During the ultrasound, I heard two babies arguing inside my womb. One voice was sweet and whiny. “Stop shoving me.” The other snapped back, fierce and territorial. “Get out. This is my space.” Overjoyed, I turned to the doctor. “It’s twins?” The doctor’s eyes flicked toward my husband, Julian Thorne, behind me, then he shook his head. “You’re mistaken, Mrs. Thorne. There’s only one.” Julian smiled, wrapping an arm around me. “You must have imagined it.” Really? But I heard the fierce baby’s sneer as clear as day. “He’d better keep his mouth shut. If he dares tell the truth, my father will end him.” His words instantly put me on high alert. What did this fierce baby mean? I touched my belly, my palms cold, a terrifying thought taking root deep within me. Julian carried over a glass of warm milk, placing it thoughtfully by my hand. “What’s wrong? Still thinking about twins? Don’t overthink it, the doctor said there’s only one. Let’s just focus on nurturing this one.” His smile was gentle, his eyes full of adoration, exactly as they were when I first met him. I lowered my gaze, hiding the coldness in my eyes, and obediently took the milk. Then I asked, feigning nonchalance, “Julian, a friend of mine is also pregnant, and she’s having twins. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we had two babies too?” I stared intently at his face, not wanting to miss any expression. His hand, holding the mug, paused. “Twins are too risky. I just want you and our baby to be safe and sound.” His voice was still gentle, but tight with tension. That night, I pretended to be asleep in bed. Julian tiptoed in, believing I was truly asleep. He stood by the bed for a long time, so long I almost couldn’t keep up the act. Then, I felt his cold fingers gently rest on my belly. He seemed to be calculating something. I stiffened, barely daring to breathe. The soft baby whimpered, “I’m scared…” The fierce baby immediately soothed, “Don’t be. Just stay put, don’t let him find me.” A cold dread settled in my stomach. The fierce baby was afraid someone would discover him? Was he afraid of Julian? Just then, I heard Julian let out a barely audible sigh, then turn and walk out of the room. The next day, Julian told me he’d gotten me a new cell phone. “Less radiation, better for the baby,” he said, smiling. I looked at the old-fashioned phone, so basic it could only make calls and send texts, and a cold laugh echoed in my heart. Less radiation, or easier to monitor? He took my old phone, skillfully formatting all the data. My heart sank, piece by piece. Within two days, Julian’s mother, Amanda, suddenly moved into our villa. She brought an entire team: a nutritionist, a nanny, and two expressionless bodyguards. She said it was to take better care of me. “Elara Thompson, starting today, your meals will be Vera’s responsibility. She’s the most professional prenatal nutritionist.” Amanda sat on the sofa, speaking in a commanding tone. I looked at the woman named Vera; she adjusted her glasses, her gaze sharp. My life was completely taken over. I couldn’t go out, couldn’t see friends. My daily range of activity was confined to this villa. Julian came back every day, showering me with concern. But to me, it was no different from imprisonment.

The fierce baby seemed to sense the danger too. “That old witch is up to no good. She’s been adding something to the soup she gives you. It’s small amounts, but it’s consistent.” I held the bowl, even managing a placating smile at Amanda. “Thank you, it’s really delicious.” Amanda’s lips curved up in satisfaction. I tipped the bowl back, draining it completely. Then, I used the excuse of needing the restroom, rushed into the bathroom, and forced myself to vomit by sticking my fingers down my throat. I vomited until nothing but bile remained, then collapsed onto the floor, exhausted. I couldn’t sit idly by and wait for death any longer. I had to contact the outside world. I remembered I had a spare phone, hidden in an old briefcase in the innermost part of my walk-in closet. During a bodyguard shift change, I slipped into the closet and locked the door. I found the phone; thankfully, it still had power. Fumbling frantically, I called my best friend, Chloe Green. The phone rang only once before it was picked up. “Hello? Elara?” The moment I heard Chloe’s voice, tears welled in my eyes. “Chloe, I…” I only managed three words before the closet door was suddenly kicked open from the outside. Amanda stood at the doorway, two bodyguards behind her, a chilling smile on her face. “Elara Thompson, who are you calling?” She walked towards me, step by step, her heels clacking against the floor, each sound a hammer blow against my chest. I instinctively hid the phone behind my back. She didn’t give me a chance to react; with a single glance, one of the bodyguards rushed forward, roughly snatching my phone. Amanda took the phone and glanced at the name on the screen. “Chloe?” She let out a short, dismissive laugh. “It seems I’ve been too lenient with you.” With that, she smashed the phone to the floor right in front of me. The screen shattered instantly. “Anything or anyone that might disrupt your pregnancy, I will eliminate completely.” She finished, then turned and walked away. That night, when Julian returned, Amanda told him what had happened. I thought he would at least speak up for me. But he just listened in silence, then walked to my side and knelt down. “Elara, Mom is doing this for your own good. Right now, the most important thing is for you to rest and nurture our baby, don’t think so much.” His voice was as gentle as a placid lake, yet it sent a chill to my very bones. I looked at him, asking, enunciating each word carefully, “Julian Thorne, I am your wife, not some tool your family keeps for breeding.” His veneer of gentleness cracked. “How can you think that? I love you, Elara.” The fierce baby in my belly sneered. “Love? His love means locking you up and then trying to kill one of your children.” I closed my eyes, not wanting to see his hypocritical face anymore. From that day on, their surveillance tightened even further. Two bodyguards guarded my bedroom door, never leaving. I couldn’t even close the bathroom door when I used it. I started a hunger strike. It was the only way I could fight back. On the first day, Amanda watched with cold indifference. On the second day, she started threatening me. “Elara Thompson, don’t push your luck. If you harm my grandchild, I’ll make sure your whole family suffers the consequences.” My parents were my only weakness. I glared at her with reddened eyes. “You wouldn’t dare!” “Just watch me.”

She tossed a document onto the table. “Your parents’ restaurant, seems the recent health inspections haven’t gone so well.” I trembled with rage. I had no choice but to compromise. I started eating, but every bite felt like swallowing razor blades. I had to find a way; I couldn’t let them succeed. A plan slowly began to form in my mind. That afternoon, when the maid, Lucy, wasn’t looking, I secretly poured some shower gel on the bathroom floor. Then, I slipped and fell heavily. “Ah!” I cried out, clutching my belly. Lucy’s face went white with fright, and she screamed, running out to get help. Soon, Julian and Amanda rushed in. Seeing me on the floor, a faint trace of blood beneath me, Julian’s face instantly drained of color. “Quick! Call Dr. Miller!” Amanda shouted. My heart sank. Again, the family doctor. My gamble was that they would panic and send me to the nearest public hospital. I had lost my bet. But my mind raced, trying to figure out how to use this “injury” to create the next opportunity. Dr. Miller, the family doctor, arrived quickly. He performed a series of examinations, then shook his head at Julian and Amanda. “She took a significant fall. It has threatened the pregnancy, and she requires immediate, strict bed rest. I recommend starting her on a nutrient IV to stabilize the fetus.” I lay in bed, cold all over. I heard the fierce voice in my belly curse furiously. “Foolish woman! Do you think they’re blind? This pathetic sympathy ploy will only make them despise you more!” I closed my eyes in despair. Cold liquid flowed slowly into my body through the IV tube. Soon, an overwhelming wave of drowsiness washed over me. My eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Before I completely lost consciousness, I heard the soft baby whimper: “I feel so bad… my body’s so hot…” Immediately after, the fierce male voice roared: “Damn it! They’re drugging her! This medicine is meant for me! They’re trying to kill me!” My consciousness drifted in and out of the darkness, my body burning as if on fire. No, I couldn’t sleep. Summoning every last ounce of strength, I bit my tongue hard. The sharp pain brought me back to my senses, if only for a moment. I opened my eyes; the room was empty. On the back of my hand, the cold liquid continued to flow into my veins. This was it, this thing, it was trying to kill my baby. With my other hand, the one not hooked up, I trembled and ripped the needle from the back of my hand. A blinding pain made my vision go dark, a tearing, burning sensation searing through my veins. Ignoring the pain, I scrambled off the bed, stumbling into the bathroom and locking the door. I turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on my face again and again, trying to stay awake. The drug was potent; my body grew hotter and hotter, but my limbs were starting to go numb. Inside my belly, the fierce voice also sounded weak: “Hold on… stupid woman… don’t fall asleep…” I slid to the floor, leaning against the cold wall, gasping for breath. Not long after, urgent footsteps echoed outside. “Elara! Open the door!” It was Julian’s voice, tinged with panic. I didn’t make a sound. “Break down the door!” Amanda’s sharp voice cut through the silence. The bathroom door was kicked open.

Julian rushed in, his face instantly contorted into a mask of pure horror as he saw me slumped on the floor, the pool of blood at his feet, and the pulled-out IV needle on the bedsheet. He quickly came forward, grabbing my arm. “Elara Thompson! Are you insane?! Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” His grip was so strong it hurt. I looked up at his face, etched with concern and fury, and suddenly smiled. “What am I doing? Julian, why don’t you ask yourself what you’re doing?” I pointed at the IV bag still standing on the bedside table. “What’s in there? ‘Nutrient solution’? Do you take me for a fool?” “What exactly is that?! Why are you trying to kill our baby?!” I practically screamed. Julian’s expression froze, panic in his eyes quickly replaced by anguish. “Elara, calm down, it’s not what you think.” He tried to hug me, but I shoved him away. “It’s not what I think? Then what is it? Tell me!” Amanda stood at the doorway, watching our play-acting with cold indifference. “Julian, why waste words on her? Since she’s seeking death, then let her…” “Mom!” Julian abruptly cut her off, glancing back at her. Amanda’s face shifted, but she finally clamped her mouth shut, though the venom in her eyes remained undiluted. Julian turned back to me, a pained expression on his face. He knelt down, taking my hand, his voice hoarse. “Elara, I’m sorry, I’ve been hiding it from you.” “We are, indeed, having twins.” My heart skipped a beat. “But…” He took a deep breath, his eyes reddened. “Through the Thorne family’s most advanced genetic screening, we discovered… we discovered that the boy has a very severe congenital heart defect.” “The doctors said he wouldn’t live past one year old. And his presence would severely impact the healthy baby, and even you.” “So… we decided to only keep the healthy one.” He spoke tearfully, but I could sense his hidden triumph. “Bullshit! My heart beats stronger than anyone’s! He’s just trying to find an excuse to kill me!” The fierce voice, though weak, was full of conviction. Watching him fabricate lies without batting an eye, a chill settled in my heart. I lowered my head, my shoulders began to shake, faking sobs. “Really? Our baby… he…” I sobbed uncontrollably, my body trembling. Julian immediately pulled me into his arms, gently patting my back. “I’m sorry, Elara. I didn’t want to upset you, that’s why I kept it hidden. We were doing it for your own good, for the good of our healthy baby.” I buried my face in his chest, and from the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Amanda at the doorway. The tense lines on her face finally relaxed, and she even gave Dr. Miller a knowing look. They both thought I believed him. I continued to “sadly” cry, my mind, however, racing. Heart defect? That lie was too clumsy. But why would they tell such a lie? Why were they so insistent on getting rid of the boy and keeping the girl? “Will you really die?” The soft, whiny voice sounded incredibly sad. “Don’t listen to his nonsense.” The fierce voice held a hint of impatience, but more soothing. “We’re boy-girl twins. They’re not afraid of me being sick; they’re afraid of me.” Afraid of him? Why would they be afraid of an unborn infant? Behind this, there had to be a much bigger secret.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “344661”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn

My boyfriend, Brandon, was desperate to claw his way into elite social circles and insisted we go to that high-end club. I wanted to refuse, but his eyes were red as he swore it was his one big break. The moment we entered the VIP room, his childhood sweetheart Tiffany, draped in designer labels, sneered. “Brandon, is this your girlfriend? She looks awfully familiar. Isn’t she one of the dancers here?” “Last week, I saw you giving a lap dance to some old man. You were down to a G-string, but I admit, you have a good figure.” She finished, then feigned regret, covering her mouth. “Oops, sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” The room of rich kids burst into laughter. “How much for a dance? Give me one too!” Brandon’s face turned crimson, then pale with humiliation. He pointed at the door and told me to get out. But I just slowly settled onto the sofa, watching Tiffany with a smirk. “It’s perfectly normal I look familiar. After all, your father was practically on his knees begging me for an investment last week. Also, this club is the least valuable property in my portfolio.”

To even enter The Summit Club, Brandon had spent half a year’s salary. Standing before its gilded doors, his palms were damp with sweat. He gripped my hand, his hold so tight it almost hurt. “Aria, once we’re inside, just smile and keep quiet.” He instructed me again, his voice trembling. “We can’t afford to offend anyone in there. Don’t you dare embarrass me.” I frowned, trying to pull my hand free, but he tightened his grip even more. “I know you don’t like these kinds of places, but this is about my future.” Brandon’s eyes were red, his words pleading. “If I can just get in with Chad, I can secure that construction project, and we won’t have to be stuck in our cramped studio, surviving on ramen anymore.” Seeing him so tense and yet so excited, I swallowed the words I was about to say. What I wanted to tell him was that I already had a membership card here – one of those Founder’s Black Cards that didn’t require any top-ups. As for Chad, I’d had him thrown out last week for smoking in a private room. But before I could speak, the doorman had already pulled open the grand doors. The moment the doorman saw me, his face went white. He instinctively began to bow and greet me. My gaze chilled slightly. I subtly raised a finger to my lips, signaling him to keep quiet. He reacted fast, stopping mid-bow, though the hand holding the door still trembled. Brandon was too busy taking deep breaths and composing himself to notice anything amiss. Brandon inhaled deeply, straightened his back, plastered on an obsequious smile, and pulled me inside. Pushing the door open, the room was thick with smoke, the music throbbed. A dozen or so impeccably dressed young men and women were sprawled on sofas, the coffee tables laden with expensive liquor. “Is this Brandon?” A guy with a buzz cut, sitting in the center, lifted his eyelids, casually glancing at us. It was Chad. Brandon immediately bent low, offering a box of cigars he’d clearly prepared, and even moved to light one for him. “Chad, hi, we met at the bar last time.” Chad didn’t take the cigar. He just scoffed, his gaze sliding past Brandon and landing on me. In that instant, I saw a flicker of confusion in his eyes. After all, I’d worn the same icy expression when I had him kicked out last week. Just then, a sharp female voice cut through the awkwardness. “Oh, is this Brandon’s girlfriend?” The woman sitting next to Chad stood up. She was wearing the latest Chanel, her makeup flawless, but her eyes held a distinct malice. Tiffany. Brandon’s childhood friend. And the woman who’d always kept Brandon on a leash, treating him like her personal backup. Brandon’s eyes visibly brightened when he saw her, then he looked a bit flustered. “Tiffany, you’re here too.” Tiffany ignored him, walking directly toward me and sizing me up. Then, she covered her mouth, feigning surprise as she exclaimed. “You look so familiar! Aren’t you the new stripper here?”

The music still played, but all other conversations died. A dozen pairs of eyes fixed on me, filled with amusement and disdain. Brandon’s smile froze. He instinctively let go of my hand and took half a step back. That simple action sent a chill through me. I raised an eyebrow, looking at Tiffany’s face, which was practically radiating malice. “Ms. Hayes, you shouldn’t just throw around accusations.” My tone was flat. Tiffany, however, laughed exaggeratedly, bending at the waist. She turned to the people in the room and declared loudly, “Why would I lie?” “Last week, I came here with Chad, and I personally saw her giving a lap dance to some old man!” She gestured with her hands as she spoke. “I saw the man’s back; he was short, fat, and bald, clearly a sleazy, newly-rich guy.” “That day, she was down to just a G-string! Her figure was actually pretty good!” “After the dance, she even left with that old man.” Finished, she turned, looking at Brandon’s ashen face, and blinked innocently. “Oh, sorry. I forgot she’s your girlfriend now. I shouldn’t have said anything.” “But Brandon, you’re so careless. How can you bring this kind of woman to a place like this?” “What if one of the regulars recognizes her? Where would Chad’s reputation stand then?” Her words instantly ignited the room. “Holy crap, she’s a stripper?!” “I knew it! Look at her cheap clothes, probably not even two hundred bucks head to toe. How else would she hook up with Brandon?” “Women these days will do anything for money.” “Dude, she’s openly making a fool of you, and you’re just gonna stand there?” Chad leaned back on the sofa, a smirk playing on his lips as he looked at Brandon, his eyes full of amusement. “Brandon, your taste is certainly… unique.” “How much does your girlfriend charge for a lap dance? Why don’t she give us one today?” Laughter erupted. Someone whistled, someone started chanting for me to take my clothes off. Brandon’s face cycled from green to white, veins throbbing on his forehead. He frantically glanced at the disgusted looks around him, then at me. A flicker of hesitation crossed his eyes. But when Chad’s contemptuous laugh reached his ears, that hesitation twisted into ruthless self-preservation. He yanked his hand from mine, retreating to Tiffany’s side. Then, with an intentionally raised voice, he roared at everyone, “Aria! You’ve disappointed me so much!” “I brought you here to experience the world, and you’ve been doing… such despicable things behind my back!” I looked at the man I’d once thought was honest and reliable. “If I said it wasn’t true, would you believe me?” I countered. Brandon didn’t even look at me. He just gritted his teeth, turning to Tiffany with a placating smile. “Tiffany saw it herself. How could it be fake?” “No wonder you came home so late last Friday night and wouldn’t answer your phone!” “When I asked you where you were, you said you were working overtime! So, this is where you were working overtime?!” He spoke louder and louder, as if volume could drown out his own insecurity. “I’m slaving away for our future, and you’re doing such low-down dirty work behind my back!” “Aria, you disgust me!”

I looked at Brandon’s twisted face and smiled. Last Friday? Yes, I was indeed at The Summit Club, busy handling the equity transfers and management purge. I didn’t answer my phone because I was in a board meeting. And the sleazy, newly rich old man Tiffany described? That was her own father, Mr. Hayes. That day, Mr. Hayes had indeed hired a stripper for a lap dance at this very club, which I own. I was celebrating a friend’s birthday at the club at the time. Later, as my friend and I were leaving, Mr. Hayes suddenly spotted me. He cornered me in the hallway, crying and begging for more investment for his failing company. He even tried to kneel. It took a good while for my security guards to drag him out. “Well? Say something! Cat got your tongue?” Seeing my silence, Brandon assumed I was guilty, and his confidence swelled. Tiffany added fuel to the fire. “Brandon, don’t blame your girlfriend. After all, a place like The Summit Club is so expensive. If she wants a designer bag, she definitely has to pay a price.” She picked up a bottle of red wine from the table and walked over to me. “Since we’re all here to have fun, why don’t you show us what you’ve got?” “This bottle is Chad’s prized collection. If you can chug it all, I’ll consider it your apology.” With that, she flicked her wrist. Over half the bottle of red wine splashed directly onto my clothes. The liquid ran down my collar, soaking my white T-shirt, which instantly clung to my skin. When the wine was thrown, Brandon didn’t even try to shield me. Instead, he quickly jumped away, terrified of getting his expensive suit stained. “Oops, butterfingers.” Tiffany covered her mouth, but couldn’t hide the triumphant gleam in her eyes. “Sweetie, you’re not going to get mad, are you? It’s just a cheap knock-off anyway.” Everyone around roared with laughter. Chad slapped his thigh, pointing at me. “Alright, clean up that mess, and then get out.” “Don’t stand there in my sight, you’re ruining my mood.” I looked down at the wine stain on my chest, then at Brandon, who stood nearby with a look of utter disgust. “Brandon, this is the circle you want to be a part of?” I asked him coldly. Brandon avoided my gaze, gritting his teeth. “How much longer are you going to make a scene?” “Tiffany said it was an accident. Just apologize and leave.” “Don’t make things harder for me here!” Apologize? After being splashed with wine, slandered, and humiliated, he wanted me to apologize? In that moment, I finally understood. In this man’s heart, my dignity meant less than nothing to these trust fund babies. For his petty vanity, he would stomp me into the mud without a second thought. “Alright, fine.” I nodded, reaching for the tissues on the table, and slowly wiped the wine from my hands. “Brandon, remember what you just said.” I crumpled the soiled tissues into a ball and tossed them directly onto Brandon’s suit, the one he’d spent three months’ salary on. “What are you doing?!” Brandon shrieked, frantically batting the tissue ball off his suit. “Aria, are you crazy?! This suit is expensive!” “Since you think I’ve embarrassed you, let’s break up,” I said calmly. “From this moment on, we have nothing to do with each other.” Brandon froze, then his face flushed crimson. “Break up? Who the hell do you think you’re scaring?” “Who would want a dirty woman like you after me?” “Get out! Don’t ever let me see you again!!” He pointed wildly at the door, yelling like a madman.

Tiffany triumphantly linked her arm through Brandon’s, cooing. “Brandon, don’t be angry. She’s not worth it.” “Chad, tell security to kick her out. No need to spoil everyone’s fun.” Chad waved a hand. “Get the manager in here. Let him see what kind of trash they’re letting in.” The VIP room door swung open. Mr. Dawson, the General Manager of The Summit Club, rushed in, sweating profusely. He’d seen me enter this room on the surveillance cameras and was clearly terrified. “Chad, what can I do for you?” Mr. Dawson bowed, his tone deferential, but his eyes darted around the room, clearly searching for me. “Mr. Dawson, has The Summit Club’s standard dropped?” Chad pointed at me, his face full of disdain. “You just let any prostitute walk in here?” “Get her out, and don’t let me see her again.” Tiffany chimed in. “Exactly, Mr. Dawson. This woman is lowering The Summit Club’s class.” “Look, she’s even dirtied the floor. Make her kneel and clean it before she leaves!” Mr. Dawson followed their pointing fingers to me. When he saw the wine stain on my clothes and my disheveled appearance, the color drained from his face completely. He froze in place, his lips trembling, unable to speak. I calmly walked to the main leather sofa. The two trust fund babies who were sitting there instinctively started to curse when they saw me approach. But I just gave them a cold stare, and they inexplicably fell silent, even making way for me. I sat down, crossed my legs, and leaned back into the chair. I picked up an unopened bottle of Romanée-Conti from the table, weighing it in my hand. “Mr. Dawson.” I called out. Mr. Dawson shuddered, then dropped to his knees in front of me with a thud. That sudden genuflection stunned everyone. Brandon’s eyes nearly popped out. Chad’s wine glass slipped from his hand, hitting the floor and shattering. Tiffany’s smile froze. “Boss…” Mr. Dawson’s voice trembled, his forehead pressed to the floor. He didn’t dare lift his head. “This was my negligence. I deserve to die. I’m so sorry you were disturbed!” Boss? The word struck everyone like a hammer. Brandon’s mouth hung open, his eyes fixed on me as if seeing a stranger. Chad’s face drained of all color. He knew better than anyone who truly owned The Summit Club. That was Aria Knight, the heiress of the Knight Empire, a name the entire business elite knelt before. The woman rumored to possess a sharp mind, ruthless tactics, and a fortune in the billions. I ignored Mr. Dawson’s pleas and turned to Tiffany, who was now trembling in terror. “Tiffany, you called that old man short and ugly?” I rose slowly to my feet and advanced toward her, step by step. “Did you know that the ‘creepy old man’ begging me for an investment in the hallway, even trying to kneel, was your own father, Mr. Hayes?” “And this club? It truly is the least valuable of all my assets.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “344660”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn

On our wedding night, my wife, Sarah, wouldn’t let me touch her. She said she was too tired and asked me to wait a while. But every night, in the dead of night, she’d sneak downstairs to the basement. When she returned, she’d always shower, and an eerie, unsettling smell would cling to her. I asked her what she was doing. She said she was doing yoga. Yoga in the middle of the night? I couldn’t take it anymore. One night, I secretly followed her down to the basement. She spotted me, spun around, and grabbed the collar of my pajamas, yelling: “Get up here!” “You can’t go into the basement!” “Otherwise, we’re getting a divorce!” I clutched the stair railing, trembling with anger. My parents bought this house for us as a wedding gift. This is my home! Why can’t I go into my own basement? As my wife, who does she think she is talking to me like that? I took a deep breath, trying to keep my cool. “Sarah, is that how you talk to me?” Sarah still had a tight grip on my pajama collar, her slender fingers surprisingly strong. “Mark, let’s go upstairs first. I’ll explain everything in the bedroom.” “You can’t explain it here?” I pointed to the pitch-black basement below. “Why can’t I go down there? Don’t I have a right to know?” “I’m doing yoga, and that’s my private space down there. It’s not time to share it yet.” She stepped down a few stairs, blocking my path with her body. “Why?” “Because it’s just not the right time. When it’s ready for you to see, I promise I’ll show you!” My gut twisted with frustration. I took another deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. “If that’s the case, did you really have to snap at me like that?” “I…” She bit her lip. “I was just a little worked up, you know? Besides, you know I’m direct; you’re used to that.” I scoffed and turned to go upstairs. Fine, I’d wait until she left for work tomorrow, then I’d check out what was really going on down there. Back in bed, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. There had to be something fishy going on in that basement, something serious. Was it a secret Sarah didn’t want anyone to know? I looked at her. She was also awake, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. I remembered how shocked I’d been when she first asked me out. She was so beautiful, with so many guys after her, while I was just an average-looking guy. What did she even see in me? She’d said she liked my kindness, my quiet demeanor, and the sense of calm I brought her. I believed her. But if that was true, why did she push me away every night? I’m her husband, after all. Was this normal? Finally, I couldn’t hold back. I reached out, wanting to gently caress her cheek. “What are you doing?!” She pulled away like she’d been burned, glaring at me with disgust. The kind of look you give something revolting. I suddenly got it, and angrily turned away. But I couldn’t let that insult slide. If she didn’t have feelings for me, why did she ask me out? Why marry me?! Thinking that, I spun around, glaring at her. “You said you needed time, that we couldn’t be too intimate yet, and I get that. But why such a strong reaction when I just touched you?” “How many times have I explained this? It’s a psychological thing. I’m looking for a therapist, aren’t I? You need to be patient.” Sarah picked up her phone and gently tapped my shoulder with the back of it—she wouldn’t even touch me with her hand. “Mark, please, just give me six months, okay? After six months, I promise I’ll be better.” She tapped me with her phone, not even her hand. Was I really that repulsive to her? Could I even believe her? But right then, I had no choice but to wait. I sighed and rolled over. Truth is, I’d given her everything. From the start of our relationship, I’d done whatever she wanted. She said she liked jewelry, so I bought her expensive necklaces. She wanted to travel, so I took her everywhere. She mentioned investing, so I supported her learning about finance. I gave her everything I had, did my best to get her whatever she wanted. But this is what I got after the wedding. It all had to connect to that basement! I had to find out what was going on!

Morning came. As usual, I made breakfast—Sarah’s favorite. She stayed distant, eating silently without a word to me. Felt like I was her maid, not her husband. After breakfast, I drove her to work. We both worked in sales at the same perfume company, Serenity Scents. After parking, she walked into the building. Once she was out of sight, I quickly told a coworker I’d be out and left the office. I didn’t take my car—instead, I hailed a cab home. I unlocked the front door, rushed into the living room, and headed straight for the basement. When I got there, I froze. The basement door was different! At some point, it had been replaced with a reinforced door with a combination lock! Without the code, there was no way in! I pulled out my phone, took a picture of the door, and started looking up how to open this kind of lock. “What are you doing?!” Sarah suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs, yelling. She hadn’t trusted me and had followed me home! She practically ran down the stairs and slapped me hard across the face. “What did I tell you?!” “You hit me?!” I held my stinging cheek. She continued to yell, “What did I tell you?!” I yelled back, “This is my house! Don’t I have the right to go in? And you couldn’t even tell me you were changing the door?!” “I was just about to tell you!” She raised her hand, ready to strike again. I dodged the slap and pulled out my phone. “I’m calling the cops!” My cheek burned, and I was shaking with anger. We’d barely been married, and she was already hitting me? What was going to happen next?! Sarah panicked immediately, grabbing my hand. “Why are you calling the police?” “This is my house, why won’t you let me in? Why did you hit me just now? Why can’t I call the police?!” I insisted on dialing 911. “Mark, don’t get so upset.” Her voice softened. “I… I was just acting on impulse.” “You get impulsive, so you hit me?” I pulled my hand away. “Let go! I’m calling the police!” She grabbed my hand again. “Mark, is calling the police really necessary? If you think this isn’t working, we can get a divorce.” Divorce?! Hearing that, I stepped back and fell silent. Things were bad, but I didn’t think we were at divorce level yet. Besides, if we split, this house—marital property—would probably get divided, and my parents’ investment would go to waste! There was no way I was letting that happen! “If we get divorced, I’ll get half this house,” Sarah added. “If you don’t want a divorce, we keep things the way they were. Now go back to work.” After thinking it over, I shot her a dirty look and headed upstairs. I had no choice—I couldn’t let my parents’ savings go to waste! “Come back!” I stopped and turned around. “You disrespected me. Don’t you think you owe me an apology? And a promise?” Sarah demanded. I was so mad I punched the stair railing. Blood started gushing from my hand. I gave her one last angry look and left quickly. “Mark, what’s up? You look terrible.” When I got back to the office, my coworker David asked. I mumbled I was fine, sat down, and opened my laptop. My right hand was bandaged, so I had to use my left. I kept my right hand under the desk so David wouldn’t see it. “Hey!” David came over, sat next to me, clapped my shoulder, and winked. “Don’t overdo it on the honeymoon, man. You look exhausted.” I forced a laugh. If only that were the problem. “Tomorrow’s Saturday, and we’ve got that team-building thing. It’s family-friendly, so they want everyone to bring their spouse or partner,” David reminded me. “Missing the main activities could mess with our team’s evaluation and bonus.” I didn’t care about team-building, but I didn’t want to lose my bonus. Sarah, though, loved this stuff—she never missed company events. “If Sarah goes, I’ll go,” I said. “I just asked her, and she’s not going. If that’s the case, you two will lose this month’s bonus!” “I’ll go talk to her.” I stood up and walked to the next cubicle area where she worked. I went in and saw her chatting with two female coworkers. Two months ago, there was a hit-and-run right outside our building—some driver hit a few coworkers and took off. They still hadn’t caught him. The girls were talking about it casually. I walked right up to Sarah and quietly asked, “Are you going to the company team-building event?” “No,” she answered coldly. I whispered again, “If you don’t go, we’ll lose our bonus.” “So what if we do?” “I just don’t think we need to throw away money over this—” “Are you serious?!” Sarah suddenly yelled. “I’m staying home, end of story!” Her voice echoed through the office, and everything went quiet. All the coworkers stared at me, shocked. My face burned—I wanted to crawl under a rock. She’d just yelled at me like that in front of everyone at work! What else could I say? I hung my head and walked away. In that moment, all my fantasies about Sarah died. “Mark, hey, sorry I pushed you about that earlier.” When I got back to my desk, David put his arm around my shoulder and apologized quietly. “It’s fine.” I suddenly remembered something, picked up my phone, and sent him a picture. “David, you know a lot of people. Can you help me figure out how to open this kind of reinforced combination lock door?” David checked his phone, looked at it for a second, and nodded. “Sure, I know a guy who does this stuff. I’ll ask him for you.”

Evening came again. While making dinner, I checked the security camera app on my phone. Just like this morning, the camera was still broken. Had Sarah done this on purpose? I finished cooking and brought the food to the dining room. Sarah got home carrying a cake, but she was acting weird—hiding it from me, tucking it away in the pantry. I caught a glimpse anyway: a fancy French mousse cake. I paused. It wasn’t her birthday or mine. What was she up to? She didn’t say, and I didn’t ask. During dinner, we barely spoke. She acted like a restaurant customer, me like the server. By bedtime, my right hand needed a new bandage. I carefully unwrapped it, put on antiseptic cream, and re-bandaged it myself. Sarah lay next to me, completely ignoring me. “By the way, Mark, what have you decided?” Sarah suddenly asked. I was startled. “Decided about what?” “About the divorce, I mean. Have you thought about it?” she asked again. I scoffed. What was she really after? Did she marry me just for this? I shot back, “What do you think? Do you want a divorce?” Sarah stayed quiet. “If you’re not happy with our marriage, just say so,” I said flatly. “I won’t stop you.” Sarah’s expression darkened. She suddenly turned away from me. “Go to sleep, just go to sleep!” “You said to give you time, that once your psychological issues got better, things would be fine. Remember?” I said pointedly. “We’ll see,” she said sharply. “I’m tired, just go to sleep!” I finished getting ready for bed, turned off the light, and lay down. We shared a bed but lived separate lives—this was pure torture. But for now, I had to tough it out. I must have dozed off without realizing it. Maybe it was muscle memory or just my subconscious at work, but I woke up in the middle of the night. Moonlight filtered into the bedroom—not bright, but enough to see by. I turned my head, and Sarah was gone! She must have snuck down to the basement for her “yoga” again. As I rolled over to get up, I heard a clink and my left wrist suddenly felt heavy! I tugged, and saw a silver handcuff locked around it—the other end chained tightly to the bedpost! Clank! I pulled with all my strength; my wrist burned, but it wouldn’t budge! “Are you kidding me?!” I was livid! Sarah had handcuffed me just to go to the basement! She wasn’t even treating me like a person! Just then, I heard footsteps outside! Sarah was back! In a split second, I flopped back down, pretending to be sound asleep. A minute later, Sarah tiptoed over and sat carefully on the edge of the bed. She gently lifted my left hand, unlocked the cuff, unhooked the chain from the bed, and stashed it away—hardly making a sound. When she was done, she lay back down. Like she was checking if I was awake, she tapped my shoulder lightly with her phone. I didn’t move, keeping up the “asleep” act. She exhaled, apparently relieved, and finally settled in. I caught a whiff of her shower gel, plus a faint cake smell. And mixed in with those was that weird, unidentifiable odor. Had Sarah taken the cake to the basement? Was she eating cake during her “yoga”? Or was there something else hidden down there? I couldn’t make sense of it. Soon, she was breathing softly. I couldn’t sleep though—just lay there staring at the ceiling. Morning came. When I looked in the mirror, I had huge dark circles. I wasn’t exactly a model, but I usually kept myself presentable. Seeing how run-down I looked made me feel even worse. I had to end this—if things kept going like this, the stress would break me. After breakfast, I checked the living room trash can specifically. There was a cake box in there! It was definitely the one Sarah brought home last night! So who ate the cake? Was someone hiding in the basement?! My heart raced. Was Sarah hiding someone down there? Her lover?

“Mark, I heard back from my friend!” David grabbed my arm as soon as I got to the office, talking loudly. With other coworkers around, I quickly shushed him. He laughed, covering his mouth, then leaned in close. “My friend says she can get that door open!” Perfect! I was thrilled. Once the nearby coworkers left, I pulled David over and whispered, “David, I need a favor.” He raised an eyebrow. “C’mon, we’re friends—just say the word!” I checked the office door to make sure no one was coming, then put my arm around his shoulder and murmured in his ear. He nodded as I spoke. “Leave it to me!” We talked it over for ten minutes, then he took off. I stayed at the office, waiting. While I waited, I noticed Sarah sneaking glances my way a few times. She was obviously keeping an eye on me, making sure I wasn’t planning to sneak home again like before. At eleven, David texted: Sorry, couldn’t get the door open. Felt like someone was inside—right when we almost had it, they locked it again. My stomach dropped. We’d underestimated Sarah! Now what? Should I call the cops? If I didn’t, whatever was in that basement would stay a secret forever. But if I did… what if there was nothing? Our relationship would be totally ruined! What was I supposed to do? Quitting time came again. I drove Sarah back to the house. As soon as I pulled into the driveway, she lunged at me—scratching my face, yanking my hair. No warning, just attacking me out of nowhere! “What the hell are you doing?!” I yelled, covering my face. She didn’t say a word—just kept hitting me harder and harder. My face and head burned; I was scared she might actually hurt me badly if this kept up. I fumbled with the seatbelt, unbuckled it, and tried to open the door to get out. She latched onto my arm with one hand to stop me, while the other kept attacking—scratching, punching, hitting my face and body! The pain was too much, so I started yelling for help. She clamped her hand over my mouth to muffle me. Then I remembered the small scissors in the glove compartment. I fumbled it open, grabbed them, and held them up toward her! “Ah!” She yelped and finally backed off. I gasped for air, glaring at her. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she was clutching her left wrist—it was bleeding badly, cut by the scissors! My face throbbed and my head was spinning. “Why the hell did you attack me?” I shouted. “You had it coming!” she snapped. “Had what coming?” “You know exactly why!” Then it hit me—she must have found out I tried to get someone to open the basement door! “You sneaky bastard!” She pointed at me, venom in her voice. “I warned you to stay away from the basement, to leave it alone!” “This is my house! My parents bought it!” I shot back. “And I told you to give me six months! That after six months, things would get better! Don’t you remember?” “I don’t believe a word you say! With that attitude, in six more months you’ll probably kill me!” I’d hit my breaking point. When you can’t take it anymore, you just can’t.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “343944”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #擦边Steamy #重生Reborn

After Dad went bankrupt, Mom was demanding a divorce. I didn’t fight or argue, just watched coldly as my younger brother Asher pushed me aside and ran to Dad: “Don’t be sad, Dad. I’m here for you!” In my past life, after Mom and Dad split up, Asher went with our wealthy mother while I stayed with our bankrupt father. But Mom remarried a real loser who not only squandered all her money but kicked her out too. Asher suffered right along with her. Meanwhile, Dad built a successful business and got rich again. Consumed by jealousy over my good fortune, Asher caused my death in a car crash. When I opened my eyes again, we’d both gone back to the day the divorce was finalized. This time, Asher gave me a provocative smile and quickly announced, “I love Dad, and I want to go with him.” He had no idea I was smiling even wider inside. I was so done with running and hiding all the time! Asher looped his arm through Dad’s, pouting playfully. “Dad, please let me stay with you! I love you more than anyone, and I’m not scared of hard times.” Coming from Asher—who’d been spoiled rotten and totally self-centered his whole life—those words actually moved Dad. He didn’t even notice Mom’s furious expression beside them. “No way! Asher will suffer if he stays with you. The court will side with me for custody,” Mom stepped forward to object. So Asher would suffer with Dad, but I was just some afterthought? Disposable? In the courtroom, they fought tooth and nail over Asher’s custody, with lawyers throwing around all kinds of documents. I might as well have been invisible—a ghost in the room, completely ignored. In the end, maybe it was Asher’s own firm declaration to the judge that made the difference. Mom reluctantly settled on me, like an afterthought. I got into my stepfather Mr. Waylon’s sleek luxury car with Mom. Asher skipped along, holding Dad’s hand. Before we left, he shot me a smug, challenging look. I didn’t care one bit. After all, Mom was loaded now, and Dad’s situation was a total disaster. In my past life, he dragged me from one hideout to another every day just to avoid creditors. I couldn’t focus on school at all. The business failure and Mom leaving hit him really hard. He completely checked out, drowning himself in cheap booze in our run-down apartment, ignoring everything. Even though I was a straight-A student, I couldn’t afford tuition and had to take care of him, forcing me to drop out early and get a job. Asher, though? He had it way easier than me. He was good-looking and knew how to charm our parents. They both spoiled him rotten. Plus, being the younger one, they always used that old line: I was the big sister, so I had to be responsible and always put my little brother first. Even after the divorce, both parents only wanted him. But this time, he ultimately chose Dad, giving Dad a moment of petty triumph in front of Mom. Sitting in the car, Mom immediately started complaining. “You’re always so quiet and withdrawn. Now that we’re moving in with Mr. Waylon, you need to learn to be more flexible, more clever.” Whatever. The car pulled into an upscale neighborhood with mansions. I knew Mr. Waylon was rich in my past life, but I hadn’t realized he was this loaded. Mr. Waylon enrolled me in the city’s most prestigious private school. I had a private driver taking me to and from school every day. To make up for the education I’d lost in my past life, I hit the books hard. I excelled, maintaining a perfect GPA. Mom, who’d always ignored me before, suddenly couldn’t wait to attend parent-teacher conferences. When she went, other parents would envy her, and teachers would praise her for having such an outstanding kid. And since Mr. Waylon had no kids of his own, I was living pretty comfortably here. I also started thinking about studying abroad. “You’re too young to go overseas. Don’t think good grades mean you can actually take care of yourself.” Before Mr. Waylon could even say anything, my own mother was already shooting down the idea. Later, I learned that real hatred doesn’t need a reason. Not even between a mother and her child.

Mr. Waylon wasn’t the moody, controlling, violent monster Mom and Asher had made him out to be in my past life. In fact, he was incredibly sharp—though definitely proud and strong-willed. It didn’t take long after we moved in for his issues with Mom to surface. Mom was a total trophy wife—all looks, no substance. Honestly, her and Dad had been perfect for each other. Dad had been a trust fund kid with more money than sense. He’d landed Mom purely with his charm and fat wallet. When Grandpa and Grandma were alive, they kept everything together. After they passed, Dad got roped into terrible investments by his so-called “friends.” He gambled away his entire inheritance—everything Grandpa and Grandma left him. Mom immediately found a new sugar daddy and divorced him. My study abroad plans were on hold thanks to Mom’s meddling. But with my grades, I was confident I could get into a top local university. “Asher’s here!” “Ms. Evans, is Mom home?” “Your mom went shopping, but your sister’s upstairs reading.” I heard Asher’s footsteps heading toward my room. He opened my door without knocking. “Leo, cut the act. Nobody’s home—who are you trying to impress with all this studying?” He walked right in and snatched my books. Asher was supposed to be living with Dad, yet almost every month he’d show up demanding money from Mom, plus jewelry and clothes. Every time he left, his car would be loaded up. But the next month, he’d still be wearing ratty clothes. Dad, now a full-blown gambling addict, had long since pawned all his nice stuff for cash to blow. In this life, Dad wasn’t just a drunk—he was a gambler too. Mom actually felt sorry for Asher living such a hard life with Dad. She even talked to Mr. Waylon about letting Asher move in with us. Mr. Waylon actually agreed, but surprisingly, Dad refused to let Asher go. After all, he was using Asher to milk Mom for stuff to fund his lifestyle now. “You’ve studied yourself stupid. What’s the point of all these books? You’re not as good-looking as me, and even Mom and Dad don’t really like you.” “And this good life you’re living? I handed it to you on a silver platter. Enjoy it while it lasts, ’cause it won’t.” He started rummaging through my stuff like he owned the place. He wasn’t wrong—this room had been his in my past life. He searched everywhere. “You don’t even know how to enjoy the good life. What kind of crap is this you’ve got?” “All you do is bury your head in these books every day.” I ignored him, letting him throw his little tantrum. “Is that my sweet Asher I hear?” I watched coldly as they put on their ‘loving mother and son’ act. Mom saw my room was completely trashed. “What good stuff could you find in her room? Come on, let’s go to my room—I just bought tons of clothes and jewelry. Take whatever you want.” With that, she dragged Asher out. She didn’t even look at me, let alone say something like “Are you okay?” Ms. Evans, the housekeeper, brought up a glass of fresh orange juice. She came into my room and started tidying up like it was nothing. “I’ve never seen such a biased mother.” Whatever. Her good times were about to run out anyway.

A few days later, I heard a huge argument downstairs. “You absolute disgrace! Living off my money, wearing my clothes, and you still have the nerve to cheat on me!” Mr. Waylon backhanded Mom hard across the face. Asher immediately jumped in to break it up. Mr. Waylon was so mad he shoved Asher to the floor. “And don’t get me started on your precious son! Didn’t we agree—one kid each?” “Why does he keep showing up here, and every time he does, half my stuff goes missing!” Mom shot back, “My son is taking my things. It’s none of your business!” “Yours? Look at yourself! Everything you’re wearing, every piece of jewelry—I bought it all! Now I have to support your whole freeloading family?!” “Mr. Waylon, how dare you lecture me! If you weren’t sterile, would I even be in this mess?!” Mom’s words pushed Mr. Waylon over the edge. He lost it completely, grabbing Mom’s stuff and throwing it everywhere. She tried to stop him but ended up getting pushed down too. No one in the house dared to interfere. Asher hid in the corner, too scared to move. Mr. Waylon had married Mom because she was beautiful and already had two kids. After we moved in, he treated me more like a protégé—someone he could mentor and trust. But in my past life, Mom had taken advantage of that trust, recklessly wasting Mr. Waylon’s money. Asher, good-looking as he was, had zero common sense. That alone wouldn’t have been so bad. But these two—greedy and stupid… Not only was Mom cheating, but Asher was going around telling everyone Mr. Waylon’s entire fortune would one day be his. Word got back to Mr. Waylon fast. He wasn’t even dead yet, and they were already eyeing his money. Anyone would be ticked off. Mr. Waylon had no choice but to bring in his niece Rachel to train as his business assistant, and kick Mom and Asher out. In this life, Mom still got thrown out. But Mr. Waylon didn’t kick me out. “Leo, you’re better off with me than with your short-sighted, ignorant birth mother.” All my hard work had paid off. Mr. Waylon knew I was smart, driven, and had good judgment. I always put his interests first, consulting him before making any big decisions. I even casually mentioned that I saw him more like a father figure. Of course, my shopaholic mother had no clue about any of this, and she didn’t care anyway. Mom refused to leave, saying she’d rather die than step out of the house. She had no idea who she was dealing with. A self-made man like Mr. Waylon was nothing like my spineless trust-fund father. He wouldn’t fall for her little games. “Ms. Evans, go to the bedroom and pack some of her clothes.” Then he called security. And just like that, Mom and Asher got escorted out. As Mr. Waylon walked past my room, he patted my shoulder. “Leo, focus on your studies. This grown-up drama isn’t your problem.” I nodded. Idiots. No matter how many chances they got, they’d always be this stupid. My life wasn’t affected at all—in fact, Mr. Waylon started trusting me even more. Mom tried to get me to beg Mr. Waylon to take her back. Of course I said no. She called every day, screaming the most horrible things at me. Ms. Evans heard her once and wondered if I was even her real kid. In Mom’s eyes, only Asher existed. Without Mom’s money, Asher’s life got rough. He flunked all his classes and hated school. Dad just let him drop out. But Dad was drowning in debt, and their lives were a total mess. I was focused on studying for college entrance exams. Mr. Waylon had been super busy lately, barely ever home. Not long after, some thugs jumped me on my way to school. Our car was in the shop that day, so I was walking home alone. Right after school, a woman blocked my path. “You Leo?” Before I could answer, someone covered my mouth from behind and dragged me into an old warehouse. As soon as they took the blindfold off, someone kicked me to the floor. “Well, well, big brother. Enjoying life in that fancy house?” Asher walked over, looking down at me like I was dirt.

Asher backhanded me hard. “You bastard. I seriously underestimated you. That old man treats you like a king, and you’re still living there even after Mom got kicked out.” “I want to know exactly what you did to pull this off.” He pulled out a pocket knife, waving it inches from my face. When they saw he had a real knife, the other girls got nervous and stepped in. Maya was Asher’s delinquent girlfriend. Those other girls might have been troublemakers, but they weren’t about to get mixed up with weapons. Maya stepped in to break it up. “Asher, knock it off with the knife. He’s still your brother.” “This piece of trash? He’s not my brother.” He spat right in my face. But he did put the knife away, at least. They beat me until I couldn’t stand, then finally let me go. I limped to a taxi and headed back to the mansion. Only Ms. Evans was home, and she looked horrified when she saw me. “You left this morning perfectly fine. What happened to you?” I was covered in bruises. She cleaned me up gently. That evening, Mr. Waylon showed up after being gone for a while—with Mom, all dressed up like nothing had happened. They’d gotten back together. When Mr. Waylon saw me, he asked what happened. Mom, standing next to him, snapped: “Always getting into trouble. Never learning. Not like your brother, who knows how to behave.” He had his goons beat me up this afternoon, and now he’s walking around our house like he owns the place. “Mom, why don’t you ask who did this to me?” I shot back, angry. “Who else? You must have been messing with the wrong people…” “Leo, what happened?” Mom kept badmouthing me, but Mr. Waylon cut her off. I pointed at Asher. “He had a bunch of guys jump me right outside school.” “Are you crazy? What kind of lies are you telling?” Asher acted all innocent, trying to turn it around on me. I told Mr. Waylon and the police there might be security cameras near the school entrance and the warehouse. The police checked the footage and found Asher’s group on camera. They didn’t catch the actual beating, but it was enough to show what happened. Mr. Waylon looked shocked. He couldn’t believe someone would hire people to kidnap and beat their own brother. “This is sick. This isn’t just some prank.” “How does that prove Asher did it? Leo, you’re unbelievable! I know I haven’t been around much lately, but you don’t have to frame your brother like this!” Mom tried to turn it around, blaming me instead. “Asher, do you know these people?” Asher denied it, saying he was just passing by and had nothing to do with it. “Mom, you have to believe me.” Asher, looking even more upset, suddenly slapped me. I didn’t see it coming. After hitting me, he collapsed into fake sobs. The whole time, he played the victim while I was the one who’d been beaten. “Look what you did! You made your brother pass out! You’re so cruel—I don’t know why I ever had a monster like you!” She helped Asher to his room and even called the family doctor. I was hurt and bleeding, and she didn’t even say a word to me.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “343943”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #擦边Steamy #重生Reborn

Mom always said my birthday was her day of suffering, so she never allowed me to celebrate it. But Chloe… she always had a grand birthday party every year. I cried, begging Mom to let me celebrate just once. Mom, however, pulled out the annual statement and threw it in front of me: “This year, I’ve spent a whopping five thousand eight hundred fifty dollars and six cents on you.” “You useless burden, after all the money I’ve poured into you, you still expect a birthday celebration?” I didn’t understand. Our family wasn’t poor, yet Mom remembered every penny, even the cost of an ice cream. “If it weren’t for having you, how would my body be ruined and covered in stretch marks? How else would your father have gone out and found a mistress?” “All my suffering, it’s because of you. If you truly want to repay me, you should just die.” “I almost died in the operating room giving birth to you, and not only are you ungrateful, but you want to celebrate my suffering? Do you even have conscience?” I pulled the covers tightly over myself, afraid to even cry out loud. To make Mom happy, I jumped from the rooftop. But even after I truly died, Mom and Dad still weren’t happy.

Mom angrily threw the annual statement in front of me. My eyes were swollen from crying, and I knelt on the floor, sobbing continuously. “Mom, I’ll earn money when I grow up and pay you back…” Mom didn’t even hesitate, slapping me across the face. A burning pain flared on my cheek, followed by Mom’s furious roar. “Pay back? Can you ever pay back all the years of youth and energy I spent raising you?” “If you really want to pay me back, you should just die sooner and set me free.” Mom smashed everything she could get her hands on, then left the house with Chloe, leaving me alone, kneeling amidst a pile of shattered debris. I could only pin my hopes on Dad. Dad came home drunk, flopping onto the couch to scroll on his phone. I stopped cleaning the mess and got up to get him some water. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Mom’s SnapChat Story on his phone. In the photo, Mom was embracing Chloe, smiling happily, as if nothing had happened moments ago. The caption read: “No matter what happens, never bring your bad mood to your child! That’s our promise!” She couldn’t bring her bad mood to Chloe, but she could unleash all her fury on me. My hand, holding the glass, trembled, and the water spilled directly onto Dad. Dad quickly lifted his phone away, looking up at me angrily, his voice sharp as he yelled. “Lily, are your hands useless? You can’t even do a simple chore right. What good are you?” My nose stung, and tears welled up again. “Dad… I didn’t mean to…” Dad shot me an impatient glance, pointing at the door and shouting, “Oh shut up with the crying, you’re annoying as hell, just get out!” I sobbed, trying to explain to Dad, but he didn’t give me a chance, getting up and heading upstairs. I mustered all my courage and yelled after him, “Dad, today… it’s my birthday.” Dad’s footsteps on the stairs stopped. He turned to look at me, and I thought he finally remembered, that he would celebrate my birthday just once. I watched him, filled with hope and anxiety, but what Dad said was, “Birthday? What birthday?” “I never even heard of birthdays when I was a kid. You just haven’t known hardship.” Dad went upstairs without another look. I sobbed my way out of the house and knelt in the snow. Mom and Dad, you always said I was a jinx, that I was your curse, that you fought every day because of me… So, Mom and Dad, if I leave, will you stop fighting?

That night, I came down with a high fever. I tried to ignore the discomfort, crawled out of my room, and knocked on Mom’s door. Mom impatiently yanked the door open, her voice full of annoyance: “What now? Keeping people awake in the middle of the night? Are you happy only when I drop dead from exhaustion?” I quickly shook my head, explaining, “No, Mom, I just feel really unwell, I wanted to…” Before I could finish, she cut me off: “Unwell? What’s there to feel unwell about? Chloe fell and hurt her leg today, and she didn’t say she was unwell. Why are you acting unwell?” Chloe’s crying came from inside the room. Mom quickly rushed in, holding Chloe and comforting her. “Chloe, what’s wrong? Does it still hurt?” Chloe buried her head in Mom’s arms, sobbing, “Mom, it hurts! It’s all Lily’s fault for fighting with you today. I was so upset, I wasn’t watching where I was going, and that’s why I fell…” Mom wiped her tears, her angry gaze turning to me: “It’s all your fault. You’re just a jinx. Why don’t you just die?” Tears blurred my vision. I heard Mom close the door, and I lay there on the floor all night. Before, when Mom used to hit me for Chloe, I thought it was just because Chloe looked like Mom, so Mom doted on her especially. But my appearance wasn’t something I could control, so I tried to achieve perfection in other things. From the time I started school, my grades were always at the top of the class, but when I showed my report card to Mom, Mom was busy comforting Chloe, who had ranked last in her class. My report card, showing I was first in the whole school, was casually tossed into the trash. I made many more efforts, winning countless awards, but in Mom’s eyes, there was still only Chloe. The teacher assigned an essay about our mothers. I wrote and tore, tore and wrote on the paper. I could never remember a single time Mom had been gentle or caring towards me… In the end, I turned in a blank piece of paper. The teacher made me stand at the front of the class for an entire period and lectured me in front of everyone, saying I was heartless. I stood there, listening to all my classmates’ essays, and thought for the whole class if Mom truly loved me. As I got older, I gradually began to understand that Mom didn’t love me, not because I wasn’t good enough. It was because she simply didn’t like me, didn’t like my existence. I thought I was going to die, but I didn’t. I continued to live cautiously like that in the house for half a year. Half a month before Chloe’s birthday, Mom started preparing everything for Chloe’s party and her birthday gifts. My eyes red, I walked past her. Mom sighed helplessly, then called me back. “Who are you putting on that long face for?” “Chloe’s birthday is in a few days. You better be happy. Don’t let me see that sour expression on your face again.” I wanted to ask Mom why she held such grand birthday parties for Chloe every year but wouldn’t allow me even a small celebration. But the words caught in my throat. I nodded obediently and returned to my room. Behind me, Mom happily hummed a tune, continuing to prepare. Chloe merely mentioned wanting Dad to celebrate her birthday with her, and Mom, who usually fought with Dad the moment she saw him, actually cooked a meal herself and humbly invited Dad to the birthday party. Even more surprisingly, Dad agreed. I crouched in the kitchen, crying silently, tears dripping into my rice bowl. I lost all appetite. So I just poured the remaining rice and pickles into the trash. Mom, furious, smashed my bowl, pointing at my nose and yelling, “Lily, if you don’t want to eat, get out! What do you mean by secretly throwing it away? Is my cooking not good enough for your royal taste?” I looked at the shattered pieces on the floor, trying to explain, “No, I just wasn’t hungry…” Before I could finish, a stinging slap landed squarely on my face. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw many pieces of meat, barely touched, discarded on Chloe’s plate…

At the birthday party, Chloe invited many classmates and friends. I carefully presented a thoughtfully chosen gift to Chloe. Chloe didn’t even look, knocking the gift box to the floor. “What is this junk? I’m your older sister, and this is how you treat my birthday?” “Have you forgotten how many pretty dresses I gave you for your birthday?” Chloe did give me many dresses, but among them, not a single one was new. They were all dresses Chloe had worn, or her friends and classmates had worn… I sobbed, picking up the gift and wiping off the dust with my sleeve. “Chloe, you look best with hair clips.” “I saved money for months to buy this. Please take it…” My words were again cut off by Chloe. She forcefully snatched the box and threw it to the ground, her eyes full of disdain. Watching the hair clip fall to the floor, my heart suddenly twisted in pain, making it hard to breathe. I crouched down, trembling, reaching out to pick it up. But then I saw Chloe stomp on the hair clip several times until it broke into two pieces. Chloe stood with her arms crossed, looking down at me with contempt. “Mom says you’re a jinx. If I wear a hair clip from you, who knows what bad things might happen!” “A jinx like you should take all your bad luck and get out of our house.” “Mom and Dad have lived such good lives, I don’t know how we ended up with a jinx like you. You even almost killed Mom in the operating room. Ugh, a jinx!” I collapsed to the floor, Chloe’s voice becoming increasingly muffled in my ears. When I woke up, Mom and Chloe were sitting by the bed, waiting. I was incredibly excited. This was the first time Mom had stepped into my room since I could remember. But before I could even speak, Mom slapped me hard. I looked at her, confused, tears flowing against my will. “Mom…” I hadn’t done anything wrong, why… “Don’t call me Mom. I don’t have a jinx daughter like you. Look what you’ve done! If you’re going to die, do it outside! What’s the deal with dying at Chloe’s birthday party?” “Your dad finally agreed to celebrate Chloe’s birthday, and now it’s all ruined because of you.” My smile froze. So Mom came into the room not to care for me, but to punish me for Chloe. I tried to get up from the bed but accidentally fell off. I just stayed there, kneeling in front of Mom. I carefully reached out and tugged at Mom’s clothes: “Mom, I… I didn’t mean to.” Mom kicked me hard. My head hit the corner of the bed, and a lot of blood flowed. But Mom showed no remorse, turning and rushing out of the room. When Mom came back in, I saw a torn piece where I had tugged at her clothes. Mom, I’m not dirty. I shower every day. Do you despise me that much? Chloe is your child, and I’m also flesh and blood from you… Why don’t you feel any pity for me at all? Mom, you always said I should die. If I die, will you finally be happy? And Dad, will he stop fighting with you? If that’s the case, then I’m willing to die.

I wanted to say goodbye to Mom in person, so I covered my still-bleeding head and went to the banquet hall. When Mom saw me, her eyes were filled with nothing but anger. “What are you doing here? What happened to your head?” Hearing Mom care about me, I was overjoyed. “I’m fine…” My words hadn’t even fully left my mouth when Mom cut me off. “How unlucky. It’s Chloe’s birthday party today. What are you trying to do, making yourself look like this on purpose?” “Do you want our whole family to catch your bad luck? A perfectly good birthday party, and you’ve ruined the atmosphere. I shouldn’t have brought you.” Mom glared at me, then turned and went into the banquet hall. The doors closed. As the doors shut, I saw through the gap Mom gently putting a birthday hat on Chloe’s head. I had ruined the birthday party Mom had painstakingly prepared for Chloe, and made Mom angry. I wanted to make Mom happy again. I asked many people, and they said that death meant one’s soul flew to heaven. So I climbed onto the rooftop. It was so close to the sky here. If I jumped from here, would I fly to heaven? Just as I was about to jump, someone called out to me. I turned to look, and it was a very beautiful woman. Her voice trembled uncontrollably: “Child, you can’t play there. Come here, Auntie will take you to your mom and dad.” I politely thanked her, then asked, “Auntie, if I jump from here, will I fly to heaven?” “I asked many people, and they all said dying means flying to heaven.” “Mom always says I’m a jinx and tells me to die. I don’t want Mom to be unhappy all the time…” The woman was scared but didn’t dare to make any sudden moves. She extended her hand towards me: “Child, come here, Auntie will take you home.” I shook my head: “No, Auntie, Mom will be unhappy if she sees me again. I don’t want Mom to be unhappy.” I didn’t say anything more, gathering strength and leaping towards the sky. Mom, don’t be angry. I listened to you. I’m obediently going to die. But it wasn’t quite what I imagined. My body plummeted rapidly. Through the window, I saw Mom affectionately kiss Chloe’s forehead. Mom’s gaze briefly flickered towards the window. I wanted to wave to Mom, but the speed of my descent was too fast. Before I could even reach out, Mom disappeared from my sight. A flicker of shock crossed Mom’s eyes. Someone beside her shouted, “Someone jumped!” Mom seemed disbelieving: “Chloe, where’s your sister?” Mom scanned the banquet hall, but didn’t see me anywhere. She panicked, quickly running to the window to look. As my eyelids closed, I saw Mom. Her eyes seemed to be filled with tears, and her lips were moving. Mom, did I do something wrong again? If not, then why are there tears in your eyes?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “343942”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #擦边Steamy #重生Reborn

After my husband left for his business trip, I got a call: “Hello, I’m a clerk from a sex toy store. May I speak with Mrs. Miller? Your husband’s payment for the sex toy he bought yesterday afternoon failed. Could you please complete the payment?” I immediately called Alex, my husband, probing: “Weren’t you on a business trip yesterday? Why were you buying a sex toy yesterday afternoon?” He paused for a second, then chuckled lightly: “Oh, I was going to surprise you, but I guess you found out early.” After we got married, Alex had always been so proper in bed, never once buying any sex toys. He hadn’t even given a second glance to the sheer nightgown I bought last week. I hung up, then called the sex toy store again: “Send me your address. I’ll come down and pay now.” When I arrived at the sex toy store, the clerk pulled out the bill and said: “Hello, that’ll be $200.” I didn’t pay immediately. Instead, I said to the clerk: “I’d like to see the security footage first, just to confirm it was my husband who made the purchase.” The clerk looked surprised for a moment, then nodded. “Of course, please wait a moment.” He pulled up the monitor, and a familiar figure quickly appeared on the screen. It was Alex, my husband. Beside him stood a young woman, wearing a tight-fitting bodycon dress that highlighted her sensual curves. Alex and the young woman picked out handcuffs, a whip, candles, and even a nurse’s uniform. The woman gave a shy smile. Alex gently stroked her head. My heart instantly twisted into a knot. On the screen, the woman’s necklace caught my eye. My gaze locked. The pendant on that necklace was the letter “A”. I had designed the sketch myself and had it custom-made. It was one of a kind. It was my wedding anniversary gift to him. I made sure to save the footage. Then I handed the clerk my bank card: “It’s definitely my husband! Take the payment!” Back home, silence hung heavy in the air. I walked into Alex’s study, opened the company’s internal messaging app, and clicked on the list of female employees. One young face after another scrolled by. Finally, my finger stopped on the profile picture of a woman named Chloe Young. It was the same woman from the security footage. I closed the app and made a call. My best friend, Bella King, answered on the other end: “Hey, Rory, what’s up? How come you’re free to call today?” “I need you to look someone up for me, a new intern at our company, Chloe Young.” My voice was eerily calm. “Also, pull up all of Alex’s private account statements, hotel records, and immigration information from the last six months. Don’t miss a single detail.” Bella was quiet for two seconds. “…Did something happen with Alex?” “Worse than that.” After I hung up, Alex’s call came through. “Rory, are you busy?” His usual gentle voice came through. “No, just got off work.” “How was your day? Tired?” “It was fine.” “I’ll be back tomorrow. I brought you a gift, I promise you’ll love it.” He was still using that gentle tone. Listening to him, my stomach churned. The next day, as soon as I arrived at the office, Bella’s encrypted email landed in my inbox. “Everything you asked for. See for yourself.” I opened the attachment. It was Chloe’s social media account. The latest post featured *my* necklace. The caption read: “Boyfriend says I’m his muse. I absolutely adore this necklace.” I scrolled down further. One photo showed her in the background of our living room, holding my cat, grinning innocently. “Cuddling with my boyfriend’s cat at his place. Feeling totally cured.” Another showed her in my car, holding my favorite car diffuser. “Boyfriend’s car smells so good. He says it’s his sanctuary.” Every photo, every word, was a blatant claim of ownership. I closed the photos, my face expressionless, and opened another folder. It was Chloe’s background, dug up by Bella. A regular university, a completely unremarkable resume. Getting an internship at a top-tier design firm like ours was nothing short of a miracle. Her only notable achievement was a first-place prize in a campus competition for a city landscape design report. That report sparked a memory. I scrolled further, and when I saw the last photo, my body stiffened. In the picture, Chloe was holding a printed design sketch, a look of triumphant satisfaction on her face. The title on the blueprint was unmistakably – “South Side Project.” This was the core design proposal I had poured my heart and soul into for three months, for the company’s most important annual bid. It was the most crucial project of my entire career.

The next day, I arrived at the company’s annual key project proposal meeting. I found an inconspicuous corner and sat down, watching Alex lead Chloe to the most central seats in the front row. He was impeccably dressed in a bespoke suit, his hair neatly combed. He leaned over, talking to a client representative beside him, completely at ease. Chloe sat next to him, clad in a white professional suit, her face adorned with exquisite makeup. Gone was her previous innocent look, replaced by the sharp competence of a rising professional. The way she looked at Alex was filled with adoration and worship. The two chatted and laughed, looking every bit like a dazzling duo working in perfect sync. Soon, the presentation began. Chloe, as the lead presenter for the “South Side Project,” walked onto the stage. She took a deep breath and began to articulate the design concept. “The core of our South Side Project lies in its unique ‘ecological sky bridge’ design. It will act like a vibrant, green artery…” These were the exact words I had told Alex on countless late nights, fueled by coffee. I had once believed those conversations were our deepest connection, a true meeting of minds. Now, I realized he was just the most patient thief. Chloe’s presentation was a success. When the final renderings were displayed on the PPT, a collective gasp of admiration rippled through the room. The presentation ended, followed by thunderous applause. The host stepped onto the stage: “Thank you, Ms. Young, for your brilliant presentation! Now, let’s move on to the Q&A session.” In the audience, a distinguished real estate mogul, Mr. Davis from City Development Group, raised his hand. He was known in the industry for his incredibly sharp eye. “Ms. Young, hello,” Mr. Davis began. “Given the importance of this project, isn’t it a bit risky to have a newcomer lead it? I recall Ms. Vance’s previous ‘Riverside Gate’ project was an industry benchmark.” Chloe’s face visibly faltered for a moment, but she quickly composed herself, glancing pleadingly at Alex in the audience. Alex gave her a reassuring smile, then picked up the microphone in front of him. “Mr. Davis, thank you for your question.” He stood up, his gaze sweeping across the room, finally resting on Chloe, full of pride. “Aurora Vance, my wife, is indeed very seasoned in design. But architecture needs new life. Chloe’s proposal, its biggest highlight, is its creativity—something experience alone can’t replicate.” The entire room fell silent. Then, an even more enthusiastic round of applause erupted. My world went silent, save for the dull thudding of my heart in my chest. I never imagined my husband would publicly discredit me. Mr. Davis raised an eyebrow but said no more, taking his seat. The host smiled, taking over: “It seems Mr. Miller has great confidence in Ms. Young! So, are there any other guests who would like to ask a question?” The room remained quiet. After Alex’s full endorsement of Chloe, it seemed no one else had anything to ask. Chloe bowed on stage, her face radiating undisguised triumph and joy. I put away my phone and picked up the microphone on the table. Instantly, all eyes turned to me. The host paused, bewildered: “Ma’am, may I ask who you are?” The smile on Alex’s face froze. Chloe’s gaze, directed at me, also held a hint of wariness.

I didn’t answer the host, walking directly to the podium. My heels clicked crisply and rhythmically on the polished floor. Each step echoed, striking a chord in Alex and Chloe’s hearts. The host on stage looked a little flustered, instinctively trying to stop me. I merely gave him a look, and he pulled his hand back. I took the microphone from him. “Hello, everyone.” My voice, amplified through the speakers, filled the entire room, clear and steady. “First, I’d like to thank Mr. Davis for his excellent question earlier.” I paused, my gaze sweeping past everyone, landing precisely on my husband, Alex. “Secondly, I’d like to add a point to Mr. Miller’s recent statement.” I turned to face Chloe, whose face had already started to pale, and smiled. “Ms. Young, I’m delighted that you have such a deep understanding of the South Side Project. As the original creator of this project, I am truly gratified.” *Boom!* The entire room erupted into a stunned murmur. Countless eyes darted between me, Alex, and Chloe. Alex’s face instantly turned ashen with fury. “Aurora! What are you talking about!” he hissed in a low, furious whisper. Chloe panicked too, hastily explaining: “No, everyone, don’t listen to her nonsense, this proposal is mine…” “Is it yours?” I cut her off. I gestured for my assistant to connect my USB drive to the projector. On the large screen behind me, Chloe’s exquisite renderings vanished. They were replaced by the original files from my computer. Folder after folder, neatly arranged by date. “This is the first conceptual model for the South Side Project, created in October of last year.” I clicked open the earliest folder, revealing rough sketches brimming with raw, original ideas. “This is the first version, and this is the second version.” Each file I opened, Chloe’s face grew a shade paler. Finally, I clicked open the blueprint page for the “ecological sky bridge” core structure design. “As for the ecological sky bridge that Ms. Young so proudly showcased, I have the complete data calculation process. Since you claim this was your inspiration, perhaps you can explain it to everyone?” All eyes in the room shot towards Chloe. She stood there, her lips trembling, her meticulously made-up face flushed crimson, unable to utter a single word. She wouldn’t understand any of it. Alex finally couldn’t sit still. He quickly strode onto the stage. “Enough, Aurora!” he squeezed out, his voice laced with a warning, “Is this a company internal matter you have to cause a scene about here?” He wanted to dismiss it as a marital dispute and an internal company problem. “Internal matter?” I picked up the microphone. “Mr. Miller, have you forgotten how you publicly assessed me just now?” He choked. Immediately, he tried to compose himself and turned to the client representatives in the audience, attempting to smooth things over. “Everyone, my apologies, this is just a private matter between my wife and me.” “Private matter?” I held up the microphone. “Director Miller claimed that he spent the past few days in a neighboring city conducting final on-site inspections for the South Side Project.” I paused, watching his eyes widen in terror. “But I just received news that Director Miller and his intern have been staying in the Presidential Suite at the Ritz-Carlton here in the city for the past few days. I wonder what ‘project’ the two of you were ‘inspecting’ in the hotel?” At the same time, I played the security video from the sex toy store. The sex toys in their hands made the entire room erupt into chaos.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “343941”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #擦边Steamy #重生Reborn

Right after my check-up, I scrolled past a help post: “The college student I’m seeing has kidney failure. The only matching donor is my wife. How can I get my wife to willingly donate her kidney to her?” Someone in the comment section replied: “Easy! Just tell your wife she’s the one with kidney failure, and your mistress is a kind stranger volunteering to donate. Your wife will definitely agree!” Just as I was thinking what poor woman was unlucky enough to have such a husband, My husband, Dr. Alex Harper, the Chief Surgeon, suddenly approached me with a fake medical report: “You have kidney failure, Claire. You need immediate surgery. But luckily, we have a kind donor here at the hospital who’s a perfect match. I’ve already scheduled the surgery for tomorrow!” I watched Dr. Alex Harper stand before me, holding the report, his face a mask of pained concern and forced relief. For a moment, I was stunned. It must be a coincidence, right? Alex and I had dated for five years, married for two—a total of seven years. He had always been incredibly thoughtful. He never once let me step foot in the kitchen or do a single chore. That morning, I’d merely coughed twice, and he’d rushed me straight to his hospital for a check-up. He was the best man in the world to me, besides my own parents! I looked at him, testing the waters: “Honey, could there be a mistake?” “I feel perfectly fine. How could I suddenly have kidney failure?” Alex gently stroked my hair, reassuring me: “Most kidney diseases don’t show obvious symptoms, sweetheart. It’s a good thing we caught it early, otherwise, it could have been really bad.” His expression was sincere, his tone earnest. But the sight of him sent a chill down my spine. I was silent for two seconds, still unwilling to give up hope: “Who is this ‘kind donor’ who’s giving me a kidney?” Alex answered without hesitation: “A college student.” My heart plummeted. It clicked. Alex. He was the one who posted it. He was cheating. And now, he wanted to trick me into donating my kidney to save his mistress. My blood ran cold, but I kept my face carefully blank as I asked Alex: “I don’t know this college student at all. Why would she agree to donate a kidney to me?” Alex smiled warmly: “That girl is incredibly kind.” “She said her own mother died of kidney disease, and she doesn’t want to see anyone else go through that same pain.” “So, as soon as she found out she was a match for you, she immediately offered to donate.” Even though Alex’s words were a lie, The undeniable tenderness in his eyes when he spoke of that girl was all too real. I knew that look. I’d seen it when he traveled thousands of miles just to see me. When I was sick, and he stayed by my side for days and nights without sleep. At our wedding, when he knelt on one knee and made his solemn vows. He had always gazed at me with that same devoted look. Seeing my silence, Alex comforted me softly: “Don’t be scared, darling.” “I’ll perform your surgery myself.” “With me there, you’re going to be perfectly fine.” Hearing Alex’s words, I couldn’t help but recall when he first chose medicine, promising me with the same earnestness: “Claire, I swear, I’ll study hard so I can protect you from illness and pain your whole life.” How laughable. The man who once vowed to study medicine just to keep me safe. Now, he was willing to personally remove my kidney for another woman.

I looked at Alex, my voice calm: “Can I meet her? She is my benefactor, after all. I’d like to thank her properly.” Dr. Alex Harper was renowned in medical circles as the devoted, perfect man. Young, accomplished, and devastatingly handsome, he never lacked attention from women. Even the hospital director’s daughter, a powerful socialite, openly pursued him. She’d even publicly stated that if Alex would just be with her, he could have the entire hospital. But Alex had always been completely unmoved. He’d even offended her, almost getting blacklisted by the medical community. Despite all this, he remained unwavering, telling me: “I could lose the whole world, but I can’t live without you.” I was intensely curious. What kind of woman could make Alex, a man who held loyalty as a sacred vow, change his heart? Alex paused for a second, then chuckled: “She left the hospital right after signing the donor consent form.” “After the surgery tomorrow, I’ll take you to thank her properly.” Clearly, Alex didn’t want me to meet her. But the more he resisted, the more curious I became. I didn’t press, nodding obediently: “Okay, I’ll trust you.” “I’m a little tired. I want to go home first.” Alex breathed a sigh of relief: “I’ll drive you.” I shook my head, forcing a weak smile: “No need. With the surgery tomorrow, you must have a lot of preparations. You go ahead and get busy. I can just take a cab home.” A flicker of emotion crossed Alex’s eyes, and he said earnestly: “Claire, marrying someone as understanding and thoughtful as you is truly the greatest blessing of my life.” If I hadn’t seen that post. If that college student hadn’t existed. I might have actually been moved by the sincerity in Alex’s eyes. But now, looking into his seemingly loving gaze, I felt nothing but profound irony. Love, it seemed, could truly be a masterful disguise. I didn’t say anything, just quietly turned and walked away. But I didn’t go far. Instead, I went to a coffee shop downstairs from the hospital, ordered a coffee, and sat silently. A few minutes later, Alex changed out of his white lab coat and hurried out of the hospital. I put down my coffee and quietly followed him. Alex seemed ecstatic. He was walking and talking on the phone, gesturing animatedly—clearly announcing good news to the person on the other end. I followed Alex to a high-end apartment complex near the hospital. Just as Alex reached the bottom of one of the buildings, a girl practically flew down the stairs and threw herself into his arms. The moment I clearly saw her face, My eyes widened in shock. How could it be her?!

I had wondered why Alex, who seemingly loved me so much he’d risk his own life for me, had suddenly started an affair. It was because of her! It dawned on me. Now I finally understood why Alex had gone to such lengths to trick me into donating my kidney to her! I couldn’t bear to watch Alex and the girl’s intimate display any longer. I practically fled back home. Once home, I sat on the couch, unable to calm down. The girl’s face kept flashing before my eyes. Making me realize that this situation was far more terrifying than I had imagined! My hands trembling, I pulled out my phone and called several people in quick succession. Half an hour later, my parents, Alex’s mother Anne, and his sister Amy, all rushed to the house. “What’s wrong, Claire? You called us all over so suddenly. Did something happen?” The four of them sat around the sofa, looking at me with worried expressions. I took a deep breath, looked at them, and directly told them about Alex’s affair and his plan to trick me into donating a kidney to his mistress. Hearing this, Anne shot to her feet, livid: “That scoundrel! How could he do this to you?” “Claire, don’t be sad. I’m going to go teach him a lesson right now!” My mom held Anne back. She looked at me cautiously: “Claire, could there be a misunderstanding?” My dad also nodded: “Alex, that man, everyone could see how much he loved you. How could he possibly be cheating?” Amy, too, echoed in disbelief: “Exactly! You’re the only woman my brother has ever loved, since we were kids.” “He treasures you more than his own life. How could he possibly remove your kidney for some other woman?” I knew they wouldn’t believe it. So I pulled out the photo I’d secretly taken of the girl when I followed Alex: “What if he cheated with her?” The moment they saw the girl’s photo, the four people who had been so certain Alex couldn’t possibly be cheating, instantly went pale. “How can this be?” “Why her?” Anne murmured, her face ashen, her eyes filled with shock. Amy’s confident expression instantly vanished, replaced by a dazed look: “So it was her… No wonder Alex would do something like this…” My parents went completely limp, their voices trembling: “It’s over. Everything’s completely over!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “343940”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #擦边Steamy #重生Reborn

I hit the $100 million lottery jackpot. I came home for the holidays, ready to share the news with my family. But Mom beat me to it with an announcement of her own: “I sold the rental property for top dollar! I’m giving Derek two million, and Jessica two million!” She glanced at me sideways. “You’ll stay here with me. Take care of me in my old age.” I was confused. “What about me? What’s my share?” She frowned impatiently. “That’s four million total. It’s already been split… Family resources should go to those with the most potential.” “You’re just a high school dropout with no future. How dare you compare yourself to them? Derek has his Ivy League PhD, and Jessica has her MBA from a top business school. Only they deserve it.” I clutched the lottery ticket in my pocket and asked: “So if you become worthless in my eyes, does that mean I don’t have to care for you when you’re elderly?” Mom shot to her feet and pointed at my head, screaming: “Clara, you ungrateful brat! Over some money from selling a property, you won’t even care for me in my old age!” I sat there, looking up at her. “You abandoned me first!” “How did I abandon you? Didn’t I raise you? Didn’t I pay for your high school?” Mom’s expression turned dark. I actually laughed, I was so furious. “Mom, you left me with Grandma when I was in elementary school. I only came back after Grandma passed away when I was in middle school.” “When I started high school, all you gave me was a set of used bedding from Jessica. I paid for tuition and living expenses myself by working summer jobs and part-time gigs.” When I was in kindergarten, Mom forced me to complete the entire elementary school curriculum. But in my last year of kindergarten, I couldn’t grasp physics and chemistry no matter how hard I tried. Mom pointed at my nose and called me mentally challenged with an IQ of only 70. Said I couldn’t hold a candle to Derek and Jessica. She tossed me aside like garbage to Grandma’s place in the countryside. She decided I had no potential and wasn’t worth investing in. Mom still looked down at me with that condescending attitude: “Didn’t I visit you in the countryside? Didn’t I bring you food and clothes?” My nose stung and I felt even more hurt: “When I was in the countryside, you visited once a month. Each time you brought 15 loaves of bread and some hand-me-downs.” “Did you really think half a loaf of bread a day was enough to keep me full?” “I followed Grandma around collecting cans and recyclables just to barely put food on the table!” “And those old clothes you gave me—did you think they even fit? I got made fun of by my classmates all through elementary school!” Mom rolled her eyes. “You’re just holding a grudge! Don’t you know I was teaching you to be resilient and work hard!” “Besides, I fed you, didn’t I? How is that not raising you?” Hearing this made me even angrier: “You raised me? By making me do endless chores every day just to earn scraps of leftovers?” “You raised me? By sending Derek and Jessica to extracurricular classes while I collected recyclables to save up for my own textbooks?” Mom glared at me again. “Their IQs are almost 140. Can you even compare?” I broke down crying. “Just because my IQ isn’t as high as theirs, I don’t deserve to be your child?!” Mom remained unmoved. “Cut the drama! The fact is they’re better than you and more valuable.” “Mom! Enough!” I completely lost it. Mom snorted and sat down, crossing her arms. “You idiot, go wash the dishes in the kitchen. Don’t distract Derek and Jessica from studying!” I wiped my tears and looked at my brother. “You think this is fair too?” Derek glanced at Mom and mumbled, “I… I don’t know, don’t ask me… I just do what Mom says.” I laughed bitterly and turned to my sister. “What about you?” Jessica frowned and stated flatly, “I listen to Mom too.” “Besides, that property was Mom’s. She can distribute the money however she wants. I respect her decision.” I laughed again, but there was no humor in it. I slowly stood up, clutching the multimillion-dollar lottery ticket in my pocket, and looked at them: “Fine. You all respect her, so I will too. I won’t fight over that money.” I took a deep breath. “But if you’re taking all the benefits, don’t expect me to care for her in her old age.” “Let’s cut ties from now on!” The moment I finished speaking, Mom jumped up and slapped me hard across the face: “You ungrateful brat! You’re just being bitter because you don’t want to care for me, aren’t you?” “Get out of this house right now!”

I walked through the streets as heavy snow fell. Christmas Eve. All the shops were closed. I couldn’t even spot a single lit-up motel sign. I huddled under a bus stop shelter, clutching the lottery ticket in my pocket. That was the only thing that gave me a glimmer of hope. I had planned to announce on Christmas Eve that I’d won $100 million in the lottery and promise each of them $20 million. So Derek could buy a house in New York without worrying and focus on his research. So Jessica could freely pursue her finance career dreams, and Mom could live comfortably in her old age. Maybe God took pity on me and didn’t want them to take advantage of me. At the last moment, He let me see them for who they really are. Letting that false sense of family love I’d been clinging to completely fade away. It was for the best. Not too late. After searching for a long time, I finally found a small motel still open. I checked in and had just finished eating some bread when my phone rang. I looked at the screen. It was my uncle—Mom’s brother. As soon as I answered, his loud, accusatory voice came through: “You brat! Why did you make your mother angry? You have no respect!” I shot back, “Mom kicked me out.” He continued blaming me. “That was just angry talk! Why would a child argue with their parents like that?” “Do you know how hard it was for your mom to raise you? So what if she didn’t give you any money?” “That’s your mom’s money. She can give it to whoever she wants!” “Derek has his Ivy League PhD, Jessica has her top MBA. They’re the ones who deserve it. You’re just a high school dropout with nothing going for you!” My chest felt tight: “Just because I didn’t do as well in school, I don’t deserve fair treatment? I should just be a servant and smile while watching them take everything?” Richard got even angrier: “Why are you being so petty with family? You need to think of the bigger picture!” “Go home right now and apologize to your mother. Someone like you should be the family caretaker!” I was furious. “Why should I?” Richard was breathing heavily with anger: “You brat, how dare you talk back to me! Don’t you understand respect? How can you be so dense!” I hung up and blocked his number. The world went quiet.

The next day was Christmas. My phone rang again. It was my sister Jessica calling. I hesitated for a few seconds but answered. She got straight to the point. “Clara, Mom slipped and fell looking for you last night. She broke her leg. Come home and take care of her.” My mind was still foggy. “Broken leg? Where did she look for me? Why didn’t she call me?” “Hurry up. Derek and I still have dissertation work. We don’t have time.” I sat up and rubbed my temples. “Didn’t she give you both four million total? Can’t you hire a caregiver?” Jessica got defensive. “Clara, what’s that supposed to mean? She’s your mother too, right? Taking care of her is your responsibility.” “Derek and I have studies to focus on. We don’t have time for this pointless argument.” I smiled. “So you take the money and I do the work? I’m just a free caretaker, is that it?” “Have you no shame?” Jessica’s voice suddenly rose. “Clara! Mom raised you and you don’t even care about her—” I gripped my phone tighter. “The way she raised me was making me collect recyclables for textbook money, making me eat leftovers and do all the housework, giving all the property money to you two, and then expecting me to take care of her in old age?” “Do you have a conscience? Is this fair?” “Fair?” Jessica laughed bitterly. “The world isn’t fair.” “You’re a high school graduate. How much can you make in a month? I have an MBA from a top business school. My starting salary will be several times yours. My future social status is something you can’t even dream of.” What’s wrong with Mom investing money in people with more potential?” As I listened, my heart sank more and more. So in their eyes, people really were only worth what they could earn. “So because I have no value, I deserve to be sacrificed, is that it?” Jessica’s voice was full of impatience: “Good that you understand. Cut the drama and just get over here!” “I’m not coming.” I said firmly. “What did you say?!” “I said I’m not coming.” I enunciated each word. “You took the money. You take care of her yourselves. As of last night, she’s not my mother anymore.” Jessica cursed at me through the phone: “Clara! You’re such a bitch!” “I’m telling you, if you don’t come today, don’t ever think about stepping through that door again!” I laughed dryly. “I never wanted to go through that door again anyway.” I hung up. Then I blocked her too. I hadn’t slept well last night and had a bit of a headache. I turned over, planning to sleep a bit more. Just as I was dozing off, the phone rang again. This time it was my aunt—Mom’s sister calling. I was annoyed as hell and almost hung up immediately. But she’d been relatively decent to me before. I didn’t know what I was hoping for, but I answered. Her voice was a bit hoarse. “Spending Christmas alone out there… You’re not freezing, are you?” My heart softened slightly. I answered quietly, “I’m okay.” She paused, her voice gentler: “Your mom fell. She’s lying in bed and can’t move… Can you come back and take care of her?” That little bit of warmth in my heart felt like it had been pricked with a needle. I didn’t know what to say. “I know you’re hurting.” She sighed. “But honey, she’s your only mother. Can you really be so heartless? What if you regret it later?” She was here to persuade me too. My heart instantly went cold. I didn’t want to say anything else. Only the sound of breathing remained on the phone. “…Think about it carefully. Call me if you need anything.” She sighed and hung up. I held my phone in silence for a long time, then went through my contacts one by one, blocking all those relatives’ numbers. I took a deep breath and pulled back the curtains. Outside was a white expanse. From today on, I would only live for myself.

In the afternoon, some convenience stores opened. I went to buy some food. As soon as I came out, I heard a familiar voice: “Clara!” My heart skipped a beat. I saw Richard standing not far away, smoking a cigarette. I turned and walked away, my steps getting faster and faster, almost running. “Clara! Stop right there!” His voice chased after me. I turned into a narrow alley, my heart pounding like a drum. Just as I caught my breath, at the other end of the alley, the men he’d brought blocked my way. I was trapped. They were like two walls, trapping me in the middle. Richard snatched the bag from my hands. The bread I’d just bought scattered all over the ground. “Come back with us!” “I won’t!” I tried hard to shake off his hand. “You don’t have a choice!” He grabbed my arm, his grip so strong it hurt my bones. The two of them dragged me back, half pulling, half carrying. When we entered the house, I saw Mom lying on the couch eating cookies. “Here’s your girl.” He pushed me forward. “Kneel down!” Richard shouted and kicked me to the ground. I lifted my head and glared at Mom with hatred. “What are you glaring at?” Mom sat up. “Raised you all these years for nothing? My leg is hurt this badly and you run faster than a rabbit! Did a dog eat your conscience?” I smiled. “You’re talking to me about conscience? Did your conscience go with that four million to your two precious kids?” As I spoke, I looked at her perfectly fine legs. “You broke your leg but you can sit up? Why isn’t it in a cast and elevated?” “How dare you talk back!” Mom slapped me. I immediately tasted blood in my mouth. Richard looked at me with disgust. “Keeping this brat around is just trouble. Might as well…” He lowered his voice, but I heard every word clearly: “I know some people in rural areas who are desperate for wives.” “This girl may only have a high school diploma, but she’s pretty enough. We could get twenty or thirty thousand for her. That money would be enough to keep you comfortable in your old age.” A chill ran through my body. I looked at them in disbelief. Mom pressed her lips together and lowered her eyelids. From her throat came a muffled: “…That could work.” My whole body trembled. I was filled with hatred. I struggled to get up and saw the fruit knife next to the fruit bowl on the coffee table. They were still quietly discussing the details of selling me. Just as Mom reached out to grab me again, I lunged forward, grabbed the knife, and held it against my own throat. I screamed: “You want money, don’t you? You want to sell me?!” My eyes were red as I looked at each of their faces: “If you keep pushing me, I’ll die right here and now. Let’s see if the police can figure out that you drove me to it!” “Clara! Are you crazy! Put down the knife!” Mom’s voice trembled with fear. I smiled. I knew she wasn’t worried about me. She was worried that if something happened to me, it might affect Derek and Jessica’s reputation. Holding the fruit knife, I backed toward the door. My eyes never left them: “Don’t follow me.” “Anyone who follows me, I’ll fight to the death.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “343939”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #擦边Steamy #重生Reborn

The company decided to downsize using what seemed like a fair method—an anonymous online vote. Whoever got the most votes would be let go. The boss gave us one day to cast our ballots. The next day, when Mr. Reid announced the results, I was shocked. The entire company had only 198 employees. All 197 votes went to me. I stood up with a bitter smile, ready to process my termination. But Mr. Reid stopped me. “Wait. Look at this first.” He opened the online voting system’s records. All 197 votes had been cast in the exact same second. I understood immediately—this wasn’t a fair vote at all! Mr. Harrison Reid announced: “The layoff is suspended for now. IT department, investigate this voting system first.” Then Harrison glanced at me. “Clara, you stay.” Vivian Matthews, the project manager, was the last to leave. As she passed by, she lightly patted my shoulder. “Clara, don’t worry. I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.” I nodded. When only Mr. Reid and I remained in the conference room, he placed a document in front of me. “This is your performance record for the past six months.” I looked down. My rating was “Outstanding.” “Why do you think an employee with perfect performance reviews would be unanimously voted out by the entire company?” Harrison’s question hung in the air. I stayed silent, my mind racing. Vivian always presented my PowerPoint presentations during work reports as “our team’s results.” Technical problems I’d solved after working until midnight were claimed as her achievements the next day. Last quarter’s most important project—she screwed it up, and I pulled three all-nighters to salvage it. I thought if I just worked hard and treated people kindly, I’d eventually earn recognition. Turns out, in their eyes, my tolerance just meant I could be pushed around. “Mr. Reid, why are you helping me?” I looked up at Harrison. Harrison leaned back in his chair. “I’m not helping you. I’m helping the company eliminate parasites. This company needs real talent.” I understood immediately. “I’m giving you one week,” Harrison said. “Find the parasite.” “I’ll need help.” I looked at him and stated my condition. Harrison seemed to have expected this. “IT will cooperate with you. Officially, starting now, you’ve been suspended and need to process your termination immediately.” “Alright.” I nodded. When I walked out of Harrison’s office, my coworkers’ laughter stopped abruptly. Vivian was the first to react. She walked over with her coffee mug. “Clara, finished talking with the boss? How’d it go? Everything okay?” I looked at her and smiled. “It’s fine.” “Mr. Reid asked me to resign. I’m leaving.” I clearly saw a flash of barely concealed triumph in her eyes. “What? How could this happen…” She covered her mouth dramatically, pretending to be dismayed. “Well, don’t be too upset. Think of it as a vacation. You can find work anywhere, right?” The surrounding coworkers chimed in. “Yeah, Clara, don’t take it to heart.” “Vivian’s right. A new job might be better for you anyway.” I looked at these people. They were like vultures circling. “Thanks for your concern, everyone.” After speaking, I turned and went back to my desk.

Early the next morning, I began processing my so-called termination. According to procedure, I needed to transfer all my unfinished work to the project manager—Vivian Matthews. She sat at my workstation with a handover checklist, like an inspector. The project she was responsible for—I’d pulled several all-nighters last month to finish it. “Why does this data look wrong?” Vivian pointed at a report on the screen. My heart sank. I leaned in to look. That was the final version I’d submitted last Friday. I’d checked it at least ten times. There couldn’t be any problems. “I remember everything was fine when I handed it to you.” “Really?” Vivian raised an eyebrow. “Maybe I’m misremembering, or maybe you accidentally messed it up?” She turned to a coworker at the next desk and smiled. “Well, Clara’s been under a lot of stress lately. Mistakes are understandable.” She said “understandable,” but her expression clearly said “see, she’s just incompetent.” “But it’s a small issue. I’ll fix it.” She appeared very magnanimous, picking up the mouse to help me correct it. I watched her randomly modify my spreadsheet, and a bad feeling rose in my chest. I couldn’t confront her on the spot. I needed evidence. I straightened up and casually picked up my water glass. “I’m going to get some water.” I turned toward the break room. She didn’t know I’d already started the screen recording function on my computer. Her every move was being captured. I lingered in the break area for a moment before returning to my desk. She had “found” three of my “mistakes.” By the end, I’d become a waste of space with questionable abilities in the entire department’s eyes. And she was the perfect manager who’d salvaged everything and showed mercy to her incompetent subordinate. The handover finished. I carried my small cardboard box, ready to leave. Vivian even “kindly” walked me to the elevator. “Clara, let’s keep in touch.” She waved at me with a smile, triumph practically overflowing from her eyes. I walked to a coffee shop at the corner across from the company and found the most secluded seat. I pulled out my USB drive and copied the video I’d just recorded. Putting on headphones, I slowed the playback speed to one-third. At exactly fifteen minutes and three seconds into the video. I clearly saw Vivian’s fingers, in the gap between rapidly switching windows. Precisely click open a subfolder in my work files. Then she selected a document named “Final Backup – DO NOT TOUCH.” Without hesitation, she pressed Delete. That document was the most original, most complete backup of real data for the project she was responsible for. My heartbeat nearly stopped in that instant.

I extracted that crucial video segment and sent it to Harrison via encrypted email. Five minutes later, my phone vibrated. It was Harrison’s brief reply. “Continue.” Very much his style. He didn’t want the process. He wanted results. One video could only prove Vivian was guilty of deleting my files, but it wasn’t enough to directly link her to those 197 votes. I needed more direct evidence. I pulled out my work phone and dialed an encrypted number. The call was answered quickly. “Hello, Clara.” It was Lucas Gray from IT, the person Harrison had assigned to help with my investigation. He was a recent college grad with great technical skills but an introverted personality. He rarely spoke at the company. I’d once helped him out when older employees were giving him a hard time. “Lucas, can you check if there were any unusual operations on Vivian’s work computer yesterday between nine and ten AM?” I asked in a low voice. “Sure, give me a moment.” Lucas agreed readily. I picked up the now-cold coffee in front of me. My brain was like a machine running at high speed, replaying every detail of the situation. Why would Vivian do this? Just to get rid of me and eliminate a potential competitor? No, the cost was too high. The file she deleted must hide a bigger secret. Half an hour later, Lucas called back. “Clara, I checked. There’s nothing.” His voice sounded a bit dejected. “She just sent and received emails, browsed the intranet—exactly like a normal employee.” The lead had gone cold. But I wasn’t giving up. I leaned back on the coffee shop sofa, forcing myself to calm down. Same-second voting. That absolutely couldn’t be 197 people manually clicking. It must have used some kind of script or program that completed all operations instantly through a single command. If there was no problem with Vivian’s own computer… Then where was the “server” that executed this program? That platform that could centrally control, or rather, could be exploited for unified operations… A thought suddenly flashed through my mind. Cloud server! The company had rented a large cloud server so employees could work remotely anytime, anywhere. All employee accounts could log in through specific ports and authorizations. That platform had extremely high permissions. Theoretically, if someone obtained high enough access, they could absolutely perform batch operations. I immediately grabbed my phone and called Lucas again. “Lucas, don’t check individual computers! Check the cloud server! Check all backend login logs at exactly 9:31 AM yesterday!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “343938”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #擦边Steamy #重生Reborn

My husband came home with a nanny one day, and she had a five-year-old boy in tow. He told me the child was adopted from an orphanage. But late that night, in the basement, I saw Michael savagely making out with the nanny. “Thank you, my love, for giving me a son.” The nanny trembled, whimpering softly. “So when are you finally going to divorce her and marry me?” Five years ago, I was badly burned on my back saving Michael from a fire, leaving me unable to have children. He had held me then, crying hysterically, repeating over and over that it didn’t matter if we never had children, as long as he had me. It was all a lie. I stood in the shadows, a cold, mocking smile twisting my lips. That kind of man, tainted to the core, was not worth keeping. Victoria POV Michael and I had been married for nine years, known in our social circle as the quintessential power couple. That perception shattered completely the moment I saw Michael holding a five-year-old boy. The reason was simple: that child wasn’t mine. Michael, usually so aloof in public, was now softly coaxing the child in a doting tone. “Alex, listen to your mom.” My mind went blank with a loud buzz, as if I couldn’t hear anything else. Five years ago, I was badly burned on my back saving Michael from a fire, and I lost the ability to have children after that. I remember Michael kneeling by my hospital bed, clutching my hand tightly, his eyes red as he swore, “I don’t want children, Victoria, I only want you.” Those vows still echoed in my ears, yet the scene before me crushed everything. He was holding a child, a child he had with another woman, calling his name so tenderly. I clamped a hand over my mouth, desperate to stifle my sobs, and spun on my heel, fleeing. At the gallery entrance, my friend Jennifer looked startled by my pale face. I held her, my fingertips cold, my voice dry and hoarse. “Jennifer, I need you to look into Michael. He might have a son.” Only then did I finally understand: all these years he had held me like a precious treasure, it was all just a sweet, cruel deception. When I got home, I received a text from Michael. “Three more days until my business trip ends. Miss me?” followed by a kiss emoji. I stared at the message, tears streaming down my face. For the past five years, he’d always gone to Europe for a month every autumn. I always thought he was working tirelessly for his business empire, but now I understood. That month was for his other family. Outside, snow had begun to fall, silently blanketing the old oak trees beyond my window. I scrolled through the files Jennifer had sent. The woman’s name was Emma, and she’d grown up with Michael. He’d once gotten into a fight for her on the football field, breaking a bone. He’d bought her a rare antique wristwatch. He’d even defied his entire family to marry her. All those grand, dramatic gestures from our past… they just twisted the knife deeper into the gaping wound of his betrayal. My phone rang, Michael’s name flashing on the screen. I bit my lip hard, letting it ring again and again, but eventually, I answered with a trembling hand. “Why did it take you so long to pick up?” His voice on the other end was as gentle as ever. “Are you being disobedient again, not eating properly?” My fingers curled into fists. He used to hold me like this too, laughing softly as he asked, “Are you not eating properly again? If you get too thin, I’ll worry sick.” I shook my head. “No.” He would then kiss my earlobe, whispering with a low laugh, “Such a naughty girl? Victoria, do I need to keep an eye on you at all times?” I used to think we’d be like this forever. For the first time, I lied to him, my voice muffled, like I was genuinely sick. “A bit of a cold. I’m already in bed.” “A cold?” His tone immediately tensed. “Is it serious? I’ll fly back right now.” “No need.” I quickly stopped him, a hint of detachment in my voice that I hadn’t even realized was there. “I’ve taken medicine. I’ll be fine after a good sleep.” I was about to hang up when a woman’s languid, intimate voice came through the receiver. “Michael, Alex is asleep. We can-” The call was abruptly disconnected by Michael. He was with that woman right now. I stared at my silent phone, unable to hold back any longer, and burst into tears. Jennifer rushed into the room, pulling me into a heartbroken embrace. “It’s okay, sweetie. I’m here.”

Victoria POV When I opened my eyes again, the window outside was dazzlingly white. “Victoria, how are you feeling? Is there anything else bothering you?” I heard a familiar voice, and as soon as my eyes opened, I saw Jennifer’s face, etched with worry. Jennifer sat by the bed, her eyes bloodshot. She must have stayed up all night watching over me. “I’m fine.” Memories from before I passed out flooded my mind, and I forced myself to sit up. “I’m sorry to have worried you.” Jennifer nodded, her voice filled with lingering fear. “You scared me half to death yesterday. I was genuinely afraid you’d do something drastic.” Mid-sentence, my phone rang. I answered, my voice already calm. “Richard.” “Victoria, why is your voice a little hoarse? Did you pull another all-nighter?” “No, Richard. Isn’t the Zurich branch short on staff? I’d like to go help out there.” My father on the other end paused. “Why the sudden urge to go to Switzerland?” “I want a change of scenery.” I glanced out the window. “Jennifer is also going back next month. I want to go with her.” My father was silent for a long time, then finally sighed. “Alright, whatever you want.” I hung up, and Jennifer looked at me worriedly. “Are you really sure about this?” I nodded. The lawyer had emailed the draft of our divorce papers. I stared at the screen, every word stinging my eyes. I still hadn’t figured out how to bring it up with Michael. Too much bound us together: the business alliance between our families, decades of friendship. As I was leaving Jennifer’s apartment and getting into my car, I saw a familiar figure. Michael. Why was he here? Wasn’t he supposed to be away for three more days? The man wore a perfectly tailored custom suit, his figure tall and lean, but his eyes showed signs of fatigue. He walked quickly, opening the car door. “Your voice sounded off on the phone. I was worried, so I flew back last night.” He said, pulling me into his embrace. That embrace, which once brought me immense comfort, now made me tremble uncontrollably. My mind was filled with Emma’s voice and the image of that child calling him “Daddy.” I clenched my hands, forcing myself not to push him away. He used to hold me like this too, laughing softly as he asked, “What are you overthinking now? Hm?” I shook my head. “Nothing.” He pulled me closer, whispering with a low laugh in my ear, “My sweet little liar, you’re never allowed to leave me. No matter where you run, I’ll find you. Understand?” I used to think I could never escape, but this time, I wanted to leave on my own. “You look like you’ve lost weight.” He caressed my cheek with his thumb, his eyes full of tenderness. “Are you not eating properly again when I’m not home?” I couldn’t understand how a man who’d been with his mistress the night before could so calmly say such things to his wife. I didn’t want to explain, just shook my head. “No, I’m just a little tired.” I could see he was about to say more, but my gaze caught a slender figure standing a short distance away. Emma. She was in a white dress, her long hair loose over her shoulders, looking utterly fragile. Just then, Michael’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen; I saw it too. It was Emma calling. Michael’s face looked troubled. He quickly hung up and kissed my forehead apologetically. “Something urgent came up at the office. I have to go there. You wait for me at home, and tonight I’ll take you to your favorite Italian restaurant.” With that, he hurried into his car. After the car drove away, Emma slowly walked towards me in her high heels. “Ms. Victoria,” she said, introducing herself with a smile, her eyes full of scrutiny and challenge. Seeing me, Emma knew I had figured everything out, and the smile on her lips deepened. “It seems Ms. Victoria already knows about Alex and me.” She paused, her voice brimming with ill-concealed triumph. “Ms. Victoria, Michael’s wife will only ever be me.”

Victoria POV I took a taxi and followed Emma’s car to a private clinic. Her car had just pulled up to the entrance. I paid the driver and followed her inside. I walked to the end of the hallway and saw a boy lying in a hospital room. It was Alex. His face was pale, an IV drip in his arm. Michael was yelling at a doctor in a white coat. “Why did he suddenly get a high fever? Is this how you take care of patients?!” “Michael, calm down!” The doctor seemed quite familiar with Michael and tried to reason with him. “What good does it do to yell at me?!” I hid behind the wall, my heart growing colder with every word I heard. “I told you long ago, if you only want one child, you shouldn’t keep Emma around! And now? The child cries without her, and you can’t bring yourself to be firm. What kind of mess is this?” “Victoria is the only woman I love, but the family cannot be without an heir.” Michael’s voice was weary. “Emma… she did bear me a child, after all. I can’t treat her badly.” The moment he finished speaking, the hospital room door opened. Emma walked in, carrying a cup of water, her eyes red. As soon as she saw the child on the bed, tears began to fall. “It’s all my fault… I should’ve looked after Alex better.” She sobbed, shoulders trembling, looking utterly helpless. Michael’s heart softened. He stepped forward and pulled her into his embrace, murmuring comfort. “Don’t blame yourself. Alex is our child. I will find the best doctor.” “Our child.” The words hit me like a blow, crushing my heart. Emma leaned into his embrace, sobbing, “Michael, I know I shouldn’t ask for anything, but as long as I can be with Alex as he grows up, I’ll be perfectly content…” Michael was touched by her words and raised his thumb to wipe away her tears. That intimate gesture stung my eyes. I clenched my hands, my fingernails digging into my flesh, but I felt no pain. The pain in my heart had already overshadowed everything else. I turned and left, my steps numb. Snow had started falling again outside. The flakes landed on my face, melting into icy streaks, making it impossible to tell if they were snow or tears. I walked into the corporate building, drenched. The receptionist looked up, startled by my disheveled appearance. “Ms. Victoria, what happened? Should I call Mr. Michael? He’ll be heartbroken if he sees you like this.” Those words, which would sound normal to anyone else, were the greatest irony to me. Heartbroken? He was busy being heartbroken over another woman right now. I said nothing, walking directly into the conference room and locking the door. I leaned against the door, slowly sliding down until I was on the floor. I couldn’t hold back anymore. I buried my face in my knees and wept uncontrollably. I thought I had become numb, but seeing that little family of three with my own eyes had completely broken me. Nine years of love, a childhood sweetheart connection, those moments of life-and-death reliance… it all meant nothing compared to “the family cannot be without an heir.” I don’t know how long I cried. Only when my tears ran dry did I lean against the wall and stand up. I walked into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. My eyes were raw, my skin bloodless. A laugh escaped me. What was the point of crying? I changed into a spare business suit, transforming back into the aloof corporate heiress. I didn’t even glance at the string of messages and missed calls from Michael on my phone. In the evening, I dragged my exhausted body back to the mansion. I had decided: I would pack my things and leave tonight. But when I pushed open the front door, I saw Emma and Alex sitting in my living room.

Victoria POV The crystal chandelier in the living room shone brilliantly, but my gaze was utterly cold. Emma, dressed in a brand-new maid’s uniform, stood up immediately when she saw me and curtsied respectfully. “You’re back.” And the boy named Alex was busy smashing a limited-edition model car against the floor. It was from my favorite collection, one I’d worked hard to complete. “What is going on here?” My voice was as cold as ice. Michael hurried down from upstairs, forcing an unnatural smile. “Victoria, you’re back. This is… a nanny sent by my mother. She said the house was too empty, and she’s here to look after this child.” He gestured towards Alex, telling a pathetic lie. “My mother brought this child back from an orphanage. She felt sorry for him, so she brought him home to raise.” I was trembling with rage. “An orphanage? Michael, do you take me for a fool?” I pointed at the child, who was practically a carbon copy of him, my voice shaking. “Do you find it amusing to carve away at my heart, piece by piece, like this?” Seeing my genuine anger, Michael panicked. He stepped forward and grabbed my hand. “Victoria, don’t be angry,” he pleaded, eager to state his position. “If you don’t like him, I’ll send him away immediately!” His phony love only disgusted me. Alex seemed startled and suddenly burst into tears, pointing at me and screaming, “Bad woman! You’re bullying my mommy!” “Alex!” Michael snapped sternly. Emma immediately rushed over and hugged her son, then looked at Michael with red-rimmed eyes. “Sir, please don’t blame him. He’s just… he’s just shy around strangers.” Michael’s tone indeed softened. I looked at the glaring scene before me, feeling a chill run through my entire body. I yanked my hand free from Michael’s grasp and walked upstairs without a word. The bedroom door slammed shut, cutting off everything. Michael stood by the door for a while, murmuring a few comforting words, but when he heard no response, he turned and left. Not long after, my phone received a message. It was from Emma: “Ms. Victoria, if you lock Michael out, don’t blame him for coming to me for comfort.” I deleted the message and got up to leave the bedroom. The villa was quiet. I found myself walking towards the basement wine cellar door. It was ajar, a dim yellow light spilling out. I drew closer and distinctly heard a woman’s gasps and a man’s low grunts coming from inside. “Michael… be gentle… it hurts…” “Isn’t this what you asked for? Afraid of pain, yet you still tried to lure me down here?” Michael’s voice was hoarse and impatient, but his actions didn’t stop. “I’m warning you, Emma. Don’t provoke Victoria again, otherwise…” The woman’s moans drowned out the rest of his words. I froze in place, utterly cold. I lay back in bed just before dawn, staring blankly at the ceiling. Nine years of love, a whirlwind courtship. All of it shattered in this moment. This time, I was the one who didn’t want him.

Victoria POV The next morning, when I went downstairs, Emma had already taken off that irritating maid’s uniform. She wore a sea-green silk dress, her curves exquisitely outlined. Only then did I notice that Emma’s eyes and brows bore a slight resemblance to mine. No wonder Michael had chosen her. “You’re awake? Come have breakfast.” Emma greeted me warmly, as if she were the lady of the house. As she spoke, she deliberately turned sideways, revealing faint red marks on her neck, intimate and jarring. But what truly made my pupils constrict was the brooch pinned to her chest. A vintage brooch, set with a pigeon-blood ruby, dazzling and radiant. I recognized it. It was Michael’s family heirloom, passed down only to the lady of the house. I remembered years ago, Michael had asked his mother for this brooch for me, only to be coldly refused because I couldn’t have children. “A woman who can’t even bear children, how dare she wear our family’s heirloom?” His mother’s cutting words still echoed in my ears. And now, this brooch, symbolizing status and acceptance, was blatantly worn on the chest of a mistress. In that moment, I finally woke up. My previous notion of sparing the families decades of friendship, of not wanting to make things too ugly, seemed utterly ridiculous. It turned out that in his mother’s eyes, and even the entire family’s, Emma, the woman who could bear an heir, was already their recognized daughter-in-law. And I was merely a clown, kept in the dark, clinging to a position that wasn’t truly mine. Michael walked downstairs, dressed in fresh loungewear. He first exchanged a knowing glance with Emma, then quickly approached me, reaching out to feel my forehead, his face full of concern. “Why is your face so pale? Did you catch a chill last night? Don’t go to the office today, I’ll stay and keep you company.” I watched his brilliant acting, feeling a wave of nausea rise in my stomach. Staying with him for even one more second made me feel suffocated. He felt… dirty. “No need.” I coldly pushed his hand away. “There’s still a lot to do at the office.” Just then, Emma walked over with a cup of coffee, saying softly, “Michael, your coffee.” She naturally reached out to straighten his slightly disheveled collar. And Michael instinctively lowered his head, accommodating her actions. It was an incredibly familiar, habitual gesture. More hurtful than any deliberate display. The surrounding staff all gasped audibly. Michael also seemed to realize the impropriety and immediately stepped back, creating distance between himself and Emma. He picked up his jacket, walked to my side, and leaned down to press a light kiss on my forehead. “Wait for me to come back.” He used the same doting tone he had used last night in the wine cellar when speaking to the other woman.

Victoria POV After Michael left, I calmly finished my breakfast. I didn’t spare Emma another glance, walking straight upstairs to pack my luggage. All the things Michael had given me, filling an entire walk-in closet, were packed one by one. I called my assistant and instructed him to send them all to an auction house. “All proceeds are to be donated to charity in my name.” If I was going to cut ties, I would cut them completely. “Ms. Victoria, are you planning to run away from home?” Emma appeared behind me at some point, leaning against the doorframe, a triumphant smile on her face. “Well, a woman who can’t have children, occupying Michael’s wife’s position for so many years, it’s about time she made way.” Her words hit me squarely in my most painful spot. In the past, I might have been furious, lost control. But now, I just looked at her calmly. “Michael’s wife’s position? If you want it so badly, take it.” I pulled the already signed divorce papers from my bag and handed them to Emma. “Here.” Emma’s smile froze, her face a mask of shock as she stared at the document. I looked down at her, a hint of amusement in my voice. “You know how deep Michael’s feelings are for me. Getting him to willingly sign this won’t be easy.” I spoke like a queen bestowing a favor upon a petty schemer. “I’m giving you the divorce papers. If you’re capable, get him to sign it and bring it to me. If you’re not, then be prepared to be an unseen mistress for the rest of your life!” Emma’s face changed colors, but ultimately, temptation won over reason. She snatched the divorce papers, her eyes gleaming with greed and ecstasy. Though she felt suspicious of my swift and decisive relinquishment, she believed even more strongly that I was merely bluffing. How could a woman Michael had doted on for so many years truly be willing to let go? Watching Emma rush away with the document, a flicker of mockery crossed my eyes. After packing my last piece of luggage, I sat in the living room, quietly waiting for Jennifer to pick me up. My gaze swept across the empty living room, and I suddenly realized that I hadn’t seen Alex, the child, since morning. A faint unease stirred within me. Just then, the villa’s front door was violently pushed open from outside. Michael burst in, frantic, followed by his mother, Eleanor, her face ashen, and… Emma, weeping bitterly. “Victoria!” Emma came at me like a feral thing, slamming me hard toward the sharp corner of the side table. “Where is my Alex? What did you do to him?” The blow dazed me. My vision blurred as sharp pain shot through my elbow. I steadied myself and stared coldly at the frantic woman. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “How dare you lie!” Emma suddenly grabbed a fruit knife from the bowl, pressing its sharp tip to my throat. “You can’t stand my child because of some divorce papers? Victoria, how can you be so evil?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “343937”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance