1 Three years into my marriage with the woman I’d once moved heaven and earth for, a suffocating boredom had settled over my life. The thought of spending the rest of my days with just one person made my skin crawl. It was an itch I desperately needed to scratch. Just as I was plotting how to find a little excitement behind my wife’s back, my younger brother, Leo, appeared with a royal decree in his hands. “Brother,” he said, his voice low and conspiratorial, “His Majesty needs an envoy in the southern province of Veridia. The floods have caused chaos, and someone needs to restore order.” A spark ignited within me. This was my chance. But then, a familiar worry crept in. My wife, Eleanor, would never let me go alone. She’d insist on following, smothering me with her devotion. Leo, seeing the hesitation in my eyes, offered a reassuring, almost sycophantic, smile. “You go and make your mark, brother. I’ll stay behind and take care of everything… including Eleanor.” … The moment the words left his lips, we heard footsteps approaching the study. They were light, delicate, punctuated by the soft clinking of silver charms on a belt. I didn’t need to guess. It was my wife. As expected, she entered without knocking, clad in a sea-green gown and carrying a small bowl. It was her honey-lotus pudding. Her eyes met mine, and she graced me with that gentle, placid smile of hers. “You’ve been working so hard, my love,” she murmured. “I made this for you. Please, try it.” Then, as if just noticing my brother, she feigned a look of surprise. “Oh, Leo! I didn’t realize you were here. I only made one bowl. What a pity.” Every gesture, every word, was exactly as I’d predicted. There were no surprises with Eleanor anymore. No thrill. It was utterly, painfully dull. Looking at her, the last vestiges of guilt I felt for wanting to stray simply evaporated. This life was a cage, and surely, my loving wife wouldn’t want me to wither away in it, would she? “Your cooking is divine, Eleanor,” Leo sighed dramatically. “It’s a shame I’m not blessed enough to enjoy it.” His voice pulled me from my thoughts. I glanced at him, his eyes fixed on the pudding with an almost pathetic longing. I couldn’t fathom why he’d use a word like “blessed” for a simple dessert. Eleanor, despite being the daughter of a Marquis, had none of the ambition or grace of her station. She was content to potter around in our estate’s kitchens, experimenting with sweets. I’ll admit, they were delicious. If she’d only been willing to apply that talent to my businesses, she could have been of some real use. But she only wanted to create, never to profit, presenting me with her concoctions day after day, asking for my opinion until even the most exquisite flavors turned to ash in my mouth. With a heavy sigh, I pushed the bowl across the desk to Leo. “Here, you have it. Don’t be so dramatic. It’s not like you’re cursed without it.” Leo’s eyes widened. “Brother, I couldn’t. This is from Eleanor… a token of her love for you.” God, I hated it when these military types tried to sound like poets. He was practically drooling, yet he still had to put on this noble act. Such a hypocrite. “I’ve had too many sweets today,” I waved a dismissive hand. “I don’t want it.” As I said it, I saw something flicker across Eleanor’s usually serene face: pure, unadulterated shock. It was as if I’d struck her. Her eyes, wide with disbelief, welled with tears. Without a single word, she turned on her heel and swept out of the room. Not a bow, not a curtsy. Not an ounce of decorum. I frowned, a sharp rebuke on the tip of my tongue. But with Leo still here, I held it back, rubbing my temples in frustration. My affection had spoiled her, it seemed. It had made her bold enough to show me such disrespect. My mind drifted back to the day I had knelt for hours outside her family’s manor, proclaiming my undying love in front of a crowd of nobles, swearing an oath of fidelity—one man, one woman, for all time. If I had known then how painfully predictable she would become, I would never have made such a foolish vow. Now, if I so much as exchanged a pleasant word with another woman, rumors would fly, and some court sycophant would be reporting my “infidelity” to the King. “Brother, is she angry?” Leo’s voice was laced with feigned concern. “Was it my fault? I shouldn’t have been so greedy.” His apology only fueled my irritation. It was just a damn bowl of pudding, and she was throwing a tantrum. How could a woman so petty ever be fit to be the Duchess of my estate? 2 That night, Leo devoured the honey-lotus pudding, practically licking the bowl clean. If I hadn’t stopped him, he probably would have taken the dish with him. I despised that about him. He was the only trueborn son of the Duke, yet he carried himself like a common street rogue with no ambition. Thankfully, the laws of succession in our kingdom were clear: the title passes to the firstborn, not the son of the primary wife. Otherwise, I couldn’t imagine how long our great House would last in his clumsy hands. I sighed, watching him leave before instructing my page to buy a box of cakes from the East Street bakery. Eleanor had a sweet tooth, both for making and eating desserts. Usually, whenever I upset her, a simple offering of pastries was enough to bring back her smile. Her temper was like a kitten’s scratch—sharp for a moment, then easily soothed. It was amusing at first, but now, it just felt tiresome. I’d rather have a courtesan from the pleasure district who could throw a playful insult while fanning herself with a silk handkerchief. Shaking my head, I took the box of cakes from the page and went to our chambers. Eleanor was there, just as I’d expected, sitting at her vanity and brushing her hair. She didn’t even look up when I entered. I slid up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist in a gesture of reconciliation. “My dear, forgive my harsh words. I never meant to cause you pain.” Our eyes met in the polished bronze mirror. “Who ate the pudding?” she asked, her voice flat. I didn’t understand her obsession with this trivial matter. What did it matter if I ate it or Leo ate it? We were family. Frankly, it was her fault for only making one serving. My giving it away was a sign of brotherly generosity, and still, she chose to be difficult. I forced a smile. “I did, of course. How could I give away something made for me with such care?” A small, knowing smile touched her lips. “Good.” I placed the box of cakes in her lap and watched her expression closely. Seeing the familiar delight return to her eyes, I relaxed. “Eleanor, there’s something I need to discuss with you.” This time, however, she didn’t tear into the box with her usual excitement. She merely glanced at it before setting it aside on her vanity. I was surprised but didn’t dwell on it. People change. If I could predict her every move, I wouldn’t have fought so hard to marry her in the first place. A little change wasn’t a crisis; it was… intriguing. “His Majesty wants to send an envoy to Veridia to restore order after the floods. I want to volunteer.” She finally turned to look at me, her gaze steady. “Do you have to go?” I nodded, launching into the speech I had prepared. “Our House has lost favor at court. If I succeed in Veridia, I could earn great prestige for our family. It might be the key to securing my position as the official Heir to the Duchy.” It was true. While the law favored the firstborn, my father had broken his marriage pact with the Duke’s official wife by taking my mother, who was already pregnant with me, as a consort. The King, in his fury, had stripped our House of its guaranteed succession, leaving the title of Heir in limbo. For years, I had schemed and strived, but I could never reclaim the title outright. His Majesty forbade both me and Leo from earning glory on the battlefield, so this mission to Veridia was my only real chance. I laid all this out for Eleanor. She listened patiently, then offered a serene smile. “If this is about securing your legacy, then I would never stand in your way.” She paused, her eyes unreadable. “If your mind is made up, then you should go.” Her calm acceptance left me feeling strangely hollow. She didn’t even ask to come with me. How odd. 3 Still, her not asking saved me the trouble of inventing an excuse to leave her behind. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. As I was about to leave, I noticed a bowl sitting on the windowsill. It looked identical to the one that had held the honey-lotus pudding. But this one was pristine, as if it had never been used. It struck me as strange. Eleanor never bought things in pairs; she found it wasteful. Curious, I asked, “Why did you buy two identical bowls?” She paused for a moment, then gave me an enigmatic smile. “If you believe them to be the same, my love, then I suppose they are.” Her tone had a sharp, sarcastic edge to it, but it was just a bowl. It wasn’t worth arguing over. I swallowed my annoyance. “I’m going to the palace to see His Majesty,” I said. “I’ll need you to pack for me. The situation in Veridia is dire; I’ll probably need a good deal of coin.” Eleanor smiled and agreed. Reassured, I left the estate and made my way to the royal palace. The King wasn’t surprised to see me. He asked me only one question: “In your estimation, what is the true source of the turmoil in Veridia?” I bowed respectfully. “Corruption, Your Majesty. I suspect the relief funds and grain shipments never reached the people who needed them.” The King raised an eyebrow but said nothing more. He simply motioned for a eunuch to bring me the official decree and the robes of a Royal Emissary. On the day of my departure, Eleanor and Leo came to see me off at the city gates. I was dressed in the deep green of my station, while they both wore plain, unadorned white. Standing together, the contrast was jarring, almost offensive. “Eleanor,” I couldn’t help but say, “while I’m gone, perhaps you could wear some other colors. You look so drab in white all the time.” She didn’t answer, but Leo piped up with a grin. “Why pick on her, brother? I’m wearing white too. Besides, she’s been dressing this way for a while now. Why does it bother you today?” He was far more talkative than usual. “You’re noisy,” I snapped, my patience wearing thin. Eleanor shot me a look. “You should get going. The roads are treacherous after dark.” I nodded, signaling the driver to move. As the carriage lurched forward, an odd impulse made me pull back the curtain for one last look. I saw Eleanor pinching Leo’s ear, a stern look on her face. He was saying something, and then he broke into a placating, boyish grin. It was strange, but I dismissed it. I knew how much Eleanor loved me. For her, Leo would always be just a brother-in-law. Nothing more. We traveled day and night, finally reaching the province of Veridia before the month was out. The moment I set foot in the capital, Port Seraphine, the sheer opulence of the place was staggering. Everywhere I looked, there were jewels and precious metals. Women were draped in gold and silver, and even the men wore heavy, expensive-looking signet rings and jade cufflinks. The common folk on the street were adorned with glittering baubles. This was the wealthiest region in the kingdom, no doubt about it. I didn’t start my investigation right away. After parting with my driver, I rented a small, private villa—costly, but Eleanor had packed plenty of silver. That evening, under the cloak of darkness, I changed into common clothes and made my way to the city’s most famous pleasure house, The Silken Siren. My timing was perfect. They were auctioning off a young dancer’s first night. I wasn’t interested. Inexperienced girls were often more trouble than they were worth—even more awkward than Eleanor. Sipping my wine, I scanned the room, my eyes drifting over the courtesans. And then I saw her. A vision in crimson silk, her every movement a symphony of seduction. My heart hammered against my ribs. 4 I summoned the house madam, my voice tight with anticipation. Pointing to the dancer, I said, “Her. I want her for the night.” Before the madam could even begin to haggle, I slapped a heavy gold sovereign down on the table. Her professional smile instantly became genuine. She led me to a private suite and had a bottle of the finest wine delivered. A short while later, the woman of my dreams arrived. She was dressed in veils of silk so thin they were almost transparent, her body a masterpiece of feminine allure. I was mesmerized. I reached out, my hand tracing the soft, supple curve of her waist. This, I thought with a deep, satisfying sigh, is what a woman should feel like. She was nothing like Eleanor, who would go rigid with shyness beneath me. Nothing like my wife, who seemed to view intimacy as a duty, a task to be completed with quiet resignation. As I held this dancer in my arms, ready to lose myself in her, my mind flashed back to my wedding night. Eleanor, beautiful and virginal in her crimson wedding gown, had looked exquisite. I had anticipated a night of passion. Instead, her shyness had been a wall between us. No matter what I did, she remained tense, unyielding. I told myself it was just first-night nerves, that she would soften with time. But she never did. She seemed to resist the very idea of physical pleasure. Worse, she had declared that she would not bear me a child until I had officially secured the title of Heir. Such a cold, calculating heart. Such a passionless existence. My thoughts returned to the present. The dancer from The Silken Siren was a true artist. One night with her was enough to make me feel reborn, to make me want to spend an eternity in her bed. But I hadn’t forgotten my mission entirely. After three nights of bliss, I finally roused myself and began my investigation. Yet no matter where I looked or who I spoke to, Port Seraphine remained a picture of perfect prosperity. The people were wealthy, happy, and spoke of the local authorities with nothing but praise. There wasn’t a hint of the turmoil the King had spoken of. I started to doubt His Majesty’s intelligence. But soon enough, my mind was elsewhere again. The dancer was intoxicating. I, who had never considered myself a man of great appetites, found myself wanting her at all hours, indulging in decadent, sun-drenched afternoons of lovemaking. Before I knew it, I had become her sole patron. Time slipped away. Nearly three months had passed since I’d left the capital. For the first month, I’d received letters from both Eleanor and Leo—mundane updates about the household, polite inquiries about my health. I sent back brief replies and a few local silks and spices. But then the dancer had consumed my thoughts, and I forgot all about writing home. It was only when I realized my funds were dwindling that I noticed it had been over a month since I’d received a letter from either of them. I was a little surprised. I considered writing to ask what was wrong, but then a better idea struck me. There was no unrest in Veridia, the new year was approaching, and my money was almost gone. It was the perfect time to return to the capital. The local officials, hearing of my departure, threw me a lavish farewell banquet, complete with a troupe of dancers. Another night of pleasure. Stroking the dancer’s soft skin, a pang of regret hit me. After I returned to the capital, when would I ever see her again? She was everything I wanted in a woman. A bold, reckless idea took root in my mind. Secretly, using the last of my silver, I bought the dancer’s freedom. I smuggled her into my carriage, hidden from view, and we set off for home. We had just passed through the city gates when my carriage came to an abrupt halt. I looked out to see Eleanor standing in the road, with Leo at her side, blocking our path. “Julian,” she called out, her voice dangerously calm. “You’ve returned to the capital, yet you aren’t heading home. Are you in a rush to get somewhere else?” A spike of fear and annoyance shot through me. If Eleanor discovered the dancer, there would be a terrible scene. The scandal would spread through the court, and the Royal Censors would have a field day. I sighed, ready to offer some flimsy excuse. Then Eleanor’s voice rang out, sharp as shattering glass. “Julian Vance, get out of that carriage now, or we are filing for a divorce!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384933”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

At the freshman welcome mixer, a girl from the incoming class suddenly cornered my childhood best friend, David, who has autism. “Hey,” she said, her voice loud enough to turn heads. “Aren’t you going to explain why you were just touching my thigh?” Just then, the text appeared in my vision—the shimmering, translucent comments that only I could ever see. 【Yesss, here it comes. Our main character curing the broody autistic guy. Kelly’s a natural!】 【Look at him pretending to be annoyed. We all know he’s secretly thrilled. He’s totally falling for our girl.】 【Ugh, so annoying. The side character is about to ruin the vibe and interrupt their flirting.】 【Whatever. Even if the side character interferes, she’ll just make the male lead hate her more. She’s no match for our adorable new heroine.】 1 The air thickened. David looked utterly lost, stammering, “I-I didn’t.” His knuckles were white where he gripped his water bottle. The campus green was packed with students rehearsing for the Welcome Week talent show. The girl’s voice had carried, and now dozens of eyes were on us. Her own eyes were bright with mischief as she giggled. “David Hayes, I thought you were mute. Look at you, using your words!” Whispers rippled through the crowd. Under the weight of their stares and contempt, beads of sweat broke out on David’s forehead. His autism already made speaking difficult; being the center of attention like this was sending him into a full-blown panic. Seeing his silence, the girl’s smirk widened. I was only here to give a speech as a student representative. I never imagined it would lead to this kind of trouble for David. I switched on my phone’s camera and held it up. “Excuse me,” I said, my voice level. “Just to confirm, you’re accusing David Hayes of touching your thigh? Because if you are, I’m calling campus security and having them pull the surveillance footage right now.” The girl’s smile froze. A frown creased her forehead. David stared at me, his throat working silently. The comments began to scroll frantically across my vision. 【LOL, this side character doesn’t play by the rules. Does she think this will make the male lead fall for her?】 【Dumb bitch. They were just flirting. She’s about to trigger his protective-boyfriend mode and she doesn’t even know it.】 【She’s just jealous the main character can get a reaction out of him. What a petty little snake.】 The girl shot me a dirty look, her voice turning whiny. “It was just a joke. You’re being way too uptight, upperclassman.” But the triumphant glint in her eyes screamed that I was a busybody. I started dialing. “A joke?” I snapped. “Do you have any idea what slander is? It’s a crime.” To my shock, David finally spoke, his words slow and strained. “Don’t… Stay out of it.” He reached out and shoved my arm, knocking the phone from my hand. It went sailing in an arc through the air. More stares. More whispers. David was a man of few words, but never, in all the years I’d stood up for him, had he publicly humiliated me like this. I took a deep, shuddering breath to keep myself from slapping him. I bent down, picked up my phone, and turned to leave without another word. Fine. I was done. The comments were a chorus of smug satisfaction. 【LMAO, the side piece is gonna have an aneurysm. Serves her right for being extra.】 【The guy himself doesn’t even care. She’s like the gossip queen reincarnated.】 【She’s always hanging around him, but he’s never called her his girlfriend. She’s just delusional.】 A second later, David was jogging to catch up with me. He tugged gently on my sleeve, the same way he always did when he knew he’d messed up. I turned, and he looked at me with that wide-eyed, innocent expression that always worked on me. The comments exploded. 【WTF is the male lead doing? Why is he chasing after that psycho?】 【This side chick is such a drama queen. Playing hard to get? So gross.】 【David, get back to our girl Kelly! She’d go home with you tonight if you just asked. What’s so great about this little snake anyway?】 I looked down, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. I knew David’s mind worked differently, but this still felt like a slap in the face. After my parents left, his mother, Mrs. Hayes, had been the one to look out for me. I couldn’t bring myself to yell at him, but I wasn’t going to swallow my pride either. I yanked my sleeve out of his grasp. “I’m tired from the event,” I said, my voice cold. “I’m going back to my dorm.” The comments flashed. 【What a bitch.】 David just blinked, saying what he always said when we parted. “Be safe.” 2 After the Welcome Week festivities, my senior year schedule became even more brutal. I’d already secured a spot in a top-tier graduate program, but I still had to connect with my new advisor and finish a major project for my undergrad mentor. I spent my days buried in the lab, trying not to think about how much David had hurt me. Occasionally, I’d overhear snippets of gossip about the ‘Freshman It Girl’ chasing the ‘Genius Upperclassman.’ Then, one evening, I got a frantic call from Mrs. Hayes. “Lara,” she said, her voice tight with panic, “David has been so… distant lately. He’s not home yet, and he forgot his medication.” Her voice cracked. “I’m so afraid he’s going to have an episode. Can you please, please take his pills to him?” I understood the gravity of the situation immediately. After reassuring her, I grabbed my bag and sprinted to the university’s art building. But when I got to the studio, David’s easel was empty. A student I knew glanced up from his work. “Well, if it isn’t David’s little girlfriend,” he teased. “Here to check up on your man? You’re in the wrong place. He barely comes here anymore.” A cold dread seeped into my bones. The submission deadline for the International Art Competition was just two weeks away. Why wouldn’t he be in the studio? After a quick text to his roommate, I finally found him at an off-campus bar. The moment I stepped inside, the blast of noise—clinking glasses, shouting, thumping music—gave me a headache. I couldn’t imagine David, who despised loud places, being here. The private room was dimly lit, the air thick with a cloying, intimate energy. Kelly was pressed right up against David, her face so close to his they were almost touching. I watched as her finger traced the bridge of his nose while she whispered something in his ear. David’s eyelashes fluttered. His ears flushed crimson, but he didn’t push her away like he did with everyone else who got too close. They were the center of attention, and the others in the room were hooting and laughing. The comment stream, which had been quiet, lit up. 【OMG, I’m dying! This is too sweet! He’s powerless against our seductive queen!】 【LMAO, Kelly knows how to flirt. She’s making me blush.】 【Taking notes! Next time I’m gonna ask my crush if what they say about guys with big noses is true.】 I knocked on the open door, just loud enough to be heard over the noise. When David’s eyes met mine, the red at the tips of his ears hadn’t faded. Kelly shot me a defiant smirk and nudged him. “Look, David, your babysitter’s here. She chased you all the way to a bar. Maybe you should be a good boy and go home with her?” “Hah! Don’t tell me you’re in your twenties and still have a chaperone!” someone else jeered. The room erupted in laughter. Someone whistled. “Wow, didn’t peg you as a mama’s boy, Hayes! Is that your mom calling you home?” David glared at me, his expression making it perfectly clear that I was not welcome. Kelly looked at me like a victorious general. “Sorry, Lara. I think David wants to stay here and play with me tonight.” The comments were merciless. 【Does this side chick really think she can show up and claim him? LMAO, what a clown.】 【It’s useless. All this drama is just gonna push the main characters closer together!】 I closed my eyes for a second, then chucked the bottle from my bag directly into David’s lap. Kelly snatched it from him, holding it up to the dim light. “Risperidone?” she read aloud. “What’s this for?” David froze, then scrambled to check the contents of my bag that I had thrown at him. When he looked back up at me, he couldn’t meet my gaze. Without a timely dose of Risperidone, he was prone to severe self-harm. I knew because it had happened once before. Mrs. Hayes had been called away for a family emergency. When I let myself into their house, I found David sitting on the bathroom floor, methodically slicing at his own body with a utility knife, his face completely blank. He seemed to feel no pain, just carving into his own flesh as if it belonged to someone else. His arms and legs were a bloody mess, the white tiles painted with crimson patterns. He was about to cut into a major artery when I dove forward and grabbed the blade with my bare hands. The scar on my palm never fully faded. It was a permanent reminder of that day. Ever since, I’ve carried a spare bottle of his medication in my bag at all times. And David knew it. 3 Kelly smirked. “David, this isn’t… that kind of pill, is it? Wow, Lara must really care about your… private life. You should thank her.” Her eyes darted suggestively toward his crotch. “I mean, you said you two were just friends. It’s so nice of her to be this thoughtful.” A stream of 【KELLY IS A QUEEN!!!】 filled my vision, followed by a dozen exclamation points, as if she’d just done something heroic. I frowned, not understanding what they were so excited about. My job was done. I needed to get back to the lab. As I turned to leave, David stood up. “Wait. I’ll walk you back.” Guilt, I assumed. An attempt to make amends. I saw Kelly’s smile tighten at the corners. The comments rolled. 【Ugh, I’m so jealous. This bitch literally just showed up to annoy our girl!】 【Can the side character just f*** off already? I can’t stand seeing her in another scene. She’s such a pick-me girl!】 【It’s fine, the key plot point is coming up. The male lead is gonna drop the international competition for the female lead and just stay here for grad school. Then the side chick will go to a different school, get bullied by her advisor, and commit suicide. After that, it’s happily ever after for our OTP!】 I froze, staring at the words floating in the air. Kelly stood up, blocking David’s path. “Hey, you promised me,” she purred. “You lost the bet, so you have to spend the night with me. You can’t go back on your word!” Her words were dripping with innuendo, sending another wave of hoots through the room. David stopped, his cheeks burning. He shot me a helpless, apologetic look. I sighed. “You don’t have to walk me back. I can go by myself.” Before I left, I looked him straight in the eye. “Is our plan to go to Stanton University for grad school still on?” I was already a lock for the program at SU. David just needed a win at the upcoming competition to secure his spot. With his talent, it should have been easy, but he’d missed the competition the last two years because his mother had been ill. I could have gone to SU for my undergrad, but I’d chosen our current university to stay with him. He knew that. He’d promised we would go to grad school there together. I couldn’t believe he would break that promise. I refused to believe my story would end like the comments predicted. David gave me a firm, serious nod. Relief washed over me. The comments were just nonsense. None of that would happen. In the days that followed, I focused on the lab, waiting for the official acceptance letters to be released. On the final day for the competition submissions, I texted David to make sure he’d sent in his portfolio. After a long pause, he replied with a simple “OK” emoji. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. But as I was reading a research paper, the comments flickered back to life. 【The male lead just got a distress call from the female lead! Look at the change in his expression! LMAO.】 【Our girl Kelly is so smart. Faking being harassed to test his feelings. Genius move.】 【Look how worried he is! Once they meet up, they’re definitely gonna confess their feelings for each other.】 My blood ran cold. I immediately tried calling David. It rang a few times, then went to voicemail. I tried again. Disconnected. Again and again, he rejected my calls. The comments mocked me. 【Is this desperate side chick seriously calling to nag him about his art submission right now?】 【LOL, she needs a reality check. She has no idea where she stands in his heart. She can’t do anything to stop them.】 【You really think you can compete with our main character? Just go to SU and save yourself the embarrassment, lmao.】 I stared at my computer screen, the words of the article blurring into an incomprehensible mess. Late that night, a text from David finally came through. 【I think staying here for my Master’s is a better fit for me.】 4 I glanced at the time. It was past midnight. The competition deadline had passed. Everything had happened exactly as the comments had foretold. The next morning, I was at the Hayes’s front door. I had worked my ass off for that grad school plan. Even a saint would have a breaking point, and I had reached mine. How dare he just back out? I didn’t expect to find Kelly sitting in their living room, greeting me like she lived there. “Lara! What are you doing here? Looking for David? I’ll go get him for you.” She started to get up, ready to shout toward his room. A comment popped up. 【Our genius girl is here to piss off the side character again! Hahahaha!】 I took a deep breath, walked past her to David’s room, knocked three times, and pushed the door open. David was shirtless, halfway through pulling on a t-shirt. He stared at me in shock. Kelly shrieked from behind me. “Lara, what are you doing? He has no privacy with you around!” More comments. 【What a bitch. Just trying to show off how much closer she is to him than the main character.】 The truth was, Mrs. Hayes had never put a lock on his door, terrified he might have an episode. I had been walking in like this for years to avoid disturbing him while he painted. I cut straight to the point. “David, we had a deal. We were going to Stanton together. What gives you the right to just back out?” He avoided my eyes, slowly pulling on his shirt without a word. But Kelly jumped in, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “Lara, don’t blame him. It was my fault. If I hadn’t gotten hassled by those creeps, he wouldn’t have missed the deadline.” “I wasn’t talking to you,” I said flatly. “Don’t flatter yourself.” Kelly’s eyes widened, stunned that I would be so blunt. David frowned, his voice sharp. “Lara, don’t be mean to her. This has nothing to do with her.” I almost laughed. “Fine,” I shot back, my voice rising. “Then you tell me. Why did you break your promise for no reason? Because she had a problem? A problem she couldn’t call the police about, so she had to call you instead?” He still wouldn’t look at me. He knew I was right. Mrs. Hayes came out of the kitchen. “Lara, what’s with all the shouting?” Before I could answer, Kelly interjected. “Lara, David has his own plans. You shouldn’t try to tie his future to yours!” The comments went wild. 【Wooooow, our girl is in protective mode!】 I fixed my gaze on David. “Am I tying you down? Did I force you to apply to Stanton?” He was silent for a long moment, then mumbled, “I want to stay here.” The air left my lungs. He hadn’t answered my question. He had stabbed me in the back. Again. Kelly’s smile was triumphant. “See, Lara? You can’t always expect him to accommodate you. You’ll ruin his future.” Her voice was sickeningly sweet. “He’s a genius. He knows what’s best for himself.” David said nothing, which was as good as an agreement. Mrs. Hayes’s expression hardened. “Lara, we’re happy for you that you got into Stanton. But if David wants to stay here, you should respect his decision.” She sighed. “He’s not a child anymore. He can’t always rely on you to take care of him. The two of you… should be more mindful of appearances.” My heart turned to ice. My own parents were always busy, never home. Growing up, it was Mrs. Hayes who had always called me over for dinner, giving me my only taste of a warm family life. I had poured all my affection, all my loyalty, into her and her son. I took on the burden of protecting David from the world as my way of repaying her kindness. I shielded him from bullies and cruel whispers for over a decade. My entire future was planned around his. And Mrs. Hayes knew it. She knew all about our plan to go to SU. Now, she was acting like I was a burden, her words dripping with resentment. The comments were ecstatic. 【LMAO, even his mom is on the main character’s side now! What a failure!】 【The mother-in-law probably realized Kelly is better for him. The side character is useless now! Look at our cute main girl!】 【Seeing the side chick’s face go pale is so satisfying! This is the kind of drama I’ve been waiting for!】 That’s when I noticed it. Ever since David had spoken up, Mrs. Hayes hadn’t taken her eyes off Kelly. Her expression was full of surprise and excitement. Even she could see how differently David treated this new girl. And because of that, she had chosen her son, and Kelly, without a moment’s hesitation. All the strength drained out of me. After all these years, I was still just a useful outsider. This wasn’t a family. And I didn’t want it anymore. “Fine,” I said, my voice hollow. “From now on, David is no longer my problem.” 5 Mrs. Hayes had tried to set me and David up before, and I hadn’t resisted. In my heart, the longing for a real family, a place to belong, had always been a desperate ache, even if I knew my feelings for David were more sisterly than romantic. But now, she had made it clear: David didn’t need my protection anymore. With that, my debt to her was paid. The Hayes family would never be my family. The hope I’d cherished for so long was just a childish fantasy. As I walked out their door, my resolve hardened. I pulled out my phone and sent a message to my academic advisor, officially withdrawing my application for the graduate program. Then, I texted a number I hadn’t contacted in years. 【Dad, I want to apply to grad school abroad. Can you help me, just this once?】

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384932”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Three years after I left Rick Hayes, I moved back into his house. He was still single. Shamelessly, I slept in his bed, used his credit card, and slept with him. It only took a month for everyone to assume we were getting back together. I even managed to drive out the secretary who had been by his side for a decade. The day she got married, a completely drunk Rick finally seemed to surrender. “Fine,” he slurred, a note of helpless resignation in his voice. “I’ll remarry you.” But the next morning, I wasn’t there. Waiting for him on the steps of City Hall was my three-year-old daughter. 1 When Rick and I divorced, it was ugly. I was convinced something was going on between him and his secretary. He insisted I was being irrational. “For God’s sake, Lara, can you just let it go? It was a cup of hot water. When are you going to drop it?” Rick, who hadn’t spoken to me in over a week, finally broke his silence, rubbing his exhausted temples. A cup of hot water. It was the incident that made me the laughingstock of our entire social circle. No one could understand why I’d thrown such a massive fit over Rick simply pouring his secretary a cup of hot water. I’ll admit, there were times I wondered if I had overreacted. But every time I replayed that moment in my mind, the same bitter sense of betrayal washed over me. We had both been caught in a downpour—me and Anna, the secretary who had been with him for years. The second we got into the car, before I had even closed my door, I saw Rick grab a thermos from the console and hand it to her. It was so natural, so effortless. She took it without a second thought, cradling it in her hands and taking a few careful sips. In that instant, my own hands were so cold they trembled. My heart felt like it had been encased in ice. This was the same man who wouldn’t even bother to pick up a knocked-over trash can at home, yet here he was, attending to another woman with such quiet, intimate care. I lost my temper immediately. Rick didn’t see the big deal. “Anna’s on her period today,” he said dismissively. “You’re not.” And with those words, I filed for divorce. The proceedings dragged on for nearly six months. We fought at home, we fought at his parents’ house, we fought at his office. It became a public spectacle, and eventually, the gossip started to tarnish his secretary’s reputation. Only then did Rick finally agree to sign the papers. The day it was finalized, we stood glaring at each other, clutching our divorce decrees, and swore we would stay out of each other’s lives forever. But three years later, I showed up on his doorstep with a suitcase in my hand. And he let me in. 2 Rick hadn’t changed much. He was just as handsome, but the look he gave me was colder than I remembered. The reunion wasn’t as awkward as I’d feared. He just stood there, silent, staring at me with that icy expression. I squeezed past him and strolled inside as if I owned the place. “I’m broke,” I announced, my voice full of unearned confidence. “I’ll be crashing here for a while.” I then asked the housekeeper to take my bags upstairs. Rick didn’t move from the doorway. “Get out.” I made myself comfortable on the sofa, poured a glass of water, and waved a dismissive hand at him. “Don’t be so stingy. It’s not like you’ve remarried. I won’t get in your way.” That was a lie. I was here specifically to get in his way. I didn’t know why he hadn’t married his secretary yet, but I was going to make sure he never did. Rick, for all his faults, was a gentleman. As long as I was shameless enough, he wouldn’t physically throw me out. And so, I successfully moved back in. He worked in his study late into the night. When he finally came to bed, freshly showered, his arm brushed against mine. He flinched as if he’d been burned. In less than a second, he had rolled over and pinned me to the mattress, his body a dead weight on top of mine. His eyes were narrowed to slits, the words ground out between his teeth. “Lara, you are playing with fire.” I let him hold my wrists, my body going limp against the soft mattress. “I’m used to this bed. I can’t sleep anywhere else.” A bitter, humorless laugh escaped him. His handsome features twisted into a sneer as he leaned close to my ear. “So you haven’t slept in three years?” My, my. A few years apart, and even the emotionally stunted Rick Hayes had learned sarcasm. Must be the influence of his cheerful little secretary. Unsurprisingly, he grabbed me by the collar and tossed me out of the room. He even threw my slippers out after me. Such a temper. I sat on the floor for a moment, looking at the dark bruises already forming on my wrist. I zoned out for a second. He hadn’t actually used much force. It was just the medication—it made my body more fragile than a normal person’s. I stood up, dusting myself off, a pang of regret hitting me. Maybe I shouldn’t have pushed him so hard. I only had a month left. I hoped it would be enough time. 3 I was up before dawn the next morning, shooing the housekeeper out of the kitchen so I could make Rick breakfast myself. I’d never cooked for him once during our marriage, but here I was, three years divorced, slaving over a lavish spread of four dishes and a soup. Surely, he would be moved. Just as I set the food on the table, Rick came downstairs, impeccably dressed for work. He walked right past me as if I were invisible, heading straight for the door. I quickly blocked his path. “Rick, you are not leaving until you eat what I made.” He shot me a contemptuous look. “With your cooking skills? I’d rather not be poisoned.” That was the old me. I had a culinary certificate now. When he didn’t move, I grabbed the sleeve of his pristine shirt and tried to pull him toward the table. He stood rooted to the spot, immovable, but at least he wasn’t leaving. Taking that as a cue, I hurried to ladle out a bowl of chicken soup. I’d been simmering it since last night. It smelled divine. But before I could bring it to him, the front door opened. “Mr. Hayes, I brought you breakfast,” a cheerful voice called out. “It’s a bit cold, let me just heat it up for you.” Rick’s secretary, Anna, bustled in, not noticing me at first. She moved toward the kitchen with a practiced ease that told me she’d done this a hundred times before. “No need,” I said, my voice bright and sweet as I held up the bowl of soup. “I’ve already made breakfast for Rick. You can have yours, Miss Foster.” She froze, her eyes widening when she saw me. I could see the fear in them. She forced a smile. “Mrs. Hayes… you’re back?” Her voice trembled, and she’d forgotten to use my maiden name. Before she could correct herself, I shot a flirtatious glance at Rick and said, “It’s alright. Maybe in a few days, I’ll be Mrs. Hayes again.” Rick rolled his eyes, probably worried I was about to bully his precious secretary. “Anna, forget breakfast. Let’s go.” I blocked the doorway, holding the soup in one hand and raising the spoon to his tightly pressed lips with the other. I was prepared for a long standoff. But just then, a side effect of the medication kicked in. My hand started to shake uncontrollably. Hot soup sloshed over my knuckles, turning the skin an angry red. Terrified he would notice, I summoned the last of my strength to step aside and clear a path for them. But Rick, who had been so eager to leave, suddenly snatched the bowl from my hand and downed the entire thing in one go. 4 Anna didn’t come back to the house after that day. I casually asked the housekeeper about it. Apparently, aside from the occasional breakfast delivery, Anna had never spent the night. It didn’t seem like a typical boyfriend-girlfriend arrangement. But that was impossible. Anna had been with Rick since she graduated from college. Ten years, and not a single boyfriend. I didn’t believe for a second that she wasn’t in love with him. And Rick… he had been willing to divorce me to protect her reputation. He had to be crazy about her. Could it be that Anna refused to stay here because I had once lived in this house? Did they have another home together somewhere else? If so, my being here was completely pointless. I couldn’t break them up if they weren’t even around. No, I had to go to his office. Using the excuse of bringing him lunch, I had the housekeeper pack up a few dishes and headed to his company. The security guard at the front desk didn’t recognize me, so I had to call Rick. He sounded like he was in a meeting and hung up on me before I could finish my sentence. A few minutes later, Anna appeared, dressed in a sharp white power suit. On her home turf, she was a different person. “Miss Reed,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension, “Mr. Hayes is busy. If you have a message, you can give it to me.” Had he sent her down to get rid of me? She must have complained to him after seeing me at the house, and now he was letting her put me in my place. I smiled sweetly. “Miss Foster, if Rick was really in love with you, don’t you think he would have married you by now? He proposed to me a month after we started dating.” Yes, I was trying to stir up trouble. But she was good. Rick had trained her well. She didn’t even flinch. “Miss Reed, I don’t believe my relationship with Mr. Hayes is any of your business.” She had a point. I couldn’t argue with that. So, I resorted to brute force. When she wasn’t looking, I made a mad dash for the elevators. In the end, Rick himself had to come down to get me. Inside the elevator, he didn’t even spare me a glance. His attention was solely on his secretary. “Are you hurt?” he asked her, his voice soft with concern. She shook her head, looking at him with adoration, and then shot me a tiny, triumphant smile. She was taunting me again. Since no one was talking to me, I decided to start a conversation myself. “Rick, is this elevator for your personal use only?” I had seen the “CEO Only” plaque on the wall. But Anna had used it to come down. “I have a weak constitution,” Anna answered for him, her voice full of pride. “Mr. Hayes is considerate. He doesn’t want me to get jostled in the crowded staff elevators. So yes, only the two of us are allowed to use this one.” Rick remained silent, but I saw his brow furrow slightly. 5 Now that I was in his office, there was no way I was leaving easily. After about a dozen trips to the bathroom to stall for time, I used the excuse of being too sleepy to keep my eyes open and crashed on his sofa. The medication made me tire easily, so it wasn’t entirely a lie. I actually did drift off. In a daze, I thought I felt him drape a jacket over me. Anna came in and out several times, bringing him coffee, delivering files, her eyes constantly darting in my direction. I vaguely heard her say, “Mr. Hayes, if this is difficult for you, I can have security escort Miss Reed out. Having her here like this… it’s causing gossip among the staff.” The pen in Rick’s hand stopped moving. He looked up, his eyes cold. “What did you just call her?” Anna’s face went pale. She bit her lip, looking pitiful and fragile. Rick’s harsh demeanor softened. “You can go,” he said, his voice gentle. “You don’t need to stay and work overtime with me tonight.” But for once, the ever-obedient Anna stood her ground. “Mr. Hayes,” she said, her hands clenched at her sides, “when you were at your lowest, she humiliated you in front of your competitors and stole the project you’d worked on for a year. Why are you still letting her back into your life?” Rick’s face darkened. He looked at the tears welling in Anna’s eyes and, against his better judgment, offered an explanation. “What happened back then wasn’t her fault. I wasn’t clear with her. She misunderstood.” Anna’s tears finally spilled over. “You poured me a cup of hot water! How much clearer did you need to be? I explained it to her! I told her you always remembered my cycle because you would lighten my workload during that time. But she wouldn’t listen! She used your love for her to throw tantrums time and time again, and you were always the one to apologize first. You’re finally free of her. Why would you get tangled up with this mess again?” The next second, a stack of files went flying off his desk, hitting the floor with a loud thud that made Anna jump. Rick glanced over at me on the sofa. Then, his voice low and dangerous, he said to Anna, “Get. Out.” 6 I slept for a long time. When I woke up, it was dark outside. The office was pitch black, except for the single desk lamp illuminating Rick’s workspace. He was still there, working. He’d always been a workaholic. He’d forget to eat, to drink, to sleep. I used to invent all sorts of ridiculous errands for him—buy me bubble tea from the West End, pastries from that bakery on the East Side—just to get him to leave the office at a decent hour. The memories flickered before my eyes. If it weren’t for what happened, Rick would have been a good husband. He never once refused any of my requests. He saw that I was awake. He closed the file in front of him, came over, and took his suit jacket off of me, his back turned to me the whole time. “Let’s go. I’ll take you home.” Had he been waiting for me? He could have just woken me up. Anna was gone. Had she gone home for the night? But if she was his girlfriend, surely she wouldn’t be comfortable leaving him alone with me. I decided to ask. “You and Anna seem to have a pretty open relationship. She’s okay with you being alone in a room with your ex-wife?” Rick stopped walking and turned to me, a confused look on his face. “Why would I need her permission?” “Well, you two are together, aren’t you?” He took a step closer, his gaze intense as he stared into my eyes.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384931”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The power struggle was already over by the time they brought me back. My brother, three years my senior, had inherited the family empire. The girl who had taken my place had married a man from an equally powerful family. And me? I was just an ordinary girl who’d dropped out after middle school, with a small-town view of the world and the simple speech to match. My parents, sighing with a kind of weary disappointment, settled me into the west wing annex of the grand estate. They promised to take care of me for the rest of my life, but never once shared a meal with me. After three months in this gilded cage, I decided it was time to leave. 1 “Oh, my sweet boy, look what Grandma brought for you!” “Mom, you spoil him rotten.” “He’s my perfect grandson. If I can’t spoil him, who can?” The lighthearted banter between mother and daughter filled the grand living room as they led a little boy of about three inside. It was a familiar scene, one that had played out countless times over the last three months, the warmth and laughter swelling to fill the cavernous space. But none of it had anything to do with me. I had returned to this family three months ago. My adoptive parents had just passed away when a man who shared a faint resemblance to me found me. He said he was my brother. He told me the family had been searching for me for years, that our parents were desperate to have me home. I’d always known I wasn’t my parents’ biological daughter, and a part of me was curious to see the faces of the people who gave me life. To understand how I’d been lost in the first place. Only after I arrived did I learn the truth. There was already a daughter in this house, a stand-in who had received all the love and affection meant for me: Rosalind Kenny. It was Rosalind’s biological mother who had stolen me from the hospital nursery and abandoned me. By some miracle, someone found me and took me in. Now, Rosalind was a graduate of a top university, serving as the Director of Public Relations for the Kenny Corporation. She was married to Declan Vance, the heir to a fortune that rivaled our own, and they had a son. And me? I was just a fisherman’s daughter with a middle school education. My biological parents met me once, then promptly tucked me away in the estate’s annex. The constant buzz of life in the main house was a world away, my only connection a bank account my brother had deposited two million dollars into—”pocket money,” he’d called it. I stood for a moment under the rose trellis, listening to my mother, Eleanor, ask when Mr. Vance would be arriving for dinner. Just then, the housekeeper assigned to me hurried over, grabbing my arm and pulling me back toward my solitary wing. “Honestly, Miss Stella, don’t you know your place?” she hissed, her voice a sharp whisper. “What are you doing in the main house? You can’t possibly keep up with the conversations Mrs. Kenny and Miss Rosalind are having. Why embarrass yourself?” She tightened her grip, her face contorting with scorn. “Don’t tell me you’re still dreaming of replacing Miss Rosalind, of marrying Mr. Vance yourself? You should take a good long look in the mirror. You’re not even in the same league.” The Kennys and the Vances had an arrangement, a betrothal made when their children were infants. If Rosalind’s mother hadn’t thrown me away, the one married to Declan Vance would have been me. In the three months I’d been here, I’d only seen Declan once. I was looking for a stray cat I’d been feeding, and I’d accidentally stepped into the path of his car. My so-called mother, Eleanor, had rushed out, yanking me aside with a look of pure alarm. “What are you doing out here? What kind of scene are you trying to make?” she’d demanded, her eyes filled with suspicion. “I told you, what happened was that woman’s fault. Rosalind was just a newborn, an innocent baby! You can’t blame her!” Her voice dropped to a fierce whisper. “Rosalind and Declan grew up together. They have years of history, a bond that someone like you—someone who didn’t even finish high school—could never break. Have some self-awareness! The Kenny family will provide for you, but that’s all.” Three months in, and Rosalind was still the one and only Miss Kenny. I was just the girl in the annex, who had to depend on the housekeeper’s mood for a meal because I didn’t know how to operate the high-tech stove. As I stared at the housekeeper’s twisted, sneering face in the fading light of dusk, a laugh escaped my lips. It started as a quiet chuckle and grew. She dragged me back to my rooms. “Wait right here!” she commanded before disappearing into the kitchen, but not before firing one last warning shot. “You’re not a kid anymore. You should learn to be smart. Kiss up to the young mistress and Mrs. Vance, and maybe they’ll find you a nice widower to marry. If you get thrown out of here, who’s going to listen to you cry then?” She sounded more entitled than the actual daughter of the house. I didn’t wait for her. I turned around and walked out of the annex. All I had wanted was to see what my biological parents looked like. And just now, I was only trying to find a quiet moment to say goodbye. Since that wasn’t possible, I decided this would have to do. 2 I left with only three things: my ID, my bank card, and my phone. I walked down the long, sweeping driveway until I was beyond the Kenny estate’s imposing gates. A taxi was already waiting, just as I’d arranged. I had arrived on the Kennys’ private jet, but for my departure, I chose the cheapest option: the slow, cross-country train. After buying a ticket for a sleeper car, I picked up some takeout—a warm pretzel, a slice of pepperoni pizza, and a couple of sticky cinnamon buns—and boarded the train. The locomotive chugged along at its own leisurely pace, and I ate and drank, watching the landscape blur past my window. A week later, I was back in the small coastal town where I grew up. I had shipped some things ahead, and I shared them with the neighbors before heading to the town’s docks to look at boats. The people here had been fishermen for generations. A few months ago, my parents had died at sea during a sudden squall while trying to rescue another boat. Our own vessel was badly damaged in the storm, no longer seaworthy. I never thought I’d own a boat of my own again, but life had a funny way of working out. I now had two million dollars. I spent eight hundred thousand on a boat that was bigger and better than anything I had ever dared to dream of, and I took her out on the water immediately. The salty air whipped my hair across my face, and the suffocating weight of that mansion finally lifted. The skills I had—piloting a boat, reading the wind, finding schools of fish—were all taught to me by my parents. I didn’t need modern equipment; I could find the fish using just the wind, the currents, and a deep, instinctual feeling in my gut. I felt the growing drag on the nets below, the heavy pull of a good catch, and a slow smile spread across my lips. This. This was my life. As for the future… I hauled in the nets, took my catch back to the docks to sell, and then returned to town to pay off the remaining balance on the boat. By the time I got home, the sky was dark. I lit three sticks of incense for my parents and cleaned the small house from top to bottom. Old Mrs. Gable from next door brought over a hot meal, her face etched with worry. My mom had told me that she was the one who found me by the shore all those years ago, nearly frozen to death, and brought me to my parents. “Were they unkind to you, dear?” she asked softly. “But… aren’t you their real daughter?” I just smiled and shook my head. “Turns out blood isn’t thicker than water. Besides, the other one… she really is exceptional.” A top-tier education, sharp as a tack. Mrs. Gable sighed. “But you’re just a girl, all alone out on this sea. How long can you keep fishing like this?” I walked her home and then went to see the town mayor. Most of the fishermen here sold their catch to a large processing plant, which then distributed it across the country. But the plant paid pennies on the dollar, and in recent years, more and more young people had left for the cities, leaving only the elderly and children to struggle on. I laid out a plan for the mayor. I was willing to invest a portion of the money I had left to buy equipment and set up our own direct-to-consumer online shop, complete with a live-stream to sell our catch. By cutting out the middleman, we could increase our profits by at least thirty percent. The mayor was overjoyed. He immediately gathered a group of the town’s most meticulous and hard-working women to set up a temporary processing station on the docks, where they would sort, ice, and pack orders as they came in. For our on-camera talent, we recruited some of the younger folks who had worked in the city and returned with clear, fast-talking sales pitches. I started my own channel too, but my content was different. I took my viewers out to sea with me, showing them how to find fish, identify different types of seafood, read the tides, and chase the wind. I also taught them critical survival skills, like what to do if you accidentally fall overboard. Life alone was a little lonely, but it was also freeing. I could go home when I wanted, or just drift on the waves if I didn’t. Being on my own meant I could venture into more remote waters, chasing after more valuable, exotic catches. 3 One day, I’d fallen asleep on the deck when my other phone—the one the Kennys knew about—suddenly rang. I woke up with a start. The moment I answered, my brother Julian’s voice, cold and tight with suppressed fury, shot through the receiver. “Stella, are you done with this childish tantrum?” “You’re not a teenager anymore. Do you think running away from home is some kind of statement? Does it make you feel special?” “Get back here. Now. Grandfather wants to see you.” It took me a groggy moment to remember that the Kennys had a patriarch, an old man who had been recovering from an illness abroad. So, he was back and wanted to meet me. That must have been when they finally noticed I was gone. “Give him my regards,” I said calmly. “I’m busy with work. I’m not coming back.” “Work?” His voice shot up, laced with disbelief. “What kind of work can someone with a middle school diploma get? Waiting tables? Working on an assembly line? Have you no shame?” He took a breath. “I’m giving you one day. Get back here, apologize to Mom and Dad, and stay put in the annex where you belong. We won’t let you starve. The least you can do is stop embarrassing us!” I lay back, feeling the sea breeze on my face. A subconscious calculation clicked in my mind, a shift in the wind, and I quietly gave my boat a new heading. Only then did I realize Julian had stopped his tirade. “Are you finished?” I asked. “You—” “I’m not asking for your opinion,” I cut him off. “I’m informing you of my decision. I am not coming back. And you don’t have to worry about me tarnishing your precious family name. After all, your name is Kenny. Mine is not.” I paused, then added, “Oh, and thank you for the two million dollars. And for your hospitality these past three months. But from now on, you don’t need to concern yourselves with my life.” 4 After splashing some water on my face, I realized my phone was still live-streaming. The chat had exploded. My viewer count had skyrocketed. Everyone was asking the same questions: Which Kenny family? What’s your relationship with them? The Kennys thought my lack of education was an embarrassment. Frankly, I wanted nothing more to do with them either. So, I ignored the questions. After securing my equipment in a waterproof case, I dove into the ocean, taking my audience on a tour of the world beneath the waves, a world more beautiful than any starry sky. But it wasn’t long before my stream was suddenly shut down due to a complaint. I started a new account. It was shut down too. I had no choice but to head back to town to get a new SIM card. As I approached the village, however, I sensed a strange tension in the air. A line of black luxury cars was parked at the docks. As soon as he saw me, Julian stepped out of one, his face a thundercloud. A moment later, the back door of another car opened, and my mother, Eleanor, emerged, her expression pinched with disgust. “Stella, how long are you going to keep this up?” she demanded, her voice dripping with undisguised disappointment. “Are you staying in this godforsaken backwater on purpose? Is your goal to make us the laughingstock of our entire circle?” Rosalind appeared behind her, helping her out of the car. Her face wore the same look of disdain as Eleanor’s, but her words were coated in a layer of pained sorrow. “Sister, I know my biological mother and I have wronged you, but what good does any of this do for you?” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “Putting yourself on display like this… the sea is so dangerous, so grueling. You’re breaking Mom and Dad’s hearts.” She took a step forward. “I know you’re angry. But in my heart, they are my only parents. I… if you don’t like me, if you can’t stand the sight of me, I can stay away. I can meet Mom, Dad, and Julian somewhere else. Would that make you happy?” Just then, Toby, Mrs. Gable’s little grandson, ran up and hugged my leg, trying to pull me toward his house for dinner. I scooped him up and lifted him over my head, spinning him around until he giggled. “Stella!” Julian roared, his patience clearly gone. I sighed, then walked toward them, still holding Toby. “Julian,” I said, my voice even. “Do you remember what I told you before I agreed to go back with you?” He frowned, clearly having dismissed whatever I’d said as unimportant. “I said I would go and see,” I reminded him. “I’ve seen it. Now I’ve left. What’s the problem?” I looked from his face to Eleanor’s. “You don’t like me, and I don’t like you. Why are we forcing this?” “You—” “It’s about saving face, isn’t it?” I cut him off. “Well, your face is right where it’s always been—on your head.” As if on cue, Toby reached out and patted Julian’s cheek. “It’s right here,” he said in his tiny, piping voice. I turned my gaze to Eleanor. “‘We won’t let you starve,’ right? When have I ever needed a meal from you? If you truly missed me, if you truly felt guilty, if you truly loved me, wouldn’t you have thought of me constantly? I lived in your house for three months. Can you name a single moment when you thought of me as anything other than an embarrassment?” My voice grew harder. “It’s true, I don’t have a fancy education. I lack your polish. But when I was on the brink of death, the ones who gave me food, who taught me to read and to be a decent human being, were my adoptive parents! Don’t you dare think that just because you contributed some DNA, you have the right to dictate my life.” As for Rosalind, I glanced at her and let out a cold laugh. “You want to play the victim? Do you have any idea what it’s like for a newborn to be thrown into the ocean? Do you know what happens? Drowning is the easy way out. The cold water causes rapid hypothermia, cardiac arrest, organ failure. Or the shock triggers a laryngeal spasm, and you suffocate. Or you get swept away by the currents, torn apart, eaten by marine life.” “You, the one who benefited from all of it, are going to stand there and lecture me? Coming to me with your crocodile tears… Do you really think I’m that stupid?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384930”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

It was our seventh Thanksgiving together, and my husband still wouldn’t take me to meet his family. Whenever I brought it up, he’d just laugh it off. “Things are different now, you know? It’s good to have healthy boundaries.” “Honey, you married me, not my family.” “Marriage is just about the two of us. As long as we love each other, that’s all that matters.” “Besides,” he’d add, “isn’t it better this way? You don’t have to deal with my parents, I don’t have to deal with yours. No awkward family get-togethers. It’s perfect.” He said it with such conviction that I never doubted him. Not until the next day, when my mom insisted I go to a birthday party for the son of a cousin I hadn’t seen in seven years. There, I saw my husband, Liam, playing joyfully with a five-year-old boy who looked exactly like him. My breath caught in my throat. With a trembling hand, I pulled my Aunt Carol aside. “Is that my cousin’s husband? And that little boy… is that their son?” Aunt Carol beamed. “Yes! They’ve been together for six years now.” “They were living abroad, but I heard they came back to finally make it official.” “You should go say hi to your cousin and her husband!” 1 Across the crowded room, my eyes met Liam’s. He froze. A moment later, my cousin, Jessica, looped her arm through his and walked toward me. She smiled at my dazed expression. “You must be Evelyn, right? It’s been so long.” She tightened her grip on his arm. “This is my husband.” A flicker of unease crossed Liam’s face, but he said nothing. A loud ringing filled my ears, and my mind went blank. The party buzzed around me, a chaotic noise I couldn’t process. Jessica’s smile was gentle, but I could see the mockery glinting in her eyes, as if mocking me for ever thinking I stood a chance. Seeing my silence, she tilted her head. “You look pale. Are you feeling alright? Maybe you should go lie down for a bit.” She snuggled closer to Liam. “You don’t mind, do you, honey?” she asked, her voice dripping with affection. Liam reached out and gently tapped the tip of her nose. “You asked so nicely,” he murmured. “How could I say no?” Watching them, so intimate and familiar, I wanted to scream at him, to demand an explanation. But the words were trapped in my throat. The man who called me yesterday to say he was going on a business trip was standing right here, at my cousin’s son’s birthday party. And he wasn’t just a guest. He was her husband. And the father of her six-year-old son. Then what was I? Seven years. For seven whole years, I’d been played for a fool. No wonder Liam had to “travel for work” every month, gone for weeks at a time. No wonder he always had an excuse to avoid my family. He already had another one. All his talk about boundaries and it being “just the two of us”—it was all a lie. A convenient excuse. I forced the storm of emotion down, lifting my head to stare at Liam, silently pleading for him to say something, anything. He gave me a cold, dismissive glance. “Miss, if you’re not feeling well, you should go rest. We won’t have time to take you to the hospital if something happens.” My heart felt like it was being ripped apart. A sharp pain bloomed in my chest, and my eyes began to burn. Jessica looked from me to Liam, her brow furrowing slightly. “What’s wrong? Do you two… know each other?” “No,” Liam said instantly. His quick denial was so sharp it was almost comical. A bitter, sarcastic smile touched my lips. Just then, the little boy ran over and threw his arms around Liam’s leg. “Daddy, can you play with me?” he chirped, looking up with adoring eyes. “Mommy can’t play anymore. She has a baby sister in her tummy.” Liam’s body went rigid. His eyes darted to me for a fraction of a second before looking away. He bent down, ruffling the boy’s hair. “Of course, Leo. Daddy will play with you.” Leo jumped with glee, then turned to Jessica. “Mommy, will you watch us?” Jessica’s smile was radiant. “Of course, sweetie.” I stood there, completely numb. Leo tugged Liam away, leaving me alone with Jessica. The mask of kindness fell from her face, replaced by a smug, triumphant smirk. She reveled in my shell-shocked expression, one hand resting protectively on her stomach. “Did you know,” she began, her voice a low, vicious purr, “that ever since I moved abroad, Liam flew out every single month to see me? He rented the apartment right next to mine, just so he could take care of me.” “And that was before we were even… official.” “You two have been married all this time, and you still don’t have kids, do you? He told me the only children he’d ever claim would be mine. Any child from another woman’s womb… he wouldn’t acknowledge.” She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Honey, it’s best for everyone if you just… know your place. Don’t you think, Evelyn?” My entire body was frozen. Every time Liam and I had been together, he’d insisted on using protection. I wanted a baby, but he always said the time wasn’t right, that we should wait. And now, he had a child. Just not with me. Across the lawn, Leo turned and waved. “Mommy, come on!” Jessica called back sweetly, then turned and practically threw herself into Liam’s arms. He caught her, steadying her as he whispered something in her ear. She blushed and hugged him tighter. Watching the perfect little family against the warm, thirty-degree day, I felt a chill so deep it was like I’d been plunged into an icy abyss. 2 My gaze was locked on the picture-perfect family across the lawn. Perhaps sensing my stare, Liam glanced up. His eyes met mine for a fleeting moment before he quickly looked away. A bitter, self-mocking laugh escaped my lips. It was a kind of self-torture, but I couldn’t look away. I just stood there, burning the image of them into my memory. My phone vibrated. A text from Liam. I’ll explain everything when I get home. It’s Leo’s birthday. Please don’t make a scene. Just go home. Be good, okay? A wave of nausea washed over me. I gripped my phone, my knuckles white, but didn’t reply. Liam glanced in my direction again, then slipped his phone back into his pocket. As if nothing had happened, he went back to laughing and playing with his son. The party was filled with relatives. I couldn’t blow this up in front of everyone. The gossip would destroy my parents. After they finished playing, Jessica came and sat across from me. Liam followed, pouring her a glass of water from a thermos. “Warm water again?” Jessica pouted, leaning against him playfully. “It’s so hot today, I want something iced. Just a little sip, please?” It felt like a performance put on just for me. Liam glanced at me, then looked down at her, his voice softening to a tender murmur. “No way. You’ve got our baby in there. No cold drinks for you.” Jessica didn’t seem upset by the refusal. “Fine,” she sighed, feigning disappointment. I remained silent, lowering my eyes to hide the hatred brewing within. In seven years with Liam, I had never seen this side of him. So gentle, so attentive, his eyes filled with a love so profound it was tangible. He had never, ever looked at me that way. We met at work. He was my boss, and I was his intern. I truly fell for him during a client dinner. One of the client’s executives kept pushing drinks on me, and as the night wore on, he became more aggressive. His hand was about to land on my thigh when Liam stepped in. He raised his own glass, smiling apologetically at the man. “Mr. Wallace, I’ll be your drinking partner tonight. Please, give my assistant a break.” Liam ended up drinking half a bottle of liquor that night. He threw up the moment we stepped out of the hotel. I still remember what he told me. “You have to be smarter in the corporate world,” he’d said. He taught me how to navigate the office politics, how to handle the old sharks, how to be everything to everyone. My success today was, in large part, thanks to him. I eventually left that job for a new company. The next time I saw Liam, he was on the client side. We started seeing more and more of each other. He was the one who pursued me. We were married within two months. I thought he loved me. Reality was a brutal slap in the face. “Evelyn,” Jessica’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. She propped her chin on her hand, a sly smile playing on her lips. “I heard from your mom that you got married too. Why didn’t you bring your husband? My Liam would love to have a drink with him, chat a little.” A passing aunt overheard. “Evelyn, you’re married?” she asked, surprised. “When did that happen? How come none of us knew?” My eyes shot to Liam, then back to Jessica. A cold, sardonic smile stretched across my face. “I am,” I said. “But he died.” The aunt looked mortified, stammering an apology for her tactlessness. “Oh, well… you can always get married again.” “I know,” I said with a thin smile. Liam’s face had turned to stone. I pretended not to notice. Jessica stared at me, her hand still linked with Liam’s. “You always did have a dark sense of humor,” she said smoothly. “Right, Liam?” Without even glancing at me, Liam stroked her hair. “I don’t care about other people,” he said softly. “None of this has anything to do with me.” My heart clenched. I turned my gaze back to Jessica, my voice just loud enough for those nearby to hear. “You’re right, I do love to joke. For instance, I bet nobody here knows that you’re a homewrecker, right cousin?” The air went still. Relatives’ eyes darted between us. I just smiled at her. Jessica’s eyes widened, her face flushing as her eyes welled up. “Evelyn, I just asked you a simple question! Why would you say something so horrible? My husband is right here, how could you say that?” I fought to keep my voice steady. “Jessica, why are you reacting like that? It was just a joke. Unless… did I hit a little too close to home?” Liam’s gaze was ice. “Miss, if you continue to slander my partner, I will not hesitate to contact my lawyer.” I met his eyes. The man I had loved looked at me without a trace of affection. There was only a chilling coldness. Jessica’s mother was the first to react, pointing a finger at me. “Evelyn, you’ve gone too far! Jessica is your cousin, how dare you speak to her like that? I’m calling your mother to ask her how she raised you!” I turned to her with a placid smile. “Auntie, it was just a joke.” Then, back to Jessica. “My cousin isn’t offended, are you?” “Miss,” Liam cut in, his voice dangerously low, “you are not welcome here. Please leave.” The whispers started, relatives murmuring about my outrageous behavior. The pain in my chest was so intense I could barely breathe. Liam helped Jessica to her feet and turned to leave without a second glance. His son, seeing his mother upset, grabbed a water gun and sprayed me directly in the face. “Bad woman! Stop being mean to my mommy! Stop being mean to my mommy!” he shrieked. “Go away! Daddy said you’re not welcome here, you bad woman! Go away!” My carefully applied makeup ran in streaks down my face. My hair was ruined, my clothes soaked through. I was a pathetic, dripping mess. Jessica’s mother grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the door. “Get out and go home!” she hissed. “You’re not welcome here. Go have your mother teach you some damn manners.” 3 On the way home, my phone rang. It was Liam. I answered to the sound of his impatient voice. “Evelyn, what the hell are you trying to do? I told you I would explain when I got home. What was the meaning of all that?” “You knew Jessica was pregnant! Did you have to provoke her like that?” I listened in silence. Liam took a deep breath, his tone softening slightly. “She doesn’t know about us. Just wait for me to get home and I’ll explain everything, alright?” “Just… stay home and cool off until I get back, can you do that? The doctor said she can’t handle any stress; it’s bad for the baby. This pregnancy hasn’t been easy for her, so please, don’t upset her anymore.” A laugh burst out of me, sharp and humorless. Tears streamed from the corners of my eyes. A difficult pregnancy. What a perfect, noble excuse to protect his mistress. I never thought I’d hear such a ridiculous, self-serving line from my own husband. I wiped my eyes. “Liam,” I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm, “are you actually defending your mistress to me right now?” “And your son…” I paused, another laugh bubbling up. “Does he know he’s a bastard?” Liam exploded. “Evelyn, is that a threat?” I didn’t answer, just watched the scenery blur past my window. How laughable. I speak the truth, and he calls it a threat. He must have realized how harsh he sounded, because he softened his voice again. “Evelyn, just wait for me. I’ll explain when I get back.” In the background, I heard Jessica’s voice. “Liam, honey? Who are you talking to?” He hung up immediately. A second later, a text arrived. Go home and calm down. I’ll be back tomorrow to explain. Evelyn, be good. Don’t make this difficult for me. I laughed. A bitter, empty sound. Even his explanation had to wait until tomorrow. To avoid making things “difficult” for him, I made a call of my own. To my lawyer. I told him to draw up the divorce papers. Liam didn’t come home until late the next evening. He found me sitting on the sofa and paused, his hand hesitating as he set down his briefcase. “You’re still up?” he asked, his tone as gentle and caring as always. If it weren’t for the nightmare of yesterday, I might have believed I’d imagined it all. He moved to touch me, but I flinched away. My eyes fell to the wedding band on his right ring finger. A smirk tugged at my lips. When we were first married, he wore his ring all the time. But eventually, he took it off, claiming it got in the way at work. A lie. The truth was he didn’t want anyone to know he was married. But now, he was wearing a ring that matched Jessica’s. The irony was suffocating. He refused to acknowledge me, his legal wife, but proudly wore a ring for his mistress. Liam withdrew his hand, his expression hardening with impatience as he looked down at me. “It’s not what you think… with me and Jessica.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “She’s had a hard life, Evelyn. She doesn’t have a loving family like you do. Her mother was abusive, constantly threatening to marry her off to the first man who’d take her.” “I was just helping her.” I stared at him for a second, then burst out laughing. What a noble, self-righteous excuse for cheating. Helping her. I met his gaze, my voice thick with scorn. “Fine. You want to help her? Then sign this.” I threw the divorce papers onto the coffee table in front of him. I’d already signed my name. “We’re getting a divorce.” “Once you sign, you can help her all you want.” Liam stared at me, then let out a long sigh and shook his head. “I’m not divorcing you. And besides…” A confident smirk spread across his face. “Your parents would never agree to it.” Before I could process what he meant, my phone rang. It was my mother. The second I answered, her shrill voice pierced my ear. “Evelyn, are you trying to divorce my son-in-law?!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384929”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 During my lunch break, I got a call from the police station. They asked if I owned a pet turtle. I told them I did. The officer’s tone immediately hardened. “You’re in serious trouble. You need to get down to the station right now.” I just stood there, phone in hand, completely bewildered. It’s just a turtle. What kind of trouble could I possibly be in? When I rushed into the station, the detective slapped a set of crime scene photos onto the table in front of me. “A child in your apartment building was struck on the head by a falling turtle. He has a fractured skull and intracranial bleeding. He’s in the ICU right now.” “Our preliminary investigation indicates it was your red-eared slider. The family is demanding two hundred thousand dollars in compensation.” My legs gave out from under me, and I nearly collapsed right there on the floor. … When the officer led me into the mediation room, the couple was already waiting. The moment the woman saw me, she completely lost it, lunging at me like a wild animal. The police had to physically restrain her. My mind was still reeling. The officer turned on a monitor and began playing the security footage. On the screen, children were chasing each other in the sun-drenched courtyard, their bright laughter echoing as if it could pierce right through the glass. Suddenly, a dark shape plummeted from the sky. Adults rarely look up; for children lost in the bliss of their game, it was an impossibility. There was no time to react. The boy at the front of the pack had just reached the building’s entrance when the dark shape slammed directly onto the crown of his head. In the next instant, he crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut. Blood gushed from the back of his head, blooming into a dark crimson stain on the concrete. The officer pushed the photos closer. The turtle’s shell was shattered from the impact, blood seeping from its mouth and nose. “The boy has a comminuted skull fracture with severe internal bleeding,” the officer said, his voice grim. “He’s in the ICU, and it’s touch and go whether he’ll even wake up.” “If we hadn’t confirmed you weren’t home at the time, ruling out assault, you wouldn’t be in mediation right now. You’d be in a holding cell.” I stared blankly at the couple across the table. The woman’s sobs were raw and ragged, and the man’s knuckles were white as he clenched his fists. Their son, barely old enough for elementary school, was now fighting for his life because of a freak accident. The doctor had told them his chances of survival were less than thirty percent. Guilt and terror coiled around my heart like a venomous snake. I had just bought a turtle. How could it have nearly cost a child his life? The officer tapped the table. “The family’s compensation request is straightforward: medical expenses incurred, future care costs, and damages for pain and suffering…” I flipped through the thick stack of medical bills. The initial craniotomy alone was over twenty thousand dollars. The daily ICU costs were astronomical, starting at two thousand a day, not including specialized medications and monitoring fees. And the worst part was, we didn’t know if or when the boy would ever wake up. “The family is asking for an initial sum of two hundred thousand dollars,” the officer continued. “And that’s just for now. If the boy suffers any long-term effects, you’ll be responsible for all future rehabilitation costs.” Two hundred thousand dollars. The number screamed in my head. I was just a regular person with a nine-to-five job, making maybe twenty-five hundred a month after taxes. Even if I starved myself and worked until I was eighty, I’d never save that much money. My hands trembled as I opened my banking app. My entire life savings consisted of the eighteen hundred dollars I’d painstakingly scrimped together. That money was for my mom’s knee surgery. She’d been suffering for years, the pain so bad on rainy days that she’d break out in a cold sweat. I had promised myself I’d get her the surgery this year so she could finally sleep through the night. Now, not only was that impossible, but I was suddenly saddled with a crushing, life-altering debt. My mother’s pain would have to wait. Forever, probably. The officer sighed. “Look, kid, I advise you to accept the settlement. If this goes to court, you will lose. You won’t go to jail, but the judgment from the court will be even higher. The family is only willing to mediate because they desperately need the money for the surgery right now.” My voice shook. “But… but how can you be so sure it was my turtle? The security camera didn’t show which floor it fell from. I can’t be the only person in the building with a turtle, right?” The more I spoke, the more convinced I was that there had been a mistake. But the officer slammed his palm on the table with a loud crack. “Enough! You’re still trying to deny it? Do you think we’d have you in here if we didn’t have solid proof?” My voice quivered, but I pushed back. “It doesn’t make sense! How could a turtle climb out of its tank in the bedroom, open the sliding glass door to the balcony, and then jump off? It’s not possible!” The officer paused, his expression shifting. “Are you certain the turtle was in your bedroom? Not on the balcony?” Of course, I was certain. The red-eared slider had originally belonged to my roommate, Chloe. She had just quit her job to move back home and study for the bar exam, but she couldn’t take the turtle with her. This morning, she had physically blocked the door, refusing to let me leave for work until I agreed to buy it from her. I was running late and finally caved, sending her twenty bucks and telling her to just leave the turtle in my bedroom. I remembered the tank was small, and the turtle kept trying to claw its way out. My room had a small balcony, and before I left, I specifically told her, “Please, whatever you do, don’t put it on the balcony. It’ll head for the light, and turtles have no depth perception. It’ll fall.” After I explained, the officers exchanged a look. The lead detective held up a hand, telling me to wait, and stepped out to make a phone call. Less than half an hour later, Chloe arrived at the station. She was hunched over, hiding behind a man in a sharp suit like a frightened rabbit. The man adjusted his expensive cufflinks, scanned the room, and pulled a gold-embossed business card from his briefcase. “A pleasure. I’m Marcus Thorne, Ms. Vance’s legal counsel.” The detective’s sharp gaze was fixed on Chloe. “You need to answer truthfully. Did you move the turtle you sold to this woman onto the balcony?” Chloe’s eyes darted nervously to her lawyer before she gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. A wave of relief washed over me. I let out a long breath, feeling like I’d just been pulled back from the brink of death. The officer pressed on. “Did this woman specifically instruct you to keep the turtle in the bedroom and not, under any circumstances, to put it on the balcony?” Suddenly, Marcus stepped in front of Chloe, blocking the detective’s view. “Ms. Vance,” he said in a low voice, “I advise you to consider your answer carefully. If it is proven that you moved the turtle to the balcony against express instructions, you will be held solely liable for this incident.” He was cut off by a sharp command from the officer. “Watch yourself, counselor! Do not interfere with a police investigation.” Marcus just smirked. “Officer, as her attorney, I have the right to provide legal counsel. Besides, the way you’re phrasing your questions sounds suspiciously like you’re leading the witness.” As the tension mounted, Chloe twisted her hands together and whispered, “No… she never said that.” I shot to my feet. “What are you saying, Chloe?! Think before you speak! You argued with me! You said turtles love to sunbathe and keeping it inside was animal cruelty! Have you forgotten all of that?” Chloe shook her head frantically. “No, really, you must have misremembered, Mia.” Her flat-out denial shattered my composure. I lunged forward and grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her. “Why are you lying? I told you a dozen times not to put it on the balcony! Why are you doing this to me?” Chloe stumbled back, her eyes instantly filling with tears. “I didn’t hear you… Mia, please don’t blame me…” Marcus stepped between us, shoving me back hard. I lost my balance and slammed my lower back against the sharp corner of the table. A searing pain shot up my spine. “What’s this? When false accusations don’t work, you resort to threats and violence?” he sneered. “Officers, you all saw that. My client has given her testimony, while this woman has not only slandered her but has now assaulted her in your presence. We reserve the right to press charges.” Across the room, Chloe was a crumpled, sobbing mess, looking so innocent and fragile. I looked like a hysterical madwoman. “Chloe! Have you no conscience?” My voice was a raw, broken rasp. “When you first moved here with nothing but a suitcase, who stayed up all night rewriting your resume? Who begged their boss to give you an interview? The night your landlord kicked you out, who sent you three months’ rent without a second thought? You ate at my place almost every night. Did I ever ask you for a single dime?” “Look me in the eye and tell me you’ll be able to sleep at night after this.” Marcus cut me off. “Officer, we are here to cooperate with your investigation, not to listen to this irrelevant character assassination.” He turned to me, his eyes filled with disgust. “Ma’am, I suggest you cease these insulting remarks immediately. Otherwise, we will pursue a defamation lawsuit.” My chest heaved, rage burning through me. The police had confirmed the turtle fell from a balcony. I had owned it for less than a day, but the transaction was complete. In the eyes of the law, I was its owner. I had failed in my duty of care, so I was responsible. But if I could prove Chloe put it on the balcony, the liability would shift to her. It was human nature to protect oneself, but I would not be the scapegoat for this. “Officer,” Marcus said smoothly, “the law operates on the principle of ‘he who asserts must prove.’ Since she claims to have given specific instructions, let her present the evidence.” His words were like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. Evidence? What evidence did I have? Who records a casual request to a roommate? Who installs security cameras in a shared apartment? It was such a small, insignificant moment, and now it was about to destroy my entire life. The officer suggested I talk to my family. I just shook my head with a bitter smile. “How could I tell them? We’re already struggling. If my parents found out about this…” The victim’s mother, who had been silent until now, suddenly broke down. “Oh, so you’re the only one who’s suffering? My son is in the ICU, fighting for his life! His grandmother had a heart attack from the stress! We’re borrowing money from everyone we know just to keep him alive! What did we do wrong? What did my son do wrong?” I was speechless. She was right. They were the real victims. But what about me? What had I done wrong? I had tried to do a favor for a friend, and now I was being treated like a criminal. As if on cue, my phone rang. It was my mother. The moment I heard her voice, the dam broke, and tears streamed down my face. “Honey, what’s wrong? Who hurt you?” Her voice was shrill with panic and love. I trembled, holding the phone, but the words wouldn’t come out. How could I tell this woman who had sacrificed her whole life for me that her daughter was facing a two-hundred-thousand-dollar debt because of a turtle? How could I explain that our already fragile family was about to be crushed? “Mom… I’m at the police station,” was all I could manage to say. I heard rustling on the other end, and my father’s anxious voice came through. “What happened? Don’t be scared, honey, Mom and Dad are on our way!” My mother started firing questions at me, her voice tight with fear. “Are you hurt? Have you eaten? Are the police giving you a hard time?” Only after I had reassured her multiple times that I was physically okay did her voice relax slightly. After I hung up, I collapsed onto a bench in the hallway. I had to find a way to prove my innocence. But the thought was instantly crushed by the brutal reality of my situation. No recording. No cameras. Not a single witness. My dad had to borrow my uncle’s old work van. The trip from their small town to the city usually took three hours; they made it in under two. They practically fell out of the van before it had even come to a complete stop. My mother, with her bad leg, nearly tripped on the station’s doorstep. My father caught her, his hands steady on her thin shoulders. It was the first time in their lives they had ever set foot in a police station, and it was for me. “Officer… we’re here for our daughter,” my father said, his voice thick with worry. The police explained the situation. My mother grabbed the officer’s sleeve. “Please, sir, my daughter would never lie! You have to help us. You’re the experts at finding the truth…” “She was a straight-A student,” my father added, his eyes red. “She volunteered in the mountains during college. She’s a good kid.” Just then, Chloe finished giving her statement and started to leave. My mother rushed over and knelt at her feet. “Chloe, honey, please just tell me the truth. I know you’re a good girl.” Chloe panicked. “I told you, I’m not lying! Why is everyone pressuring me? I’m a victim here too! I just sold my roommate a turtle, how was I supposed to know this would happen?” Marcus sneered from the side. “The law deals in evidence, not sob stories. If you two can’t produce any proof, I suggest you stop this pathetic performance.” “You!” my father choked, his body trembling with rage. This proud, hardworking man was now hunched over, looking lost and defeated. “I’m simply stating the facts,” Marcus continued. “The owner of an animal is liable for any harm it causes. The evidence is clear: the turtle fell from your daughter’s residence. As the owner, she is responsible. Instead of crying here, you should be figuring out how to pay the compensation.” From an outsider’s perspective, he was right. It was that simple. Just then, the phone of the boy’s father rang. He answered it, his hand shaking. A second later, his face went ashen, and the phone slipped from his grasp, clattering to the floor. “My son… my son, he…” The woman’s scream was a sound of pure agony that echoed through the entire station. She collapsed to the floor, clawing at her chest as if to tear out her own shattered heart. The next thing I knew, the grieving parents were charging at me like wounded animals. I was frozen, watching their contorted faces get closer and closer. “Honey, look out!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384928”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 The film crew had just finished shooting at my ancestral manor for a new interactive game. I never expected the game to go viral. Soon, I saw videos of tourists lining up for blocks. Frowning, I called my boyfriend Franklin. His voice was cautious. “Willow, the producers are good friends. I couldn’t say no. After the holiday, the estate won’t be bothered again.” I didn’t argue, just reminded him to ensure tight security. Returning from a business trip, I stopped by the manor and found it swarmed. As I pushed through the crowd, someone grabbed my arm, yelling about “cutting in line.” I tried to explain, but was met with laughter. “Everyone knows Mr. Anthony gave this manor to Aria! How else could they film here?” I froze. Aria Lin was the game’s lead actress. As insults grew louder, a cold smile touched my lips. If this was how things were, there was no point waiting in line at all. … “Hey guys, welcome back to the stream! I’m live at the entrance to Willow’s Peak Manor, and as you can see, the line is absolutely insane today.” The man standing behind me held his phone up, narrating for his audience. “I heard that Aria Lin, the star of The Gilded Throne, is actually inside the manor today. Lucky fans might even get to meet her! No wonder it’s so packed.” He was on his tiptoes, craning his neck, chattering nonstop. The line suddenly lurched forward, and in the chaos, someone stomped on my foot twice. After a sixteen-hour flight, the throbbing pain in my temples intensified. I took a deep breath and addressed the two girls in front of me, who had been particularly rude. “I’m going to say this one last time. This is my home. I’m just here to pick something up.” The girl with pink hair rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh my god, seriously? Did the loony bin let out for the holidays or something? Lady, has standing in line melted your brain?” My brow furrowed. “I’m going to ask you to be respectful. This is a private residence, and I have every right to have all of you removed.” This time, others in the line chimed in. “What’s that supposed to mean? We all paid for tickets.” “Just ignore her. She’s crazy. Pretty face, but not a whole lot going on upstairs.” My frown deepened. I turned to the man who had just spoken. “You’re saying you had to buy tickets to get in?” Franklin had explicitly told me it was a free event for a few lucky fans, a favor to the production company. The pink-haired girl seized on my question, her voice rising to a shrill taunt. “So not only are you a line-jumper, you didn’t even buy a ticket? Trying to sneak in for free? A ticket is only thirty bucks. Are you that broke?” Her constant jabs were making my head pound. I glanced at the massive, snaking line of people. Thirty dollars a ticket… that was a significant amount of money. So where was it all going? I had no interest in arguing with them. I took out my phone and dialed Franklin’s number again. It rang and rang, but he didn’t pick up. The pink-haired girl, Trish, crossed her arms. “I can’t stand cheapskates like you. No money, but all the nerve in the world.” A bitter laugh escaped me. The clothes I was wearing were custom-tailored. How on earth did I look like a “cheapskate” to her? I had only agreed to let people visit the manor as a favor to Franklin. Now, it was clear that favor had been abused. My expression hardened. “Where is the head of security? Tell him to come see me. Now.” The sudden shift in my tone must have startled her. Trish flinched. Other tourists turned to stare, and the livestreamer swiveled his camera to focus on our confrontation. A man in the crowd snickered. “What’s the big deal? It’s just a line. Hey sweetheart, you call me ‘daddy,’ and you can come stand with me. I’ll even buy your ticket.” The crowd erupted in laughter. I met their leering gazes, my fists clenching. Franklin, what the hell have you done behind my back? Just then, a girl in an elegant, flowing gown, like something from the game, spoke up. “We’re all here because we love The Gilded Throne. We’re all fans. There’s no need to be so mean.” She then turned to me. “But you really shouldn’t have cut the line and then lied about it. We all know this manor belongs to Aria.” There was her name again. Aria Lin. The Gilded Throne was a new interactive game from FireStorm Studios, using live actors for its story. Franklin had mentioned it a few times, and my company, Apex Group, had even invested a small amount in it. That was the only reason I’d reluctantly agreed to let them film at the manor. But since when did my home, Willow Reed’s home, suddenly belong to someone else? As if on cue, a man in a security uniform pushed his way through the crowd. “What’s all the noise about?” I stared at him, stunned. When had the security staff been replaced? 2 The new guard was a stranger, tall and broad-shouldered, with an impatient scowl on his face. He scanned me dismissively. “What’s all the shouting for? Can’t you see everyone’s in line? If you’re here for the tour, get in line. If not, get lost!” A hot surge of anger flared in my chest. I had specifically told Franklin to ensure security was tight, and this was the kind of person he hired? I forced my anger down, trying to keep my voice even. “Are you new? Where is Captain Miller?” Captain Miller had been in charge of the manor’s security for years. He would never speak to me this way. The guard’s eyes darted away for a second before he puffed out his chest, his tone growing even more hostile. “Captain who? I’m in charge here now! Who do you think you are, ordering people around?” He paused, then sneered. “Oh, I get it. You must be Miller’s little piece on the side. Well, he pissed off Ms. Lin. Got himself fired.” He gave me a lewd, appraising look that made my skin crawl. Trish, who was enjoying the show, howled with laughter. “And here I thought you were someone important. Turns out your big shot connection is a fired security guard.” The new guard stepped closer, his voice dropping to a greasy whisper in my ear. “You’re a real looker, though. How about you stick with me instead? I’ll get you inside, no line. What do you say?” To be humiliated like this, so brazenly… I was trembling with rage. How could the manor’s security fall into the hands of someone like this? I spoke each word slowly and clearly. “I am Willow Reed. The owner of this estate.” The crowd went silent for a beat, then erupted in an even louder wave of ridicule. “Hahaha, she’s really committed to the role!” “What a drama queen!” “Hey, security! Get her out of here! She’s holding up the line!” Trish was doubled over, laughing so hard she could barely speak into the livestream camera. “You guys, you have to see this! A live-action case of delusional grandeur! She actually thinks this manor is hers! I’m dying!” The camera was practically shoved in my face, the chat comments scrolling by in a blur. The guard’s face hardened. He waved a hand at me as if shooing away a fly. “You hear that? Get lost! If you don’t move now, I won’t be so nice!” He took a step forward, his hand raising as if to shove me. The exhaustion from a sixteen-hour flight, the sting of baseless insults, the anxiety from Franklin’s unanswered calls, and the sheer absurdity of the situation—it all crashed together, pushing me to my breaking point. I sidestepped his hand in a swift, sharp movement, my gaze turning to ice. “Not so nice? And how, exactly, would that be?” “You replace my security staff without my permission, allow trespassers onto my private property, have the audacity to charge an admission fee, and now… you’re going to lay a hand on the owner?” With every accusation, I took a step forward. The air of authority I usually kept suppressed, the kind of command that comes from years at the top, was now on full display. It was enough to make the guard instinctively take a half-step back. “Wh-what are you talking about? What fee? What owner?” I gave a cold laugh and took out my phone again. This time, I wasn’t calling Franklin. I was calling the property manager of the entire exclusive community. My estate had its own security team, led by Captain Miller, but the management company had all their contact information and records on file. The phone connected almost immediately. A hesitant, troubled voice answered. “Ms. Reed? But… Mr. Anthony terminated our company’s service contract last month.” My heart sank into a cold, dark pit. Seeing my expression, the guard smirked. “Done with your little act? Just be a good girl, and I’ll get you inside.” I took a deep breath, done with explanations. If even the property management had been changed, I had to see for myself what had become of my home. I pushed through the crowd and walked toward the main gate. 3 Perhaps it was the look on my face, but the jeering crowd fell silent, parting to let me through. Trish hesitated for a moment before following, along with the livestreamer, who quickly told his audience, “Uh… okay, looks like she’s making a move. I’m gonna follow her and see what happens.” I walked straight to the front of the line. The people waiting there started to protest. “Hey, who do you think you are, cutting in front of everyone?” I ignored them, pulled out my key card, swiped it, and the gate clicked open. I stepped inside. A stunned silence fell over the crowd behind me. Then, the whispers started. “No way… she actually has a key card?” “Who is she? I’ve never seen her before.” I walked past the ornate entrance corridor and stopped dead. The wall here used to hold a masterpiece by a renowned artist, a scroll I had won at auction years ago. It was gone. In its place hung a massive, grinning Labubu pop-art figure, its garish colors a jarring insult to the serene, classical style of my manor. Behind me, I heard Trish gasp in delight. “It’s a Labubu! Aria said in an interview that they’re her favorite!” I walked further in. The water lilies in the pond had been ripped out. The stone table and benches were now covered with tacky, oversized Louis Vuitton print cushions, as if to scream to the world that the new occupant was a tasteless nouveau riche. The entire estate was littered with fan signs and posters, all bearing the face of that actress, Aria Lin. Tourists were gathered around them, taking selfies. My temples were pounding. I pushed open the doors to the main courtyard. Just as I suspected, my master bedroom and study were filled with things that didn’t belong to me. Suddenly, a shriek of excitement came from behind me. I turned to see Trish rushing forward. There, sitting in my favorite wicker armchair, was Aria Lin, dressed in a delicate, hand-embroidered gown. She was surrounded by several burly, black-suited security guards who were keeping a crowd of adoring fans at bay. I looked closer. The rare celadon tea set she was casually using was a priceless antique I had acquired for three million dollars. The book lying on the table beside her, its corner carelessly bent, was a one-of-a-kind medieval manuscript. And there she sat, the center of attention, basking in the flattery and praise. The guard from the gate finally caught up, panting. He shot me a venomous glare before leaning down to whisper something to Aria. Aria smiled gently and rose, walking toward me. “Hello there. Are you a fan of mine? Thank you so much for your support, but it really wasn’t right of you to cut the line and force your way in.” Before I could speak, Trish jumped in. “Aria, don’t waste your time on her. She’s a psycho. Keeps insisting this manor is her home.” She then added with a sneer, “We all know that Apex’s Vice President, Mr. Anthony, gave this estate to you.” Aria lowered her head, a shy, pleased smile on her face. I let out a sharp, derisive laugh. “Is that so, Ms. Lin? Is this really your home?” Aria stiffened. “What is your relationship with Franklin Anthony? Tell him to get over here right now. Who gave you permission to enter my home? Who gave you permission to charge people money to turn my home into a tourist trap?” My voice was laced with fury. The gawking crowd fell silent. After a long moment, Aria bit her lip, her expression turning wounded. “Miss, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re the one who trespassed onto private property and now you’re interrogating me? Everyone here today is a fan of mine. If you’re not here in good faith, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” As she spoke, she gestured for her black-suited guards to close in on me. I laughed coldly. “I’d like to see you try.” 4 I took over Apex Group when I was eighteen. I’ve spent years navigating the cutthroat world of business. The authority I carried was not something to be trifled with. For a moment, everyone froze, hesitant to move. “Ms. Lin,” one of the guards muttered, “Mr. Anthony said we shouldn’t make a scene…” Aria’s face paled, as if she had been deeply wronged. She took out her phone and made a call. “Franklin… someone broke into the manor, and she’s being so unreasonable. I… I want to ask her to leave. You won’t think I’m being difficult, will you?” A familiar voice came through the phone, impossibly gentle. “Of course not, sweetheart. Didn’t I leave you with my best guys? You don’t need to bother me with little things like this. As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters. I’m on my way to pick you up now.” Then, he told her to put him on speaker. I heard Franklin’s voice, now cold and commanding, fill the air. “Everything at the manor is to be done according to Ms. Lin’s wishes. Is that understood?” The guards immediately straightened up. “Yes, sir!” Aria shot me a triumphant smile. Trish looked like she was about to swoon, her face full of envy. “Aria, Mr. Anthony is so good to you.” My heart finally hit rock bottom. I had been making excuses for him, wondering if someone was using his name without his knowledge. That phone call was a slap in the face. He wouldn’t answer my calls, but for this other woman, he was gentle, attentive, and would grant her every wish. He was willing to use my home to feed her vanity. By what right? The guards started to move toward me, ready to throw me out. Suddenly, a panicked voice shouted from behind the crowd. “Stop! Stop right there!” I turned. It was Captain Miller. Aria frowned. “Captain Miller? What are you doing here? If I recall correctly, I fired you.” Captain Miller’s face was red with anger. “This is Ms. Reed’s home! You have no right to fire me! Ms. Reed trusted me to look after this estate. How could you do this?” He then turned to me, his eyes widening in recognition and then lighting up with relief. He was about to call out to me, but I gave him a subtle shake of my head, signaling him to wait. The livestream camera caught every word. I saw a flash of panic in Aria’s eyes. “What are you talking about? This manor belongs to Mr. Anthony.” “Captain Miller, I was being lenient with you,” she said, her voice turning sharp. “I didn’t call the police when you stole from the manor, I simply fired you. But if you continue to make trouble, I’ll have no choice but to involve them.” The honest, hardworking Captain Miller flushed with indignation. “I didn’t! I didn’t steal anything! You’re the one who’s lying! You and Mr. Anthony, behind Ms. Reed’s back, you stole—” Aria cut him off, turning to the cameras and the crowd with a soft, apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry, everyone. I didn’t handle this well. Please excuse the interruption.” Her fans immediately rushed to her defense. “It’s not your fault, Aria!” “You’re just too nice!” The comments on the livestream were flying, all of them expressing disgust toward me and Captain Miller, painting us as the villains of the story. I looked at her, my gaze steady. “So, Ms. Lin, the man you were just speaking to on the phone… that was the Vice President of Apex Group, Franklin Anthony, correct?” Amidst the cheers of her fans, she blushed. I nodded slowly. “And do you know the name of this manor?” Aria paused, but someone in the crowd shouted, “It’s Willow’s Peak Manor!” A small, cold smile touched my lips. “It is. And do you know my name?” I looked directly into the livestream camera. “My name is Willow Reed.” Just then, a shocked gasp came from the edge of the courtyard. “Willow? What are you doing back?” I turned. It was Franklin, his eyes wide with terror, his body trembling. Behind him, all the color drained from Aria Lin’s face.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384927”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My father was a triad boss, my mother a debutante from a powerful elite family. My older brother? He doted on me. My life was so perfect it was the envy of everyone. So when I found myself reborn, I expected a second round of an even happier life. But as the nurse carried my newborn self to my father, the man who had always cherished me now merely shot me a cold, indifferent glance. “You enjoyed all the blessings of being the Cooper family’s daughter in your last life,” he said. “This time, you should give that place to Evelyn.” Without another word, he handed the nurse a check. “Find a good family to adopt her. Don’t ever let her appear before me again.” The nurse carried me out through the hospital’s back door, but we hadn’t gone far when she was knocked unconscious from behind in a dark alley. I saw my brother, my familiar, loving brother, lift me from the nurse’s arms. I thought he was my savior. But then he clamped a hand over my mouth and hurried through a series of dim streets, stopping at the back entrance of an underground club. His eyes were filled with a vicious hatred. “I promised Evelyn,” he hissed, “that I would make you suffer in this den of sin, to let you taste what it’s like to be dragged through the mud, to be cheapened and despised by men.” … I lay on the cold ground, my heart feeling as if it were being torn apart. The pain was unbearable. I didn’t understand. Why were my father and brother doing this to me? Just moments ago, in our past life, we were being hunted by our enemies. I was the one who drove the car to lead the pursuers away, plunging off a cliff to my death to save them. And now, their first act upon being reborn was to cast me aside for some girl named Evelyn, even throwing me into a brothel for her sake. But I had never done anything to harm Evelyn! I closed my eyes, a lump forming in my throat, but the tears wouldn’t come. “Hey, what’s a little baby doing here?” A small head poked out of the darkness. From the voice, it sounded like a boy of about five or six. I felt a small finger poke my cheek. “Why aren’t you moving? Are you dead?” His poking was annoying. I opened my eyes and stared at him, my gaze empty and cold, waiting to see what he would do next. The boy was thrilled when I opened my eyes. “It’s alive!” He then scooped me up and ran off with a patter of small feet. He hadn’t gone far when a towering man appeared at the end of the dark alley. The boy froze, instinctively turning to flee, but the man was too fast, leaping in front of him to block his path. A flicker of shock entered my deadened eyes. The man was a highly skilled bodyguard. I had no idea what this little boy had done to offend such a person, but it seemed he was doomed. But then, the large man spoke, his tone filled with a surprising reverence. “Young Master, the monster you’re looking for isn’t in this club. Please, I beg you, stop trying to sneak in to find it.” I was speechless. Monster? “Liar!” the boy retorted, pouting. “If there isn’t one, why did Auntie Zhang yell at her husband for coming here to find his ‘little demon’ every day?” “Well… that’s…” The man was at a loss for words. After a long pause, he gritted his teeth. “Tomorrow, during the day, I’ll take you inside through the proper channels. We’ll conduct a thorough search for any clues of a demon, alright?” “No need,” the boy said, standing on his tiptoes to hold me up to the man’s face. His eyes sparkled. “I found a ‘little demon’ right here at the club’s entrance. When she grows up, whoever makes me mad, I’ll have her go and bewitch them!” My dark, empty eyes met the man’s startled gaze. For a moment, I forgot my sorrow, a strange sense of awkwardness washing over me. Sixteen years passed in a blur. The little boy who had picked me up had grown into a handsome, refined young man named Adrian Sterling. The man who called him “Young Master” was named Marcus. For sixteen years, I traveled with them, seeing the breathtaking landscapes of the country and witnessing the full spectrum of human joy and sorrow. They were a mystery to me, often mentioning an enigmatic “Old Man”—Adrian’s grandfather. Yet, in all those sixteen years, they never once went back to visit him. Three days ago, Adrian received an email. He and Marcus closeted themselves in a room for a long time. When he emerged, he announced, “Grandfather is seriously ill. He wants us to go back and take care of him. The rest of the family is already circling, eyeing his fortune. It looks like it’s time for me to go back and claim my inheritance.” Now, sitting in the rattling car, my head was buzzing. A sudden, terrifying thought had struck me. The story was chillingly similar to that of the legendary godfather who had dominated the country’s underworld in my previous life. Around this same time in my past life, the heirless godfather had suddenly brought home a long-lost grandson to inherit his vast empire, making him the new triad leader of the city. Countless people had tried to curry favor with him, but few ever even managed to see his face. I pushed down the shock and looked at Adrian, who was engrossed in a file across from me. His face began to merge with the image of the cold, iron-willed young godfather from my memory. My hands, hidden under my oversized coat, clenched into fists. In my past life, this man had dismissed me as a “beautiful but useless vase.” But in this life… My first smile, my first step, my first word… he was always there, dancing with excitement. “My sister is a genius! That’s my sister!” he’d exclaim, preening like a proud peacock. The contrast was jarring. How could this boy—who had changed my diapers, begged for breast milk from a neighbor who’d just given birth, fed me, and braided my hair—be the same legendary godfather from my past? My stare must have been too intense, because Adrian looked up. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the car lurched violently. At the same time, Marcus’s anxious voice came from outside. “Something’s wrong!” The next second, Adrian threw himself on top of me. Bullets ripped through the car window, zinging past us, inches from our clothes. Two cars boxed us in, and men with crowbars wrenched our doors open, exposing us to the attackers. Dozens of men with knives rushed toward us. But the men in the cars in front of and behind us moved in perfect unison, drawing their own weapons and engaging the assailants. In moments, bodies from both sides lay on the ground. I drew the short blade from my waist, parrying an attacker’s strike, my eyes locked on Marcus in the thick of the fight. In my past life, I remembered an interview where Adrian had mourned a bodyguard with the surname Sterling. My heart leaped into my throat. Over these sixteen years, Marcus had treated me like his own daughter. I couldn’t let anything happen to him. I kicked away the man in front of me and moved closer to Marcus. But just as I was a few feet away, his face contorted in horror. “Watch out!” he screamed, and then lunged toward Adrian. Three attackers were surrounding Adrian, and a bullet was speeding directly toward his heart. The next instant, Marcus tackled Adrian to the ground. At the same moment, the three attackers were neutralized by a group of “passersby” who seemed to appear from nowhere. Adrian looked at Marcus, who was clutching his chest on the ground, and his eyes turned bloodshot with rage. But the danger wasn’t over. There was no time for grief; he had to keep fighting. Just then, a massive convoy of cars, led by a luxury sedan, approached. The bodyguards in the cars saw the fight and immediately joined the fray, quickly subduing the remaining attackers. After taking down the last of them, I walked over to Marcus and nudged him with my foot. “Stop playing dead. Get up and clean this mess.” Marcus’s eyes flew open, a dazed look on his face. I pointed to the body of a shot attacker nearby. “That bullet never hit you. I grabbed one of them and used him as a shield for you.” Marcus sat up, patting his chest and back in disbelief. “I don’t know why,” he muttered, “but I really felt like I should have been dead…” He then met Adrian’s crimson-eyed gaze and, remembering his young master’s anguish, guiltily looked away. Adrian, however, looked from the massive, two-hundred-pound body of the dead attacker to me, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I will never again say that you’re too strong to be ladylike… Also, don’t you like butterfly knives? I’ll have one custom-made for you!” “No need for that.” I grinned, pulling several hundred-pound metal rods from under the wrecked car and casually hoisting one onto my shoulder. Adrian felt his vision go dark. His cute, delicate little sister had just transformed into a female Hulk. Marcus, on the other hand, looked at the car’s tires with a pang of guilt. And here he’d thought the car was slow because of a malfunction, and had cursed the driver countless times… I sheepishly dropped the metal rod. In my past life, I had also been born with unusual strength, a fact that had earned me ridicule from the other debutantes. So I had hidden it, pretending to be a delicate lady who couldn’t lift a thing. “Sir, I am Evelyn Cooper, the daughter of the CEO of the Cooper Corporation.” A slender hand pushed open the door of the luxury sedan, and a gentle female voice floated out. “It seems you are also heading to the capital. Why don’t we travel together? If there’s any more trouble, my bodyguards can assist you.” At the words “daughter of the CEO of the Cooper Corporation,” my heart clenched. A beautiful young woman, helped out of the car by her nanny, had a striking red mole near the corner of her right eye. There was no mistake. This was the “Evelyn” my father and brother had spoken of. In my past life, my father had brought her home when she was ten, claiming she was the orphaned daughter of an old friend. After she joined our family, she was treated exactly like me, the only daughter of the house. I had never resented her, and had treated her like a real sister. That is, until I was sixteen and discovered she was having an affair with the heir of the Windsor Group—my fiancé. Even then, I didn’t act on personal grudges. I simply told my parents. They were furious. They broke off my engagement and kicked Evelyn out of the house. I never saw her again. In this life, it seemed she had gone from Evelyn Locke to Evelyn Cooper. Evelyn didn’t notice my strange reaction. She smiled at Adrian, her face radiating a confidence and poise that was a stark contrast to the timid, cautious girl she had been when she first joined our family, and the hysterical mess she had become when her affair was exposed. Adrian thanked her. “Thank you for your help, Miss Cooper. We are being pursued by enemies and wouldn’t want to involve you. If we can reach the city center safely, I will be sure to pay you a visit to express my gratitude.” Evelyn tried to persuade him to travel with her, but seeing his firm refusal, she gracefully bid him farewell and departed. I stared after her convoy, a cold smile playing on my lips. Evelyn’s appearance here was no coincidence. But why her? Why not my father or brother? If they wanted to form an alliance with the future triad kingpin, they should have come themselves. Yet they had sent Evelyn… It seemed my dear father and brother had much grander ambitions than I had thought.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384926”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Ever since we were kids, every girl I knew was in love with Asher Ray. From the sweet, spoiled girl next door to the cold, untouchable queen of our prep school. Then came the accident. The girl next door was left blind. The campus queen was left with a limp. And Asher? He packed his bags and fled the country, leaving them in my care. But in their eyes, I wasn’t a caretaker. I was the villain who had meticulously planned their downfall. They made my life a living hell. I endured it all in silence for the exorbitant salary. Until the day I finally saved enough money. I quit without a second thought. That night, the blind girl next door snuck into my room. And the campus queen with the limp blocked my path, standing on two perfect legs. 1 CRASH— The ceramic medicine bowl flew past my cheek and shattered against the wall. I moved to clean up the shards, a familiar routine. Chloe Evans sat on the bed, the stark white of the patient gown clinging to her curves. Her pale, delicate features made her look like a tragic porcelain doll. At least, until she opened her mouth. “Get out! I don’t want you taking care of me! I don’t want to see your face!” “I’ll be gone as soon as I clean this up.” “Leo, you think I don’t know what you’re doing?” she shrieked. “This is all revenge because I pretended not to know you at school! You deliberately caused the accident that made me blind!” She tried to leap from the bed, and I instinctively moved to steady her. The moment my hands touched her waist, she shoved me with all her might. I fell backward, my palm landing directly on a sharp piece of ceramic. A hot, stinging pain shot up my arm. “Who are you trying to fool with this fake concern?” she spat. “You think I can’t tell you have a crush on me? Well, I will only ever love Asher! I would never fall for a penniless, good-for-nothing loser like you!” “Call Asher right now! I want him to come back from wherever he is and fire you! I don’t want someone like you taking care of me!” Pain lanced through my hand, but a deeper ache settled in my chest as I looked at her tear-streaked face. She was right. I did love her. It started when we were kids, back when we were still neighbors. She was beautiful, like a doll brought to life. From kindergarten through elementary school, boys flocked to her. But she was always trailing behind me, calling me her “big brother.” Falling for her was the easiest thing in the world. Then my dad’s business went under. Drowning in debt, he sold our house and ended up as Asher Ray’s family driver. And I became Asher’s shadow. It was years before I saw Chloe again. The truth is, I had nothing to do with the car crash. I just happened to be handing out flyers nearby that day. Asher and Chloe had a fight. He pushed her. She stumbled into the street and was hit by a car. Asher pays me four thousand dollars a month to keep my mouth shut. One, he’s terrified Chloe will retaliate if she finds out. Two, he was never planning on a future with her anyway. The accident was just a convenient way to dump her. To deflect her anger, he arranged for me to work as her caretaker at the private rehabilitation clinic. I’m broke. I need the money. And after all these years of swallowing my pride, what’s a little more? Chloe’s voice rose to a screech. “Leo, are you deaf? I know you said something to Asher to turn him against me! That’s why he won’t come back! People like you, who’d do anything to get what they want… it serves you right that your own mother abandoned you and your dad!” I was gritting my teeth against the pain in my hand, but her words hit a nerve. The air in the room went cold. “I’m taking care of you because it’s my job. Nothing more.” She sneered and hurled a pillow at me. I caught her wrist, my grip tight. She winced, tears welling in her eyes, but she finally fell silent. “Get out,” she hissed. “And stay out of my room.” 2 As I stepped out of the room, I saw Isabelle Vance. She was sitting in her wheelchair, her long, black hair cascading over her shoulders, a gentle, serene smile on her face. “Chloe giving you a hard time again?” she asked softly. “She’s always been like this. Back in high school, she used her connection with Asher to act like she owned the place. Now that she’s blind, I’m sure she’s even worse. I’ll talk to her for you later.” I shook my head. “It’s fine. She’s just having a bad day.” “You’re so good to her. I guess the rumors from school were true. You really are in love with her.” She picked at the old wound so casually. It was Asher who had found the clumsy love letter I wrote to Chloe when I was a kid. He plastered copies of it all over the school’s bulletin board, making my hopeless crush a public spectacle. Back then, Chloe was so desperate to distance herself from someone of my low social status that she acted like my very existence was an embarrassment. She slapped me across the face in front of everyone, her own face streaked with tears of humiliation, and ran off. No one cared how I felt. I was drowning in a sea of mockery and contempt. And the two architects of my misery? They were kissing under the setting sun that evening, the school’s golden couple, admired by all. That was when Isabelle had appeared. Gentle, poised, with a smile as sweet as summer. The goddess no one could touch. “Leo,” she had said to me. “That’s a nice name. You have nice handwriting, too.” It was the first kindness I had received from a classmate. I just stood there, stunned. For a long time after that, I believed Isabelle was one of the good ones. 3 “Your hand is bleeding. Come on, let’s get that cleaned up in the medical office.” Pulled back to the present, I saw Isabelle’s calm smile. She turned her wheelchair and headed down the hall. This clinic assigned two patients per villa. The car that hit Chloe? Isabelle was the one driving it. They had both been admitted together, assigned to the same villa. Isabelle pulled a first-aid kit from a drawer. As I sat on the sofa, her cool, slender fingers gently dabbed at my palm. Sunlight streamed in, illuminating her flawless, almost-pale skin. It was a picture of perfect tranquility. “So… has Asher been in touch with Chloe lately?” “No.” “And have you called him? What did he say?” I thought back to my last call with Asher. The background was loud, filled with music and laughter. He had just yelled at me. “I told you not to call me unless it’s an emergency! Are you deaf? I pay you four grand a month. If you can’t even handle this, you don’t deserve the money!” Then, a girl’s syrupy voice in the background. “Ash, baby, who are you talking to?” The line went dead. At that moment, Chloe had been sobbing, her nose red, looking utterly pitiful. I had to lie, telling her Asher was swamped with exams and had no time to visit. She didn’t believe me, convinced I was part of the conspiracy against her. “He wants nothing to do with her,” I told Isabelle. “He said nothing. They’re not getting back together. You don’t have to worry.” “Hearts change, Leo. Who knows what the future holds? Maybe after you take care of her for so long, she’ll actually fall in love with you.” Isabelle’s smile never wavered, but the pressure of the cotton swab on my wound increased sharply. I flinched, pulling my hand back. “I take care of her because she’s my patient. I have no other intentions. And I give you updates because you also pay me four thousand dollars a month.” “It’s good that you see things so clearly,” she said, her tone like a patient teacher’s. “The gap between our worlds… love can’t bridge that. Asher and Chloe are the perfect example. Chloe went blind, so Asher could discard her without a second thought. But he can’t just abandon me, even though I’m also disabled.” “I know. An alliance between your families is inevitable.” “As long as you know.” She curved her lips into a knowing smile, as if she were genuinely looking out for me. I knew better. It was just a mask, one she used to get close to people, dissect their weaknesses, and then deliver the final, fatal blow. I discovered the truth behind her mask shortly after I started working here. I made her favorite coffee every day, and she would sit on the balcony, reading quietly. She always finished every last drop. I thought she genuinely appreciated my coffee-making skills. Then, the flowers in the balcony planters started to wither. I called in a specialist, who told me someone had been regularly pouring coffee into the soil. I turned around. Isabelle was sitting in her wheelchair, smiling that same gentle smile, but a chill ran down my spine. Her kindness was a facade. In her eyes, I was just dirt from the gutter. So the coffee I made was just as filthy, just as disgusting. 4 Chloe was demanding to see Asher again. This time, she held a fruit knife to her own throat. “Leo, if you don’t call Asher right now, I’ll kill myself,” she threatened, her voice shaking. “I’ll make sure everyone thinks you’re a murderer. I’ll send you to prison!” She knew I couldn’t afford to lose this job. The money from Asher and Isabelle covered my own expenses and took half the financial pressure off my dad. I sent a barrage of texts. Finally, Asher took pity on us and answered. The moment Chloe took the phone, I snatched the knife away. She held the phone to her ear like it was a precious jewel, her voice choked with pitiful sobs. Asher hung up quickly. She didn’t seem to notice, continuing to chatter away into the dead air. She really was desperately in love with him. I remembered a time she had called me, begging me to help her lie to her mom. She wanted me to say we were going to the library, when she was really going to a concert with Asher. Her mom, who always had a soft spot for good students, never suspected a thing. That day, Chloe looked like a princess in a puffy dress, her legs slender and pale. She had shoved a hundred-dollar bill into my hand. “Here,” she’d said with contempt. “This is for your help. I don’t want to owe you anything.” She would never have stooped to asking for my help if she hadn’t been desperate. Just like now. Even when she handed the phone back, knowing he had hung up on her, she was like a stubborn little animal, refusing to admit defeat. “Asher’s been pulling all-nighters studying. He must have hung up by accident,” she insisted. “Leo, if you dare say one bad word about him, I’ll make you regret it.” I could only nod in agreement. A fine mist began to fall outside. Chloe’s eyes were red-rimmed. “Leo,” she mumbled, “even if the whole world pities me, I don’t want your pity.” 5 Her words echoed in my mind long after I left the room. A loud clap of thunder snapped me out of it. Isabelle. I remembered her fear and ran to her room. I opened the door just in time for a porcelain doll to fly past my head and smash against the hallway wall. “Get out!” she roared. “I know you’re scared,” I said, my voice calm. “I promise, I’ll leave as soon as you’re asleep.” “I don’t need you to play hero.” I didn’t want to. But the last time there was a thunderstorm, Isabelle had shattered a window and cut her hands to ribbons. If she hurt herself again, I’d be the one held responsible. This was the first time I’d been inside her room. She was fiercely private, and in her mind, I was utterly contaminated. The room was nothing like the persona she projected. It was all dark furniture, black sheets—oppressive and grim. Shelves were crowded with dolls of all kinds, red, white, black, all with wide, staring eyes. The room was a reflection of her soul, and her inner world was darker than I could have ever imagined. The lights were off. The room was illuminated only by the flashes of lightning outside. Her wheelchair was overturned, and she was huddled in a trembling ball at the foot of her bed. I moved toward her, intending to lift her from the cold floor. “Let’s get you into bed. I checked the forecast. The storm should pass in about half an hour.” The moment I touched her, she lunged, sinking her teeth into my arm. She bit down with the savage force of a feral animal tasting blood for the first time. I sucked in a sharp breath against the pain. After a long moment, clarity seemed to return to her. Her eyes were wet as she looked at me. “Why didn’t you move?” “I was afraid I’d hurt you.” It was the truth. She wiped the blood from her mouth, a cold sneer on her lips. “You think a gesture like that will move me? Your tactics are so pathetic, Leo. You’re all the same. Despicable, shameless, without a shred of decency.” You’re all the same. Who was she talking about? Before I could ask, another flash of lightning sent her scrambling into my arms. I lifted her onto the bed, closed the window, and drew the heavy curtains. Worried she was still frightened, I switched on the small night light. In its soft glow, her face was pale, a fine sheen of sweat on her forehead. “You don’t have to say it again. I’m leaving now.” I turned to go, but I felt a tug on my sleeve. I looked back. A faint blush colored her cheeks, and her voice was stiff. “There are storybooks in the second drawer. C-could you read one to me? Just… until I fall asleep?” I hesitated for a moment, then did as she asked. In the quiet of the night, my voice filled the room with tales from the book. Gradually, Isabelle’s breathing evened out, and she fell asleep. As I tried to leave, I realized she was still clutching my sleeve. I gently pried her fingers loose. She must have sensed the movement, because she stirred, murmuring fretfully in her sleep. “Mom… Mommy, don’t go… don’t leave me…” I guessed her mother must have abandoned her on a stormy night just like this one. It would explain her terror. As I closed the door, I glanced back at the dolls lining the shelves. Suddenly, they didn’t seem so menacing. They looked more like guardians.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384925”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I was leisurely pruning my new $1.88 million orchid with a pair of small golden shears when my son’s old flame stormed into my garden. She blew in like a hurricane, pointed a trembling finger at me, and burst into tears. “Mrs. Vance! I know you’ve always looked down on me! Years ago, you forced me to leave Joss with a five-hundred-thousand-dollar check, telling me I wasn’t good enough for your family!” “Well, I’m back now, and I won’t let you tear us apart again!” My hand, holding the shears, froze mid-air. I was utterly bewildered. Five hundred thousand? Since when was I so… frugal? … Joss’s face flushed a deep crimson as he rushed to her side, grabbing her arm. “Sadie, calm down! What are you talking about? My mother isn’t like that…” “Hold on,” I said, setting down the shears. I walked over to Sadie Summers, my expression one of genuine confusion. “You said a five-hundred-thousand-dollar check?” Sadie was taken aback by my direct question, but she quickly straightened her spine, tears welling in her eyes. “Yes! Five hundred thousand! Mrs. Vance, stop pretending! You just want Joss to think you’re some benevolent mother, but behind his back, you’ve been plotting against me all along!” “Oh?” I raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement sparking within me. “And how, exactly, have I been plotting against you? With five hundred thousand dollars?” I looked her dead in the eye, my voice serious. “My dear, do you have some sort of misunderstanding about wealthy families? Or perhaps, a misunderstanding of my personal spending habits?” I held up a single, manicured finger and wagged it gently. “First, I don’t use checks. They’re a hassle; I deal in wire transfers. Second, even if I were to pay you to leave my son, don’t you think that price is a bit… insulting?” My gaze swept over her, from head to toe. “Are you insulting my financial standing, or are you insulting your own worth? Since when did the price of entry into the Vance family become so cheap?” “I…” Sadie’s face turned ghostly pale. This was clearly not in her script. She shot a helpless look at Joss, her voice cracking. “Joss, do you hear her? Do you hear what your mother is saying? She’s humiliating me!” Joss looked as if he’d been constipated for three days. Caught in the middle, he tried to placate Sadie while giving me an apologetic smile. “Mom, please, just a few words less. Sadie just got back, she’s a little emotional…” “You, step aside,” I said, giving my son a pointed look. “Men are best advised to keep quiet in these situations. You’ll only make things worse. Today, I need to clear this up with Miss Summers, face to face.” My attention returned to Sadie, my tone still even. “Miss Summers, you claim I forced you away. Surely you have some proof? A witness, a piece of evidence, a transaction record? You can’t just throw such a serious accusation at me based on nothing but your word, can you?” “I…” Sadie was speechless, biting her lip. After a long pause, she finally choked out, “The way you looked at me back then is the proof! It was filled with disdain and contempt!” I almost laughed out loud. Turning, I beckoned to our butler, Arthur, who was hovering anxiously at the greenhouse entrance. “Arthur, could you come here for a moment?” Arthur scurried over, standing respectfully at attention. Right in front of Sadie, I gave my instructions in a calm, measured voice. “Please contact the finance department immediately. I want a full audit of all my personal and corporate accounts from five years ago. Look for any outgoing payment of five hundred thousand dollars to a Miss Sadie Summers. Be thorough, don’t miss anything. I want the results within the hour.” After a beat, as if a thought just occurred to me, I added, “Oh, and while you’re at it, please print out a copy of the electronic receipt for my five-million-dollar donation to the Children’s Cancer Fund last month. In color. Let’s give Miss Summers a sense of the current market rate and familiarize her with my spending habits. We wouldn’t want her to make up stories next time with figures that are so embarrassingly low. It reflects poorly on the Vance name.” Sadie was frozen to the spot, every last drop of color drained from her face. Joss simply covered his face with his hand and turned away, as if he couldn’t bear to watch. Arthur was efficient. In less than thirty minutes, the full-color receipt, emblazoned with the staggering figure of five million dollars, was laid out on the stone table in the greenhouse. Sadie stared at the long string of zeros, speechless, before Joss half-dragged, half-coaxed her away. The next afternoon, I was having tea with my dearest friend, Jessica Morgan, a powerhouse who had dominated the business world for decades. We were chatting about a piece of Imperial Jade we’d both bid on at an auction in Hong Kong last week when Joss arrived with Sadie in tow. My son wore a pleading expression. “Mom, Aunt Jessica, I brought Sadie to say hello.” I nodded, but before I could speak, Sadie’s eyes were already darting between me and Jessica. Jessica was wearing a chic, cream-colored Chanel suit, and I happened to have chosen a cashmere shawl in a similar shade. That alone was enough to make Sadie’s eyes turn red again. She took a deep breath, stepped forward, and looked at me, her voice trembling on the verge of tears. “Mrs. Vance, I understand now. You don’t have to go to such lengths to humiliate me.” Jessica and I both paused, our teacups hovering in mid-air. Sadie didn’t look at me. Instead, she turned to Jessica, though her words were clearly meant for me. “You think I don’t come from a good enough background, that I lack poise. So you deliberately found a woman who is more mature, more accomplished, from a more distinguished family, just to show me that I’m nothing but a cheap substitute who can be replaced at any moment by someone better. Is that it?” I nearly choked on my coffee. Jessica Morgan? This was a woman who built her own publicly-traded company from the ground up. Her husband’s family fortune was even larger than ours. Asking her to be a “substitute”? My son wouldn’t dare. Even my late husband wouldn’t have dared. Jessica, far from being offended, seemed intrigued. She set down her cup and looked at Sadie. “What’s your name, young lady?” “Sadie Summers,” she answered defiantly. “Alright, Miss Summers.” Jessica nodded, her tone placid. “Let’s do some math. According to your theory, Mrs. Vance hired me to make you feel inadequate. Do you know what the opportunity cost of me sitting here for this afternoon tea is? It’s two signed contracts. Do you have any idea the value of this haute couture suit and the jewelry I’m wearing?” Jessica’s voice was unhurried but sharp. “Do you really think Mrs. Vance, a shrewd investor, would spend so much capital on a high-value asset like me, just to intimidate… forgive my bluntness, a target with currently no discernible market value? Where, exactly, is the return on that investment?” Sadie was completely floored by the barrage of business jargon. Her face was a kaleidoscope of colors as she stood there, mouth agape, unable to form a single rebuttal. Joss’s expression had turned thunderous. He quickly grabbed Sadie’s arm and apologized profusely to us. “Mom, Aunt Jessica, I’m so sorry, so sorry. Sadie didn’t mean it. We’re leaving now!” With that, he practically dragged the petrified Sadie away, making a hasty retreat. Watching them go, Jessica picked up her coffee, blew on it gently, and smiled at me. “Eleanor, your son certainly has… unique taste. Life must be very entertaining.” I sighed, slumping back into the sofa. “Don’t even start. I just tell myself I’m watching a soap opera every day. At least it’s free.” After Jessica schooled her with business logic at the executive lounge, Sadie laid low for two days. I thought she might finally be starting to understand the difference between reality and fiction. I was far too naive. That afternoon, as I was sipping a rare oolong tea in the main house’s living room, Sadie showed up with bags and bags of fresh groceries. She slammed the ingredients down on the coffee table with a thud and announced solemnly, “Mrs. Vance, from this day forward, I will be in charge of Joss’s diet! I won’t let any outsiders have a hand in his health ever again!” I held my teacup, not even bothering to look up. “Mrs. Gable, our cook, has been with the family for thirty years. She’s hardly an outsider. Also, Joss is allergic to shellfish, especially crustaceans. The slightest taste gives him a rash and makes it hard for him to breathe. Are you planning to send him to the emergency room with that king crab and Boston lobster?” Sadie’s face stiffened, then shifted into an expression that screamed, “I knew you’d say that.” “Mrs. Vance, you don’t have to test me anymore!” she said stubbornly. “I know you’re just using this excuse to keep me away from Joss! Don’t worry, the meal I make today will be perfectly safe for him!” Looking at her defiant, “I’m not listening” face, I felt that reasoning with her was a complete waste of breath. I sighed, put down my cup, and picked up my phone. “Hello, Dr. Evans? It’s Eleanor Vance. Are you free at the moment? If so, could you please come over to the estate? And bring a copy of Joss’s latest physical and his allergen chart.” Dr. Evans had been our family doctor for decades. He was a respected professional. After hanging up, I told Sadie, “You don’t believe me, so let’s have the doctor explain it to you. That should be acceptable, right? It’ll be in black and white, a professional diagnosis. You’ll accept that, won’t you?” To my surprise, upon hearing this, Sadie’s face went white as a sheet, her eyes filled with a mixture of grief and disappointment. “You… you even bought Dr. Evans?” Her voice trembled. “He’s your spy, isn’t he? You’ve arranged everything, just waiting for me to walk into your trap! This medical report… it’s all part of your conspiracy, a forgery you had him create just to use against me!” I was genuinely stunned by her imagination. I’d lived for sixty years, and this was the first I’d heard of a family doctor being used as a counter-intelligence asset. Joss happened to be coming down the stairs and walked right into the tense scene. He looked exhausted. “Sadie! What nonsense are you spouting now? Dr. Evans has known me since I was a child. How could you say that about him?” Sadie looked at him with tear-filled eyes. “Joss! Can’t you see? This is a trap set by your mother!” The farce ended with the arrival of Dr. Evans, Sadie screaming “I don’t believe you!” with her hands over her ears, and Joss, desperate to quiet her down, reluctantly agreeing to “just have a little taste.” At dinner, Mrs. Gable prepared a simple, light meal for me. At the other end of the table sat Sadie’s lovingly prepared seafood feast. Under Sadie’s expectant gaze, Joss steeled himself and ate a small piece of crab meat. Less than ten minutes later, red spots started appearing on his face, followed by labored, wheezing breaths. The living room exploded into chaos. Dr. Evans immediately rushed forward to administer emergency treatment while the bodyguards scrambled to prepare the car for the hospital. Sadie just stood there, holding a platter, her face ashen with shock, muttering to herself, “How could this happen? I only let him have a tiny piece…” I calmly pushed through the crowd and walked up to her. Looking at her face, a canvas of disbelief and confusion, I told her, word by word: “Miss Summers, love does not conquer allergies. That is a scientific fact.” After the seafood incident, Joss spent two days in the hospital. Sadie, presumably wracked with guilt, was much quieter. I figured I couldn’t let her just sit at home stewing in her own fantasies, so I decided to take her out into the world. The annual Starlight Charity Gala, a major city event spearheaded by the Vance Corporation, was approaching. I had my assistant send over a portfolio from a couture house for her to pick a proper gown. She refused without even looking, saying she had already prepared something. A sense of dread immediately washed over me. On the night of the gala, my premonition came true. As I entered the ballroom on the arm of an old family friend, the first thing I saw was Joss and Sadie standing near the entrance. My son was impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, looking sharp and handsome. Beside him, Sadie was wearing a pair of faded, washed-out jeans and a plain white cotton t-shirt. She wore no makeup. Among the glittering, jewel-adorned guests, she looked like a delivery girl who had stumbled into the wrong event. The media’s camera flashes descended upon them like a frenzy of lightning. Joss’s face was so dark it could have been carved from obsidian. He hissed under his breath, “Sadie, what in the world are you doing?” But Sadie stood tall, a look of tragic self-righteousness on her face. She scanned the lavishly dressed crowd around her and said to Joss, “I get it now, Joss. Your mother just wanted to use this ostentatious, decadent event to humiliate me, to make me feel ashamed so I’d give up. She wanted to show me that a normal girl like me could never fit into your world.” I almost passed out. Did this girl have a persecution complex? Taking a deep breath, I maintained my elegant smile and walked over to them. I ignored Sadie and addressed the reporters directly, my voice warm and gentle. “Everyone, allow me to introduce you. This is Miss Summers, a very unique friend of my son’s. Her attire tonight is her way of demonstrating to us all that the true spirit of charity lies in the heart, not in glamorous appearances. Don’t you all agree?” The reporters immediately caught on, snapping photos and murmuring in agreement. I had successfully transformed a PR disaster into a refreshingly positive angle. Joss shot me a grateful look, while Sadie beamed with pride, pleased that I had recognized her “deeper meaning.” During the gala, I tried to introduce her to a few of my more mild-mannered business partners, thinking it would be good for her to network. But the moment a Mr. Wallace from a real estate firm offered her his business card, Sadie recoiled, shooting me a suspicious glance before telling him, “You don’t have to test me. I’m not going to leave Joss for money!” The poor man, a forty-something father of two, was left standing there in stunned silence, utterly baffled as to what he’d said wrong. I quickly apologized and changed the subject to smooth things over. The real climax, however, came during the charity auction. Joss was set to bid on the final item: a spectacular pink diamond. It had been a gift from my late husband, which I had donated with the intention of having Joss buy it back. But just as he was about to raise his paddle, Sadie suddenly clamped her hand down on his, whispering urgently in his ear, “Don’t fall for it! It’s a trap! Your mother wants you to go bankrupt so she can get rid of me!” Thanks to Sadie’s intervention, Joss left the auction empty-handed, a complete and utter embarrassment. After the gala, in the parking garage, Joss finally exploded. “Do you have any idea how much you humiliated me tonight?” he roared. Sadie’s tears flowed even more freely than his anger. “I was trying to help you! I did it for us!” I stood a short distance away, unable to muster even a sliver of a smile. “Sadie,” I said, my voice laced with ice, “you’re not protecting him. You’re destroying him.” I looked at Joss, but my words were for her. “That diamond was the first gift your uncle ever gave me. I donated it so that Joss could personally buy it back, to show everyone that he is capable of protecting this family’s legacy.” I paused, a genuine pang of sorrow in my voice. “And now, a stranger has it. All because of some ridiculous, non-existent conspiracy you cooked up in your head.” Without another glance at them, I turned to Joss and issued a decree, my voice devoid of all emotion. “Joss. My office. Nine o’clock tomorrow morning. Come alone.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384924”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel