out.” The boy with the sharp eyes and arrogant smirk, the one who looked like he’d punch you as soon as look at you… his hands were visibly shaking. He was terrified. The sun was perfect. The breeze was gentle. It was, in short, a good day to fall in love. So we did. We both donated to the building fund again and sat together for the next three years. I dragged him through his studies, and we got into the same university. Freshman year of college, we skipped a month of classes and backpacked through Europe. At the peak of it all, I cut a lock of my hair and wove it into a bracelet for him. A charm. To keep him safe. But he was a pragmatist. He didn’t believe in charms. He just wore it. I thought it was a symbol of our love. Until he lost it. And replaced it with a new one. If that was all, maybe I wouldn’t have been so devastated. But I saw it. I saw the rage in his eyes… for another girl. Because he believed that if her bracelet was damaged, she would be hurt. When he lost mine, he didn’t care. He thought I was being dramatic. The contrast made everything so… absurd. In that moment, I felt like a joke. Pathetic and sad. My heart ached with a dull, heavy throb. I’m not the kind of person who can tolerate this. I couldn’t just pretend it didn’t happen. So I called my dad. The old man was probably in the middle of something with his latest girlfriend; I could hear him breathing heavily. “Dad,” I said, “that Sterling heir you mentioned? The one who’s been in a coma for five years? I’ll marry him.” My dad always told me he’d spoil me in little things, but when it came to the family business, I couldn’t be selfish. If Liam and I didn’t last, I had to accept his arrangement. But instead of celebrating, the old man was quiet. “Claire… are you sure?” He’s a strange man, my father. I never knew my mom; he raised me himself. He doesn’t believe in true love, lives like a playboy, but he never brought a woman home or let anyone disrespect me. I’ve secretly seen him, though, drunk on the sofa, crying. Mumbling about some “heartless woman” and asking why she didn’t want him, and didn’t want me. So, when it came to my marriage, his philosophy was simple: True love is crap. Power and money are the only things you can trust. The Sterlings are top-tier. Their heir has been in a coma for five years, and no one knows if he’ll ever wake up. But if I married him, the Sterling family would give me 5% of their company stock, and my family’s business would get a massive boost. The only price was my marriage. I remember the light in his eyes when he first proposed it. “I’m your father, Claire. I’m looking out for you. Men are all the same. You gamble on ‘true love,’ and you’ll end up with nothing. Better to marry a vegetable. You get the money, the power, and he won’t be moving. Your legs still work. You can have a couple of boy-toys on the side, who’s gonna know?” He was so excited, I thought he wished he could marry the guy. I yelled at him back then, told him he was wrong, that true love was real. He just laughed at me. Said I’d learn the hard way and told me not to come crying to him when I did. “I won’t have to,” I’d said. “Liam will never make me cry.” Funny how things turn out. I’m the one with egg on my face. So, to my dad’s question, I could only answer with a bitter laugh. “Isn’t this what you always said? You can’t rely on a man.” If I can’t rely on one, I might as well listen to my father and pay him back for raising me. But the old man was still quiet. After a long moment, he asked, “Did he hurt you?” I didn’t answer. I was afraid he’d laugh at me. He didn’t ask again. But, faintly, I heard him sniffle. Tsk. Crying at his age. So lame. 3 For convenience, my dad bought me a condo near campus. He said men were heartless. Afraid that Liam had “impure intentions,” he bought the unit across the hall and hired a bodyguard to live in it. If Liam ever came over and didn’t leave by 10 PM, the bodyguard was instructed to go over and throw him out. I thought he was being so childish at the time. Thanks to him, Liam and I—for all our big talk—had never actually slept together. I was honestly afraid my dad would have an aneurysm. But Liam and I had planned to get married right after graduation. Once we had the license, my dad couldn’t exactly listen at the door anymore. I could even picture myself, hands on my hips, telling him: “See, old man? I got lucky. I found someone who loves me, and we’re going to be together forever!” He’d probably huff and puff… but then he’d say, “My baby girl deserves nothing less than that.” I’d imagined that scene a thousand times. Turns out, I’m not that lucky. And that happiness isn’t mine to have. It was late when I got back to the condo. Just as I reached my door, an arm grabbed me. I was spun around and pulled into a chilly embrace. “Claire. Are you still mad at me?” Liam hugged me tight, resting his chin on my shoulder and nuzzling me like a cat. He always does this. After every fight, he uses the same trick to make me melt. Only this time, I wasn’t going to. I shoved him. Hard. He wasn’t expecting it and stumbled back, slamming his shoulder into the wall. He winced, grabbing the spot where he’d been hit during the fight. “Claire!” His voice was sharp. When I just stared at him, his expression softened again. “Claire, baby, don’t be mad. I know I messed up. I shouldn’t have lost the bracelet you gave me. Hit me, yell at me, whatever you want. Just don’t ignore me, okay?” He leaned in, his sharp features softening as he tried to look pathetic. I said nothing. I just lowered my eyes to his wrist. He was wearing a jacket, but as he’d moved, a bit of red string had peeked out from his sleeve. He followed my gaze and, for a second, his eyes darted away. “Claire, don’t misunderstand,” he said quickly, pulling his sleeve up to show me. “This is just… a regular red string.” “I knew you were still mad about the bracelet… and I didn’t know what to do… so I went to a shop and bought this one. I know you like red better, so I got this to make you happy. Please don’t be mad, okay?” He sounded so sincere. If I hadn’t seen what happened on campus today, I might have actually believed him. Unfortunately for him, I had. But I didn’t call him on it. I forced a smile. He saw me smiling and immediately tried to pull me into another hug. “Claire, is your bodyguard still across the hall? We’ve graduated now. We’re supposed to be getting our marriage license in two months. Why don’t you come to my place tonight? I miss you so much…” The implication was obvious. I suddenly wondered: Is it because I never slept with him? Is that why he’s messing around with Sophie? If that was the reason, then I truly despised him. Even though I used to love him. I sidestepped his embrace. Then, I grabbed his wrist and made a fake motion to pull off the red string. “Since I didn’t give you this one, I guess I’ll just toss… ah!” “Don’t touch it!” I hadn’t even finished my sentence. His reaction was pure reflex. He yanked his arm back, hiding it behind him, and used his other hand to shove me away. I wasn’t steady and fell hard on the floor, my tailbone cracking against the tile. “Claire! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!” Liam snapped back to reality, scrambling to help me up. I slapped his hand away. My bodyguard across the hall was, as always, extremely diligent. He was out the door in a second, landed another clean punch on Liam’s jaw, and then pulled me to my feet. Liam’s head snapped to the side. He was furious, but he’d just pushed me, and the bodyguard represented my dad, so he didn’t fight back. He just glared at the bodyguard. Finally, he closed his eyes and looked back at me. “Claire, I didn’t mean to do that. I just…” Before he could finish, his phone buzzed. Not a normal ring. A special ringtone, reserved for one person. He froze, but didn’t answer. The buzzing stopped. Three seconds later, it started again, more insistent. This time, he didn’t hesitate. “Claire, I have to take this, it’s really important. I’ll come find you tomorrow. I promise, I will never make you angry again.” I opened my mouth. I had so much to say. But he didn’t give me the chance. He just turned and sprinted for the elevator. I sighed. I really wanted to tell him: Liam, there is no tomorrow for us. 4 I started packing that night. With the bodyguard helping, I just had to grab my important documents; he handled the rest. While I waited, I was scrolling through my phone when the campus gossip blog lit up again. A nine-photo spread. The pictures showed Liam, storming into the freshman girls’ dorm, carrying Sophie out in his arms, and driving away from campus. The comments section was on fire. [LMAO, this is next level. Rushing to the hotel?] [Kid’s intense. Just storms the dorm to grab her? Must be in heat.] [He’s not even trying to hide it.] [Insider info: that girl got in a fight with her roommate. Her roommate is hurt way worse. Sophie got a scratch on her leg that a band-aid could fix, but her roommate doesn’t have a rich boyfriend to protect her and got warned by the RA.] [Are they sleeping together?] [Username: ILoveDogs10000: I literally saw them checking into a hotel together last month. I swear on my dog’s life, I’m not lying.] I stared at that last comment. My heart just… seized. Just then, the bodyguard finished packing my last suitcase. He looked at me, and I nodded. We left. Before I got in the car, I sent Liam one last text. Just two words: We’re done. Then I blocked his number and deleted his contact. The car was waiting. The driver, whom I didn’t recognize, just nodded at me. The bodyguard sat in the passenger seat, and we drove away. An hour later, the car stopped at a villa on the hillside. People were already waiting at the door. I followed them inside. The foyer was silent. A man who appeared to be the head butler stepped forward. “Miss Lin, your room is on the second floor, last door on the left. I’ll have Mrs. Wang show you up.” I nodded and followed Mrs. Wang upstairs. She was a kind-faced middle-aged woman. After showing me into the room, she smiled. “Mrs. Sterling said that as Mr. Julian’s future wife, you are the mistress of this house. She will not interfere in your private life, and all of us answer only to you. Your bodyguard has been given a room in the staff villa out back. Also, there is a black card on your desk. It has no limit, and you can make withdrawals. Beneath it is a stock transfer agreement. If you sign it, it’s effective immediately.” I nodded, and with her watching, I signed the contract. I handed one copy back to her. Mrs. Wang took the contract and started to leave, but paused at the door. “Mr. Julian’s room is right next door. You may go in to see him whenever you wish. If you need anything at all, you can call me.” She left, and I heard her downstairs, telling the kitchen to prepare dinner for me. I looked around the room. It was enormous. Every single detail, from the colors to the furniture, was perfectly to my taste. I walked further in and found a massive walk-in closet. It was filled with this season’s newest clothes. An entire wall was just for handbags. It was unreal. I was supposed to go home tonight. But my dad said he was busy with work and couldn’t “babysit” me, so he’d arranged with the Sterlings for me to come straight here. His exact words were: “Don’t worry, kid. Julian Sterling’s been out for five years. There’s no one else in that villa to boss you around. You go in there, you’re the queen. Oh, and their chef is amazing. The staff is all top-tier. They even developed the land behind the villa. Pools, tennis courts, whatever. Have fun. Invite friends, throw parties, whatever you want.” I’d asked him how he knew all this. He’d just rubbed his nose. “True love? That, your old man can’t give you. Probably turn rotten anyway. But everything else? I’ll make sure you have it. I won’t let you be vulnerable.” My thoughts cleared. I walked out of my room and into the one next door. If I was going to marry Julian Sterling, I had to at least see what my future comatose husband looked like. I stepped inside and saw him immediately, lying in the hospital-style bed. His eyes were closed, his face pale, but… he was ridiculously handsome. A completely different type from Liam. Julian’s features were softer, more refined. I leaned in closer, wanting a better look… and didn’t see the edge of the rug. I tripped. I fell forward, completely and totally, landing right on top of Julian Sterling. I froze in terror, afraid I’d killed him before the wedding. I scrambled to get off him, babbling the whole time. “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, please don’t be crushed…” But my apology died in my throat. Because as I looked down… The man who was supposed to be in a coma… had just opened his eyes.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385951”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Because my boyfriend, Jace, had… stamina, our sex life was adventurous. We were always trying new things. To get me to agree, he’d murmur the same promise: “The second you graduate, we’re getting married.” I believed him. So I overloaded on credits, busting my ass to graduate a year early. At night, I secretly studied everything I could find—new techniques, new positions—all to keep him satisfied. Until one night, I was studying late, missed my dorm’s curfew, and went to the bar to find him. I overheard him talking to his friends. “Jace, man, is your girlfriend really that wild?” “What, you think I’m lying?” Jace’s voice was slick with pride. “She’s a masterpiece. I trained her myself.” “What about Mia, then?” Jace took a long drag from his cigarette. His voice went soft. “She’s different. She’s… pure.” In that single second, I started to hate him. I went back to campus and called my professor. “That classified project you mentioned? I want in.” From this moment on, my life would have only one purpose. 1 “Professor, that opening on the Vanguard Project… I want it.” My professor paused, surprised. “Are you sure, Elara? Once you’re in, you’ll be in a secure facility. No contact with the outside world for at least five years.” “Last week you told me you were getting married as soon as you graduated.” I stood in front of my mirror, tracing the constellation of hickies across my collarbone. My smile was hollow. “Not anymore. From now on, I just want to serve my country.” Seeing my resolve, he didn’t argue. “The transport to the facility leaves in three days. You should take this time to say goodbye to your fiancé.” “You two are engaged, after all.” I nodded, looking down at the simple ring on my hand. My eyes burned. Yeah. We were engaged. My phone buzzed. A text from Jace. [Why aren’t you answering? Come out. I’m bored.] The address was the same bar. I didn’t reply right away. I opened my laptop, triple-checked my application, and clicked “submit.” Then, I went to meet him. 2 “What took you so long?” Jace was slouched on the sofa, annoyed by my lateness. “Couldn’t get an Uber. Had to wait.” I lied, moving to sit next to him. He caught my waist, his grip hard, and tugged me back. His voice was playful. “Up. That’s not your spot.” It was like a switch. The whole booth erupted in laughter. “Yeah, Elle, that’s not your spot,” Jace’s best friend, Mike, chimed in, his eyes full of sleazy amusement. “You don’t get to sit on the couch. You know where you go. Jace’s lap.” The others joined in, their voices thick with implication. “That’s right. Look around. All our dates are where they’re supposed to be.” I looked. He was right. Several of the guys in his crew had women perched on their laps, all of them in tiny dresses. As I watched, the men’s hands started to roam, and the sound of short, sharp breaths filled the air. Mike, while kneading the thigh of the woman in his lap, looked at me. “Don’t just stand there, Elle. Take care of our boy.” I said nothing. My heart felt like it had dropped into my stomach. I recognized these women. They were regulars here, known for leaving with different men every night. And I was Jace’s fiancée. At least, that’s what he called me. I touched the ring on my finger and looked at him. I was waiting for him to say something. To stop this. Jace didn’t even look at me. He just stared into his drink, pretending not to hear the humiliation in their voices. Finally, when the silence stretched, he let out an annoyed sigh and held out a hand. “They’re just messing around. Don’t take it seriously.” When I still didn’t move, he finally put on a show, shooting them a half-hearted glare before pulling me down next to him. “Alright, stop pouting. I’ll tell them to knock it off.” The party started up again. I sat stiffly in his embrace, my mind racing, trying to figure out how to break up with him. Suddenly, the door to the private room opened. Mia. Dressed in a white sundress, looking like an angel. “Jace?” Instantly, every guy in the booth shoved the women off their laps. Including Jace. He pushed me off his lap so fast I nearly stumbled. He was on his feet, walking over to Mia, and covering her eyes with his hand. His voice was all gentle concern. “Mia, sweetie, hang on. Let us clean up a little.” He shot a warning look at the others. “Get them out of here. I don’t want Mia seeing this.” The room scrambled. Windows were opened. The women were ushered out. Someone even flipped on the bright overhead lights, illuminating the whole room. It illuminated everything but the darkness in my chest. So this is what it looked like when Jace actually cared about someone. I’d lost my appetite. I stood up and walked toward the door. My movement caught someone’s eye. “Jace! Man, Elle’s still here.” Jace frowned, his first instinct to snap, “So? She’s used to it…” He caught himself, but it was too late. He awkwardly dropped his hand from Mia’s eyes. “Mia’s just a kid,” he said, trying to cover. “She hasn’t been around this stuff. She’s not like you.” I laughed. It was a dry, awful sound. He forgot. Mia is a year older than I am. But I wasn’t the one he cared about, so my feelings didn’t matter. I walked around them. Mia stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “Elle, please don’t be mad,” she said, her voice a sweet, timid whisper. “I just came to return this.” She opened a velvet ring box. Inside was a diamond so large it looked fake. “I saw the ring on your hand, and I just mentioned that I wished I had one too…” she trailed off, glancing shyly at Jace. “I never thought Jace would remember. He just… he bought me this to cheer me up. He said it’s a custom design, the kind they only make one of. I felt so guilty, I had to come and give it back… to you.” She said give it back, but her hand was clamped around that box like a vise. I looked down at the plain, thin silver band on my own finger. I suddenly felt ridiculous. Two years. 730 days. And all I got was a $20 silver ring. In bed and out of it, I was cheap. I took two steps back, and for the first time in our relationship, I didn’t care about his “face.” I pulled the door open and left. The room behind me was silent, then someone let out a snort. “Who the hell does she think she is, walking out on Jace?” “Shut up!” Jace’s voice was sharp, furious. 3 It was 3 AM. The streets were empty. The wind was cold. I met Jace two years ago, working a catering gig. He told me he’d never met anyone so “pure.” He wanted a relationship that would last forever. I thought it was a joke. I turned him down, over and over. Until that New Year’s Eve. My stepfather, drunk, picked the lock on my bedroom door. I was terrified. I called Jace. It was a blizzard, but he came. He pulled me out of that hell and promised he would give me a home. I wanted a home so badly. In two years, he’d coaxed me into a hundred different fantasies, and with every one, he promised we’d get married. But we’d been “engaged” for six months, and I just now realized… other than this cheap ring, I’d never even met his family. Some engagement. Some love. Some… me. Tears blurred my vision. I yanked the ring off my finger and threw it into a storm drain. I’m done, Jace. I’m not marrying you. I had two days left. 4 The next morning, I was packing when Jace finally came home. He saw my suitcase and grabbed my arm. “Where are you going?” I didn’t look at him. “Finals are coming up. I’m moving back into the dorm.” His expression relaxed. He slid his arms around my waist from behind, his voice dropping to that familiar, husky tone. “How long? You know I can’t last long without you.” I used to love it when he talked to me like that. Now, it just made me want to throw up. I pulled out of his grip and kept packing. His eyes scanned the room and landed on my bare hands. His voice went cold. “Where’s your ring? Why aren’t you wearing it?” The rapid-fire questions almost made me flinch. “It got dirty. I took it off to clean it.” I don’t know if I imagined it, but he seemed… relieved. He laughed, a casual, dismissive sound. “If it’s dirty, just toss it. It wasn’t expensive. I’ll buy you a better one tomorrow.” Right. Not expensive. Two years ago, when he “proposed,” we were in a hotel room. After sex, I’d asked him, my voice raw, “Jace, are you ever going to marry me?” He’d stared at me for a second, then reached into his jeans, pulled out this plain silver ring, and slid it onto my finger. No flowers. No audience. No bended knee. And I was stupid enough to think it meant forever. It’s hilarious, really. I zipped the suitcase. As I went to the bathroom to wash my face, my phone buzzed. A social media tag. It was Mia’s feed. She’d posted a video of a proposal. In the shaky footage, Jace, encouraged by a cheering crowd, was on one knee, sliding that massive diamond ring onto her finger. The diamond flashed. It burned my eyes. I refreshed the page. The video was gone. Instead, a private message from her. [Elle, don’t be mad! It was just a joke we were playing last night!] [I don’t know why it tagged you, I’m so sorry! We were all agreeing not to tell you!] [You’re not mad, are you?] The taunts kept coming. Outside, Jace knocked on the bathroom door. “Elara? What kind of ring do you want? I’ll take you to pick one out tomorrow, okay?” The disconnect was so profound it felt like a physical knife, twisting in my already shredded heart. I took a shaky breath and called out. “Okay.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385950”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When our daughter was one month old, my husband Julian’s enemies kidnapped her. They demanded ten million dollars. Julian told me the business was struggling, that he couldn’t get the cash. Then he turned around and bought a twenty-million-dollar diamond necklace for his old flame, Isabelle Reed. I was hollowed out, ready to die. That’s when Julian’s arch-nemesis, Marcus Thorne, found me. He showed up with a blank check. He said if I divorced Julian and married him, he’d pay the ransom. I signed the papers without a second thought. Marcus, insisting on handling it himself, hired a private security team and brought my daughter back. I was convinced he was my savior. But when our daughter, Mia, was five, I saw him at the park. He was pointing to Isabelle, telling Mia, “Go give Mommy a hug.” “Marcus,” Isabelle said, “you’ve sacrificed so much for me and Mia. You shouldn’t have had to marry Seraphina—that damaged goods—and get blood on your hands.” “As long as you’re happy in the Vance family, I’m happy,” he replied. “Just be careful. If Seraphina ever finds out her real daughter died five years ago, she’ll have a psychotic break.” My rescuer wasn’t a savior. He was the man who’d murdered my child. Watching the three of them—Marcus, Isabelle, and Mia—laughing together like a perfect family, I calmly pulled out my phone and dialed the number for the kidnappers. “I’ve got a thirty-million-dollar job for you. Are you in?” 1 At the amusement park, Marcus watched Mia and Isabelle, his eyes soft with adoration. He was so lost in the moment, he didn’t see me standing just a few yards behind him. His assistant walked up. “Mr. Thorne, tomorrow is the anniversary of your wife’s daughter’s death. Will you be attending the memorial?” Marcus’s gaze didn’t waver. “Yes. It was an accident, but I’m still the reason Seraphina’s daughter is dead. At least Isabelle is finally married to Julian.” The assistant glanced at Isabelle, who was posing for a selfie. “Ms. Reed only has eyes for Julian Vance. She even had his child. Why are you making this sacrifice, sir? You’re raising your rival’s daughter.” “If this ever gets out, it won’t just be you. The entire Thorne family will be ruined.” Marcus finally looked away. “It won’t get out. Seraphina didn’t even recognize the swap five years ago. Now that she’s raised Mia herself? She’ll never suspect a thing.” The assistant was quiet. “But… your wife, sir. She’s a good person. She loves you. It’s not fair to deceive her like this.” Marcus laughed, a cold, sharp sound. “Love? Nothing’s fair in love. I never asked her to love me.” “And if she does find out and makes a scene? I’ll just give her another kid.” I felt the world drop out from under me. Just then, Mia spotted me. She turned and waved, her voice bright. “Mommy! Come play with us!” Everyone turned. I tried to duck back, lost my footing, and fell backward into the decorative fountain. The water was deep enough to hide me. It was freezing, but I didn’t dare move. Isabelle, her good mood ruined, threw her cotton candy on the ground. “What are you yelling for? Your real mom is right here.” Mia looked terrified and burst into tears. “You’re a bad lady! You’re not my mom!” Marcus, who always doted on Mia, suddenly looked stern. “Mia. Apologize to your mother. Now.” Mia only cried harder. My heart ached; my first instinct was to run and grab her. But his words echoed in my head. That’s not my daughter. My daughter is dead. My baby was only a month old. And this man, Marcus, had fed her to the wolves, all for Isabelle. His “heroic” rescue was just a show. A performance to cover the swap. And I… I had called him my savior. I’d gratefully raised another woman’s child for him. No wonder his assistant always looked at me with such pity. I must be the biggest fool alive. Mia was hysterical. Marcus couldn’t calm her down and finally just picked her up to leave. Only then did I pull myself out of the fountain, my clothes soaked. The wind cut through me, but I couldn’t feel the cold. When I stumbled back into the villa, Marcus saw me and rushed over, pulling me into a tight hug. He was yelling for the staff, trying to warm me with his own body. “Seraphina, my god, what happened to you?” “I went to the park,” I said, my voice numb. “I was looking for you and Mia. I fell in the fountain.” His body went rigid. It took him a long moment to force the panic from his face. “I told you not to come. You’re with Mia all week. You deserve a day off.” For five years, he had taken Mia “out” one day a week so I could “rest.” I’d thought it was so sweet, that he was bonding with her. He was taking her to bond with Isabelle. My entire five years. A lie. 2 “Seraphina,” he asked, his voice suddenly cautious. “Did you… see anything at the park?” I looked down. “If I’d seen you, I wouldn’t have been so clumsy.” He let out the breath he was holding. He wrapped a blanket around me and held a cup of hot tea to my lips. This careful, perfect devotion. The maids were all watching, their eyes filled with envy. But I was freezing from the inside out. He’s so good at this. Such a perfect performance. He carried me upstairs. Mia ran out of her room, holding a wooden box. “Daddy! Is this the box of love letters you wrote for Mommy?” I instinctively reached for it. Marcus slapped my hand away—hard—and snatched the box, clutching it to his chest. My hand instantly turned red. Mia, seeing it, burst into tears and started pounding on Marcus with her little fists. “You hit Mommy! You’re a bad daddy!” Marcus looked embarrassed. “This isn’t mine,” he stammered. “It’s… something I’m holding for a friend.” Before I could reply, his phone rang. A special ringtone. Mia cried harder. “It’s the bad la—” Marcus clapped his hand over her mouth, motioning for the nanny to drag her away. He turned to me, his face a mask of apology. “I have to take this. An emergency.” He locked the wooden box in his office safe. The password was pathetically easy. Even Mia knew it. “It’s the bad lady’s birthday.” The box wasn’t full of letters. It was full of photos of Isabelle, from childhood to now. They were childhood sweethearts. The safe also held copies of several trust funds. The beneficiary, on all of them, was Isabelle Reed. The total was in the hundreds of millions. The date they were signed? The day before he “rescued” me. At the very bottom was an envelope. A photo of Isabelle, holding a newborn. On the back, in Marcus’s handwriting: Today, I finally get to be a father! The exclamation point was so full of joy. The date on the photo? The day my daughter was kidnapped. A sharp pain shot through my chest. I dug my nails into my arms until I drew blood, just to keep from screaming. I stayed there until my legs were completely numb. I picked up my phone and sent a text. Tomorrow. The docks. A thirty-million-dollar deal. I was sure Marcus would be willing to pay that to protect Isabelle. And once I was in international waters, I would disappear. Five years of my life, Marcus. I’ll use your own script to say goodbye. 3 Marcus didn’t come home until morning. His first move wasn’t to check if I had a fever. It was to go to his office and check the safe. I watched him go and let out a cold laugh. So much for not caring if I found out. A few hours later, the police showed up. They confirmed that the flagged international number that had called me was not a scam, and then they left. Marcus was confused. “Seraphina, those are flagged numbers for a reason. They belong to criminals. Why are you talking to them?” I was trying to think of a lie when he pulled me into a hug. “It’s okay. Whatever you need, you can just tell me. You don’t have to get involved with people like that. They’re animals.” This bottomless, unconditional support. It made me sick. He knew exactly what they were. For Isabelle, he’d sent them after my baby. I forced myself to lean into him. “Marcus, you’re so good to me.” He brought out some liniment and gently rubbed the bruise on my hand. “I drove out to the countryside to get this from an old herbalist.” I looked at the label. “Made in L.A.” I didn’t bother correcting him. Isabelle’s “I miss you” texts had been accidentally forwarded to my phone all night. He finished with my hand and brought out a small pastry box. “From that hotel you love.” It was strawberry cheesecake. My favorite. That hotel only gives pastries to registered guests. So, they’d stayed in my long-standing suite. The box was supposed to have four mini-cheesecakes. There were only two. Isabelle knew I’d notice. She was telling me I only deserved her leftovers. The cake. The man. I pushed the box away. “I’m not hungry.” Marcus immediately went into a panic, calling the family doctor to check me from head to toe. When the doctor confirmed I was fine, he finally relaxed. “Seraphina, you rest. I’ll go make you some soup.” The second he was gone, I threw the cake in the trash. Moments later, I heard a commotion downstairs. I looked out the window. Isabelle. Looking terrified, running up the walk. She threw herself into Marcus’s arms. He froze, glancing up at my window, but his arms automatically wrapped around her. I couldn’t hear what she said, but his face twisted in rage. A minute later, my bedroom door slammed open. Marcus slapped me. “What were you thinking?” he roared. “Contacting an offshore hitman to kidnap Isabelle?” “Just because Julian wouldn’t pay your ransom doesn’t mean it was her fault!” “If I’d known you were this vindictive, I never would have married you!” I stumbled backward, crashing into a vase. It shattered, and I fell into the shards. Over his shoulder, I saw Isabelle in the doorway, a smirk of pure triumph on her face. I remembered. Her brother was a cop. She must have seen the report about the international call. She had Julian. Now she wanted Marcus back, too. Marcus was still yelling, demanding I apologize. All that fake love, now stripped bare. I didn’t argue. I just stood up, pulled out my phone, and dialed the “flagged” number. “Hey, cuz!” a cheerful voice answered. “What’s up? Need something?” It was Marcus’s youngest cousin, who was studying in London. Both their faces went white. I hung up. “It’s just an overseas call. What are you two so afraid of?” “Or… do those kidnappers also do murder-for-hire? You two seem to know a lot about their services.” Marcus stammered. “I… I just heard… from the security team. When I rescued you.” I touched my cheek. “Then I deserve an apology from Ms. Reed.” Marcus immediately stepped in front of Isabelle. “Seraphina, she’s been through a lot. Don’t be unreasonable.” “I’ll buy you a new purse tomorrow. Just drop it.” I was bleeding. Glass was embedded in my back and arms. This was the man who used to panic if I got a paper cut. He wasn’t even looking at my injuries. I was about to laugh when Isabelle burst into tears. “Marcus! She hates me because I married Julian! This was all a setup!” “It’s fine! If it makes her feel better, I’ll kneel! I’ll beg her forgiveness!” She started to bend her knees, then grabbed her stomach and groaned. “Oh… no… the baby…” Marcus scooped her up, shot me a look of pure hatred, and ran out. I don’t know how long I stood there. Finally, the housekeeper, Maria, came in. “Mrs. Thorne! My god, you’re bleeding everywhere!” The pain finally registered. Maria rushed to call Marcus. I stopped her. “Don’t. He knows.” He knew Isabelle was lying. And he chose her anyway. Just like five years ago. Fine. Marcus, I’ll give you exactly what you want. I’ll disappear. 4 The doctor came, but halfway through picking the glass out of my back, Marcus called him. “Mr. Thorne, I’m not an obstetrician…” the doctor pleaded. I could hear Marcus roaring through the phone. I told the doctor to go. I’d finish it myself. Maria helped me pull the last of the shards out. By the time I was bandaged, all the household security was gone. They’d taken Mia with them, but left me behind. My personal driver, a young guy named Leo, was the last to leave. “Ma’am, the security system is active. Please, don’t go outside.” I watched two dozen armed guards leave for the hospital. Then I opened my encrypted texts. “We’re in position. Same dock?” “Come to the house.” I replied, then deleted the thread. Marcus had hired them, then tried to have them all “cleaned up” to hide the evidence. During the firefight, my daughter was killed. The new leader of the Kraken Syndicate was the old leader’s illegitimate son. He was very, very motivated. Isabelle texted me a picture from the hospital. Marcus was feeding her soup. The hallway outside her door was lined with guards. [How’s it feel to be abandoned again? I told Marcus I didn’t feel safe if you were around. He said he’d use you as bait to draw them out. Enjoy.] I ignored it. I called Marcus. He declined the call. A minute later, a text. [Be good. Stay home. I’ll be back when this is over.] Not a word about pulling the security. A few minutes later, the Kraken team breached the perimeter. The alarms blared. I knew the system sent alerts to his phone. Still, silence. I smiled, dropped a lit match into the gasoline I’d poured, and walked out the back. “Let’s go.” The new leader stopped me. “What about the girl?” I handed him the DNA report. “Mail this to Marcus. He’ll pay you thirty million in hush money.” “This is also why he had your father’s team ambushed. Use it well.” “Oh, and Isabelle also put out a hit on me. Send her a body. She’ll pay, too. That’s… what? Forty million?” They put me on the boat. Only when I was on the open ocean did Marcus finally text back. [Seraphina, stop playing games. Turn off the alarm. I’m coming home.] Hilarious. He hadn’t even checked the alert. He just assumed I was throwing a tantrum. It didn’t matter. The villa was now an inferno. And the blackmail demand was on its way. I threw my phone into the sea.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385949”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I’ve been bound to a “System” and tasked with saving a villain. Not just any villain—a reborn, blackened, paranoid, trust-no-one-type villain. [System: Okay, let’s pick your role. You could be the girl-next-door he grew up with, or perhaps the toxic side-character who becomes his right-hand woman…] “I want to be his mom,” I said. [System: ???] I smiled. “If this is a rescue mission, the best way to save him is to make sure none of the bad stuff ever happens at all.” This time, he’s going to be a happy kid. This time, he’ll have a mother. 1 On a perfectly normal day, a thing calling itself a “Rescue & Redemption System” hijacked my life. It told me I had to save a villain who had been reborn with all his dark memories. [System: He’s unstable and trusts no one. He might abandon you or misunderstand you because of other women. But if you just try hard enough, you’ll definitely win his heart!] I looked at the photo of the “villain.” He was a teenager with ice-cold eyes and a massive scar splitting his face. I was skeptical. [System: Now, let’s pick your identity! You can be his childhood sweetheart, the girl next door, or even the evil side-character who ends up working for him. Basically, any female role that can get close to him. Pretty cool, right?] I nodded. “In that case, I choose to be his mom.” [System: …….] I shrugged. “Boyfriends are high-maintenance. A son is an investment.” And just like that, I woke up as the mother of Milo Vance, who was, at this moment, a newborn. His father had just died in an accident, leaving the original “me” all alone. In the original story, the insurance payout attracted the wrong kind of attention. A local thief broke in, murdered the mother, and stole the money and the baby. The thief, a drunk and a gambler, was a broke good-for-nothing who figured he’d just raise the kid to be his free labor in his old age. This was before security cameras were everywhere, so he got away with it. But he didn’t “raise” the kid. He beat him. Milo Vance had a miserable childhood and never set foot in a school. When he was a teenager, the thief got drunk and let slip the truth of his origin. Milo killed him, ran away, and joined the criminal underworld, clawing his way up from nothing. I looked at the photo of him as an adult again. That scar, the one that ran from his temple to his jaw? The thief gave it to him. He looked less like a man and more like a cornered wolf. 2 Milo’s father had been an orphan, so we had no family to speak of. I took the $50,000 settlement check and went back to the small, rural hometown I’d grown up in. In this day and age, $50,000 was a real fortune. Most folks were just getting by. I kept the small house in the nearest big town; we’d need it when Milo was old enough for school. I was an orphan, too, basically raised by the whole town. Not everyone was a saint, but it was a tight-knit community. If you yelled, people came running. Not like the city, where you could be dead for days and no one would know. When I showed up with a baby, the town was shocked. But I had money, and Mr. Henderson, the unofficial mayor, helped me get a plot of land. I paid for the materials, gave everyone cash for their time, and bought burgers and barbecue for the crew. In no time, I had a dozen people helping me build a small house. While it was being built, I stayed with Mr. Henderson. His wife, Sarah, helped me with Milo while I was still recovering from the birth. Milo… he was already reborn. His dark little eyes were empty, holding a stillness that was deeply unnerving in an infant. But no matter how dark his soul, he was still just a baby. He ate, he slept, and that was it. He had some kind of infant pride, though. He never cried. Unless he was absolutely starving. Then he’d let out two sharp little grunts. And he absolutely refused to breastfeed. When Sarah laid him in my arms, he just turned his head and spat the nipple out. To be honest, I was relieved. I’d never been a mom. It was awkward. I’d bought formula and malted milk powder in town—both luxuries. Sarah would mix it and feed him, tiny spoonful by tiny spoonful. But he was a baby. What went in, came out. A little while later, he’d squirm and grunt. Sarah would change him, patting his bottom. “He’s going to be a real heartbreaker, isn’t he? So serious all the time.” Milo waved his little fists, as if trying to cover his face, and let out two tiny sobs. He wanted me. I smiled and took him. He stared at me, his gaze intense, curious. “I’m your mom,” I whispered. “And this time, you’re going to have a happy life.” 3 The house was finished. With the System’s help, I got the furniture set up, and Milo and I moved in. His favorite thing to do was lie in his crib and just… stare at me. Whenever he did, I’d scoop him up, tickle his stomach, and nuzzle his neck until he was squirming and flailing. He’d look so indignant, and I’d just laugh. Then I’d give him a bottle, and he’d be fast asleep. Just like that, Milo turned three. He was a homebody, but I made good snacks, so the neighborhood kids always came over to him. He had playmates, even if he just sat there with his little grumpy face, which earned him the nickname “Old Man Milo.” Today, I dressed him in yellow overalls with a little duck on the pocket, stuffed his pockets with candy, and hung his little canteen around his neck. “Go on, honey. Go play with your friends.” Milo, ever the cool guy, just hugged my leg and mumbled into my jeans. “Mommy. No go.” I crouched down and looked him in the eyes. “Today is a special mission for a brave explorer. Mommy will be right here waiting for you. I promise.” 4 I gently nudged him out the door. With the System, I had a live feed. He stood on the porch for a full minute, his face all scrunched up. Finally, his little legs started moving. He was heading for the big hay bales by the creek, where the town kids always played hide-and-seek. I’d taken him there a few times. A few adults saw him and waved. “Hey there, Milo! Where you off to?” He’d stop, tilt his head all the way back to look up at them, and after a long pause, say, “Out. To play.” They’d chuckle. “Alright. Don’t go too far, now.” He’s not a social kid. Usually, he just hides his face in my neck. But I taught him that when people say hello, you have to say hello back. It’s polite. He gave them a tiny nod. “Thank you. I know.” He’d pat his hat, a blue one with a little tiger on it. He once told me it was “babyish,” but I know he loves it because I always catch him fiddling with the ears. So, I sew little animals on all his clothes. 5 He finally got to the hay bales. The kids swarmed him. “Milo! You’re out by yourself?” “Where’s your mom?” A little girl pointed to his overalls. “I love your clothes! That duck is so cute!” Her voice was full of envy. In this town, in this decade, new clothes were rare. The boys just pointed at his hat. Milo puffed up, covering his tiger hat with both hands. “Don’t touch me!” he yelled. “Or you get no candy!” That got their attention. “Candy! He has candy!” They all stood at attention. Milo sighed, like he was bearing a great burden. “Sit down. You have to sit nicely to get candy.” They sat. He gravely walked down the line, placing one piece of candy in each outstretched hand. One of the kids was so happy he was licking the wrapper. “Your mom is the best. She gives you new clothes and candy. And she makes the best food. I wish she was my mom.” This started a chorus. “Yeah, me too!” This, apparently, was the wrong thing to say. Milo got mad. “She’s my mom!” he shouted, trying to snatch the candy back. “She doesn’t like you! Not any of you!” The kids yelped and shielded their candy. Milo, defeated, huffed, turned around, and stormed off. 6 He only made it a little way down the path before he got tired. He sat down, opened his canteen, and took a sip. He hesitated, then pulled a caramel from his own pocket and popped it in his mouth. His little cheeks puffed out. He looked like a chipmunk. A sparrow landed a few feet away, tilting its head, not at all scared. Milo watched it. Then he pulled a cookie from his other pocket, broke it into crumbs, and tossed them on the ground. The sparrow stared at him, then hopped over and started to eat. [System: Who’d believe that’s the heartless villain?] Milo wasn’t a scrawny, scarred wolf-cub anymore. He was plump and pale, his cheeks were round, and his hands were dimpled. He was a little white dumpling. “Rich soil grows beautiful flowers,” I replied. “It’s only natural.” [System: His affection for you is at 60%! This is unheard of! Saving a villain like this is supposed to take decades!] “Kids love the person who takes care of them,” I said, feeling smug. “That’s also natural.” [System: ….Show-off.] I laughed and went back to making chocolate chip cookies. On the system feed, I saw Milo rounding the bend by the big oak tree. I quickly went outside, holding a big, red candied apple. I was pretty strict about sugar, so this was a huge treat. I stood on the porch in my yellow sundress. As soonE as he came into view, I called out. “Milo!” His little walk turned into a trot, and then a full-on run. And he was smiling—a huge, goofy grin, showing all his little milk teeth. It was the first time I’d ever seen him smile that freely. I opened my arms, and he crashed into me. “Did you have fun today?” I asked, kissing the top of his head. He just rubbed his face on my neck and nodded hard. “Mm-hmm.” I set him down and handed him the apple. “Your reward, brave explorer.” His eyes went wide. He stuck his tongue out and gave the apple a tiny lick, then squinted his eyes in pure bliss. [System: Alert. The villain has become a fiend for sugar.]

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385948”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My boyfriend of seven years, Liam, spent our entire joint savings on a new Mercedes. I assumed he was finally doing it—buying a luxury car so we could drive home for the holidays and look like we’d made it. But as I was loading my suitcase into the trunk, he stopped me. “Hey, you should probably take the bus. I’m pretending to be Julia’s boyfriend again this year. It’s… complicated.” The next day, I saw his Instagram story: him, in the new Mercedes, driving Julia and her mom around for holiday shopping. The caption: “Finally made good on my future mother-in-law’s request for a new Benz. Now I just have to figure out how to make her my actual mother-in-law!” That night, his post had 99 likes and a flood of congratulations. I couldn’t get a bus ticket, so I took an unlicensed cab. It hydroplaned on the highway and nearly flipped. When I woke up, I dialed my boss. “Hello, Alex? That transfer to the branch office you mentioned a few months ago. Is it still on the table?” 1 “It is, Jenna. If you still want it.” My chest ached. But I took it. After I hung up, I saw my phone. Twenty-nine missed calls from Liam. I almost laughed. What a joke. He was so busy—playing the dutiful son-in-law, doting on the girl he’d been obsessed with since we were kids—and he still found time to call me? As if on cue, the 30th call came through. I answered. “Jenna, what the hell is your problem?” he yelled. “Are you ignoring my calls? You won’t believe this. I got a call three days ago from some guy claiming to be a cop, said you were in a car accident, told me to go to City General. A scam. I almost fell for it.” He was breathing hard, genuinely angry. “Did you set that up? Are you that desperate to ruin my trip with Julia? You’re unbelievable.” His words helped me place the time. I’d been unconscious for three days. The post-accident headache was pounding against my skull. “Oh. Okay. I get it. I have to go.” I hung up. He immediately called back. “Don’t you hang up on me, Jenna! What is this, another one of your little scenes? You have to do this every holiday, don’t you? Make everyone miserable.” I gripped the phone. “Liam,” I said, my voice shaking, “I was in an accident. My head is killing me. I really don’t want to fight. If you need to yell at someone, can it wait until I’m discharged?” The line went dead silent. I don’t think he’d ever, in seven years, considered that I might be telling the truth. He was used to me fighting, crying, and throwing fits about Julia. He’d already decided this was just another “Jenna tantrum.” The police call, my silence—it was all just a ploy to him. Finally, his voice came back, hesitant. “You… you’re at the hospital? Send me the address. I’m coming.” He hung up. I let the phone drop, and the tears I’d been holding back finally came. Liam, Julia, and I all grew up in the same small neighborhood. For as long as I can remember, I was chasing Liam, and Liam was chasing Julia. Seven years ago, after she’d rejected him for the hundredth time, he finally turned to me. “Jenna, fine, I’ll date you,” he’d said. “But I have one rule. As long as Julia needs me to be her fake boyfriend for her family, I won’t marry you.” I agreed. I thought I could make him love me. For seven years, I tried. But he never once offered to take me home to meet his parents. In our old neighborhood, Julia was his girlfriend. I was just… the other kid who grew up there. I even tried to trap him. I told him I was pregnant. The next day, he handed me a pamphlet for an abortion clinic. “My parents think Julia and I are getting married, Jenna,” he’d said, his eyes full of that awful, tragic sincerity. “I can’t be a father right now.” I don’t know why I loved him. Maybe because when I was a kid, when my stepmom would lock me out, he was the only one who would sneak me into his basement, put toothpaste on my bruises, and share his dinner with me. But this accident… it finally woke me up. Love you have to beg for isn’t love. 2 He said he was coming. He showed up at 8 PM the next day. He looked exhausted. I almost felt sorry for him. I’d seen Julia’s Instagram stories. He’d been busy—helping her pick out a “promise ring,” taking her mom shopping, playing mahjong with her entire extended family. He walked into the hospital room and tossed his jacket on the chair. “Why were you so stupid, Jenna? Taking a sketchy cab.” He walked past my bed and opened the mini-fridge, grabbing a water. “Now I have to drive all the way back tonight. You’re such a headache.” I watched his reflection in the dark window. Half my face was a swollen, purple mess. My head was wrapped in bandages. Was I not pathetic enough? No. The only explanation was that my accident was an inconvenience. An annoyance that forced him to drive 50 miles. He finished the water and tossed something onto my blanket. “Here. You’ve been whining for one of those ‘J’ monogram rings for three years. Consider this my apology for the accident.” I saw the “J.” My name is Jenna. Her name is Julia. It was the exact same ring from her Instagram post—the one where she and Liam were holding hands, showing it off. My chest felt tight. “Liam,” I said, my voice hoarse, “you shouldn’t just give rings to people. Not unless you mean it.” He flinched. “Oh, here we go,” he sneered. “Are you obsessed with getting married? I told you, Jenna. As long as Julia needs me, I’m not getting married. I know you’re upset about the accident, but you can’t use it to threaten me.” My heart felt like it was full of needles. I was about to say, “Fine. We’re done.” But his phone rang. He looked at the screen and his whole demeanor changed. “Hey, Julia! What’s up? Your mom needs me to come back for more cards? No problem. I’m on my way.” He hung up and grabbed his jacket. “I checked with the doctor. You’re fine. No major damage. I hired a temp nurse for you. I’ll pick you up in three days when you’re discharged.” He was halfway out the door when he turned back. “And Jenna? Just… stop being so dramatic. It’s the holidays. Don’t make this a thing.” 3 He never came back. He just sent a single text, late at night: ‘How’s the head?’ I didn’t reply. I used to be so desperate for that scrap of warmth he gave me as a kid. I’d let him get away with anything. But I almost died. I wasn’t cold; I was dead. When I was discharged, he was there, idling in the new Mercedes. I just stood on the curb. He honked. “What are you doing? Get in. I have to take Julia to her aunt’s house for dinner.” I remembered him agonizing over the options for this car. “What do you think of this color, Jenna? We’re going to look so good pulling up to the old neighborhood.” I’d been so stupid. I’d been so excited, thinking he was finally going to introduce me to his parents. The day he bought it, I’d hugged him. “Can we go for a drive? Just us?” He’d pushed me away. “Don’t be weird, Jenna. This car is for Julia. It’s to impress her parents. I can’t let you be the first person to ride in it.” He’d left me at the dealership. Now, looking at the car, all I could think was… it felt dirty. “Liam,” I said, “that car was $40,000. $10,000 of that was from my savings account. I need it back.” He looked at me like I’d grown a second head. “You’re… you’re charging me?” “I am.” I’d already done the math. “I pulled our bank records. You’ve transferred $30,000 to me over the last seven years for bills. The total cost was $40k. You owe me $10k.” He was furious. “You’re bringing out spreadsheets? After seven years?” “You said it yourself, Liam. The car is for Julia. I’m not paying for it.” He just stared at me. Then he got in the car, gunned the engine, and sped off. I guess the only time he remembered I was his “girlfriend of seven years” was when it benefited him. 4 I took a cab to our old neighborhood. As I was walking up to my childhood home, I saw the neighbors. “Jenna! We heard about the accident! Are you okay?” “You, Liam, and Julia are all in the city now, right? Hey, when are those two finally tying the knot? Their parents are getting so impatient!” My heart just seized. Of course. Everyone here thought Liam and Julia were the couple. Ten years. He’d been playing this game for ten years. Longer than he’d even been with me. I forced a smile. “It should be soon. He just bought her the ring.” I walked away. I heard them playing mahjong before I even got to Julia’s door. “Liam, you’re terrible!” Julia shrieked, her voice playful. “You can’t just take my mom’s money! She’s your future mother-in-law!” I looked through the screen door. Liam. Julia. Julia’s parents. And Liam’s parents. Liam’s mom laughed. “Hush, Julia. You’re our future daughter-in-law. You should be on my side.” The room was full of laughter. My chest felt like it was caving in. I was the secret. I pulled the door open. “Hi, everyone. I heard the noise from outside. Thought I’d stop by.” Liam’s face went white. Julia just looked… smug. “Oh, Jenna,” she said, bouncing over. “You’re out of the hospital! You should have told me you were coming home. I would have had Liam pick you up. You shouldn’t have taken an unlicensed cab.” I’d had enough. “I wouldn’t have had to,” I said, “if my boyfriend wasn’t busy being your boyfriend.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385947”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel