After landing the ten-billion-dollar project, the CEO praised my calm demeanor and steady performance. He promised me a half-million-dollar bonus. My bank account remained empty. While the CEO was on vacation, I patiently asked my manager, Vince. He pulled up the security footage and jabbed a finger in my face. “You dare show up to a client meeting in street clothes? You have no respect for the company’s image. Your entire bonus is forfeited!” I didn’t argue. I didn’t raise my voice. I just nodded calmly. “Okay.” If I could make a ten-billion-dollar project happen, I could make it disappear. And when I did, it wouldn’t just be the manager. The CEO himself would come begging. … Since the bonus was gone, I decided to stop pretending to care. I shrugged off my suit jacket, loosened my tie, and leaned back in my chair, scrolling through my phone to check the payment schedule for the contract. My casual attitude only fueled Vince’s anger. “I’ve put up with your lazy attitude for long enough, Alex!” he roared, his finger still pointed at me. “But now you have the nerve to play on your phone during work hours? You will make a public apology at the all-hands meeting in thirty minutes!” He spun on his heel and stormed back to his office, oozing self-importance. A few minutes later, a notification popped up in the company-wide chat: 【Sales department’s Alex Reed has been cited for improper attire and using his personal phone at his desk, a serious violation of company policy. His entire monthly bonus is forfeited as a warning to others!】 Sympathetic glances flew my way. Leo, from the next desk over, sent me a quiet message. “The only reason he’s a manager is because he kisses the right ass. He hates that the CEO likes you, and he’s furious you landed the Veridia Group deal.” “You can’t fight city hall,” he added. “Maybe just apologize and smooth things over?” An apology wouldn’t work. He’d seen me as a threat for a long time. He might have the power to dock my bonus, but he didn’t have the skill to handle my project. Half an hour later, everyone was gathered in the conference room, waiting for my public shaming. Vince swaggered in late, a smirk playing on his lips. “Alright, let’s get this over with. Your apology.” I met his gaze, my expression the picture of remorse. “I was wrong. My mistake was failing to grasp the subtleties of your management style, Vince.” “I thought landing massive projects was enough, but I forgot that the first lesson is to anticipate your superior’s every whim.” “I thought talent got you ahead, but now I see it’s all about whose boots you’re licking.” “I thought doing my job well was all that mattered, but I neglected the importance of constant, shameless flattery for my own safety.” “It was a serious oversight on my part. I have disappointed you, Vince.” A wave of stifled laughter rippled through the room. A few people ducked their heads, their shoulders shaking. Vince’s face turned a dark, furious crimson. He slammed his hand on the table. “Is this an apology, or are you slandering your manager? It’s clear your head isn’t in the game at all!” “Now, that’s not fair, Vince,” Leo spoke up, his voice clear and steady. “Alex single-handedly landed a ten-billion-dollar deal. Who else in this company could do that? And you’re wiping out his bonus because of a dress code violation? That’s going too far.” “He’s right! The Veridia deal is more than most of us make in a year!” “So he was dressed a little casually, it doesn’t affect his work. The rules are too strict!” “Besides, Vince, don’t you wear casual clothes sometimes?” A chorus of agreement rose up, and Vince’s face grew uglier with every comment. Then, a notification chimed on everyone’s phone. As they looked down, Vince’s smug smile returned. “While some are punished, others are rewarded,” he announced. “In light of everyone’s hard work recently, you will each receive a three-thousand-dollar bonus!” The project I had secured, my bonus, was being carved up and fed to my do-nothing colleagues. Money talks louder than principles. The mood in the room shifted instantly. The same people who had been defending me just moments ago now had a different tune. “Honestly, Alex, you should know better. You need to dress professionally for work!” “Vince is just enforcing the rules. You shouldn’t be so defiant and make things tense for everyone!” “So what if you landed a big project? A bad attitude deserves to be punished!” “You really should reflect on this. The company rules apply to everyone equally.” I could only laugh at the absurdity. Leo, ever the righteous one, slammed his hand on the table to argue on my behalf, but Vince cut him off with a roar. “Effective immediately, Alex Reed is stripped of his position as Senior Executive!” “Leo, with your seniority and experience, you will take Alex’s place and lead the sales department to new heights!” I looked at Leo. The anger on his face slowly melted away, replaced first by shock, and then by an undisguisable, raw excitement. When he looked at Vince, his eyes were filled with pure admiration, as if he hadn’t just been defending me a minute ago. So much for loyalty. My youth, my position, my bonus… it had turned everyone against me. But it didn’t matter. I would make them all understand that I had earned every last bit of it. After the meeting, my colleagues chattered excitedly about vacation plans, while a few sycophants crowded around Vince, telling him how handsome he looked. I was an island in their sea of celebration, walking alone back to my desk. I reached for my chair, but someone yanked it out from behind me. I lost my balance and crashed to the floor with a thud, landing flat on my back. The office erupted in laughter. Some were bent over, slapping their desks. I rubbed my tailbone, which was already throbbing, and looked up to see who had done it. Only Leo was standing there. He stared down at me with the same disdainful expression Vince often wore. “You’re not a senior executive anymore. It’s not appropriate for you to be sitting at this desk, is it?” A hot sting filled my eyes. It wasn’t the pain from the fall or the public humiliation. It was the speed of Leo’s betrayal. He had been my mentor when I first joined the company, patiently teaching me how to read reports and negotiate with clients. When his mother needed surgery and couldn’t get an appointment, I had called in every favor I had to get her in with a top specialist in the city. We had supported each other for years. I thought our bond, the connection between a mentor and his student, was stronger than office politics. But the moment I was vulnerable, he was the first one to strike. Perhaps he’d resented me all along, just waiting for the right moment to let it show. The more they pushed me down, the stronger the fire inside me burned. I grit my teeth and scrambled to my feet, looking him straight in the eye, my voice steady. “Then where should I sit?” Vince, surrounded by his new fan club, sauntered over. He casually pointed to the end of the hall. “Move your things to that empty desk across from the men’s room,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “It’s vacant.” A few of the men snickered knowingly. It wasn’t a physical blow, but the insult was profound. I didn’t argue. I had only one thought: one day, Vince would regret everything he did today. I started packing my things in silence. Vince put a hand out to stop me. “This is a sensitive position, Alex. I’ll need to inspect your things, see if there’s anything important that needs to be handed over.” I understood. I nodded and stepped aside, watching as he bypassed the computer, the folders, the files, and went straight for my briefcase. He rummaged through it, and finding nothing of value, he scowled and walked away. I watched him go, a cold smile forming in my mind. I didn’t say a word. I just quietly slipped my work phone into my bag. The contact list on that phone was my real power. And no one could take that away from me. The smell from the men’s room wasn’t overpowering, but the cloying mix of urine and disinfectant still stung my nostrils. I emptied a new can of air freshener around my new desk until the nauseating odor finally faded. I hadn’t even had a chance to breathe when Mike blocked my path. I’d heard whispers that he’d been kicked out of his last department for harassing a female colleague. Back when I was a senior executive and the top brass sang my praises in meetings, Mike wouldn’t even dare to meet my eyes. Now, seeing me ostracized, he swaggered over with a sneer. “Well, well, Executive Reed. How the mighty have fallen.” When I ignored him, he leaned closer and clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t be so arrogant. If you beg me nicely, I might be able to pull some strings, get you a better spot. All it takes is a word from me.” I looked up at him coldly. “If you touch me again,” I said, rolling my eyes, “that security camera will be filing a police report for me.” My rejection only made him angrier. He squeezed my shoulder, his fingers digging in as if trying to break the bone. I clenched my fist, spun around, and drove it hard into his stomach. “AARGH!” He let out a strangled cry and doubled over, clutching his gut, his face as white as a sheet. The commotion drew everyone’s attention. Vince stormed over, his face a thundercloud. “Alex! Are you trying to get fired? How dare you assault a colleague during work hours!” I stood my ground, my fist still clenched, my eyes fearless. “He’s the one who’s going to get fired, not me. Call the police.” I pointed to the camera above us, my voice ringing out for everyone to hear. “And make sure you show them the footage. Let’s see who started it.” Mike, who had been groaning in pain, snapped his mouth shut at the word “camera.” He didn’t even dare to whimper. He tugged weakly on Vince’s sleeve, his voice a barely audible whisper. “Vince… just let it go…” Vince’s face was grim. He clearly hadn’t expected me to fight back, and he wasn’t about to let me off the hook so easily. He stared at me for a few seconds, then a cruel smile spread across his face. “It seems moving you next to the bathroom wasn’t enough to teach you a lesson.” “From now on, you’re on cafeteria duty. You’ll be in charge of collecting food waste.” Even after being kicked out of the sales department, Vince wouldn’t leave me alone. Every day at lunch, he would deliberately leave a mountain of food on his plate or “accidentally” drop greasy dishes on the floor, then call me over to clean up his mess. I had enough. I submitted a request to use all of my accumulated vacation and comp time at once. Vince put on a show of managerial concern. “Leave requests require a valid reason. You can’t just take off whenever you feel like it.” I pulled out my phone and played a voice message from my daughter. Her small voice was thick with congestion. “Daddy, I don’t feel good. Can you come be with me?” Vince just sneered. “Every kid gets sick. Tell her to get over it.” “Get over it?” I felt the blood rush to my head. “How do you ‘get over’ being sick? Don’t you have kids, Vince?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385807”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 The day I was diagnosed with terminal cancer, my husband, Dorian, invited me to go on a reality show about divorce. I knew he’d lost another bet to his little secretary. They’d made ninety-nine bets in total, and every single time, he’d thrown the game, letting her win. He lost the home we’d decorated together. He lost our wedding. He even lost the child we had created. Dorian let Stella perform the procedure herself, just to satisfy her morbid curiosity about the human body. When our seven-month-old baby was taken from me, I hemorrhaged and nearly died on the operating table. Now, he handed me the TV contract. “Aria, I lost another bet. It’s just a reality show, a way to appease Stella.” “Besides,” he added, “it’ll be good for your profile. Help you get acting work again.” He’d forgotten. The last time he lost a bet to Stella, he signed me up for a ten-picture deal for a series of erotic thrillers. “I won’t let a single frame of you get out,” he’d promised. The next day, a clip of me, completely naked, went viral. I was blacklisted by the entire industry. No director would touch me. I calmly took the contract and signed it. Dorian, satisfied, kissed my forehead. “Remember to choose ‘stay together’ in the final questionnaire. We’ll get off at the final stop together.” He didn’t know. We were never going to make it to the end of the line. … After I put the contract away, the phone rang. It was the funeral home. Dorian, who had been scrolling on his phone, glanced up when he heard the muffled, official tone of the voice on the other end. “Who died?” I hung up and gave him a vague answer. “A distant relative.” “Oh,” he said, and went back to his phone, walking out the door without a backward glance. As always, he forgot to wait for me. I didn’t let it bother me. I followed him out. But as I reached for the car door, he stopped my hand. He gestured to the car behind his. “Aria, you should drive yourself to the studio. I have to drop off some breakfast for Stella.” For a second, I was stunned. Then I quickly pulled my hand back. “Okay,” I said softly. He seemed surprised I wasn’t putting up a fight. For the first time in a long time, he gave me a gentle smile. “Make sure you eat something. You’re too thin.” My eyes fell on the back seat of his car. There were at least ten different kinds of breakfast foods, all still steaming. He must have gotten up early to buy them all himself. I looked away, remembering the time my stomach condition had flared up and I’d begged him to get me a warm glass of soy milk. He’d shot me an icy glare and handed me a carton of milk from the fridge. “I don’t have time. Just drink this.” Then he’d rushed out the door. He’d forgotten I was allergic to milk; the carton in the fridge was for him. He was never home anymore. It had expired weeks ago. By the time I snapped back to reality, his car was already gone. When I arrived at the studio, everyone stared at me. I ignored them and waited quietly. The other celebrity guests had already finished their pre-interviews, but Dorian was still nowhere to be seen. The director urged me to call him. I took out my phone, only to realize he’d blocked my number. The time before last, the prize for Stella’s winning bet was that he had to delete me from all his contacts. I put my phone away and offered the director an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I don’t have his number.” The crew started whispering. “I bet she signed up on her own. The great Dorian Chase probably doesn’t even want to be here with her.” “After she made all those trashy films behind his back, sleeping with who knows how many men… he’s a saint for not divorcing her. How does she even have the nerve to show up on a divorce show?” The director was a friend of Dorian’s; he knew the truth. But he just blinked, and said nothing. I waited until nightfall. The other guests had all gone back to their hotels, but I remained in the cold, empty studio. An icy draft snaked through the window, and I couldn’t stop the coughs that rattled my chest. I wiped a smear of blood from my palm just as someone walked in. He heard me coughing and draped his jacket over my shoulders. “Sorry I’m late. Something urgent came up at the office.” I could smell the cloying scent of tuberose on his coat. Stella loved to bathe in tuberose water, so Dorian had built her a ten-acre tuberose greenhouse. Flowers that should have bloomed in spring now flourished in the dead of winter. I saw the faint red rash on his neck and discreetly looked away. Dorian was allergic to pollen. The worst time, he’d gone into anaphylactic shock right in front of me. I had cried, I had begged him to stop risking his health for Stella. All I got in return was a cold stare and a sharp, “Stay out of it.” I clutched the bloody tissue in my hand and shrugged off his jacket. I hated that smell. He knew that. My mother had died under the tuberose tree where my father had first courted her, on the day she caught him cheating. When we were young and in love, Dorian would always meticulously instruct the florist: no tuberose. He had sworn to me that he would never betray me. But flowers wilt. And hearts are fickle. The boy who had once loved me had found a girl he loved more. The crew called us for our one-on-one interviews. Dorian was still glued to his phone, a doting smile on his face. Everyone knew better than to disturb him. So I answered the director’s pointed questions alone, a one-woman show. It wasn’t hard. It was just acting. I treated it as my final performance. For the last segment, the director handed us each a slip of paper and asked the final question: “Do you still want a divorce?” Dorian finally looked up from his phone. By the time he took the slip, I had already dropped mine into the box. He followed suit, then joked with the director, “What’s with all the mystery? We have to wait until the last day of filming to open these?” He looked at me, his voice full of confidence. “We’re not getting a divorce.” He stood up and started to drag my suitcase toward the hotel. But just as we reached the entrance, his phone rang. A smile immediately spread across his face, and he stepped aside to take the call. I struggled to haul the heavy suitcase up the steps by myself. When he came back, I instinctively handed him his pajamas. He just shook his head. “Lost another bet to Stella,” he said with a light laugh. “She says we can’t sleep in the same bed for the next seven days.” My hand froze in mid-air. The old me would have started a screaming match. But now, I barely had the strength to breathe. I had no energy left for fighting. I pulled my hand back and lay down on the bed. “Do what you want. I’m tired. I’m going to sleep.” Dorian’s attention was already back on his phone. He didn’t even hear me. The next morning, there was a pink hair tie on his wrist. A lipstick stain on his collar confirmed he had left in the middle of the night. He unconsciously toyed with the hair tie, and I couldn’t help but remember a few years ago, when it was trendy to have your boyfriend wear your hair tie. I’d slipped mine onto Dorian’s wrist. He’d pulled it off and thrown it in the trash right in front of me. “You’re almost thirty,” he’d scoffed, not even trying to hide his disgust. “Stop playing these childish games.” I stared at the hair tie. I could just make out a tiny, embroidered ‘S’. It was a glaring reminder. He didn’t remember that Stella was a year older than me. But for her, he was more than happy to play childish games. “I got breakfast. Let’s eat.” It was the first time in our entire marriage that Dorian had ever bought me breakfast, even if it was just an excuse to cover for his nightly absence. Bringing Stella breakfast, however, had long been his routine. He handed me a glass of milk. I had told him so many times. He never remembered that I couldn’t drink it. But a single, offhand comment from Stella about her preferences was meticulously recorded in the notes on his phone. I’d seen it once by accident: a long, detailed list. I reached for a soup dumpling, but he slapped my hand away. A dark red mark instantly appeared on my skin. He pushed a bowl of congee towards me. “This is for you.” I suddenly remembered a post I’d seen on Stella’s social media earlier. Ugh, I’m craving hot, steamy soup dumplings so bad, the caption read, followed by a crying emoji. It all made sense. “We have an outdoor shoot today,” I reminded him. But he had already picked up the insulated food container and was walking out the door. Snow had started to fall outside. I laughed a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. When it came to Stella, nothing stood in his way. Not wind, not rain, not snow. I remembered when I was on location for a film and got caught in a landslide. I called him in a panic. He’d just called me dramatic and hung up. The disaster relief supplies he sent for me ended up in the wrong province. I almost died in that landslide. He was at an amusement park with Stella. The difference between love and not-love was so stark. And I only saw it clearly when I was on the verge of death. I forced the congee into my mouth. It was already cold. The soup dumplings, however, were still steaming. He must have held them close to his chest to keep them warm. I knew this because I, too, had once stood in the falling snow, clutching a container of warm soup dumplings, waiting for him outside his dorm. He was loving someone else in the exact same way I had once loved him. It made my devotion feel pathetic and absurd. The director informed me that Dorian would be absent from filming for the next four days. I was to continue with the other three couples. For four days, I was a ghost, a silent figure captured on camera. No one wanted to talk to the infamous porn star. And every day, Stella’s social media was a whirlwind of activity. Dorian took her skiing in the Arctic Circle. They went on vacation to Bali. They went to see the Northern Lights in a Christmas village. The pain in my body made it hard to think, but after a while, it dawned on me. The places they were going… it was the honeymoon itinerary Dorian and I had planned together, so long ago. My finger hovered over the screen. A drop of blood from my nose fell onto their picture together under the aurora, then another, and another. I fumbled for a tissue, and in my haste to wipe it away, I accidentally ‘liked’ the photo. A moment later, my phone rang. It was an unknown number. It was him. His voice was tense. “Aria, it’s Stella’s birthday. That’s why I took her on this trip.” I wiped away the last of the blood. “It’s fine,” I croaked. His voice softened. “Aria, after this show is over, my hundred bets with Stella will be finished.” “When I get back, I’ll make it up to you. We’ll celebrate our anniversary properly.” Just then, I heard a girl’s voice in the background. “Dorian, hurry! The fireworks are about to start!” He hung up abruptly. A calendar notification popped up on my screen. Tomorrow was the tenth anniversary of the day we got together. And I only had a few days left. My time with Dorian had taken up nearly half my life. The next day, for the first time in forever, Dorian didn’t break his promise. He showed up on set, on time. I wore the pale yellow dress I’d worn on our first date, but I had taken off the wedding ring I had worn for so long. It hadn’t fit for a while, but I could never bring myself to remove it. Until now. When I stepped out of my room, Dorian stared at me for a long time, then smiled and came to take my hand. “Aria, you’re too thin. You need to eat more.” Just like when we were young, when he would place the few pieces of meat from his bowl into mine and gently stroke my hair. “Eat up, Aria.” For a moment, I was moved. Then, Stella’s voice cut through the air. “Aria, you’re a celebrity for goodness sake. What are you wearing? You’re embarrassing Dorian.” She looked me up and down and snorted. Dorian just playfully tapped her on the forehead. “Stella’s joining us for the jungle expedition today,” he announced. Stella lifted her chin proudly. “What expedition? I’m your producer and director now! You’d better be on your best behavior, or I’ll make sure the cameraman gets all your worst angles.” Dorian just laughed and agreed to everything. When we got in the car, Stella slid into the driver’s seat. She shot me a provocative smile. “Sorry, Aria. I get carsick. You’ll have to sit in the back.” I said nothing and climbed in. They chattered on about their trip, and I closed my eyes, trying to rest. But I could see him glancing at me in the rearview mirror, again and again. Stella noticed. Suddenly, she cried out, “Ouch!” Dorian slammed on the brakes. “Stella, what’s wrong?” “My stomach!” she gasped, clutching her abdomen. “It hurts so much!” He turned to me. “Get out of the car. I’m taking Stella to the hospital.” I looked out at the snow-covered wilderness. Dorian had followed Stella’s directions and turned onto a different road. The rest of the crew was no longer behind us. “Take me back with you.” “We can’t do that!” Stella cried. “We can’t let Aria miss the shoot because of me!” She grimaced, her face contorted in pain. Dorian, seemingly lost to reason, dragged me out of the car. “The crew will be here any minute. You wait here. Stella’s not strong. She can’t handle this cold.” As the car sped away, I could barely stand. The snow fell harder and harder. I waited for three hours. The pile of bloody tissues next to me grew. I was on the verge of collapsing from hypothermia when a familiar figure came running towards me. “Aria!” I woke up in the production’s medical van. Stella was muttering beside me. “I’m so stupid, I can’t believe I gave you the wrong directions. Aria won’t be mad at me, will she?” Dorian held her close. “Of course not,” he cooed. The doctor standing nearby looked like she wanted to say something, but I shook my head at her. After only an hour’s rest, the director told us to resume filming. This time, the crew drove us directly into the jungle. Stella insisted on coming along. The snow was ankle-deep. I instinctively looked at Dorian. He used to carry me on his back when it snowed, so my shoes wouldn’t get wet. Now, without a moment’s hesitation, he lifted Stella onto his back. After a while, he realized I’d fallen behind. He saw my pale face and stammered, “Stella… she’s not feeling well.” I didn’t answer. I just trudged forward. We walked in silence. As we neared our destination, Stella announced she wanted to build a fire. Dorian carefully set her down and went to gather firewood. Stella glanced at the cameraman behind her, then leaned in close to me. “Aria, did Dorian tell you he wouldn’t divorce you?” “He was lying. On every single slip of paper, he wrote ‘divorce’.” “Do you know why?” she whispered, a triumphant gleam in her eyes. She stroked her flat stomach. “Because I’m pregnant with his child. He wants the whole world to witness your divorce, so he can marry me in a lavish ceremony.” For some reason, my heart, which had been numb for so long, started to pound. She continued, her voice a cruel hiss. “He never cared about that bastard in your belly. Otherwise, why would he have let you get rid of it? Tsk, tsk, you should have seen it. It was all purple when it came out…” A mouthful of blood erupted from my lips. Before anyone could react, I lunged at her, my hands closing around her throat. “You bitch! You took my baby from me! Give me back my baby!” In the struggle, a hand cracked across my face, and I was thrown backward. “Dorian, help me!” Stella screamed. “Aria’s trying to kill me! Oh god, I’m bleeding! Are we going to lose the baby?” I tumbled down the steep slope. When I looked up, Dorian was standing over me, his face a mask of fury. “Aria, if anything happens to Stella or this child, I will never forgive you.” He lifted Stella into his arms and turned to leave. “Let her stay down there and think about what she’s done,” he commanded. “No one is allowed to help her up.” The director hesitated. “Dorian, it’s freezing. There are wolves in these woods…” “She had the guts to attack a pregnant woman,” Dorian cut him off coldly. “You think she’s afraid of a few wolves? Pull your crew out now. Anyone who tries to help her, I’ll pull all funding.” A wave of metallic sweetness filled my mouth, and I coughed up more blood. “Dorian,” I called out to the furious man. He paused for a second, but he didn’t turn back. He didn’t hear my final whisper. “Happy tenth anniversary, Dorian.” The snow began to cover me. It was good. I wouldn’t feel pain anymore… The next morning, Dorian drove alone to the final destination of the reality show’s journey. There, the final result would be broadcast live to the entire nation. If both parties got out of their cars, it meant they were choosing to stay together. As a hearse passed him on the road, a sense of unease crept into his heart. He had told his assistant to bring me back last night, but I was nowhere to be seen when he woke up. He just assumed I had left early. He waited at the final stop for a long time. When a car finally pulled up, he rushed forward, his face full of joy. But when he saw who got out, he froze. At the same time, his assistant ran towards him, his face pale with panic. “Sir, something’s happened!” And on the car radio, a pre-recorded message began to play. A woman’s voice, soft and gentle. “To my dearest fans, by the time you hear this, I will have already left this world…”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385806”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The last male Phoenix had fallen to ash and memory, leaving the females of our kind to drink from the River of Genesis to continue our lineage. And I, Elara, the one with the greatest potential to birth a Progenitor Phoenix of old, turned my back on the river. Before the disbelieving eyes of my entire clan, I chose instead to leap into the Pyre Abyss. In my last life, I had poured my very soul, every last drop of my essence, into birthing the most noble of all fledglings—a Golden Phoenix. But on the Phoenix Dais, in my moment of triumph, he had shredded through my chest with a single claw, then fluttered into my stepsister’s arms, chirping “Mama” with sickening affection. My stepsister, Lyra, became the Phoenix Matriarch, revered by all and ascending to greatness. I was branded a child-thief, my feathers brutally torn from my body before I was cast into the Pyre Abyss to be incinerated in the living flames. Even as I burned, a single question haunted me: The Golden Phoenix was mine. He was born of my blood and my pain. Why did he call my stepsister his mother? Then I opened my eyes. I was back. Back to the day I was meant to drink from the River of Genesis. … 1 The waters of the River of Genesis swirled before me, a silver ribbon of life. I was so lost in the phantom agony of plucked feathers and searing flames that I didn’t even hear my stepsister, Lyra, until she called my name for the third time. “Elara, your essence is so powerful! I can’t even imagine what kind of phoenix you’ll birth after drinking from the river. I bet… I bet it will be the Golden Phoenix, the most noble of all the ancients!” Looking at Lyra’s deceptively sweet smile, a chill snaked down my spine, cold as graveyard dust. The memories were too raw: being robbed of my child, scorned as a thief by my own kind, the searing pain of my wings being torn apart before the fire consumed me. I wouldn’t let it happen again. Without a word, I stood and turned to leave. If drinking from that river meant birthing the child who would betray me, then I would rather remain barren forever. Lyra’s smile vanished. She darted in front of me, her voice rising in feigned alarm. “Matriarch, come quickly! Look at my sister! What’s wrong? Why is she leaving?” The Matriarch appeared, blocking my path. Her smile was warm, motherly, but it never reached the frost in her eyes. “Now, now, Elara, my sweet. This is no time for tantrums. Every phoenix must drink from the river to bear a child. It is the law of our clan. To defy it is to invite a curse upon us all.” The current Matriarch of the Phoenix clan was none other than Lyra’s mother—my stepmother, Morwenna. My own mother, the radiant Prismatic Phoenix, was the previous Matriarch. She had… fallen, they said, strayed into darkness shortly after my birth, leaving me to be raised by Morwenna. After my father’s passing, the few remaining male phoenixes withered away one by one, until none were left. The law was absolute. Every female had sworn a blood oath: for the future of our people, we would bear children from the river, no matter our own strength. And only the one who birthed the most powerful fledgling would become the next Matriarch. My stepsister’s bloodline was diluted, her essence weak. She could drink the entire River of Genesis dry and never produce a phoenix of any true power. But I was different. My blood was pure, my generative essence the strongest in the entire clan. In my previous life, I had been desperate to create the most magnificent phoenix imaginable, to become Matriarch and repay Morwenna for her years of kindness. Lyra and I drank from the river at the same time, conceived at the same time, and laid our eggs at the same time. My stepmother gave me a secret tome, an ancient phoenix text. It spoke of a ritual: nourish the egg with your own heart’s blood, sustain it with a forbidden art, and a Golden Phoenix shall be born. I never questioned it. I did as the book commanded, pouring my essence and my blood into the egg until I was a hollow shell of myself. After ten days of excruciating agony, a crack appeared, and from it emerged the rarest of creatures: a Golden Phoenix. Dragging my exhausted body to the Phoenix Dais, I cradled the tiny phoenix, my heart swelling with pride. I was moments away from being named the new Matriarch. But in a flash of unimaginable betrayal, while my guard was completely down, the fledgling in my arms lashed out. Its razor-sharp talons shredded through my chest, and with an arrogant cry, it flew directly into Lyra’s embrace, chirping “Mama.” A fledgling instinctively bonds with its birth mother. No one would ever doubt the child was Lyra’s. Lyra stroked the Golden Phoenix’s head, her eyes filled with false pity as she looked at me. “Sister, how could you be so cruel? To steal my egg and switch it with your own… I want to forgive you, I truly do. But as the new Matriarch, I must uphold our laws. You must be punished.” Her words painted her as a selfless leader and me as a hideous monster. The clan’s disgust was a palpable wave that crashed over me. They swarmed the dais, tearing my feathers out with their bare hands. I lay there, a bleeding, broken thing, drowning in their contempt. “Traitor! After all the Matriarch did for her, she repays her by stealing another’s child! Shameless!” “Whoever said Elara was the powerful one was blind! Lyra birthed a Golden Phoenix! Her generative power is clearly stronger. Elara was just jealous and stole it, just as vile as her mother who fell to darkness. She should be cast out of the Aerie!” On the day of Lyra’s ascension, I was dragged from our home. As I struggled to my feet, someone shoved me from behind, sending me plummeting into the Pyre Abyss to burn. Even in death, I couldn’t understand how Lyra had done it. How had she stolen my child from me? Now, watching the two of them blocking my path, their faces etched with a desperate urgency, a plan began to form in the ashes of my old life. “I just feel… unwell,” I murmured, feigning weakness. “I want to rest. I’ll come back another time.” My stepmother’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Then I’ll have Lyra accompany you. You can return together next time.” I frowned. There were many other phoenixes drinking from the river, and they had all birthed perfectly normal fledglings. The water itself was pure, constantly flowing. The problem wasn’t the river. Could it be the timing? Was I forbidden from drinking at the same time as Lyra? Morwenna had been Matriarch for centuries; she knew secrets I couldn’t fathom. Perhaps Lyra and I drinking together broke some ancient taboo. “No, it’s alright,” I said, forcing a small smile. “I think I’m feeling better now.” Lyra and I walked to the riverbank. I watched as she took a deep drink. Then, shielding my face with my sleeve, I pretended to drink, but instead secretly funneled a small amount of the water into a hidden vial. I would drink it later, alone. The heavens had granted me a second chance. This time, I would not miss a single detail. 2 Back in my chambers, my stepmother arrived, just as she had before. She brought a collection of rare spiritual herbs and that same secret tome on incubation. I smiled and accepted them, but the moment I was alone, I summoned a brazier and tossed both the herbs and the book into the flames, watching them curl into ash. I once believed Morwenna was the kindest soul alive. She had always treated me better than her own daughter. From childhood, the rarest treasures and most potent herbs were always given to me first. When Lyra would gaze at them with envious eyes and I, in my love for her, offered to share, Morwenna would fly into a rage, scolding Lyra for her greed. Everyone praised her selflessness. Everyone trusted her. And I… I had truly loved her as my own mother. When she was injured gathering herbs, I, a mere child, had thrown myself in harm’s way to protect her. I treated Lyra like my own blood, depleting my own essence time and again to help her advance her meager powers. Only now, after the betrayal, did I see the truth. Everything she did was a carefully constructed stage for Lyra’s ascent. To them, I was nothing but a vessel. A tool for birthing a god. So, even though I didn’t yet understand the full extent of their treachery, I knew that book was poison. I drank the water from the River of Genesis and waited. The strange, wondrous feeling of life coalescing within me returned. I felt the water’s warmth settle deep in my belly, glowing with a soft white light. This time, I didn’t pour in my own essence. I didn’t take a single herb to fortify the pregnancy. I released my obsession with birthing a Golden Phoenix. Soon, my belly swelled, and I laid a single, perfectly white egg. I didn’t rush to incubate it. Instead, under the cloak of night, I slipped into the forbidden grounds of the clan. This was where my mother had once lived. After she “fell to darkness,” the clan had deemed it a place of ill omen, barring anyone from entering. My memories of her were a complete blank. Morwenna had always told me my mother was a restless beauty who abandoned me, her own child, to run away with a demon lord. My father had always been distant. Only Morwenna had showered me with unconditional love. For years, I had suppressed any thought of my real mother, convincing myself Morwenna was all I needed. But my death told me that Morwenna’s stories were lies. My mother’s chambers were sparse, but every item left behind was a testament to her love for me. My childhood toys, my favorite snacks, even the tiny nest I had slept in as a fledgling. My eyes burned with unshed tears. How could she not have loved me? There had to be more to the story. Amidst a pile of ancient scrolls, I found it: her personal manuscript on incubation. Following my mother’s true instructions, I began the hatching process. And from the shell emerged not a golden, but a Prismatic Phoenix! A Prismatic Phoenix was even rarer than a golden one. And this fledgling… its essence was incredibly strong. It was destined for greatness. My own mother had been a Prismatic Phoenix, a strain known for their gentle, intelligent nature. Compared to the arrogance of a Golden Phoenix, this would be a child who loved me. Joy, pure and triumphant, surged through me. All my efforts had paid off. This child was mine, and mine alone. The Matriarch’s seat would finally be mine! Clutching the fledgling, its eyes still sealed, I headed for the Phoenix Dais. But along the way, I heard the whispers of the clan. “Did you hear? Someone stole Lyra’s fledgling!” My blood ran cold. “Lyra? Her bloodline is weak, her power pathetic. What kind of phoenix could she possibly produce that’s worth stealing? If anyone’s child was a target, it would be Elara’s. With her power, she might actually birth a Golden Phoenix!” “And you know what Lyra is claiming? She’s telling everyone she hatched a Prismatic Phoenix! Can you believe the nerve? As if! Those are even rarer than the golden ones!” An icy dread gripped my heart. Lyra’s egg had also produced a Prismatic Phoenix? This was no coincidence. The gossiping phoenixes saw me and rushed over, their eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Elara! Has your egg hatched yet? What kind of phoenix is it?” Just then, I saw Morwenna and Lyra searching frantically nearby. When Morwenna’s eyes landed on me, they lit up with a terrifying recognition. 3 I didn’t answer anyone. I turned and fled, sprinting back to my chambers and slamming the door shut. My heart hammered against my ribs. I had to know. Would this child know me as its mother? I drew a single drop of my heart’s blood and let it fall onto the fledgling’s sealed eyes. It blinked them open. And stared at me with eyes as empty and cold as a winter sky. A voice called from outside my door. It was Lyra. “Elara, why did you run off like that? Have you seen my baby? I hatched a little Prismatic Phoenix, you see. I was thinking… maybe it wandered over to you?” At the sound of Lyra’s voice, the fledgling in my arms stirred. It heard its mother’s call. It arched its neck, preparing to cry out. My hand clamped around its throat. Tears streamed down my face as I snuffed out its life force with a wave of my own essence. I’m sorry, I thought, my heart breaking. But I cannot let the past repeat itself. If I am destined only to birth the knife that will be plunged into my own heart, then it is better you were never born at all. The door burst open. Morwenna and Lyra stood there, their faces masks of fury. “Elara, where is the phoenix you hatched? Where is it?” I wiped my tears away, my expression turning to stone. I shook my head. “It was a failure. The egg was empty.” Morwenna and Lyra exchanged a look, their disappointment a palpable thing. Suddenly, Lyra changed her tune. “Oh, I must have been mistaken. I failed too. There was no Prismatic Phoenix. I was just… so anxious, I must have imagined it. It’s alright, sister. We’ll just go to the River of Genesis again.” Once more to the river. Once more, I brought the water back in secret. I wracked my brain, trying to find the flaw in their plan. If it wasn’t the water, and it wasn’t the incubation method… then the problem had to be with me. I gathered everything I had ever used—my clothes, my tools, my jewelry—and sealed them all away with a powerful enchantment. I meticulously checked my own body against my mother’s notes, searching for any abnormality, but found nothing. I looked around the room I had lived in for centuries. It was no longer safe. I locked the door, and that night, I took my new, unlaid egg and hid myself away in my mother’s forbidden chambers. Her incubation manuscript contained other techniques, including a dangerous ritual that involved channeling the raw power of wind, rain, thunder, and snow into the egg. The fledgling that emerged would be infused with one of these elemental attributes. No one, not even with the most powerful scrying magic, could possibly guess what lay inside. And I would hatch it in front of the entire clan. After days of channeling raw elemental power, I walked toward the Phoenix Dais, cradling an egg that shimmered with captured lightning and swirling frost. The Aerie was buzzing with excitement. “Did you hear? That failure Lyra is going to hatch her egg in public today. What a joke.” A familiar, hopeless despair washed over me. Why? Why was Lyra doing the same thing as me, again? What was the point of all my effort? Why couldn’t I escape the chains of my past life? I stood at the foot of the dais, a bitter smile on my lips. Morwenna and Lyra sat enthroned at the top. Before them was an egg, shrouded by a red cloth. As long as it remained covered, no one could see what it truly was. The closer I got to the dais, the more the egg in my hands thrashed, a stark contrast to its calm when we were alone. Did it already sense that Lyra was its true mother? And then, the horrifying truth hit me like a physical blow. I was wrong. Utterly, completely, devastatingly wrong. It didn’t matter what kind of phoenix I hatched. It never mattered. No matter what I created, Lyra could somehow claim it as her own. The egg under that cloth could be a common stone, but once my fledgling flew to her and called her “Mama,” she could simply claim I had switched them. Lyra looked down at me from the dais, and her lips curled into the exact same triumphant smile she had worn in my past life. “Well, well, sister Elara. What a beautiful egg you have there. Weren’t you planning on hatching it for all to see? What a coincidence, so was I. You’re the elder sister. Why don’t you go first?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385805”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 A medical prodigy, I was fast-tracked to a top university. But when my paper on a new anti-cancer drug was published, I was crucified online as a plagiarist. I soon discovered why: the scholarship student I’d sponsored had published an identical paper a day earlier, securing her a prestigious graduate spot. When I confronted her, my fiancé and brother were there celebrating her success. They turned on me, accusing me of jealousy and slander. The next day, a viral post branded me a campus bully who used family wealth to torment a poor student. I was expelled and became a pariah, while Molly was hailed as a courageous victim. While searching for evidence to clear my name, I was hit by a car driven by one of her fans. Then I woke up—back in time, right before the paper was published. “Lara, I heard your new anti-cancer drug was a success in trials! That’s incredible.” The familiar voice made me flinch. I glanced at the clock on the lab wall and a cold wave of realization washed over me. I was reborn. It was the day after my successful trials, the day before I was supposed to publish my paper. In the next second, Molly was clinging to my arm, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness. “Lara, I’m working in the same field. Could I maybe… take a look at your research notes? Just to learn?” Before I could answer, my fiancé, Finn, grabbed my laptop and held it out to her. “What’s the big deal? Her research is done. It’s useless to her now. Just take it.” Molly’s eyes lit up as she reached for it. “Thank you, Finn!” I snatched the laptop back. “That’s mine. What gives you the right to play the generous benefactor with my work?” The other students in the lab turned to stare. Finn’s face contorted with anger. “Lara, the trials are over! You don’t need the data anymore. What’s wrong with letting Molly learn from it? Why are you being so petty and selfish? How can you even be my girlfriend acting like this?” In my last life, the threat of him leaving me sent me into a panic. I’d immediately caved and handed over my research. But after I published my paper, my name was dragged through the mud. I went online and saw it: one day before my publication, Molly had released an identical paper. She’d been hailed as a young genius and offered early admission to Crestview University’s graduate program. I, who published a day later, was labeled a copycat, a pariah. When I found Molly to confront her, I saw Finn and my brother, Ethan, presenting her with a cake to celebrate her grad school acceptance. When she saw me, Molly held the cake out with a triumphant smirk. I’d slapped it out of her hands. My brother had slapped me across the face in return, while Finn accused me of ruining Molly’s big moment. When I demanded to know why she stole my work, she had collapsed into their arms, sobbing. “Just because I wouldn’t give you my research, you accuse me of stealing? How could you?” That was the moment that triggered the avalanche of online hate. The memory of it was a hot poker in my chest. I let out a cold laugh and my hand connected with Finn’s cheek in a sharp slap. “Finn, you knew perfectly well this was my unpublished research, and you were just going to hand it over? Do you have any concept of academic integrity?” Molly’s eyes immediately welled with tears. “Lara, it’s all my fault,” she whimpered. “I’m the one who’s poor and ignorant. It’s only natural for you to look down on me. Finn was just trying to be nice. Please don’t be angry with him because of me.” Seeing Molly so distressed, Finn’s anger boiled over. He stepped in front of her protectively. “Lara, you think just because your family has some money you can look down on people and humiliate them like this?” I was stunned into silence. “Refusing to leak my unpublished data is humiliating someone? How is protecting my own intellectual property wrong?” Molly’s eyes were red with unshed tears. “Lara, it’s my fault. I just wanted to study hard, to try and catch up to you.” “I grew up poor, in the countryside. Coming here, I realized how far behind I was. I study day and night just trying to change my fate.” “If I don’t have good reference material, if I can’t produce results and get into grad school… my parents will drag me back home and marry me off to some old man for money to support my brother. I don’t want to go back there… Lara, please, can’t you just help me?” Finn looked at her with heart-wrenching pity, then turned to me with pure disgust. “Lara, are you really so cruel? Will you be happy once you’ve forced her to drop out?” I could see the onlookers’ expressions softening, their sympathy shifting to her. So I slapped Finn again, harder this time. “Me, cruel? Don’t you both forget, I’m the one paying for your tuition, your apartment, your entire life here! The library is filled with reference materials. Why do you need my unpublished data?” The onlookers blinked, the spell broken. “She’s right. There are tons of resources. Why is she so fixated on Lara’s specific data? It’s normal to say no.” “Yeah, Lara is sponsoring her, and this is how she repays her? By emotionally blackmailing her when she refuses an unreasonable request?” “It’s not Lara’s fault you have a terrible family. Why should she have to fix your life?” Outnumbered, Finn turned his fury back on me. “We may be poor, Lara, but we have dignity! I never would have taken your damned money if you hadn’t begged me to let you sponsor me. You have no right to insult us!” With that, he grabbed Molly’s hand and they fled through the sea of pointing fingers and whispers. Just in case, when I got home, I backed up my real data to a new, secure cloud account. Then, on my laptop, I replaced my data with a copy of a well-known, landmark study published years ago by Dean Wallace of Crestview University. Once everything was in place, I went downstairs for dinner. My parents were already at the table waiting for me. Seeing all my favorite dishes laid out, my eyes stung with tears. In my last life, when I was trapped in that nightmare, when everyone accused me of academic fraud, I fell into a deep depression. My parents’ hair turned white overnight. They never left my side, caring for me, traveling everywhere with me to search for evidence. Seeing them now, healthy and smiling, I was filled with a profound guilt. I had failed them. “Lara, honey, why are you crying?” my mom asked, rushing to my side. “Did someone bully you?” I wiped my tears and shook my head. “No, I just… missed you guys at school.” They both chuckled. “You were only gone for a day! Come on, eat up. We made all your favorites.” I sat down between them, a warmth spreading through my chest. We were halfway through the meal when my brother, Ethan, burst in. His eyes landed on me, and his face twisted into a mask of disgust. “Lara, how can you just sit there eating? Don’t you know Molly has cried her eyes out because of you? When did you become so malicious?” Looking at his furious face, a wave of disappointment washed over me. In my past life, it was Ethan’s testimony against me that sealed my fate. I could still remember the comments online. “Her own brother testified against her. That just shows how rotten she really is.” The memory made me tremble with rage. But before I could speak, my mother shot up and slapped Ethan across the face. “You haven’t been home in six months, and the first thing you do is attack your sister for some outsider?” Ethan glared at her. “Mom, do you have any idea what she did? She used our family’s money to bully someone! Her character is flawed, she’s vicious…” Before he could finish, my father slapped him too. “You disgraceful boy! We know your sister’s character better than anyone. It’s you who is slandering her, humiliating our family’s name!” Ethan’s furious gaze locked on me. “It’s your fault! You’ve spoiled her so rotten she thinks she can do whatever she wants!” Just then, Molly appeared at the door as if on cue, rushing to my brother’s side. “Ethan, it’s my fault, don’t blame Lara. It’s because I’m poor and don’t have access to the right materials. It’s fine if she doesn’t want to share. Don’t make things difficult for her. It just means my parents will take me home and marry me off for my brother’s dowry.” My brother’s eyes filled with anguish for her, which only deepened his loathing for me. “Lara, are you that heartless? You’d rather watch Molly get forced out of school and have her life ruined? How can I have such a cold-blooded sister?” My father raised his hand to strike Ethan again, but I stopped him. “Dad, it’s fine. It’s just research data, right?” I said, my voice heavy with false resignation. “I’m done with it anyway. I’ll give it to her. I don’t want people saying our family uses its power to bully others and damage the company’s reputation.” Molly’s face lit up. “Really? Oh, Lara, thank you so much!” In front of them all, I brought out my laptop and transferred the files to Molly’s phone. “There. Everything you wanted. Are you satisfied now?” A flicker of triumph flashed in her eyes. “Thank you, Lara. I’ll be sure to repay you for this one day.” Repay me? By turning the world against me? By having your fans run me over with a car? Is that the repayment you have in mind? My brother gave me a grudging look. “At least you have some conscience left. You’re not completely rotten.” My mother snatched a pair of chopsticks from the table and threw them at his head. “You say one more word against your sister and I’ll beat you myself. She gave you what you wanted. Now get out!” Ethan grabbed Molly’s hand, and they quickly left. Over the next few days, I polished my real research paper. Instead of publishing it directly, I sent it to a mentor at the World Health Organization, asking for his feedback. If the paper was as solid as I thought, it would be my ticket into any graduate program I wanted.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385804”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

In my past life, after my roommate broke my comb, she gave me a new one, a wooden one with an intricate floral pattern. The first night, our dorm room caught fire. The source was traced to my bed. I was officially reprimanded by the student advisor, a permanent mark on my record. On the fifth day, my mother called to tell me our family was bankrupt. A sudden financial crisis had wiped us out. I sold everything of value, but it was a drop in the ocean. On the tenth day, a strange illness took hold of me. I lay in bed, wasting away. As I was dying, my roommate looked down at me with pure hatred. “Why were you born with so much?” She pulled out a black credit card. “It doesn’t matter. It’s all mine now.” I opened my eyes. I was back. Back to the day my roommate broke my comb. 1 Mia approached me cautiously, holding the two halves of my broken comb. She looked at me with wide, pitiful eyes. “I’m so sorry, Belle. It was an accident.” “I’ll buy you a new one.” My stomach lurched. I snatched the broken pieces from her hand. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just a comb.” My sudden movement startled her. She took a step back. “Really, Belle, I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad.” “I’ll get you a new one tonight.” I looked up, meeting her gaze directly. “I said don’t worry about it. I’ll buy one myself.” I had never spoken to her so sharply before. Mia grew visibly nervous, biting her lip. “Are you angry with me?” she whispered. “I promise I’ll replace it.” Her insistence was starting to grate on me. My voice rose. “I said no. Don’t you understand?” I nudged her aside. “Excuse me. I need to get out.” The other two roommates, hearing the commotion, sat up in their beds. “Belle, it was an accident. Do you have to be so dramatic?” Across the room, Zara shot us a sidelong glance, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “She’s a princess, isn’t she? Rich girls are always a little high-strung.” As she spoke, I watched Mia out of the corner of my eye. Sure enough, her expression was a mask of pure envy. I forced a smile. “You’re right. I am high-strung. So what?” I slammed the door behind me. In that final second before it latched, I heard Mia begin to sob, followed by Zara’s cutting voice. “Just because her family has a little money. Who does she think she is?” I walked out of the dorm, the broken comb still clutched in my hand. My other hand rested on my chest as I took deep, gulping breaths of fresh air. The sun beat down on my head, a warm, solid presence. It was real. I was alive. I was back. In my last life, it had started just like this. Not wanting Mia to feel guilty, I had accepted her offer of a replacement comb. She had handed it to me with a fawning smile, a wooden comb with a delicate floral carving. “I hope you like it, Belle.” I had accepted it gratefully, completely unaware that in doing so, I was accepting a ticket to my own personal hell. I had a habit of brushing my hair before bed. Everyone in the dorm knew. That night, after using the new comb, I fell into a deep, heavy sleep. I woke up choking on thick, black smoke. The room was in chaos. By the time we escaped, half my hair was gone. The fire investigator’s words still echoed in my ears. “The fire started in your bed.” A younger firefighter had looked confused. “The strange thing is, we can’t find the cause.” It made no sense. There was nothing flammable in our room, no open flames. But the fire had undeniably started in my bed. The student advisor was furious. I was given a formal warning and a major demerit on my permanent record. From that day on, it was as if I was cursed. I’d trip on flat ground. My instant noodles would be missing the flavor packet. Five days later, the phone call from my mother came like a bolt of lightning. “We’re bankrupt! Your father’s company… someone set him up!” It felt like falling from the sky and landing in a pit of mud. I sold my designer clothes, my bags, my jewelry. It wasn’t enough. My mother cried until she was coughing up blood. My father’s hair turned white overnight. He collapsed and couldn’t get out of bed. Five days after that, my body began to fail me. I was paralyzed, too weak to even speak. Soon, even breathing became a struggle. Mia was the only one in the room with me. I used every last ounce of my strength to beg her to call an ambulance. She had stood over me, her posture arrogant. “An ambulance? In your dreams.” She was a different person. The Mia I knew was timid and poor, always speaking in a near-whisper, dressed in worn-out clothes. But the woman standing before me wore a gold necklace so bright it hurt my eyes. She sneered. “Life isn’t fair, is it? Why were you born with everything, while I had to survive on bread and water?” She paused, then reached down and pinched my cheek, hard. “But maybe life is fair after all. Because everything you had… is mine now.” The memory sent a chill through me, and I broke out in a cold sweat. 2 I had wandered all the way to the campus gate. I called my dad. Hearing the calm, confident tone of his voice, I finally let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. All my misfortune in my past life had started with that comb. This time, I had to be careful. I was lost in thought when someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was Mia, looking anxious. I felt a surge of irritation. “What is it?” Her eyes darted around, a calculating look on her face. “Belle, I think you’re still mad at me.” She linked her arm through mine, her voice turning wheedling. “We’re best friends, aren’t we? Please don’t be mad. I really didn’t mean to break it.” In my past life, her words would have touched me. I would have taken her out for a lavish meal to show there were no hard feelings. But now, knowing her true nature, I felt nothing but disgust. I pulled my arm away and stared at her, a playful smile on my face. “Are we really best friends?” A flicker of guilt crossed her face, and she stammered, “Yes, of course we are.” “If you’re still angry, I’ll… I’ll just go back to the dorm. I’ll wait until you’ve calmed down.” With that, she turned and hurried away. As she disappeared from sight, I felt a wave of relief. But a second later, a cold dread washed over me. There was something in my pocket. I pulled it out. A small, wooden comb. Rage and a profound sense of violation overwhelmed me. It was the same floral pattern as the one from my last life. Without thinking, I took a picture of it, then threw it on the ground. She was really determined to destroy me. I crossed the street. A car sped past, and the comb was crushed under its wheels. She was clever, I’ll give her that. A small comb, slipped into my pocket, so I wouldn’t notice. I hadn’t been particularly aware of my belongings before. I wore a new outfit every day, tossing the old one into a laundry basket for Mia to wash. It sounded like I was taking advantage of her, but I paid her a hundred yuan every time. She was proud and poor, so I couldn’t just give her money. I had to find ways to help her without hurting her pride. And in return, she had repaid my kindness with a viper’s bite. I took a taxi to my usual café and opened the picture of the comb on my phone. The pattern was interesting: a few intertwined lines forming a flower. I didn’t know much about flowers, so I did a quick search online. I scrolled through images, comparing them to the one on my phone. Finally, I found it. “Fetal chrysanthemum.” An unopened flower bud. The longer I looked at it, the more unsettled I felt. Just then, my phone rang. It was Zara. We weren’t friends. She was always convinced I was a rich bully who took advantage of Mia. She had no idea I was paying Mia nearly four thousand yuan a month. I never explained, and Mia never corrected her. But it didn’t matter anymore. I was going to distance myself from all of them. I answered the call. “What’s up?” Her voice was sharp and breathless. “Where are you? Mia’s been in an accident! She was hit by a car!” 3 I was silent for a few seconds. When I didn’t respond, her voice grew louder, more frantic. “We’re on our way to the hospital now. You need to get here.” “She was calling your name before she passed out.” “If you have any conscience at all, you’ll come.” She hung up. Over the line, I could just make out Mia’s weak voice, calling my name. Interesting. But even if Zara hadn’t said all that, I would have gone. I wanted to see just how badly she was hurt. By the time I got to the hospital, Zara was helping Mia out of the emergency room. Mia’s head was wrapped in a thick bandage, and her leg was in a cast. When Zara saw me, her face lit up with relief. “You’re finally here! Go pay the bill.” I pointed at myself, incredulous. “What did you say? Me pay the bill?” Zara didn’t seem to notice my shock. She nodded matter-of-factly. “Who else? You and Mia are so close. Shouldn’t you help her out?” A bitter smile twisted my lips. “We’re close, yes, but I’m not a charity.” I gestured to Mia with my chin. “Mia, you’re hurt pretty badly. You should call your parents. This bill needs to be paid.” Mia’s face flushed with shame. “It’s fine, it’s fine. I have some money. I don’t need to call them.” Zara looked annoyed. “Then why did you tell me to wait for Belle to get here? You made me waste all this time.” Mia hung her head, mumbling an apology. Zara sighed, then looked at me. “Come on, we’ll go pay together.” On the way, her attitude toward me softened. “How did Mia get into a car accident, anyway?” I asked. Zara scratched her head, looking confused. “We were going to the cafeteria, and this car was coming. And Mia just… threw herself in front of it.” I was stunned. “You mean… she did it on purpose?” Zara looked troubled. “What else could it be? If she hadn’t acted like she was possessed, she wouldn’t be the one paying for it now.” A thought struck me. I grabbed her arm. “What color was the car she jumped in front of?” Zara frowned, thinking. “White,” she said, her voice growing more certain. “Yes, it was a white car! I remember clearly, because there was blood all over it.” Her words sent a shiver down my spine. The car that had run over the comb I threw away… it was white. A wave of relief washed over me. Thank God I threw that comb away. After paying the bill, Mia insisted on being discharged, against the doctor’s advice. She said she couldn’t afford to stay. “If you can’t afford it, then you should go home,” I said coldly. As I spoke, I was watching her. For a split second, I saw a flash of pure hatred in her eyes before she could hide it. When we got back to campus, I told Zara to help Mia back to the room. “I’ll be there in a minute. I have something to do.” 4 I raced back to the dorm and went straight to my bed. It was neatly made, the blanket folded into a perfect square. Mia had clearly been here. She often tidied up for me, and I’d pay her fifty yuan each time. But this time, I ripped the covers off the bed. The fourth roommate, Jenna, looked at me, confused. “Belle, what are you doing? Didn’t you ask Mia to make your bed?” I couldn’t explain. “I’m just tired,” I said, forcing a smile. I began to run my hands over the mattress, searching. After a thorough search, I found it. Tucked into a seam in the mattress was a small, folded piece of paper. A talisman. Just as I was about to examine it, I heard Zara’s voice outside the door. Without thinking, I dove under the covers. The first thing Mia did when she entered the room was look in my direction. “Belle, are you tired already?” she asked, her voice soft. The talisman was still in my hand, my palm slick with sweat. “Yeah,” I said, my voice muffled. “I was out all afternoon. I’m exhausted.” She nodded, then asked, a little too casually, “So, do you like how I made your bed today?” Before I could answer, Zara chimed in. “What’s not to like? She should be grateful you do it for her at all.” She shot me a disgusted look. “Honestly, the way you treat Mia like a servant.” I glanced over at Mia. As expected, she was playing the victim, her head bowed, her shoulders trembling. Zara had said things like this to me before, and I had always taken the blame to protect Mia’s pride. Not anymore. I sat up, my voice loud and clear, and pulled out my phone. “Do you really think Mia does all this for free? I pay her for her work.” The room went silent. Mia looked like she’d been struck by lightning. Zara’s face turned a blotchy red. “You… you do?” I smiled. “If you don’t believe me, ask her. Mia, why don’t you tell Zara and Jenna how much I paid you last month?” All eyes were on Mia. She turned a deep shade of crimson. “Five thousand, five hundred,” she mumbled. “See?” I said, my voice triumphant. “So, she’s not my servant. She’s my employee. I pay her, she does the work. It’s a fair exchange.” I ignored their shocked faces and drew the curtain around my bed. Once I was sure I was alone, I unfolded the talisman. In the center was a strange symbol, drawn in ballpoint pen. It had been folded into a triangle and hidden in my mattress. I took a picture of it, then carefully folded it back up. Sometime later, Mia pulled back my curtain. “Belle, I’m going to get food. What do you want?” I sat up. “Noodle soup. The usual.” Zara looked disgusted. “Her leg is broken, and you’re still making her get your food?” She turned to Mia. “You stay here. Jenna and I will get your food.” I saw Mia hesitate, tempted. “If your leg is too much of a problem, we can just end our arrangement,” I said quickly. Mia paled. “No, no, it’s fine! I’ll go!” Zara shot me a look of pure loathing. “You’re disgusting.” “A true capitalist,” Jenna added. After they all left, I looked at Mia’s bed, then took out the talisman. If you want to play with curses, I thought, let’s see how you like it when it backfires.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385803”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My wife sent her assistant to accompany me to a business dinner at a high-end restaurant. But at the table, the assistant, Kevin, seemed determined to make my life hell, egging on the client to force me to drink. I cited a severe alcohol allergy and tried to leave, but Kevin physically blocked my path. “Ethan, you’re nothing but a kept man living off your wife. When you’re told to drink, you drink. Got it?” I gave him a slow, cold smile, tore the contract in half right there, and dialed my wife’s number. “According to your assistant, the Vance family doesn’t need me anymore. Is that right?” 01 “You’re just a pretty boy. You think crying to Ms. Vance is going to help you?” Before Zoe could even speak, Kevin snatched the phone from my hand. “Let me make one thing clear. You’re drinking tonight, whether you want to or not.” I shot him a look that could freeze fire. “And if I don’t?” “You know, in all my life, I’ve never been threatened like this. You’re breaking new ground, Kevin.” The line was still open. My wife’s voice, tinny and annoyed, crackled through the speaker. “Ethan, can you stop making a scene? Kevin is just doing what’s best for the company. Just listen to him.” Zoe’s words were so absurd I almost laughed. Since when did I need a junior assistant telling me how to close a deal? The client hadn’t even named his terms, yet Kevin had preemptively offered a twenty percent profit cut. Even then, the client wasn’t satisfied, demanding I down a whole bottle of Macallan before he’d sign. The fact that everyone in the company knew about my life-threatening allergy was one thing, but this contract was already a disaster. I was about to lay into her, but Kevin ended the call. “You hear that? Even your own wife says to listen to me. What more do you have to say?” I slowly lifted my head, my voice devoid of any warmth. “Who ever told you I have to listen to her?” The moment the words left my mouth, the client, Mr. Lee, shot to his feet. “If I’m not mistaken, you must be the man who married into the Vance family fortune, right?” He sized me up, his eyes gleaming with derision. “You ask me, some people just aren’t cut out for business,” he sneered. “I ask you to have a single drink, and you tear up the contract. If your wife finds out about this, she’ll probably divorce you on the spot.” Hearing this, a slow, predatory smile spread across my face. “Mr. Lee, you and Kevin are in this together, aren’t you?” A sharp sense of observation is a prerequisite for any good businessman. I’d noticed the exchanged glances, the subtle nods between them from the moment I walked in. Kevin, the chairman’s assistant, wasn’t fighting for his company’s interests; he was colluding with the other party to corner me. It was clear this dinner was a trap, and I was the target. Mr. Lee’s eyes darted away for a second before he regained his composure. “What are you talking about? I’m just calling it like I see it,” he blustered. “Everyone at this table worked their asses off to get where they are. You’re the only one living off a woman.” “As for qualifications, I’m your company’s client. When I tell you to drink, you drink. Is that clear enough for you?” The table erupted in another round of sycophantic laughter. I swept my gaze across the room, my voice dropping to a dangerous low. “Mr. Lee, I admit I’m a handsome man, but I’m not fond of the term ‘pretty boy.’ I suggest you don’t use it again.” My eyes narrowed. “Otherwise, I might actually get angry. And if I get angry, I promise you, no one in this room is going to have a good night.” Before the threat could even settle, Kevin shot up from his seat. “Ethan, I’m right here! Who the hell do you think you’re trying to scare?” he spat. “Others might not know your deal, but I do. Ms. Vance told me everything. You’re only married into the Vance family because of some old promise between your parents. She never wanted you. Not from the start.” My eyes narrowed to slits, my focus locked on him. “Oh, really? Is that what Zoe told you?” A triumphant, almost giddy look crossed Kevin’s face as he nodded. “Of course. She’s been wanting to divorce you for ages. You’re the one who won’t let go, clinging to her family like a leech.” His words hit me with the force of a physical blow. For a moment, I couldn’t tell what was a lie and what was the truth. But one thing was certain: a mere assistant wouldn’t dare challenge me so openly without someone powerful backing him. I needed to get back to the office, to confront Zoe and find out what was really going on. But as I stood up, a heavy hand slammed down on my shoulder, forcing me back into my chair. “The party’s not over. Where do you think you’re going?” 02 I slowly tilted my head back, raising an eyebrow. “Where I go is my business. It’s certainly not for a junior assistant to decide.” Kevin scoffed, his eyes boring into me. “Not while I’m here, it isn’t. You’re not going anywhere.” I stared at him, genuinely baffled by his audacity. Where was this courage coming from? “Kevin, consider this your official notice. You’re fired.” My words only seemed to fuel his arrogance. “You? Fire me?” He laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “Do you even have that authority? Look at yourself. You’re a nobody making empty threats.” I shoved him back, the chair scraping against the floor as I rose to my full height. “Kevin, you’ve provoked me again and again. Do you really think I’m that easy to push around?” My voice was low, but it cut through the noise in the room. His face darkened, and he lunged forward, grabbing the collar of my shirt. “You’re just the Vances’ charity case, you bastard. Don’t you dare raise your voice to me. In the entire Vance Corporation, nobody can fire me except Ms. Vance herself.” If I hadn’t been sober, I would’ve thought I was hallucinating. I didn’t even hold the mighty Vance family in high regard, yet here was a mere assistant, barking in my face. It seemed I’d been keeping too low a profile these past few years. “Kevin, I’m warning you. Let go of my shirt right now,” I said, my voice dangerously calm, reining in the fury coiling in my gut. “Or I promise you, no one will be able to save you tonight.” But some people are just too stubborn for their own good. His eyes were bloodshot, his face contorted with rage. “I’m not letting go. What are you gonna do about it? I’m the assistant to the Chairman of the Vance Corporation. Everyone in this city shows me respect. Who the hell do you think you are?” Before I could answer, the clients around the table started chiming in, eager to curry favor. “He’s right. Everyone in Havenwood knows the Vance Corporation’s success is largely thanks to Kevin’s hard work.” “This guy’s only here because he married into the family. What’s so special about him? Just another pretty boy.” “Exactly. Some people get a taste of the good life and forget their place.” The message was clear. In their eyes, I, a department manager, was less important than an assistant. I had no idea where they found the nerve. Kevin basked in their flattery, his chin tilting higher with every comment. “Listen to me, Ethan. If I were you, I’d just drink the damn wine. It’ll save you a lot of trouble when you have to explain this to your wife.” I stared at him, my expression unreadable. “Kevin, this is your last warning. Do not test my limits. The very woman you keep bringing up, your precious Ms. Vance, only has her position today because of me. The reasons for that are far beyond your comprehension.” I was throwing them a lifeline, a hint that they should back off. More than dealing with Kevin’s pathetic provocations, I wanted to unmask the puppet master pulling the strings. If my own wife, Zoe, was part of this… well, that would make things interesting. I thought back to three years ago. The Vance family was a third-rate name, teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. One day, Zoe’s father, Arthur Vance, found me. His first words were a request for me to marry his daughter, explaining it was a promise made by our fathers long ago. I’ve always been a filial son. To honor my father’s last wish, I reluctantly agreed. On the surface, I was the man who married into the Vance family. In reality, their rise to power was entirely orchestrated by me, from the shadows. But now, it seemed, someone had grown wings and decided they were ready to fly solo, kicking me out of the nest in the process. Kevin surveyed the room and sneered. “Did you all hear that? This pretty boy just claimed the Vance family owes its success to him. That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all year. The Vances are one of the four founding families of Havenwood! And you? You’re a useless piece of trash. To be blunt, they’d probably be even more successful without you holding them back. They might have even broken into the Capital City scene by now.” And just like that, it all clicked into place. This dinner was a setup. These so-called business tycoons were just actors, hired for a little stage play designed to force a divorce between Zoe and me. Whoever was behind this had to have some serious influence. 03 Despite their relentless provocations, I held my ground, choosing patience over confrontation. These were, after all, influential figures in the city’s business circle, and I preferred not to create a public spectacle. But my restraint was met only with more derision. “Enough!” I shot to my feet, my gaze sweeping across every face in the room. “This deal is clearly off the table. So now, I’m giving all of you a choice.” My voice was quiet, but it commanded attention. “The smart ones will get out of my sight right now. Anyone who remains, I will consider an enemy of mine. And I show my enemies no mercy.” The room filled with laughter. “Did you hear him, everyone? The pretty boy is giving us a choice! This is rich!” “Ethan, you really think you’re somebody, don’t you?” “Every single person in this room is worth millions. What are you going to do, scare us away?” I turned slowly, the effort to control my temper a visible strain. “Have any of you ever heard the saying, ‘There’s always a bigger fish’?” I warned. “I suggest you choose wisely. You won’t get a second chance to regret it.” A sneer twisted Kevin’s lips. “A bigger fish? You? Kid, don’t think you can hide behind the Vance name forever. You probably don’t even know, do you? Ms. Vance is about to divorce you!” Hearing this, the other men at the table visibly relaxed, their mockery growing louder. I looked at their laughing faces, a profound sense of disappointment washing over me. Was this the best of Havenwood’s business world? All this, just because I couldn’t have a drink? Call me a kept man, call me a pretty boy—I couldn’t care less. But to find I couldn’t even command respect from an employee of my own company… was this the price of my discretion? Because of my unique circumstances, I had spent the past few years largely out of the public eye. If I overheard employees gossiping about me, I would just smile and walk away. I never imagined that my laid-back attitude would be mistaken for weakness, becoming the very fuel for their arrogance. Seeing my silence, Kevin assumed I’d lost my nerve. He slid a tray of ten full shot glasses in front of me. “Ethan, ten shots. Drink them all, and you can walk out of here. We’ll forget any of this ever happened, and you can go back to being a trophy husband. But if you refuse… I’m sorry, but you won’t be leaving this room tonight.” I fought to keep the rage from my voice, my eyes locked on his. “Kevin, are you forgetting I have a severe alcohol allergy?” He shot me a dismissive look. “A few drinks won’t kill you. I’ve laid out the terms. It’s your choice.” His words were so utterly preposterous I almost had to laugh. Not even Zoe’s father would dare speak to me like this. Where did this assistant find such gall? My curiosity about the person backing him intensified. “Kevin, I’m done talking to you. It’s pointless,” I said calmly. “Tell your master to come out. What kind of coward hides in the shadows and sends a dog to do his dirty work? Or does he not have the courage to face me himself?” The words had barely left my lips when the doors to the private room swung open. A man, roughly my age, strolled in with an air of unearned superiority. “Mr. Stone,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. “It seems the rumors of your stupidity were greatly exaggerated.” 04 “Th-Thorne? Mr. Caden Thorne? What are you doing here?” Kevin’s exclamation sent a ripple of shock through the room. Everyone, to a man, scrambled to their feet to welcome the scion from Capital City. “So, you must be the one pulling Kevin’s strings,” I said, remaining seated. The man who called himself Thorne ignored the others and took the seat directly across from me. “You’re a quick study. I am indeed Kevin’s boss,” he confirmed. “The name’s Caden Thorne. You can call me Thorne, like everyone else. If the Vance family wants to expand into Capital City, they need my support.” His arrogance was a cut above even Kevin’s. I gave him a single, dismissive glance before looking away. “You’re here for my wife, I presume.” Caden nodded, a look of mock pity on his face. “Mr. Stone, I’m told you’ve been married to Ms. Vance for three years. Have you even held her hand? What a terrible waste.” He paused, lighting a cigarette and letting it dangle from his fingers, a smirk playing on his lips. “After today, your wife will be my woman.” His words drew no reaction from me, only a sigh of relief. “Is that so? Well, then I understand completely,” I said with a shrug. “Since you have your eye on my wife, Mr. Thorne, she’s all yours.” My nonchalance seemed to throw him off balance. “Aren’t you even a little bit angry?” I waved a hand dismissively. “What’s there to be angry about? In fact, I should thank you. If you hadn’t shown up, I wasn’t sure how I was going to break things off with her family. But I will offer you a piece of advice: anyone, and I mean anyone, who crosses me ends up regretting it.” Caden, perhaps not expecting me to match his bravado, turned a shade of purple with rage. He snapped his fingers. “Kevin, what are you waiting for? Teach him a lesson!” In a flash, Kevin grabbed a heavy liquor bottle from the table and brought it crashing down on my head. The world exploded in a shower of glass and pain. Before I could even process it, I was on the floor. Eager to impress his new master, Kevin descended on me with a storm of kicks and punches until my body was a canvas of agony. “That’s enough. Don’t kill him,” Caden finally said. He walked over and crouched down beside me. “Kid, consider this a lesson. Remember it well,” he whispered, his voice laced with menace. “Don’t ever try to act tough in front of me again. Or next time, I’ll kill you.” I pushed myself up, my body screaming in protest, and met his gaze. My voice was steady, unbroken. “The Thornes of Capital City. You’re not as impressive as I thought.” His face went black. This time, he picked up a chair himself. But just as he raised it, a collective gasp rippled through the room. Caden and the others turned in unison toward the door. “Ms. Vance! What are you doing here?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385802”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

In the eighth year of my marriage to Adrian Monroe, he brought his little songbird home. That night, with my own two hands, I pushed the woman down the stairs. To punish me for my “unreasonable” fit of jealousy, Adrian pinned me to the floor, his foot on my back. “I told you,” he hissed, “don’t you ever touch her.” “If you can’t learn to behave, you can crawl back to the gutter you came from.” In the dead of night, I was forced onto a private jet, not even allowed a single glance at my newborn son. Three years passed before Adrian Monroe’s call finally reached my new husband. “The loan I took from your organization… could I have a little more time to liquidate some assets? I swear I’ll pay it back this time.” Hanging up, I toyed with the knife in my hand and glanced at Liam. “Time to go home and collect a debt?” I asked with a slow smile. “That’s my specialty.” … The moment I stepped off the plane, I went straight to the old Monroe estate. A woman was sobbing in the dimly lit living room. “Do you have any idea who I am? Do you have a death wish? How dare you lay a hand on the lady of the Monroe house!” Her voice was shrill with panic. “Let me go right now if you want to live…” Clad in a crimson dress, I walked toward her, my heels clicking softly on the marble floor. I slipped off my sunglasses. The woman, Isabelle, looked up, her expression a mixture of shock and derision. “Well, well. If it isn’t my dear predecessor,” she sneered. “Couldn’t make it on your own overseas? Decided to come crawling back?” “Here,” she commanded, “come untie me. The position of Mrs. Monroe is obviously filled, but for saving me, I might just offer you a job as a maid.” I obediently walked over and untied the ropes. She tilted her chin up, her eyes dripping with contempt, and held out a slender hand, expecting me to help her up. When I didn’t move, she sighed, her voice laced with lazy arrogance. “Still so clueless, aren’t you?” She never finished the sentence. I grabbed her hand and slammed it down on the edge of the heavy oak table. With a sickening crack, Isabelle crumpled to the floor, screaming in agony. “Isabelle, it seems I was too gentle with you three years ago,” I murmured, crouching down beside her. “How about we make up for it today?” Watching her face contort in pain, the knot of rage in my chest finally began to unwind. “What are you screaming for, Miss Isabelle? Isn’t it perfectly natural for a master to discipline a disobedient dog?” I grabbed her by the ankles and dragged her across the floor, a bright, genuine smile on my face. “I hear Adrian took very good care of these legs after your little fall down the stairs,” I said conversationally. “How about we break them again, just for old time’s sake?” I picked up a heavy porcelain vase from a nearby table. Isabelle, through gritted teeth, spat at me. “Sienna, you’re a goddamn lunatic.” “Adrian loves me! He’ll never let you get away with this!” Her threat only made me laugh harder, a wild, unhinged sound. “That’s right! I am a lunatic. I have been for three years now. And there’s nothing I enjoy more than destroying the things Adrian Monroe loves.” My grip loosened, and the vase plummeted. The sound I’d been longing to hear was just a moment away. “Sienna! Adrian will kill you for this!” A hand shot out and caught the vase just inches from her shins. Isabelle burst into tears of relief, her voice raw with terror as she shrieked at the man who had just saved her. “Adrian! Adrian, help me! Sienna’s trying to kill me!” Adrian tossed the vase aside and scooped Isabelle into his arms, gently placing her on the sofa. Then, he turned to me, his handsome features twisted with rage. He stalked forward and slammed me back against the table. “Sienna. Haven’t you learned your lesson?” he growled, his voice dangerously low. “Violence doesn’t suit you. You know that.” I met his gaze, those deep, intoxicating eyes that had once been my world, and instinctively tried to pull away. His grip on me only tightened, his voice turning to ice. “I sent you away to learn how to be a proper wife and mother. Don’t stray from that path.” “Understand?” he whispered. On his cue, the same bodyguards who had thrown me on that plane three years ago filed into the room, armed with long batons. They stood before me, a silent, menacing wall. Adrian gestured with a finger, and they turned their backs to us. “Sienna, have you learned how to apologize yet?” He dragged me in front of Isabelle, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Apologize to Isabelle. Keep apologizing until she forgives you.” His face was a mask of cold fury. There was no trace of affection, no hint of longing after three years apart. “Or I have a thousand ways to make you pay.” Isabelle’s face was ashen. Seeing my silence, Adrian’s patience wore thin. He forced me to my knees, his hands pressing down on my shoulders with crushing force, just like he had three years ago. Adrian had fallen in love with a ballerina. He brought her into our home without a second thought. I stood by the bed in the guest room, my eyes red-rimmed, and demanded an explanation. Adrian just held the scantily clad Isabelle tighter. “Isabelle is new here. She’s afraid to sleep alone.” “As Mrs. Monroe, you should know some basic courtesy. Show some grace.” “Sienna, it’s been eight years. Anyone would get tired.” “You have a child now. Focus on being a mother. Don’t worry, the title of Mrs. Monroe is still yours, and the family fortune will go to our son.” “Just leave Isabelle alone, and we’ll have no problems.” But the love of my youth had been a burning inferno, and I would not allow it to be extinguished. I was convinced that no matter how much of a scene I made, I would be the one to win in the end. So I ignored his warnings. With cold determination, I pushed Isabelle down the grand staircase. The air filled with the coppery scent of blood and her terrified screams. “Adrian, save me! Save our baby!” “Adrian, my legs! The pain!” That night, Isabelle lost her baby and the use of her legs. Her screams of agony echoed through the hospital for what felt like an eternity. She paid a price. But the pain I endured was a hundred times worse. In my own hospital room, the sterile scent of antiseptic making my breath catch, Adrian threw a thick stack of divorce papers at my face. “Divorce? In your dreams, Adrian. I refuse.” He clicked a pen and crouched down, his voice dangerously soft. “Sienna, you don’t have a choice in the matter anymore. You intentionally caused grievous harm. Isabelle is being generous. She’s willing to sign a letter of forgiveness, on the condition that you sign these papers.” “Think about it, Sienna,” he whispered, his voice a cruel caress. “Our son can’t have a murderer for a mother, can he?” … Back then, Adrian used our son to control me. But now, he had no leverage left. I wrenched free from his grip and threw my arms around his neck, my voice a seductive whisper in his ear. “Adrian, did you miss me?” “Because these last three years, I’ve been thinking about you every single second.” Sensing a shift in my demeanor, his expression softened slightly. “I missed you too, Sienna. It’s good to have you back. Just apologize to Isabelle, and we can start over.” My eyes welled with tears as I rested my head on his chest, my voice choked with emotion. “Do I really have to apologize?” “Maybe… I can apologize in a different way.” Adrian smiled down at me. The next second, he felt a warm, wet sensation on his wrist. I pulled out a silk handkerchief and calmly wiped the blood from the blade of a small, sharp knife. “Adrian, wasn’t this the hand you used to force me to sign those papers?” “So? Do you like my apology?” The bodyguards surged forward, but Adrian barked at them. “All of you, get out! How much trouble can one woman cause?” He quickly ripped a strip from his shirt and tied it around his bleeding wrist, his voice trembling with a mixture of pain and excitement. “Sienna, it seems you learned a few new tricks overseas. Come on, show me what other surprises you have for me.” Before I could react, he lunged, snatching the knife from my hand. He leaned in close, his breath hot on my skin. “You know, Sienna, I find this new version of you… fascinating. Why don’t you play a little game with me? If you entertain me enough, I might just consider letting you go.” From the sofa, Isabelle, clutching her broken hand, shrieked at me. “Sienna! Three years ago, you pushed me down those stairs! The doctors said I could never have children again! Adrian told me not to hold a grudge against a madwoman, but why? Why won’t you just leave me alone?” “Let me tell you something, Sienna! Adrian is my husband now! If you dare try to seduce him, I won’t show you any mercy! If I hadn’t signed that forgiveness letter, you’d be rotting in prison right now!” The girl who once did nothing but cry in Adrian’s arms was now spitting threats with righteous indignation. I shoved Adrian away, my laughter echoing through the room. “Isabelle, I don’t need your forgiveness.” I snatched the knife back from the floor and, in a flash, plunged it into her other hand, pinning it to the sofa cushion before slowly dragging the blade across her skin. A spray of crimson arced through the air. I turned and met Adrian’s panicked eyes. He shoved me to the ground and rushed to Isabelle’s side, scooping her up. “Isabelle, don’t be scared. I’m taking you to the hospital.” As he carried her out, he threw a command over his shoulder to the bodyguards. “Don’t hurt her. Just bring her to me. Alive.” Adrian waited outside the emergency room for ten agonizing hours, refusing to eat or drink. And for ten hours, I was bound to a chair right beside him. His breaking point came when a nurse handed him a critical condition notice. His fury finally exploded.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385801”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My husband could see everyone’s death countdown. The day he found out, he immediately told me that I only had two years left to live. To ensure I left this world with no regrets, he quit his high six-figure job to take me on a trip around the world. I didn’t believe him at first. Not until my father became the first person to die exactly as he’d predicted. When I died the following year in a bungee jumping accident, I finally understood. He hadn’t been lying. When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn. And this time, it seemed I had the same ability to see the countdowns. But as I stared at the number floating above my own head, indicating eighty years of life remaining, I fell into a deep, cold confusion. If I was supposed to live for eighty years… why did I die in the second? 1 “Honey, please just let me spend these last two years with you, okay?” “You’ve always wanted to travel the world, haven’t you? We could leave tomorrow.” My husband, Adrian, gazed at me, his face a mask of profound love, his eyes hiding a deep, unspeakable sorrow. I opened my mouth to answer, but my gaze was snagged by a string of red numbers floating above his head. Time Remaining: 2 years. I froze, a knot of confusion tightening in my gut. How could that be? In my past life, he had lived to be a hundred before dying of old age. His soft murmurs faded into a dull buzz in my ears. I shot up from the sofa and bolted to the bathroom. In the mirror, I saw my own countdown: a staggering eighty years. But in my previous life, I only lived for two. What was going on? And why did Adrian tell me I only had two years left? Seeing my strange behavior, Adrian followed me into the bathroom, his voice a soothing balm. “Sienna, is it that you don’t believe me?” “But Dad’s death… it proved I was right, didn’t it?” “I know it’s hard to accept, but this day was always coming.” I took a deep breath, pushing down the swirling vortex of questions in my mind, and forced a shaky smile. “No, I believe you.” I paused, then asked again, my voice trembling with feigned uncertainty. “Is it true? I really only have two years?” A flicker of something—guilt? triumph?—darted across his eyes before it was gone, replaced by a look of solemn conviction. “Of course, Sienna. I would never lie to you.” I masked the cold dread in my own eyes and asked casually, “What about you? How long do you have?” He didn’t even hesitate. “Three years.” The answer hit me like a physical blow. He was lying. As if sensing my doubt, he added with a pained smile, “Heaven must not want you to be lonely down there. It’s arranged for me to settle your affairs and then come join you.” They were the exact same words he’d used in my past life. The difference was, this time, I knew they were a lie. Back then, I had believed him without question. But now, it was clear that the man I slept next to every night was not the sincere, loving husband he appeared to be. And there was one question that I had to answer, a question that screamed in my mind. Why, if I had eighty years, did I die in two? And why, if he only had two, did he live for so many decades? The endless questions made my head spin. After I managed a weak “Okay,” Adrian immediately got on the phone to finalize his resignation. The moment he hung up, he began planning our trip. In no time, he had our first destination. “Sienna, how about we go surfing first? You’ve always wanted to go to Tahiti, right?” I frowned. I hadn’t thought about it in my past life, but it was strange. Adrian had always been so frugal, so meticulous with our finances. A trip to Tahiti would cost a fortune. Noticing my silence, he elaborated, “You used to talk about it all the time. It’s expensive, but it doesn’t matter. I just want you to be happy in the time you have left.” The words felt like ash in my mouth. They reeked of hypocrisy. Our combined income was well into the high six-figures. Aside from helping our parents, we had very few expenses. Over the years, we’d saved a small fortune, thanks in large part to his penny-pinching. I’d mentioned Tahiti countless times, and every single time, he’d shut it down. Now that I was “dying,” he was suddenly generous. I couldn’t tell if it was guilt or a sudden pang of conscience. The next day, he booked the tickets, and we were off. The moment we landed, he was practically dragging me to the beach. His behavior was bizarrely urgent. I pulled my hand from his grip, my annoyance showing. “What’s the rush? We just got here. Can’t we rest for a minute?” He wasn’t this desperate in my past life. It was strange. Deeply, unsettlingly strange. He blinked, then put on a wounded expression. “Sienna, it’s not that I’m rushing. It’s just… this tide is a once-in-a-century event. The waves are perfect. You love a thrill, don’t you?” He glanced at me, then quickly added, “But if you don’t want to go now, that’s fine. We can go another day.” I hesitated for a moment, then agreed. I needed to see what game he was playing. We dumped our luggage at the hotel and headed straight for the surf break. The waves were massive, powerful enough to swallow a person whole. It was already dusk, and the beach was mostly empty. The water was bone-chillingly cold. Without another word, Adrian grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the water, his eagerness palpable. His behavior was beyond strange, but I went along with it, determined to find out why. Yet, as we surfed, nothing unusual happened. I started to wonder if I had misjudged him. Was this all in my head? As I was lost in thought, Adrian paddled over. No small talk. He got right to the point. “Sienna, we’ve had our fun with the surfing. How about we leave tomorrow?” “You mentioned wanting to go bungee jumping, didn’t you? We could head out in the morning. I can book the flights to Switzerland right now.” I said nothing. Adrian was rushing, moving so fast I couldn’t get a read on his motives. This was completely different from my last life. I took a breath and met his gaze, my voice casual. “But we just got here. Are we really leaving after only one night?” He seemed to finally realize how frantic he was acting. After a brief pause, he quickly changed his tune, sidestepping my question entirely. “You’re right. We should stay a couple more days. We’re already here, after all. I’ll go down and extend our reservation.” With that, he practically fled the room. I was exhausted from the long day and had no energy left for guessing games. I collapsed onto the bed. I woke up the next day around noon. He was gone. As I got up to splash some water on my face, I glanced in the mirror and my blood ran cold. The number above my head had changed. An entire year was gone. My mind flashed back to the day before, to his desperate rush to get me into the water. A monstrous, unbelievable thought began to form in my mind. He was swapping our lives. To test my theory, I frantically grabbed my phone and called him. It rang and rang. On the fifth call, he finally picked up, his breathing slow and even. But before I could say a word, he hung up. A second later, the hotel room door opened. It was Adrian. My eyes immediately locked on the numbers above his head. They had changed to three. It was exactly as I’d suspected. So, Adrian Monroe, that’s why you were so generous. That’s why you brought me to Tahiti. It was all a goddamn trap. He stood in the doorway, holding up his phone, his face a mask of concern. He was panting, as if he’d run all the way back. A strange, acrid smell clung to him, like ash and dust. “Sienna, why did you call so many times? Is something wrong?” “I was just downstairs. I thought something had happened to you, so I ran back.” I realized my panic had almost given me away. I couldn’t let him know I was onto him. I forced down my fury and put on a fake smile. “It’s nothing. I just wanted to ask where we’re going next.” He eyed me with suspicion. “Really? You called me five times just to ask that?” His questioning grated on my nerves. My voice was sharp when I replied. “What else would it be?” That seemed to satisfy him. He let out a relieved laugh and came over, ruffling my hair. “Okay, okay, I was just asking. The next stop I planned was bungee jumping in Switzerland. Since you’re so eager to know, how about we leave tomorrow?” I scoffed internally. He was the one who was eager. This had nothing to do with me. He wanted to go so badly because he wanted my life. “Fine,” I said, my voice flat. “Book the tickets.” I agreed easily. But I wasn’t going to be his sacrifice again. I wasn’t going bungee jumping. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to Switzerland. The next morning at the airport, I used the excuse of having left my ID at the hotel to turn back. Adrian immediately grabbed my arm, insisting on coming with me. But I wasn’t about to let him. I wrenched my arm free and took a step back. “Don’t come with me. You get on this flight. I’ll just buy a ticket for the next one.” “The change fees for two people would be ridiculous. I’ll be right back. The next flight isn’t that much later.” To make my act convincing, I even pulled out my phone and scrolled through the flight schedules. Adrian, not wanting to let his golden goose out of his sight, hesitated. I didn’t give him a chance to argue. “We’ve already spent a fortune on this trip. We need to save where we can. I’ll be on a flight by tomorrow at the latest.” Before he could protest further, I grabbed my suitcase and walked away. I had never lied to him before, so he believed me. He didn’t follow. He sent me a text: “I’ll be waiting for you in Switzerland.” I didn’t reply. That same day, he flew to Switzerland. I flew back home. The next day, I casually texted him that I wasn’t really in the mood for Switzerland anymore and had gone home. As expected, my phone was immediately flooded with his furious calls. I gave him a few dismissive answers, then put my phone on silent and went to sleep. But when I woke up the next morning, another year of my life was gone. What was happening? I didn’t go with him. How was my lifespan still decreasing? At that moment, a text from Adrian came through. “I expect an explanation.” My head was spinning. I couldn’t figure out why I was still losing time. A little while later, the front door slammed open. Adrian stood there, radiating a cold fury. The same burnt, ashy smell clung to his clothes, just like in Tahiti. As I stared at him, he stared at me. The number above his head had indeed increased by a year. But how? The more I thought about it, the more confusing it became. What was I missing? “Sienna. Your explanation? We were supposed to go to Switzerland together.” He cut through my thoughts, his eyes sharp and probing. “Oh, that,” I said, sticking to my original excuse. “I just didn’t feel like it. There’s no big reason.” I looked him straight in the eye. “But you seem awfully desperate for me to go. Is there something special about it? What happens if I don’t go?” He was silent for a moment, realizing he’d been too aggressive. His expression softened, returning to its usual gentle warmth. “You’re right. Nothing happens if you don’t go. I was just being impatient.” His words were a double-edged sword, and I understood his meaning instantly. Nothing happens if I don’t go… which meant my lifespan would decrease even if I just stayed home. Was there really no way to stop it?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385800”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My long-distance boyfriend of several years went bankrupt. “Faye, they took my mother’s house.” Mark’s voice was a fragile, lost thing over the phone. I hung up without another word. That same night, I landed in Port Sterling with everything I owned. I found him, and together, we leased a small stall in the local fish market. “Don’t worry,” I told him, my voice steady. “I’ll buy it back for you.” Three years of my hands, perpetually raw and steeped in the stench of fish, earned us two million dollars in scattered bills. The day I went to deposit the money, a guy next to me at the bank was scrolling through a livestream on his phone, the volume cranked way up. “Mark, my man, you coming back or what?” “What’s the rush? I’m not done playing with my little Fish Girl yet.” He must have left in a hurry. The phone, still streaming live, was propped up on the cutting board. … I recognized the voice in a heartbeat. It was Mark. That voice was a part of me. It had once traveled as a whisper across oceans, soothing me when my mentor’s critiques had brought me to tears. It had been a rough, breathless gasp in my ear, murmuring my name in the dark. But now, the words he was speaking felt like a foreign language. The sound from the phone was just too loud, a relentless, jarring noise that drilled into my ears. A buzzing started in my eardrums and spread, a tremor that seized my entire body until I was shaking uncontrollably. I turned my head, my movements stiff, robotic. Through a blur of unshed tears, I saw the monotonous image on the screen. A yellow rubber hose lay draped over the wooden cutting board, water streaming from it in a ceaseless flow. A sharp filleting knife was stuck into the wood, its blade glinting with blood-streaked scales. I had stood in that exact spot for three years. The voices from the livestream continued, oblivious. “Hahaha, you’ve really got it made, Mark. By the way, where’s the Fish Girl? She’s usually glued to this place. Did the sun rise in the west today?” “I told her the rent was going up. She’s probably at the bank right now, scraping together the deposit.” The crisp, expensive flick of a Zippo lighter crackled through the speaker. Someone was lighting a cigarette. “Seriously? You own this whole damn street. The fact that you’re personally shaking her down for rent… you’re giving her way too much credit.” “What can I say? The girl’s a machine when it comes to making money. I told her we’d get married as soon as we bought the house, and she started selling fish like her life depended on it. If I didn’t raise the rent, I’d be losing out on my own investment, wouldn’t I?” The two of them laughed for a moment. I heard a sound like a hand slapping a shoulder. “Alright, man, stop chatting with me. Your darling Chloe is waiting for you at the coffee shop. Here, take this necklace. You can’t show up empty-handed every time, that’s just rude. Oh, and don’t forget to transfer me the money for it later. It’s over a hundred grand.” “Yeah, I’ll wire it.” The unique, staccato rhythm of Mark’s typing on his phone danced a cruel rhythm on my shattering heart. “Whoa, Mark, you serious? You sent me two hundred thousand?” “Yeah, it’s nothing. Pocket change. Go have fun. I’m heading out, watch the stall for me.” The sound of rustling cash, crisp and fast, was amplified by the teller’s microphone behind the glass. It was everything I had earned. Three years of my life, without a single day off. Just enough to cover a necklace Mark casually bought for another girl. The heavy plastic curtain at the stall’s entrance flapped open and shut. Just as Mark was leaving, the other man spoke again, his tone suddenly probing. “Hey, Mark. It’s been three years. Are you really just messing with her?” The flapping of the curtain paused. In two different places, Mark and I held our breath in shared silence. Finally, I heard his voice, light and dismissive. “Of course. You think I’d actually marry a fishmonger?” As the last word fell, my world, which had been held together by the quietest of hopes, didn’t just crack. It imploded. In an instant, all the strength drained from my body. I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t make a sound. All that was left was a broken heart, uselessly pumping pain through my veins. The screen suddenly went dark. The guy next to me cursed. “What the hell?” What the hell. No four words could have described me better. For a single, pathetic plea from Mark, I had thrown away the Golden Cleaver, the symbol of my craft and honor. I had flown across the world, a fool on a mission to save my fallen hero. And now, in a place where he couldn’t see me, he had sentenced me to death with a single sentence. A fishmonger. If my mentor heard someone call me that, he’d probably use his eighteen signature knife techniques to turn them into a gourmet feast. But I had abandoned his protection, and for what? To happily take on that title. Stupid. So incredibly stupid. “Ma’am? The money has been counted. Are you sure you want to transfer twenty thousand to this account?” the teller asked. I blinked, reality crashing back in. “No. No transfer. Thank you.” I wasn’t renting this stall anymore. And I didn’t want Mark anymore. The bank card in my hand felt impossibly heavy, a dead weight of a thousand days and nights of my own foolishness. Two million dollars. The price of my blind, idiotic devotion. I didn’t go back to the stall. I went to the shabby apartment we rented. I started to pack. Looking around, I realized there was almost nothing worth taking. The matching bracelets Mark had bought me for $1.99, shipping included. The buy-one-get-one-free boxes of breakfast pastries that cost $13.99. A ring he’d twisted for me out of a paper napkin. My collection of foul-smelling rubber boots in various colors. I pulled open the nightstand drawer. It was filled with boxes of condoms. Opened ones, empty ones. When we first opened the stall, business was slow. We had sunk every last penny into it. We were so, so poor. I never thought I’d live like that. We’d make a single bagel last for three meals. Cream cheese in the morning, half the bagel for lunch, the other half for dinner. I used to cry all the time. I cried when I was hungry. I cried when we didn’t make enough money. And every time I cried, Mark would pull me into bed. “Hey, my little crybaby,” he’d murmur. “Let’s do something to take your mind off it.” Surrendering to that raw, primal instinct was a drug, a way to numb the nerves. The 99-cent condoms were cheap and unreliable; they’d tear if we were too rough, or if the angle was wrong. In the midst of crushing material poverty, we clung to each other as if for life itself. The constant creaking of the old wooden bed frame became a lullaby for my soul. Every morning, the floor was littered with used, torn wrappers. I thought, back then, that all I had left was love. Looking back now, I see I didn’t even have that. I don’t know what I was even trying to pack. After an hour, my suitcase was still empty. The trash can, however, was overflowing. I scanned the room, a wave of emptiness washing over me. There was nothing here. Just worn-out furniture that screamed “making do.” A flickering lightbulb, a refrigerator that rattled like a machine on its last legs. I had wanted to make this place a home. But Mark always shut me down. “Don’t bother.” “It’s not necessary.” I thought he was just being frugal, trying to save us money. The truth was, he never saw this as a home. A woman he’d eventually get tired of. A slum that was beneath his true status. Of course, none of it was worth a single moment of his effort. I’d left my ID at the stall. I had to go back. There was only one man there. Mark was probably still at the coffee shop, whispering sweet nothings to his perfectly matched, high-society darling. The man was sitting in Mark’s chair, smoking. When he saw me, he didn’t bother to get up. “Well, well, Fish Girl. Broad daylight and the stall’s empty. Are you even in business anymore?” His voice was familiar. The other man from the livestream. If I hadn’t heard the whole thing, I might have actually believed he was just an impatient customer. “I am. What are you buying?” My flat, indifferent tone seemed to catch him off guard. After a moment, a nasty smirk spread across his face. “I want twenty eels. Deboned. Skinned. And mince them, nice and fine.” I grabbed an eel. A nail hammered through its head, pinning it to the cutting board where it writhed in agony. “You know, Fish Girl,” the man drawled, his voice thick with innuendo, “eels can be… useful for a woman.” I ignored him. My knife, an extension of my hand, made a deft, diagonal slice, sliding along the creature’s length and pulling out a clean, white spine in a single motion. “Want me to teach you how, Fish Girl?” When I continued to ignore him, he got up and reached for my face. I instinctively blocked his hand. The next thing I knew, he was on his knees, clutching his wrist and howling. “You dare touch me? Do you have any idea who I am?” he snarled. “Who are you?” I asked, my voice calm. I truly didn’t care. “I’m…” He was about to reveal himself, but caught his tongue. He still had to play his part in Mark’s little drama. The plastic curtain swished open, and a clean, well-manicured hand pushed it aside. Mark was back. He saw the man kneeling on the floor. “Caleb? What happened?” “Mark, this psycho just attacked me for no reason!” Caleb yelled. I crossed my arms and looked at Mark. “Oh? You two know each other?” Mark’s expression flickered. “Not really. He’s been here before. Faye, did you hit him?” I raised an eyebrow. “You could say that.” His face hardened with disapproval. “Faye. Apologize to him.” No questions asked. Just an order to apologize. Such deep brotherly love. My heart was already too numb to feel any more pain. All I wanted to do was laugh. “Not a chance.” My refusal was a slap in the face. Mark’s expression turned ugly. Before today, I would have smiled and charmed even the most difficult customer for the sake of the business. “Faye, don’t make me force you. Apologize to Caleb.” Caleb smirked, a vicious, triumphant look on his face. “Mark, you can’t even control your own woman? What, she won’t apologize? Fine. Then you can pay up!” His arrogance was astounding. “How much?” I asked. Caleb scrambled to his feet, pointing at a smudge on his sleeve. “Two hundred thousand! This shirt was custom-made last week. It’s ruined now, reeks of fish. And you touched me with your filthy hands. It’s disgusting.” “What’s the account number?” “Talking big, aren’t we? Can you even afford it?” Caleb rattled off a string of numbers. “Sent,” I said, not even blinking. He checked his phone, a flash of surprise in his eyes, quickly replaced by a look of malicious amusement. “That’s just for the shirt! You injured me! You owe me for lost wages!” “Is eight hundred thousand enough?” “Faye!” Mark roared, grabbing my arm to stop me from making another transfer. “Faye! He just wants an apology! Why are you giving him so much money? Get on your knees! Apologize to him, and he’ll let it go!” Mark shoved me, and I stumbled, catching myself on one knee. He tried to force my head down, but I refused to bow, my hand clutching my phone. “Oh, right. And for pain and suffering, emotional distress… is a million enough for that? There. I’ve sent it all.” In less than a minute, I had emptied the bank account. Not a single cent was left. “Are you insane?” Mark’s face was ashen, his eyes looking at me like I was a complete madwoman. “What are you yelling about? You think it’s not enough? Fine! You can have it all!” I grabbed the metal cash box from the counter and smashed it on the ground. Coins and bills scattered everywhere, sticking to the wet, grimy floor. A sharp, jarring pain shot up my arm. In that moment, I realized I hated him. I hated Mark with a rage so pure I wanted to tear him limb from limb. “Faye, what the hell is wrong with you? Do you know how much money you just gave him? That was everything we had!” Mark’s voice was shaking. His eyes were daggers, ready to kill me. My own eyes burned. I met his furious gaze, a silent war waging between us. I pointed to the phone still streaming on the cutting board. I didn’t have to look at the blood draining from Mark’s face. “Don’t worry about it,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “A mere two million. Pocket change. Let your good buddy have fun with it.” I snatched my ID from the counter and walked out to the street to hail a cab. Mark chased after me. “Faye, wait. Listen to me. I can explain.” His expression was desperate, all traces of his earlier anger gone. “Was it fun, Mark? Was it fun making a fool of me?” A deep, cold wound he’d carved inside me was finally beginning to bleed. “Don’t worry, Mark. I can take a joke. You don’t have to wait until you’re tired of me. I’ll leave on my own. Just give me back my ring.” The ring. My mentor’s wife had given it to me before she passed away. Give this to the man who loves you most, she’d said. I gave it to Mark. But he didn’t love me. I’m so sorry, Amelia. I was wrong about him. I’ve tarnished your gift. “Faye, it’s not what you think…” “Don’t say another word. Just give me the ring. After this, I never want to see you again. You make me sick.” A flicker of anger finally crossed his face. “Faye, that’s enough. Just listen to my explanation, and I’ll forgive you for what you said. You’re a fishmonger. There are obstacles for us, real ones. But I can give you money, enough to set you up for life. Just tell me what you want.” The clouds overhead gathered, greedily swallowing the daylight. “I want my ring.” “You’re being ridiculous! You think anyone actually wants this cheap piece of junk?” He ripped the red cord from his neck and threw it at me with all his might. The ring hit a tree and bounced onto the grimy pavement. It rolled, a tiny, glittering circle in the filth, and disappeared down the narrow slit of a sewer grate. My eyes flew wide, feeling as if they might tear at the corners. I scrambled toward the grate like a madwoman. I plunged my hand in without a second’s hesitation. The foul water swirled below, a putrid mix of fish guts, scales, and God knows what else. My fingers scrabbled through the sludge. I was becoming one with the filth on the ground, the stench filling my lungs with every ragged breath. “Faye, it’s just a ring! Are you serious?! Look at yourself! Have you no shame?!” Mark ran over, trying to pull me back. And then the sky opened up. A torrential downpour crashed down on us. “Mark, darling, is this the woman who’s had you so bewitched? Your standards seem to have slipped.” A perfectly dressed woman holding an umbrella emerged from the coffee shop next door. The diamond necklace at her throat glittered, each facet reflecting my own pathetic, drenched form. “Chloe, she’s just some girl I was messing with. I didn’t know she was crazy. Don’t worry, there’s no way in hell I would ever marry her.” Mark looked at me as if I were a piece of trash he couldn’t get rid of. “That’s enough, Faye! What is wrong with you today? How much more are you going to embarrass me?” I tasted blood in my mouth. I couldn’t hear anything they were saying. I just kept reaching, my fingers clawing through the muck, searching for that tiny, precious circle of metal. It was the only thing my mentor’s wife, the woman who was more of a mother to me than anyone, had left me. Mark’s patience finally snapped. He raised his hand and slapped me, hard, across the face. “Faye, stop it! I’ll buy you a new one! A better one! That piece of crap isn’t worth anything! Get up!” Chloe giggled, her hand covering her mouth. “Leave her be, Mark. She’s just a fishmonger. She’s never seen anything nice. A little ring is probably the most valuable thing she’s ever owned. She’s really not in your league.” Mark raised his hand to hit me again. But I finally gave up. I slowly pulled my hand from the sewer, letting the rain wash the filth away. The raindrops pelted my skin, a cold, familiar stinging. I looked up at Mark, a deep sadness welling inside me. “Mark, that night… when you held me… were you thinking about the future we were building together, or were you laughing at how stupid I was?” His expression wavered. I knew he understood which night I meant. My birthday. He’d bought me a cheap strawberry shortcake. The plastic fork it came with bent when you tried to use it. But we sat on the floor, eating it with a six-dollar bottle of cheap whiskey, and we were happy. Then a pipe burst in the living room, spraying us with rusty water, a sudden downpour we couldn’t escape. We were helpless. So we just sat there on the floor, soaked to the bone, laughing like idiots. “Mark! One day, we’re going to buy a huge, beautiful house! It’ll have a massive, soft bed, at least a king-size! And a giant kitchen, so I can cook you all kinds of amazing food. You know, I’m an amazing cook. I was almost a world-class chef.” Why did he nod his head back then? Why did he let me believe in a dream he had already been living his whole life? The rain seemed to stop, or maybe it never did. Mark’s face was slick with water. “Faye, I’ll say it again. I can’t marry a fishmonger. But I can give you money. A lot of money.” “I hope you don’t regret this.” I flagged down a taxi. Mark didn’t know. I wasn’t a fishmonger. I was going to the airport. I was going home.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385799”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On my 28th birthday, I cooked a feast, but my family only had complaints. My mother criticized the ribs, my father pushed the dish away, and my sister Stella fake-smiled, claiming a stomach ache but suddenly craving mango sticky rice from our childhood Thai place. Without asking, my husband Ethan told me to go buy it for her. I returned an hour later to an empty house. The food was cold, and everyone was gone. A social media post revealed the truth: my parents, sister, husband, and even her dog had left on a spontaneous trip to the snowy Alps. They’d all gone without me. I liked the family photo, put down the dessert, and texted Ethan: “Let’s get a divorce.” 1 After receiving my text, Ethan and the other three, dog in tow, drove through the night to get back. “Anna! Have you lost your mind?!” Ethan slammed his phone down on the coffee table, his voice thick with incredulous rage. “Just because we decided to take a trip for a day, you want a divorce? Can you stop making such a big deal out of nothing?!” I sat on the sofa, watching him with an unnerving calm. He called this making a big deal out of nothing. A small laugh escaped my lips, but it couldn’t mask the sharp, needle-like pain piercing my heart. We had a plan. We were supposed to leave together after my twenty-eighth birthday to finally see the snow-capped mountains of the Swiss Alps. It was a promise we’d made to each other when we were first falling in love. But on my birthday, he had taken everyone and left without a word. My mother yanked me to my feet, her finger jabbing towards my face. “Anna, why are you becoming so thoughtless! Your sister has been under so much stress at work. She finally wanted to get away and relax. We just wanted to leave a little early to beat the holiday traffic. What’s so wrong with that?” “Do you have to throw this whole family into chaos?!” My father’s face was grim, his voice laced with disappointment. “Your sister’s health is fragile. We should take extra care of her. As her younger sister, not only do you lack any empathy, you’re throwing a tantrum. You’re breaking our hearts!” There it was again. Ever since we were children, no matter what happened, I was always the one in the wrong. My sister, Stella, was always the one who needed to be protected, to be understood. She was vibrant and charming, a master of wheedling and winning our parents’ affection. She was the daughter they bragged about. I was quiet and introverted, the perpetual background scenery they barely noticed. Stella walked over, her eyes red-rimmed. She took my hand, her touch as light and fragile as a butterfly’s wing. Her voice was a choked whisper. “Anna, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault…” “I just didn’t want to be stuck in traffic with everyone else. I thought if we left early, our family trip would be more… perfect. I assumed Ethan would have told you…” As she spoke, she cast a timid, wounded glance at Ethan. His brow furrowed instantly, his gaze landing on me like a physical weight. “Look at your sister! She’s only thinking of everyone else. And you?” he accused. “Stella is a travel blogger! Leaving early to get some content is part of her job! If you can’t understand that, fine, but to demand a divorce? You’re pushing her to the edge!” “Exactly, Anna!” my mother chimed in, her voice sharp. “Why can’t you be more like your sister? So considerate, always thinking of others! Look at you, with that cold, stony face all the time. Who could possibly be happy looking at that?” I looked at the family before me and felt a dizzying sense of absurdity. There was a time when Ethan was the only one in this house who saw through the charade. He would hold me tight and whisper, “Anna, they don’t see how wonderful you are, but it’s okay. I see it. From now on, I’ll be the one to protect you.” But now, he had become one of them. His face was just as grotesque as theirs. A dry, humorless laugh escaped my lips, and the corners of my eyes grew damp. “Anna, what are you laughing at?” My laughter seemed to sting him, and he growled, his voice low with humiliation and anger. “I’m laughing at how stupid I was.” I looked directly at him, my voice steady and clear. “To ever believe you would be any different from them.” “You—!” Whatever Ethan was about to say was cut short by a sudden gasp. 2 Stella suddenly clutched her chest, her face draining of all color as she swayed on her feet. “I… I feel so dizzy. My chest hurts… I can’t breathe…” “Stella!” In an instant, the room erupted into chaos. My parents rushed to support her while Ethan anxiously rubbed her back. “Quick! To the hospital! It must be her depression acting up again!” my mother shrieked. They bustled around her, a frantic whirlwind of concern. No one spared me a second glance. As Ethan passed me, he paused, his eyes burning with disgust. “Anna, if anything happens to Stella, I swear to God, you and I are done.” Without looking back, he rushed out the door after them. I was alone in the vast, empty living room. I walked to the window and watched their car speed away, disappearing into the flow of traffic. A faint tremor ran through my heart, and then, a smile spread across my face. I took out my phone and dialed the number for a moving company. “Hello, yes… I need movers now. As soon as possible. The address is…” This apartment was mine. I had made the down payment myself, before I was married. Its prime downtown location made it convenient for everything. Ever since Stella’s divorce, my parents had moved in with her, using the excuse that it was “easier for Stella to get to her doctor’s appointments.” They moved in as if it were their right. They said it was nice for the whole family to be together. But I knew the truth. They simply despised their old house in the suburbs and coveted the comfort and convenience of my place. Stella, especially, made herself at home. My walk-in closet became hers. My vanity was overrun with her expensive collection of lotions and perfumes. She had a sense of entitlement to everything that was mine. At first, I thought it was just my things she wanted. I later realized she wanted my husband, too. She would flit around in front of Ethan wearing my new silk nightgown. When he came home late from work, she’d be the one to greet him with a bowl of homemade soup, cooing at him to take care of himself. Her performance was more convincing, more doting, than that of the actual wife. She even had the audacity to scold me for being thoughtless whenever Ethan and I had a small argument. And Ethan? He soaked it all up. He reveled in the adoration and dependence of another woman, thriving on the thrill of that ambiguous, morally grey line. His indulgence was the fuel for Stella’s audacity. His silent permission was the knife that dealt the most fatal blow to my heart. The moving company was remarkably efficient. In less than two hours, every trace of their existence had been scrubbed clean from my home. When it was all done, I felt the massive stone that had been lodged in my chest for years finally begin to shift. Suddenly, my phone shrieked. It was Ethan. I answered, and his roar assaulted my ear. “Anna, you vicious bitch! Stella was already in a fragile state, and after the scene you caused, she’s on the roof of the hospital, threatening to jump! ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?!” In the background, I could hear my mother’s wails and my father’s furious curses. Ethan’s voice trembled with rage. “Get to the hospital roof right now and apologize to your sister!” A cold smile touched my lips. The same old trick. Ever since we were kids, whenever Stella didn’t get what she wanted, she would put on a show. Hunger strikes, self-harm, running away from home… and now, she had graduated to threatening suicide. I clicked the livestream link Ethan had sent me. On the screen, Stella sat on the edge of the rooftop, her legs dangling over the side, her long hair whipping wildly in the wind. She was crying for the camera, a perfect, tragic damsel in distress. “I’m just so tired… I don’t know what the point of living is anymore…” “All I wanted was for our family to be happy together. Why is that so hard?” “I know my sister has always felt that our parents favor me… but… they love us both. How could they not love her? It’s my fault. I’m the sick one. I’m the burden on everyone, and it’s made my sister misunderstand me so deeply…” She never once blamed me directly, but every word painted me as the villain. The jealous, ungrateful sister who was destroying the family’s harmony. The comments in the live chat scrolled by in a frenzy. OMG her poor sister! This Anna person is pure evil! That sister is a monster! Don’t you know how to treat a family member with depression? Go apologize to your sister! What if she really jumps?! Public opinion had swung completely to her side. I shut off the livestream, grabbed my car keys, and walked out the door. 3 The moment I stepped onto the hospital roof, Ethan lunged at me, grabbing my arm. “You’re finally here! Quick, go apologize to your sister! Tell her you were wrong, that you’ll never argue with her again!” My mother threw herself at me, sobbing as she clung to my other arm. “Anna, I’m begging you! Just give in this once!” “If your sister is gone, I don’t want to live either!” My father, who had been silent until now, stormed over, his face contorted with fury as he pointed a trembling finger at me. “Look what you’ve done! You have dragged our family’s name through the mud today!” “Is this what you wanted? To push your sister to this, to make a public spectacle of us for everyone to laugh at?!” They were using their own lives, the family’s honor, to exert one final, crushing wave of pressure. When Stella saw me, her crying intensified. She wailed at the camera, her voice thick with despair. “Sister, don’t come any closer… I know you don’t want to see me. It’s my fault, I’m an eyesore to you…” “I’ll go. I’ll go right now, and then you’ll be happy… and I’ll finally be free…” As she spoke, she leaned forward slightly, feigning a lurch towards the edge. The live chat exploded. The evil sister is here! Is she going to push her?! Look at her face! So cold! Not an ounce of guilt! Someone call the police! Arrest this woman! She’s a murderer! I stood in the eye of the storm, letting their accusations and pleas wash over me. I watched them quietly, as if observing a farcical play that had nothing to do with me. My silence made Ethan even more frantic. “Anna! Are you mute?!” he roared, shaking my arm violently. “I told you to apologize!” I pried his fingers off my arm, one by one. I lifted my gaze to meet his. “Apologize? Should I apologize for not receiving a single ‘happy birthday’ yesterday? Or should I apologize for being abandoned and forgotten in an empty house?” The color drained from Ethan’s face. A crimson heat bled into the corners of my eyes, and my voice began to tremble. I fought back the tears and turned to my mother. “Mom, are you really going to threaten me with your life?” “Stella has used that trick since we were kids, and it’s worked every single time. Are you going to start now, too?” My mother was stunned into silence. The desperate grip on my arm slackened. Finally, my eyes settled on Stella. I walked, step by step, to the edge of the roof, stopping a few feet away from her. The wind was strong, whipping my hair and clothes around me. I looked at her and spoke, my voice soft and clear. “Sister, why haven’t you jumped yet?” The words hung in the air. Everyone stared at me in stunned disbelief. The mask of sorrow on Stella’s face shattered. She forgot to cry, forgot her performance. She just stared at me, dumbfounded. Ethan’s eyes were wide with shock, as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard. I continued, my voice perfectly calm. “You said you were tired of living, didn’t you? You said I was your burden, didn’t you? Just jump. It will be a relief for everyone.” “Look at all the people watching you down there. What a spectacular exit.” “What… what did you say?” Stella’s voice was a terrified whisper. I smiled. “I said, you should just die.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385798”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel