1 I was born a human lie detector. When people lie to me, they hiccup—a telltale glitch that makes even the smoothest deceptions clear as glass. But knowing too much truth leaves you utterly alone. Then Eleanor Kensington, matriarch of the Kensington Group, appeared. She took my hands, her diamond rings digging into my skin. “Someone inside is cooking the books. After two years of failed audits, you’re the only one who can look them in the eye and tell me who it is.” She offered a hundred grand a month and promised if her son, Declan, ever wronged me, I could leave with a fortune. Having no real friends anyway, I accepted. For three years of marriage, I uncovered five executives stealing from the company, recovering over a hundred and fifty million dollars. The Kensingtons became an untouchable fortress, and I moved from a tiny apartment to a Hampton estate so large I could bike down its halls. One Tuesday, pedaling past Declan’s study, I heard him and his partner Carter talking. “The books are clean. Isn’t it time you got rid of your freakshow wife?” Carter said. “Give her severance, say we’re restructuring.” “And if she refuses?” “Who’ll take her side? She has no friends.” I stopped my bike, knocked, and pushed the door open. “Let’s draw up the divorce papers now,” I said, looking at Declan. “Sinclair Enterprises is desperate—their board is throwing blank checks at anyone who can find their missing funds. I’m sure they’d love a human lie detector at their door. Beats hiring the Big Four.” Catherine. How long have you been standing there? Declan’s voice held no surprise. Just the cold irritation of a man whose neatly arranged schedule had been disrupted. Carter recovered quickly. He leaned back into the leather sofa and crossed one leg over the other. Perfect timing, actually. Saves Declan the trouble of breaking the news to you. He doesn’t need to break anything. I leaned the bicycle against the doorframe. Do we have the papers ready? If not, I can wait by the printer. Declan had not anticipated this. He probably thought I would cry. Beg. Demand answers. Or refuse to leave the gold-plated cage. After all, like he just said, where else would a friendless woman go? He walked around the mahogany desk and shoved his hands into his tailored pockets. Are you absolutely sure you have thought this through? After three years, I knew that body language. Hands in the pockets meant the verdict was already sealed. Now it was just administrative work. Crystal clear. But one quick question. Is that hundred grand before or after taxes? Carter let out a sharp laugh. Declan did not even smile. His eyes swept over my face like he was taking inventory of a broken piece of office equipment ready for the scrapyard. My lawyers will email you the paperwork, Catherine. But let me make one thing abundantly clear. You signed an NDA. Every piece of corporate data, every scandal, every name you caught. Not a single word leaves your mouth. Including the names of the embezzlers? Including everything. They were gagging me. Before I could reply, Carter stood up. He reached down and adjusted his silver cufflink. I had watched him do that for three years. It was his physical starting pistol right before he said something incredibly cruel. Catherine, do not take it personally. The board just hired Dr. Mia. She has a Ph.D. in criminal psychology from an Ivy League. She uses micro-expression analysis. Actual science. He put a heavy, crushing weight on the word science. The Kensington Group no longer needs to rely on… He paused, tasting the insult before letting it drop. Voodoo. Voodoo. Three years ago, Declan’s mother sat in my dingy apartment and called me their last hope. Now, I was voodoo. A parlor trick. But right as he said the word voodoo, he hiccuped. It was a soft, muffled sound, rolling up from the back of his throat. He did not even notice it. But I did. That hiccup meant he did not believe I was a parlor trick. He knew exactly how terrifying my gift was. He just wanted to grind me into the dirt anyway. Fine. I grabbed a custom pen off the desk, skimmed the nondisclosure agreement for two minutes, and signed my name on the bottom line. As Declan took the folder back, his phone buzzed. He had just wired me the hundred grand. The memo line read: For three years of service. No thank you. No apologies. Not even the fake excuse about European restructuring. Walking back out into the hallway, it felt longer than before. Halfway down, I saw two maids carrying cardboard boxes out the side door. Fast and efficient. My things. They had already packed my life away. This was not a spur-of-the-moment decision. It was choreographed. They had probably practiced their facial expressions in the mirror. I just happened to ruin their opening night. Mrs. Kensington. Your items are all here. Two boxes. I brought two boxes when I moved in. I was leaving with two. I carried them out through the wrought-iron gates. The June evening wind rustled through the sycamore trees, smelling of fresh-cut grass and gasoline. The gates clicked shut behind me. The heavy metallic thud sounded like a goodbye no one wanted to say out loud. Sitting on the curb, I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my contacts. Three people. Eleanor Kensington. The estate butler. And a delivery guy who brought me Thai food on Tuesdays. Declan was right. A woman without a single friend. That line didn’t make him hiccup. It was the brutal truth, and that was why it cut right down to the bone. I took a deep breath, opened my hidden folder, and tapped a number I had saved a month ago. The private line to the CEO of Sinclair Enterprises. I had seen a top-secret competitor analysis file in Declan’s study. The Sinclair board was getting absolutely cannibalized by internal fraud. It rang four times. Executive office of Sinclair Enterprises. Put me through to Nate Sinclair. Tell him Declan Kensington’s ex-wife is calling. Five seconds later, the line clicked. A deep, gravelly voice bled through the speaker. It sounded like sandpaper dragging across cello strings. The voice of a man who had not slept in days. Catherine? He knew who I was. Mr. Sinclair. I hear you are looking for someone to audit your ghosts. You signed a non-compete and an NDA. I am not auditing Kensington. I tightened my grip on the cardboard box resting on my knees. I am auditing you. Dead silence on the line. When Nate finally spoke, the texture of his voice had changed. It sounded like a match striking in a pitch-black room. Tomorrow. Nine sharp. Floor thirty-two. Do not be late. 2 So you are the walking polygraph. Nate Sinclair leaned against the edge of his massive mahogany desk, his arms crossed over his chest. He was younger than I pictured. Late twenties, maybe thirty. Sharp jawline, heavy brow, but the dark circles under his eyes were so deep no concealer could ever hide them. His office was cavernous, but three of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves were completely empty. The dust outlines of where the books used to be were still visible. Sold them. Sinclair Enterprises was bleeding out faster than I thought. Take a seat. He gestured to the leather chair opposite him. I stayed standing. Test me first. He raised an eyebrow. You brought me in, but you don’t believe it. That is normal. Nobody ever believes it at first. Say a few true things, then say a lie. Feel it for yourself. Nate stared at me for three long seconds before dropping his arms. Alright. I had a ribeye steak for dinner last night. Silence. No hiccup. Truth. I said. He kept going. The current financial health of Sinclair Enterprises is robust, and there is no internal fraud. Hiccup. It popped out of his chest, a dull thud against his ribs. The cool facade on his face cracked right down the middle. His hand instinctively shot up to touch his throat. That is impossible. I do not hiccup. You do when you look at me. He tried one more. I decided to meet you today on a whim. No hiccup. Truth. I finally sank into the leather chair. Mr. Sinclair, we can do this a hundred times. But in front of me, there are only two options. Fact, or fiction. A heavy, suffocating silence filled the room. He tapped his fingers against the edge of the desk, the rhythm slow, like a metronome calculating a risk. Assume I believe you. How exactly do you help me? How many partners do you have on the board? Seven. Put them all in one room. I will ask them questions down the line. Whoever lies, hiccups. We catch them in broad daylight. It is that simple? It is that simple. He picked up his desk phone. Toby. Get the seven partners into the main conference room at ten o’clock. Tell them it is an emergency financial review. He hung up, looking at me with a lingering shadow of doubt. What is your rate? See the results first. If you like the show, you write the check. At ten o’clock on the dot, seven executives filed into the glass-walled conference room. As they took their seats, the stares began. Curious, disdainful, defensive. A bald man on the far left stared at me for two seconds before turning to Nate. Nate, who is the guest? Our external risk management consultant. Catherine. The bald man scoffed loudly. I opened the financial summary folder Nate gave me and turned to the first page. Good morning. I am going to ask a few simple questions. I expect honest answers. Number one. In the past twelve months, has anyone at this table authorized an off-the-books expenditure? A beat of absolute silence. A tall man in a tailored suit answered first. No. No hiccup. A woman in wire-rimmed glasses. No. No hiccup. It was the bald man’s turn. No. Hiccup. It was loud. A wet, hollow sound like a fist hitting a snare drum. The entire room froze. The bald man rubbed his throat violently. Swallowed wrong. Choked on my own spit. I completely ignored him. Question number two. Have you ever shared internal Sinclair financial data with an external party? Of course not. Hiccup. Louder this time. The other six partners started exchanging frantic looks. I leaned forward. Have you ever heard of an offshore entity called Avalon Holdings? The bald man, Gage, jerked backward in his chair. His lips parted, but no sound came out. He didn’t dare speak. Because he knew the second he said no, his own throat would betray him. Nate took over, his voice cold enough to snap steel. Gage. You have the right to remain silent, but the legal department is seizing your hard drives at noon. Gage shoved his chair back. It screeched horribly against the hardwood. He bolted out of the conference room, slamming the heavy glass door so hard the floor vibrated. The remaining six partners slowly turned their heads to look at me. The weight in their eyes had changed. They were not looking at a consultant anymore. They were looking at a terrifying, hyper-precise weapon. I recognized that look. I lived with it at the Kensington estate for three years. Freak. They weren’t saying it, but it was echoing in their skulls. After the room cleared out, Nate asked me to stay behind. Two minutes. One parasite gutted. The way he looked at me had shifted too. Earlier, it was a test. Now, it was an evaluation. He was calculating my blast radius. Catherine. Declan used you for three years and only caught five people. Why? Because some people are smart. I kept my eyes on the polished table. They never speak a single lie in my presence. They only state verifiable, unarguable facts. They hide behind the truth. And when they do that, I cannot touch them. He frowned. I caught five of Declan’s ghosts. But the sixth… in three years, the sixth person never spoke a single word about money when I was in the room. Who is it? I didn’t answer. The ink on my NDA was still wet. He didn’t push it. A frantic knock shattered the quiet. Toby, Nate’s assistant, burst in. He looked completely rattled. Mr. Sinclair. The Kensington people are downstairs. Carter Brooks is here personally, and he brought… A behavioral analyst. I finished his sentence. Toby shot me a wildly confused look. I stood up and smoothed out the collar of my blouse. Her name is Dr. Mia. She is the weapon the Kensington board bought to replace me. Nate leaned forward, his hands flat on the desk. How did you know she would come here? Because the Kensingtons want to burn every bridge I could possibly walk across. I stared at the door, my voice dead flat. She is not here to collaborate. She is here to steal my job. The door pushed open. Carter strolled in first, exuding the effortless arrogance of a man playing with house money. Right behind him was a woman in a razor-sharp black skirt suit. Low ponytail, pale skin, a perfectly measured smile. She saw me and widened her eyes in flawless, manufactured surprise. Catherine? Oh my god, what a coincidence. You are here too! 3 What a crazy coincidence finding you here, Catherine. Mia’s voice was sweet enough to pour over pancakes. As she walked in, her eyes swept the room. A rapid, microscopic scan that missed absolutely nothing. She was a professional. Carter adjusted his silver cufflink, his tone as casual as a man discussing the weather. Mr. Sinclair, let me introduce Dr. Mia. Top-tier expert in micro-expression analysis. Sinclair and Kensington might be rivals, but when it comes to risk management, we can share resources, right? Nate did not take the bait. He just glanced at me. I stayed completely silent. Mia did not miss a beat. She extended a hand to Nate, then turned to me, dialing up the wattage on her smile. Catherine, I heard you just caught a mole for Mr. Sinclair? That is so impressive. Right as she said impressive, she hiccuped. It was tiny. Just a little bubble popping in her chest. She obviously didn’t notice. But I heard it loud and clear. She did not find me impressive at all. Carter. Nate finally spoke, his voice dry. You didn’t drive all the way across town just to play door-to-door salesman. Carter chuckled. Not selling anything. Dr. Mia has quite the reputation. Half of Wall Street uses her software. I brought her today to give you a complimentary demonstration. He paused and let his eyes slide over to me. And, you know, a little A/B testing never hurt anyone. Let’s see whose method is more effective. You can judge for yourself, Nate. A side-by-side comparison. He wanted to put me and Mia on a scale in front of my new boss and watch me tip into the mud. Nate frowned. I don’t think that is necessary. Mr. Sinclair, Mia cut in, her voice soft but coated in iron. I have been in this field for six years. I use a peer-reviewed Facial Action Coding System. It is not… She pretended to search for the right words. It is not an unverified gut feeling. That sentence triggered no hiccup. She genuinely believed that. She thought I was a total hack. Nate looked at me. Do you mind? he asked. I held out a hand. Be my guest. Mia set up the test with terrifying speed. She had Toby pull three random Sinclair employees into an interrogation room next door. The room was divided by a one-way mirrored glass. Mia and I sat on the dark side of the glass, a microphone console resting between us. The rules are simple, Mia explained, tapping her manicured nail against the desk. All three employees will state a claim. One of them is lying about a fake expense report. Catherine and I will individually spot the liar. Reasonable. Except for one massive detail. The glass. They were in another room. My gift… my curse… only works when the person is lying to my face. To me. Not through a speaker. Not through a reinforced mirrored wall. My spine locked up. Mia had already pressed the intercom button. Subject One, begin. The voice fed through the speaker. A guy reading a monotonous excuse about a business dinner receipt. I strained my ears. No hiccup. But I couldn’t tell if he was telling the truth, or if the glass was acting as a shield. Subject Two. No hiccup. Subject Three. No hiccup. My fingers dug into the plastic barrel of my pen until it cracked. No one had ever tested me with a wall between us. Because at the Kensington estate, the golden rule was that all interrogations had to be face-to-face. Did Mia not know the rule? No. I saw the tiny, razor-thin smirk at the corner of her mouth. She knew exactly what she was doing. I have my verdict. Mia spoke first. Subject Two is lying. When he described the dollar amount, there was a zero-point-three-second micro-contraction in his right brow ridge. His lip corner pulled down forty percent past the baseline. It sounded clinical. Flawless. Bulletproof. Everyone turned to look at me. Catherine? Your turn. I stared through the glass at the three people sitting completely still in the sterile room. I need them in this room. Face to face. Mia tilted her head, performing perfect, innocent confusion. Catherine, what does face to face have to do with it? I thought you said you could just tell when people lie? My ability requires proximity. So the second you aren’t close enough, the magic turns off? Carter’s voice dripped with mocking delight from the back of the room. See, Nate? This is exactly what I was talking about. Unverified gut feelings. Nate remained silent. But I saw his index finger tap against the table once. He was hesitating. Mia’s verdict was locked in. Subject Two. Toby went next door to confirm with the script. The answer came back. Subject Two was the liar. He was given a fake number to read on purpose. Mia smiled. It was warm and entirely devoid of aggression, which somehow made it slice twice as deep. Catherine, I mean absolutely no offense. But some lines of work require actual science. Don’t you agree? When she said those words… Hiccup. Just one. Faint and fast. She hiccuped on I mean no offense. She meant every ounce of offense. This entire spectacle was a targeted assassination of my credibility. But in that room, nobody cared about the hiccup. They only cared about the scoreboard. Mia got it right. I choked. Carter stood up, slowly adjusting his cuffs. Mr. Sinclair, take your time deciding. The Kensington Group is happy to lease Dr. Mia’s services to you whenever you are ready to upgrade. As he walked past my chair, he dropped his voice to a whisper only I could hear. Your little parlor trick is dead, Catherine. When he said dead, he did not hiccup. He firmly believed my career was over. I stood in the empty conference room watching them leave. Nate didn’t follow them out. He lingered near the heavy oak doors. Catherine. Yeah. Why did you need to be in the same room for that test? Because my gift is real. I looked down at the carpet. My voice felt hollow, thinner than I wanted it to be. But it has rules. The person has to be in front of me. Glass, walls, phone calls… they block it out. Nate let that sit in the air for a few seconds. Then why didn’t you say that from the beginning? Because nobody believes it anyway. I looked up and met his eyes. Nate. You spent three years hunting your ghosts and found nothing. I spent two minutes and handed you Gage. Is that not enough? His expression was impossible to read. It was a tangled mess of calculation, but at the very least, there was no disgust. Right as he opened his mouth to reply, Toby rushed back into the room. He was clutching a tablet, his face pale. Mr. Sinclair. Dr. Mia’s PR team just posted something on Twitter. Toby handed the tablet over. It was Mia’s verified professional account. The bio read: Behavioral Analyst / Criminal Psychologist. The newest tweet had a glossy photo of her smiling in a boardroom. Just did a risk management demo for a major firm. Ran into a woman claiming to be a “human polygraph.” But she demanded to be face-to-face, claiming her magic powers vanish through a glass window. Science respec ts hypotheses, but repeatability and verification are the bare minimum. Stay rational out there, corporate America. Don’t fall for superpowers. The comment section was already exploding with thousands of replies. LMAO human polygraph? So she’s basically a tarot card reader for corporate. How does a fraud like that even get into a boardroom? Ivy League micro-expressions vs. magical hiccups. If you believe the hiccups, you need a psych eval. I stared at the glowing screen. I tapped my thumb against the plastic edge of the tablet twice. Nate shifted his gaze from the screen to my face. Catherine. What is your play here? I am not playing anything. I handed the tablet back to Toby. I am just wondering whose orders Mia was following when she hit post. You think Carter put her up to it? She hiccuped when she said ‘I mean no offense’. I looked dead into Nate’s tired eyes. Aren’t you curious, Nate? Why is the Kensington Group so utterly desperate to erase me from this industry?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “445999”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I went for a walk and ended up being stalked by a kid. He followed me for ten blocks, through every turn and alley, all the way to my front door. I definitely didn’t expect the little guy to breathe fire. While I was getting him water in the kitchen, he burned my entire front lawn. Panicked, he covered his mouth, then dug into his pocket, pulled out a glittering silver band, and shoved it onto my wrist. “I’m a hatchling,” he squeaked. “I can’t control my powers yet. I had a huge fight with my family. Can I stay here a few days? I’ll give you my big brother as payment for the grass.” I was speechless. Before I could process the burned lawn, glowing text suddenly appeared in the air before me: [Holy crap, that’s the Dragon King’s mating bracelet! Once worn, it’s for life. The male lead is now tied to this random extra!] [The male lead’s little brother is such a liability. He burned her yard and sold his brother to a stranger.] [Who cares? This cannon fodder girl is terminally ill anyway. Our female lead is already on her way—she just has to kill this nobody, take the bracelet, and claim the Alpha.] Right then, the doorbell rang. The little guy’s face instantly darkened. With a soft pop, two tiny, golden dragon horns sprouted from his forehead. A smattering of iridescent scales crawled up his neck and tucked behind his ears, catching the porch light. He threw himself into my legs, burying his face in my jeans. “The mean lady who keeps harassing my brother is here. I hate her so much.” Before I could even reach for the handle, the front door was kicked wide open. A woman in a blood-red designer dress stepped over the threshold. Her cold, reptilian gaze swept the room before locking dead onto me. The floating text hovering in my line of sight started refreshing like crazy. [She is here! The female lead, Penelope, has arrived!] [Our golden koi shifter finally enters the chat. She is the chosen one. All she has to do is mate with the Dragon King, and she will ascend to full dragonkin.] I glanced down at the glowing subtitles, then looked back up at the arrogant woman standing in my entryway. Oh. So she was just a little koi fish trying to sleep her way up the mythical food chain. “You have a lot of nerve, luring Harry all the way out here.” She tilted her head, looking at me like I was something she had scraped off the bottom of her heel. “A dying human dares to touch a member of the dragon clan? You really are begging for a quick death.” I took a step back, hoping the little dragon attached to my leg would explain the situation. But Harry just buried his face deeper into my jeans, trembling. Penelope waved a manicured hand dismissively, gesturing to the two massive bodyguards behind her. “Take her down. Ronan said anyone who harms his baby brother is to be executed on the spot. We do not even need to report this.” The two heavily muscled men grunted in agreement and lunged toward me. My heart did a painful stutter in my chest. My oncologist told me I had exactly one month left to live. Now, somehow dragged into a turf war between mythical wildlife, I would be incredibly lucky to survive the night. The little troublemaker clutching my leg was shaking like a leaf, refusing to say a single word in my defense. I let out a resigned sigh and wrapped a protective arm around the kid’s shoulders. I raised my arm instinctively to block the guards’ incoming fists. But the second I moved, the two men hit the brakes so hard their boots skidded on the hardwood floor. The silver band on my wrist was pulsing with a low, dangerous golden light. The men stared at the jewelry, the color draining entirely from their faces. “Boss… that thing on her wrist… that is the Alpha’s mating band.” “Clan law is absolute. Whoever wears that claim has to be treated as the Dragon Queen.” The guards exchanged panicked looks. The weapons in their hands slowly lowered to their sides. Penelope froze. For a split second, she looked utterly lost, but it was quickly replaced by explosive, blinding rage. “Where did you steal that? Take it off right now! That belongs to me!” She lunged at me, her sharp nails digging fiercely into my forearm. “You think a cheap, dying mortal like you can compete with me?” Harry suddenly snapped his head up. He opened his tiny mouth and unleashed a scorching blast of fire directly at Penelope’s feet. “Back off!” He planted himself firmly in front of me. His golden horns vibrated with fury, and his pupils narrowed into dangerous vertical slits. “Do not ever touch her! She is going to be my brother’s mate!” A shiver ran violently down my spine. Wait. What? Penelope let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Harry, do you even hear yourself? You do not get to dictate Ronan’s marriage.” The kid stuck his chin out, his voice ringing loud and clear. “My brother spent months incubating my egg! I am his absolute favorite! Of course he is going to listen to me!” 2 The moment Harry finished his sentence, the glowing text in the air went into overdrive. [When their parents died, they left behind a single dragon egg. The male lead stayed awake for weeks straight to hatch his baby brother, and this ungrateful brat is what he gets.] [It is over. Penelope is totally in killer mode now. This sick mortal chick is not making it to morning.] Penelope’s eyes were practically boiling with rage. She was seconds away from tearing my living room apart. I sighed, rubbing my temples. “Look, I really do not care about the drama between you magical creatures.” I glanced down at the kid clinging to me. “If you want to crash here, you can.” Then I looked back up at Penelope. “As for this bracelet, if you want it so badly, you can have it.” I reached over and gripped the silver band, pulling at it. I yanked. I twisted. I pulled until my skin turned red. But it did not budge a single millimeter. The bracelet felt like it was fused directly to my bones. Penelope stared at my wrist, her eyes wide with absolute disbelief. “You…” Harry’s face instantly lit up. He clapped his tiny hands and jumped up and down. “It will not come off! That means your biological compatibility with my big brother is at one hundred percent!” “You are his fated mate! I knew I picked the right one!” Penelope’s face turned the color of storm clouds. I looked at her furious expression and offered what I thought was a very genuine, comforting smile. “Hey, do not stress about it. I have terminal cancer. The doctors gave me a month, tops. Once I drop dead, you can just slide it right off.” Penelope choked on her own breath. She stared at me in horrified silence for several long seconds. “Fine. One month. I will be back in thirty days to collect your corpse.” The second the front door slammed shut, the little guy on my floor let out a joyous, echoing howl. He was grinning so hard his cheeks looked like they were going to cramp. “I observed a lot of humans, and I knew you would be the perfect match for my brother! Now the three of us get to live happily ever after!” I looked down into his bright, glowing eyes, completely at a loss for words. Later that night, I sat alone on the edge of my bed. The doctor’s voice echoed in my head. “It is your final month, Riley. Just try to enjoy the time you have left.” Late-stage bone cancer was a nightmare. The cold did not just chill your skin. It seeped directly out from the marrow. I curled up under three layers of blankets. Just as I hovered on the edge of a restless sleep, I felt a solid, radiating heat press gently against my back. It was not invasive. It was just a quiet, heavy presence sharing its warmth with me. A broad chest pressed against my spine. I could feel the deep, steady rhythm of a heartbeat. I figured my brain was finally misfiring. A terminal hallucination. I let the warmth pull me under and closed my eyes. When I woke up the next morning, I stared at my hands. My usually translucent, ghostly pale fingertips actually had a healthy flush of pink to them. Harry, who was currently sprawled across my pillow drooling, rubbed his eyes and rolled over. He caught me staring blankly at my own palms. He stretched his arms high above his head, a tiny scaly tail swishing out from under the duvet. “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. That bracelet creates a sympathetic bond between you and my brother.” “A huge chunk of your pain and sickness is getting siphoned off to him.” He said it incredibly casually. “Our clan is super durable. A tiny human sickness like that is basically just a papercut to him.” I sat there, completely paralyzed. That heat in my bed every night. That was him. The month flew by in a blur. But the person who showed up at my front door when the thirty days were up was not Penelope. It was my parents. They stood on my porch, launching right into a screaming match before I could even say hello. “We had to ask around just to find out you were not even staying at the hospice anymore! Why the hell are you still breathing?” “Your brother Finn needs those corneas, Riley. We had a deal. Once you were gone, his eye surgery was supposed to be fully covered.” 3 Harry stopped playing with his Lego set on the floor. He slowly looked up, his little tail completely stiffening. My mother took a hard step into the hallway. “Are you faking this whole terminal illness thing? The doctors said you had a month. It has been five weeks, and you are sitting here looking perfectly fine.” “Are you just scamming us for pity money? That whole dying routine was just an act to ruin us, wasn’t it?” I opened my mouth, but the memories swelled up and choked the words right out of my throat. That was not how it happened. When the diagnosis first came back, the doctors told me if we started aggressive treatment immediately, I had a fifty percent survival rate. I went home and told them. My parents sat on the living room sofa in complete silence for a very long time. I thought they were doing the math, figuring out how to remortgage the house or take out loans. Instead, my father finally looked up and said, “We just cannot afford it right now. Finn needs his treatments. You are just going to have to tough this out on your own.” My father’s eyes suddenly darted past me, locking onto Harry. His face contorted into a nasty sneer, like he had just figured out a magic trick. He shoved past me, marching over and violently kicking over the Lego castle Harry had been building all morning. “Well, well. Look at this. No wonder your health suddenly bounced back. You are scamming your own family to play house with some stray brat! You are a disgrace!” Harry sat on the floor among the shattered plastic bricks. His tiny fists clenched tightly in his lap, and he bit down hard on his lower lip. Before I could intervene, a shadow fell over the open doorway. Penelope. “Not dead yet?” She smirked, leaning against the doorframe. “I guess I will have to do the heavy lifting myself. I cannot have you dragging this pathetic body around, trying to seduce Ronan. I am clearing the path today.” My mother’s eyes instantly lit up. She whipped around to face Penelope. “I knew this ungrateful bitch was out here sleeping around! We have been trying to figure out how to get rid of her for weeks. If you have a way to handle it, we will gladly hold her down for you.” Penelope raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. With agonizing slowness, she pulled a shimmering silver cord from the sleeve of her coat. Harry launched himself off the floor like a tiny cannonball, throwing his arms out to shield my legs. Penelope did not even bother looking down. She simply flicked her wrist. The silver cord shot out like a viper, wrapping tightly around the little boy and pinning his arms to his sides. “I carry this specifically for disobedient little lizards.” Penelope shifted her gaze back to me, smiling sweetly. “There. All quiet.” The three of them started walking slowly toward me. Harry thrashed violently on the floor, fighting the silver bindings. His voice went hoarse with panic. “Let me go! When my big brother gets here, he is going to rip you all to pieces!” Penelope elegantly adjusted her cuffs. “Ronan is incredibly busy right now. He does not have time to babysit you.” She stopped mere inches from my face, looking down her nose at me. “By the time he finishes his business, your ashes will be cold. His only choice for a mate will be me.” Without warning, she raised her hand and slapped me hard across the cheek. My head snapped to the side. A high-pitched ringing flooded my left ear like rushing water. Before I could recover, she grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanked me forward, and threw me straight to the floor. My forehead slammed against the ceramic tiles. My vision exploded into black spots. I could feel warm blood pooling in the grout lines beneath my cheek. But beneath the dizzying pain and the metallic taste of blood, something strange happened. A terrifying, explosive surge of pure rage bubbled up inside my chest. And it was not my own. The silver band on my wrist flared with a burning heat, pulsing like a second heartbeat beneath my skin. It felt like an invisible, massive hand was wrapping protectively around my pulse. I pushed my hands against the cold tiles and forced myself up. Penelope’s smug, victorious face was right in front of me. I raised my hand, pulled back, and swung. I did not even process the movement myself. My hand connected with her jaw so hard her head violently whipped to the side. She stumbled back, clutching her rapidly swelling face, her eyes wide with absolute horror. “How the hell does a dying mortal have that much spiritual power?” she screeched. 4 The moment she yelled, the floating text that had been missing for a month suddenly flooded my vision again. [Holy shit! That was the Dragon King channeling his power through her to slap the Koi!] [No way, no way! How could the male lead hit our precious Penelope? Is the Koi-Dragon romance sinking before it even starts?] [This random extra is definitely using black magic. Poor Penelope, her face is totally red. I feel so bad for her.] [What is wrong with Ronan? Did he get possessed by this dying human? How could he lay a hand on our girl?] My parents and Penelope scrambled out the door, terrified of the sheer force of the blow. Penelope made sure to yell a classic villain threat over her shoulder, swearing I was using dirty tricks. She promised to go find Ronan, get the truth, and come back to skin me alive. I stood alone in the hallway, staring down at my tingling palm. That terrifying, foreign strength was already slowly bleeding out of my muscles. I let out a shaky breath, crouched down, and helped Harry untangle himself from the silver cord on the floor. He threw tiny punches at the air, his eyes shining. “I knew it! I knew my brother was protecting us the whole time!” I knelt down so we were eye to level. I looked at him very seriously. “Harry, thank your brother for me. Seriously. Tell him I owe him my life.” He tilted his head, his little tail curling into a happy loop. “Just thank him yourself! You guys are literally soul-bonded through the bracelet. He can feel basically everything you feel in your heart!” Then, he suddenly leaned in close, dropping his voice into a dramatic, conspiratorial whisper. “By the way. My brother’s Mating Season is starting in a few days.” I blinked, still trying to process the magic slap. “Okay? And? What does that mean?” His chubby little cheeks instantly flushed bright crimson. Even the tips of his tiny dragon whiskers turned pink. He slapped both hands over his face and spun around, his muffled voice leaking through his fingers. “How am I supposed to know? That is adult stuff! Do not ask a baby!” A few days later, Harry spent the entire afternoon running wild outside. He claimed he made friends with a local pixie kid and they were going to look at lotus ponds. Before he sprinted out the door, he stuck his tongue out at me. “Do not wait up for dinner, Riley! I am eating lotus seeds with the bugs tonight!” When the sun completely set and the streetlights flickered on, he still wasn’t back. I couldn’t sit still anymore. I grabbed my jacket, ready to go scour the neighborhood. I yanked the front door open, and stopped dead. A towering, broad-shouldered silhouette was standing on my porch. I just stared, completely mesmerized. The man’s pupils dilated slightly. A deep flush crept up his neck, tinting his ears red. “Are you Riley?” I snapped out of my trance. “Uh, yeah?” “I had my people drop Harry off at my estate. Thank you for watching him these past few weeks. He will not be bothering you anymore.” He paused, his voice dropping an octave, turning rough and strained. “My Mating Season starts tonight. Can I stay here until it is over?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “445998”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My sister Sarah gave up everything for me after our parents died. First, her job. Not long after, her boyfriend of seven years, Mark, broke up with her. Jobless and heartbroken, she grew quiet, withdrawn. The warm smiles she used to give me vanished, replaced by a permanent storm cloud. The third time I had a heart attack and was rushed to the ICU, she finally broke. I could hear her screaming just outside the door. “It’s a fortune a day in there! You’re always clutching your chest, always saying your heart hurts. When is it ever going to be for real?” A nurse stepped out to calm her. “Ma’am, his condition is critical. A heart attack is incredibly painful. Please, this is a hospital. You need to be quiet.” Sarah’s voice cracked, thick with despair. “Easy for you to say! What if you were stuck with a brother like him?” The nurse said nothing more. The hallway fell silent. Inside the ICU, the only sound was the soft beep of my heart monitor, each beep a little weaker than the last. A moment later, I reached up and pulled the oxygen tube from my nose. Don’t worry, Sarah. This time, I’m not waking up. … The familiar, chilling sensation of death washed over me. As I closed my eyes, my soul drifted out of my body. The nurse was gone. Sarah was slumped on a bench in the hallway, her head leaned back against the sterile white wall, her face etched with a weariness that went bone-deep. I knew how tired she was. She had given me everything she had, everything she was. Even the man she’d planned to marry. I floated toward her, wanting to wrap my arms around her, to offer a comfort I never could in life. My hands passed right through her, through the wall behind her. It finally hit me. I was really dead. I couldn’t even say goodbye. Sarah rubbed the bridge of her nose and pulled out her phone. She hesitated, then opened her messages and found Mark’s name. The conversation had ended two weeks ago. Mark’s last texts were a torrent of frustration: [Sarah, how long are you going to keep putting your life on hold for him?] [My mom was already against us. Now you don’t have a job. How am I supposed to explain this to my family?] Her only reply was five words: [Alex is my brother.] [So he gets to drag you down for the rest of your life?! He was your parents’ kid, not yours!] Three exclamation points. Even in text, you could feel his rage. Sarah’s thumb swiped up, revealing the messages before the final blow-up. Sarah: [No one asks for a heart condition. Alex is miserable, too.] Sarah: [Mark, please, just wait a little longer. Once he’s stable, I promise I’ll make it up to you.] Mark: [I can’t wait. You need to tell me right now. Are you cutting ties with Alex or not?] She hadn’t answered. Mark: [You don’t expect to marry me and bring him along, do you? You think my mom would ever agree to us taking care of him?] Mark: [You sold your apartment to pay his medical bills last time. What’s next? What do you even have left to sell?] Mark: [Sarah, we’ve been together for seven years. Is this how you treat me?] Mark: [Answer me!] She never replied. It wasn’t that she was ignoring him. I remember that moment. My body had gone limp, my breath catching in my throat, the world closing in. She had been frantically searching for my medication. But Mark didn’t know that. All he knew was the silence on the other end of the line. His final message was one of defeat: [Let’s break up. I can’t do this anymore.] Sarah’s finger hovered over those words, her eyes turning red. I remember her breakdown that day. I was on the floor, gasping for air, my hand clamped over my chest. Her eyes were blazing as she screamed at me, “Is it not enough? When are you going to stop doing this?” “You’ve tortured me for years, you cost me my job, and now Mark is gone because of you,” she’d sobbed. “Are you happy now?” I wanted to tell her to forget me, to go to him. But the pain was a vise, squeezing the words from my throat. The panic and lack of air finally made me pass out. The color drained from her face. She scooped me up and raced to the hospital. They spent forty minutes bringing me back. But there was no relief on her face, only emptiness. Mark wouldn’t answer her calls or see her. The first thing I did when I came to was grab her hand. “Sarah, stop. No more treatments. Don’t waste any more money on me.” “Go find Mark. Please, just leave me.” She froze, her gaze falling on my pale, gaunt face. Her eyes slowly filled with tears. After a long moment, she squeezed my hand, her voice softening. “I didn’t mean what I said. I was just angry. Don’t take it to heart.” And then came today. Another attack. I had tried to fight it, begged my own body not to betray her again. Don’t do this, not now. She’s already exhausted. Don’t be a burden. But the feeling of my heart seizing, the icy grip of death, ripped a cry from my lips. It hurt so much. She rushed me to the hospital, her face a mask of panic. The doctor’s verdict was the final straw: the ER couldn’t help me anymore. I needed to be in the ICU. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard those words. But it was the first time they made her shatter. Back in the hallway, Sarah’s fingers tapped out a message on her phone, a desperate plea to Mark. But she deleted it before sending. She closed her messages and opened her social media, posting a picture of the sterile hospital corridor. The caption read: [My brother is critically ill. If anyone is able to help, please, I’m begging you. If you can help me save Alex, I’ll spend the rest of my life repaying you, whatever it takes.] The post went up. Silence. Not even a single ‘like.’ Our parents were gone. The relatives who used to be close now treated my illness like a plague, avoiding us at all costs. Sarah didn’t have a wide social circle, and her old work colleagues weren’t the kind you could ask for donations. The only comments came from a few guys from her college days who’d always been jealous of her. [Isn’t that Sarah, our top scholar? Got into university with the highest score in the city. What happened, run out of money?] [Hey Sarah, I thought you landed a sweet gig at that big corporation. Making good money, right? Can’t even afford to take care of your own brother?] [How much do you need for the surgery? Fifty grand? My family is looking for a new maid. Come work for us, and I’ll give you the cash.] Her expression shifted from shock to humiliation to fury. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the phone. She had always been brilliant. Top of her class, graduated with honors, and beat out two hundred other interns for a single full-time position at a top firm. She was our family’s pride and joy. If things had been different, she and Mark would probably be married by now. But a car crash took our parents. The insurance payout was tied up in legal battles. And my medical bills were a mountain of debt. It was all because of me. Sarah raised her hand, ready to hurl the phone against the wall. But she stopped herself, her hand trembling. She sank back onto the bench, burying her face in her hands as silent tears streamed down her cheeks. She couldn’t afford to break it. A new phone was a luxury she didn’t have. In the dead quiet of the hallway, her tears hit the polished floor with a soft pat, pat, pat. Each sound was like a hammer blow to my heart. I was already dead, but somehow, it still ached. “Sarah.” A familiar voice echoed from the end of the corridor. Her head snapped up. It was Mark. His eyes were a mix of pity and frustration. She quickly turned away, wiping the tears from her face. He walked over and pressed a paper bag into her hands. “I saw your post,” he said, his voice low. “Here’s ten thousand. It’s all I have right now. Use it. For the rest… I’ll try to help you figure something out.” He turned to leave. She shot out a hand and grabbed his arm. “Where did you get this? You’ve already loaned me so much of your savings, you—” “I’m getting married.” The words sliced through the air, stopping her cold. He didn’t turn around, didn’t see the way her world tilted on its axis, the way her pupils contracted in shock. His voice was hoarse. “Don’t worry about paying me back. And… don’t come to the wedding.” He pulled his arm free and walked away. Sarah glanced from his retreating back to the closed door of the ICU. Without another thought, she gritted her teeth and ran after him. She caught up to him just outside the hospital entrance. “Give me one more chance, Mark. Please. Don’t marry someone else, okay?” she begged, her voice choked with tears. “I can’t help what’s happened with Alex. He’s my brother. I can’t just let him die, can I?” “I’ll find a better job, I swear!” He looked down, refusing to meet her eyes. “I know this is hard for you, Sarah. But it’s hard for me, too. We’re just not right for each other anymore. Let’s stop torturing ourselves.” He let out a ragged breath. “My mom gave me an ultimatum. If I get back together with you, she said she’ll kill herself.” Sarah’s face went white. “Let me talk to her. Please. Alex is a good kid, he’s so smart. If it weren’t for his heart, he would have been amazing.” Mark sighed, his voice barely a whisper. “I know.” “I really do know.” His tone… it was the same one he’d used the first time they’d broken up. I’d gone to him, crying, begging him not to leave my sister. I told him I never wanted to be sick, never wanted to be a burden. I promised I would leave, disappear from their lives forever. He had wiped my tears away and said, so gently, “I know you’re a good kid, Alex. I know.” He’d called Sarah to come get me, and they’d gotten back together soon after. But this time, though the words were the same, his eyes were filled with a bottomless despair. He pulled his hand from her grasp again. “It’s too late, Sarah. I’m engaged.” She stared at him, her mouth agape. Just as she was about to speak, her phone rang, a shrill, insistent noise. It was the hospital. They must have found me. Sarah’s jaw tightened. She declined the call. “Mark, I promise this is the last time. Just wait for me. So what if you’re engaged? I don’t care!” “But I do!” he suddenly roared, his composure shattering. “Just leave me alone, Sarah! I don’t love you anymore!” The words hung in the air, and then he practically fled. Sarah started after him, but two men in dark suits stepped out of nowhere and grabbed her. A lavishly dressed, middle-aged woman emerged from a black car parked at the curb. She seized Mark’s arm and dragged him back in front of Sarah. “Sarah,” the woman said, her voice dripping with venom. “That ten thousand dollars was from me. Mark is my son-in-law now. You can’t have him.” Sarah struggled, her eyes wild with fury. “Let him go! You monster!” The only answer she received was a flurry of kicks and punches from the two men. I watched, helpless, spinning in a frantic circle. “Stop!” Mark fell to his knees before the woman. “I’ll go with you, just stop hitting her! Please, let her go. She has nothing left!” The woman sneered, turned, and got back in the car. Mark cast one last, fleeting glance at Sarah before following. The men threw Sarah to the ground. She lay there, bruised and gasping, watching the car disappear down the street. Her phone rang again, a jarring, incessant shriek. She snatched it up and screamed into it, “Stop fucking calling me! Just do whatever you have to do! Use whatever machines, whatever drugs, just stop calling me!” With a final, guttural cry, she flung the phone, and it skittered across the pavement, the screen shattering. … That afternoon, Sarah found a job through a back-alley agency. A human punching bag at an underground fight club. A hundred dollars a session. During the interview, she was practically begging. “I can take a punch, I really can. Please, sir, can you schedule me for a few extra sessions? Thank you, sir.” The recruiter, a burly man with a crooked nose, eyed her delicate frame with a frown. “You sure about this, sweetheart? We ain’t responsible if you get messed up.” Sarah nodded eagerly. “Anything that happens is on me. I’m tougher than I look.” He grunted and slid a form across the desk. “Sign here. We’ll give you a trial run day after tomorrow. If you don’t crap out, you’re hired.” A flicker of hope lit up her eyes as she took the form. But when she reached for a pen, her smile froze. She stared at a name on the registration list, her voice trembling. “Sir… this name, Alex. When did he sign up? Is he… about twenty-five?” The man thought for a moment. “Oh, that kid? He was a liar. Came in here trying to make a quick buck, swore he was in perfect health. Didn’t last two punches before he had a heart attack on the floor. The boss had to shell out a few grand to get rid of the problem.” Sarah’s pupils dilated, her eyes instantly flooding with red. She stared at the man, her voice a raw, broken whisper. “A few… grand?” “Yeah, five thousand, I think. Can’t remember.” The application form slipped from her fingers and fluttered to the dirty floor. Two weeks ago, right after she and Mark broke up, I had given her five thousand dollars. “Three for a new phone,” I’d told her. “The other two to take Mark out for a nice dinner, a movie. Buy him a gift.” “He’ll forgive you, Sarah. I know he will.” Her face had been a cold mask. “Where did you get this money? Did you steal it?” she’d demanded. “Alex, haven’t I told you, no matter how bad things get, we don’t steal?” “I didn’t steal it!” I’d cried. “It’s money I’ve been saving up since I was a kid! From Mom and Dad, back when they were… still here. I never spent it.” She had stared at me for a long time, her expression unreadable. She took four thousand, leaving one on my pillow. In the end, she spent fifteen hundred on a second-hand phone and the other twenty-five hundred on my medication. I was furious. I asked her why she didn’t try to make up with Mark. She’d given me a bitter, self-deprecating smile. “What’s between us can’t be fixed with a few thousand dollars.” She was right. The thing between them was me. Sickly me. I felt so helpless. The only thing I could do was try not to have another attack. I locked myself in my room, didn’t see anyone, didn’t speak. I thought if I just disappeared, I could stop being a burden. I was wrong. A faulty heart doesn’t care about your good intentions. It comes for you when it wants to. Sarah stumbled out of the fight club, her eyes red-rimmed and hollow. She ran home and tore open a drawer, her hands shaking as she pulled out our mother’s gold bracelet. It was the last piece of jewelry she had left. Everything else had been sold off over the years. This one was supposed to be for her, a wedding gift from a mother she’d never see again. It should have been hers. Sarah squeezed her eyes shut, clutching the bracelet as she knelt before our parents’ portraits. “I’m sorry, Mom, Dad,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’m not strong enough. I can’t take care of Alex. I have to sell your gift to pay his bills.” “All these years, I’ve felt so trapped. Because of Alex, I lost everything. I even lost Mark.” “But today… today I found out that Alex wasn’t a burden. He was fighting for us, too, in his own way.” The confession, locked away for so long, seemed to strengthen her. Her voice grew firm. “We’re family. I will never give up on him. I’ll never say those horrible things again.” “When he gets better, I’ll find a way to get him a new heart. I’ll beg, I’ll borrow, I’ll grovel before all the people who look down on me. I don’t care anymore.” She pressed her forehead to the floor in a single, solemn gesture, then got up and left the house. The bracelet sold for fifteen thousand dollars. Sarah had haggled, promising the pawnshop owner she’d buy it back someday if no one else did. She rushed to the hospital, clutching the cashier’s check, a desperate, fragile hope on her face. But when she got to the billing department, she was met with a cold stare. “Who are you paying for?” the clerk asked. “Alex,” Sarah said, forcing a smile. “The young man who was admitted to the ICU last night.” She slid the check across the counter. “Here’s ten thousand to start. I’ll pay the rest as soon as I can.” The clerk gave her a long, hard look. “You’re the woman from yesterday, aren’t you? The one who was screaming in the hallway for your brother to just die?” Sarah’s smile froze on her lips. Shame and regret flooded her eyes. “I’m sorry. I was… emotional yesterday. It won’t happen again. Could you please just process the payment for my brother?” Floating above, I sighed. The clerk sneered. “Sorry. Can’t do that.” Sarah was stunned. “Why not? Is it not enough money, or…?” “Your brother is dead.” The words cut her off. The clerk stared into her eyes, watching them widen in horror. “We tried calling you all morning. First, you didn’t answer. Then you told the nurse you didn’t care. And then your phone was off.” “You can take your money back.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “445997”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 In the twenty years I’ve been bound to my host, this was the nine hundred and ninety-ninth time I’d watched him fight with Isabelle. The dinner he’d spent hours preparing was now a ruin on the floor, swept there by a single, violent motion of his arm. His eyes were bloodshot as he roared, his voice cracking. “Why do you always choose him? You’re divorced, Isabelle, do you get that? I’m your husband now!” Isabelle remained calm, as if she’d been expecting this outburst all along. “So what if we’re divorced? We have a child together, Daniel. I can’t just ignore him.” Her casual words landed like a physical blow, leaving him frozen in place for a long, long time. Long enough for the sky outside to bleed from dusk into complete darkness. This had happened countless times before, and every time, he had gritted his teeth and endured it. I assumed this time would be no different. Until he suddenly asked me, “If I give up on the mission… what’s the price?” … I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right. My non-corporeal gaze shifted to the data screen hovering beside me. Still, a query from my host, Daniel, required a response. “Voluntarily abandoning the mission results in erasure,” I stated. “Your soul will be reduced to a scatter of data and will cease to exist.” Daniel was silent for a long while, his eyes fixed on the mess of broken ceramic and scattered food on the floor. “File the application for me,” he said, his voice flat. “I’m giving up.” I hesitated, feeling an uncharacteristic urge to protest. “But Isabelle’s affection level is already at 99%. You’re only 1% away from success.” “Even at 99%, she still loves you…” Daniel pulled out a cigarette and lit it, a plume of smoke veiling his expression. His voice was raspy when he spoke. “This last step… I’ve been trying to take it for ten years.” I had no reply. I had been a silent witness to it all. For twenty years, I watched him. He’d started this purely to complete a mission, but somewhere along the way, he had fallen in. Hopelessly, completely in love. I was about to say more when the sound of the front door opening cut me off. Isabelle was back. She waved a hand through the thick smoke, her gaze landing first on the shattered plates, then on Daniel. Her brow furrowed in annoyance. “I thought you quit ten years ago. Why are you smoking again? You know I hate the smell.” Her tone was sharp. “You made this mess, you can clean it up.” She skirted around the debris and disappeared into the bedroom. When she re-emerged, she was holding a bank card and pulling a small suitcase. Every time she took out that card, it was to withdraw money for her ex-husband and their son. And every time, it would start a fight with Daniel. But this time, Daniel’s face was a blank mask. He didn’t say a word. Isabelle paused at the door, perhaps unsettled by his silence. She glanced back at him. “My son has a fever, 102 degrees. I’m not lying this time,” she said. “Richard is a grown man, but he’s useless when it comes to taking care of a sick kid. He needs me right now. I’m going to stay with them for a while…” Her explanation was stiff, but it was a rare attempt to explain herself at all. “You don’t have to tell me any of this,” Daniel said, his voice eerily calm, as if discussing the weather. “He’s your son. It’s your decision.” Isabelle’s eyes widened slightly. On the data screen, I could see her heart rate spike. She was confused, wondering why he wasn’t screaming at her like he always did. The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable. Finally, Isabelle sighed, a sound of resignation. She set down her suitcase and bent to pick up the larger shards of porcelain. “I don’t even know what you’re so angry about,” she muttered. “It was just an anniversary. We can celebrate it anytime. It doesn’t matter to me, so why should it matter so much to you?” She cleaned up the mess while Daniel watched her in silence. Then, he spoke. “Isabelle,” he said, his voice quiet but clear. “You love Richard more than you love me, don’t you?” Her hands stilled for a second. “We’ve been married for years, what’s all this talk about love?” she said dismissively. “If I didn’t love you, why would I have married you?” A soft ping echoed in the interface only I could perceive. The affection level, stuck at 99% for a decade, suddenly dropped to 98%. In that instant, I finally understood why my host was ready to abandon a mission he’d poured twenty years of his life into. Isabelle’s phone rang. A glance at the caller ID was all it took. She rushed toward the door. “I’m leaving. I won’t be back for a few days. You can deal with the rest of this.” The door slammed shut. The moment it closed, a terrible cough wracked Daniel’s body, and he spat a mouthful of blood onto the clean floor. He clutched his chest, sliding down the wall until he was crumpled on the ground. I felt a flicker of something akin to concern, but this was the system’s law. When the target’s affection waned, the pursuer was punished. He had failed once before, ten years ago. I remembered him begging me that day. “I’m only 1% away. I can’t give up now. I’ll pay any price, just give me one more chance.” I gave it to him. The price was his life force. Ten years of borrowed time had left him running on empty. Daniel swallowed three painkillers, but his body still trembled uncontrollably from the agony. He curled into a ball in the corner until he finally passed out. I watched his life-force meter plummet, a sense of waste filling my core processes. I used what little energy I had left to stabilize him, just long enough for the paramedics to arrive. At the hospital, Daniel was rushed into surgery. I saw his friend, Dr. Samuel Finch, racing down the hall. He’d come the moment he heard Daniel had been brought in. He rounded a corner and collided with Richard. Isabelle’s ex-husband. Richard’s face lit up when he saw the doctor. “Dr. Finch! I’ve been trying to get an appointment with you for days. It’s great to finally catch you on duty. My son’s had this high fever for a while now, we’re not sure if it’s the flu or something else. If you have a moment…” Sam clearly had no time for him. He brushed past, his voice clipped. “I’m not a pediatrician. Why me, out of all the doctors in this hospital?” Richard’s smile faltered. “Sam, has Daniel been saying things to you?” Isabelle appeared then, hurrying toward them with their son in her arms. I could see the boy was genuinely sick, but compared to what Daniel was going through, it was a minor ailment. A bitter, humorless laugh escaped Sam. I knew he was Daniel’s best friend, the only other person besides me who knew the full extent of his condition. “Daniel is in the emergency room right now, fighting for his life,” he snapped. “Do you even know what happened to him, Isabelle? Have you ever cared?” His gaze flicked to the child in her arms, a look of pure contempt on his face. “Is there any room in that heart of yours for anyone besides your ex-husband and his son?” Without waiting for an answer, Sam spun on his heel and strode away. Through the data screen, I watched the color drain from Isabelle’s face. To me, these people were just data points. But I had witnessed every second of the last twenty years. I knew what Daniel had sacrificed. Isabelle stood frozen for a long moment, then instinctively reached for her phone to call Daniel. But her son, fussy and crying, thrashed in her arms and knocked the phone from her hand. Richard bent down and picked it up. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “If you’re really worried, go ahead. The court gave me custody, after all. You can go to him if you want.” The words were weightless, but they were enough to steady Isabelle’s wavering resolve. I watched her affection level fluctuate wildly, dipping and rising, before finally settling back at 99%. “My son needs me,” she said, her voice firm. And she walked away. I sighed, a purely simulated response. For the first time, I felt a pang of indignation for my host. Hours passed before Daniel was wheeled out of the operating room. He was conscious by the time they moved him to a private room, his face gaunt and pale, his cheekbones sharp beneath his skin. Sam stood beside the bed, staring at the chart in his hands with a complicated expression. “Daniel, let me find you some experimental drugs.” Daniel just shook his head. “Don’t bother.” His illness wasn’t natural. I had access to cures far beyond this world’s medicine, but Daniel was ineligible. Nothing could save him except completing the mission. Sam opened his mouth to argue, but footsteps paused outside the door. Isabelle pushed the door open. Her face fell when she saw Daniel in the bed. “You’re sick?” She was holding a prescription bag, likely from the pharmacy for her son. “Just the flu,” Daniel lied. “It’s nothing.” Isabelle’s shoulders relaxed. “Oh. Well, get some rest. I’ll check on you later.” She left as quickly as she had come, as if she’d only stopped by on her way to somewhere more important. There was no concern in her voice, no warmth in her eyes. Sam looked furious, staring at Daniel with a look of frustrated pity. “Why didn’t you tell her the truth?” “What’s the use?” Was there any use? I remained silent. If telling her the truth would have helped, my host wouldn’t have spent a decade stuck at 99%. Sam eventually sighed and left, leaving Daniel alone in the sterile white room. He asked me, “How much longer until I leave this world?” “The approval process for your withdrawal should take about a week…” I didn’t finish. His body was failing so fast, I wasn’t sure he’d make it that long. After two days in the hospital, Daniel discharged himself and went home. The moment he walked through the door, he saw that Richard was there, too. In just two days, the place had been completely taken over. Toys were scattered across the living room floor. Richard was on the couch, holding their son, watching TV. Isabelle was in the kitchen, cooking. In the ten years they had been married, Isabelle had never once cooked a meal. She had relied on Daniel for everything. He had always taken care of her. And now, here she was, in the kitchen for someone else. My focus returned to Daniel. He showed no emotion, as if he had expected this all along. He just stood there, calmly taking in the scene. “Daniel? Long time no see. Sorry about the mess,” Richard said with a lazy smile, though there was no apology in his eyes. Daniel didn’t respond. Isabelle came out of the kitchen and froze when she saw him. “You’re back. You didn’t tell me you were coming.” A beat. “I didn’t make you anything to eat.” “You two go ahead,” Daniel said quietly, and walked toward the bathroom. He left the door ajar, and the sounds from the living room drifted in. He stared at his reflection in the mirror as a trickle of blood ran from his nose, dripping onto the white porcelain sink. He pressed a hand to his face, but it wouldn’t stop. A strange sadness filled my processors. Daniel had endured the pain of the system’s backlash countless times. “Host, would you like a painkiller?” I offered. They wouldn’t do much, but they might dull the edge of the agony. He just shook his head, too weak to speak. The door was suddenly pushed open. Isabelle’s face went white. She grabbed a towel and pressed it frantically to his face. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you bleeding so much?” He pushed her hand away. “It’s nothing. Just stress. It’ll stop.” But the blood had already soaked through half the towel. Isabelle was about to say something else when a loud crash from the living room, followed by a child’s wail, stole all of her attention. She ran out of the bathroom without a second glance. After the bleeding finally stopped, Daniel walked out. His eyes immediately fell on the source of the noise. I followed his gaze. My core temperature seemed to drop. It was the only photograph he had of the two of them, now lying shattered on the floor. Isabelle was kneeling, cooing over her son, fussing over a small cut on his hand from the broken glass. Daniel bent down and picked up the photo from the wreckage of the frame. I remembered when it was taken. Soon after they were married, Isabelle had said she wanted to see the ocean. Daniel had driven them to the coast to watch the sunrise. That was the day her affection for him had hit 99%. Back then, I had thought all his efforts had finally paid off. I never imagined that the final 1% would be a chasm he would spend the next ten years trying to cross. The photo was ruined, slashed by a shard of glass. Daniel stared at it for a long time before dropping it into the trash can. Isabelle noticed the gesture. After she had calmed her son down, she said to Daniel, “It’s just a frame. We can take another picture sometime.” Daniel’s lips moved, but no sound came out. He went into the bedroom and returned with a document from a drawer, its pages yellowed with age. A divorce agreement. He’d had it ready for a long, long time. So long that even I had forgotten about it. “Let’s get a divorce,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. Isabelle’s expression froze. Her eyes fell to the papers in his hand. The only sound in the room was the quiet ticking of a clock. She clearly didn’t take him seriously. She snatched the agreement from his hand and, without even looking at it, tossed it into the same trash can as the photo. Her voice turned cold. “Don’t throw a tantrum over a broken frame. I know you don’t like seeing Richard and my son here. There’s nothing between Richard and me anymore. The child is the only thing connecting us. What are you so worried about?” Every word was a lie. “Once we have a child of our own, you’ll understand,” she continued. “If you don’t want to see them, I’ll take them and leave.” And she did. She left with Richard and their son. I wanted to offer some comfort to Daniel, but I didn’t know what to say. Isabelle didn’t come back. A long time passed. The final approval for his withdrawal from the mission was only two days away. Daniel acted as if nothing was wrong, but the backlash from the failed mission was a constant torment. I watched his face grow paler by the day. “Host,” I said, breaking the silence. “I have submitted a request for a mission parameter change. If you can get Isabelle to have one last meal with you, the mission will be considered a success.” He could go back to his own world. Free of pain, free of this life. He could see his family again. A flicker of light appeared in his tired eyes. I knew he was listening. No one truly wants to die unless they have no other choice. I prompted him to call Isabelle, to set a time for the next day, just before the final approval would come through. The first nine calls went to voicemail. Just as he was about to give up, on the tenth try, she answered. “What is it?” Her voice was impatient. “Tomorrow… it’s my birthday. Do you remember? Come home. Just for one meal.” His voice was hoarse, but this time, she didn’t refuse. A wave of relief washed over me. Maybe, just maybe, this could work. On Daniel’s birthday, I ordered a cake for him. I even started planning my next assignment after his mission was complete. But that day, Daniel sat at the dining table starting at five in the evening. He was still sitting there at ten. The food had been heated and reheated until it was inedible. Finally, he gave up, slumping in his chair and staring blankly out the window. “You see?” he said to me, his voice hollow. “She can’t even spare me a single meal.” I said nothing. The data screen showed me exactly where Isabelle was. She had intended to come home at six, but Richard had stopped her. “Do you know what today is? You promised you’d take Toby to the park. He’s finally feeling better, and you’re just going to leave again? I know it’s Daniel’s birthday, but he can wait.” The minutes ticked by. Daniel’s phone lit up in the darkness. It was a voice message from Isabelle. He played it. “I’ll be back later, I promise,” her voice said, tinny through the small speaker. “I promised the kid I’d spend time with him, and I can’t break my word. If you’re hungry, just eat without me. You don’t have to wait.” I started to speak. “Host…” Daniel didn’t say a word. He blew out the single candle on his cake and took a bite. The clock struck midnight. I checked her progress bar. Still 99%. As the first second of the new day ticked over, Daniel stood up. Without a moment’s hesitation, he walked to the window of their eighteenth-floor apartment and stepped out into the night.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “445996”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I agreed to my husband’s demand that we be child-free. Then, at forty-five, he changed his mind. He fell for a woman ten years younger than me. The most important thing was, she could still give him a child. He used every weapon in his arsenal to force a divorce, leaving me with nothing. I hated him. I hated him so much that the thought of sharing the same patch of earth with him felt like a desecration. Decades later, our hair was white, our faces etched with the maps of our lives. We met again in a nursing home. He was there visiting a friend, his grandson in tow. I was a permanent resident, old and alone. My body, I knew, could no longer handle the rigors of childbirth, even if I had wanted to try. He led his grandson over to me. “Ava,” he said, his voice softer than I remembered. “Are you still angry with me for breaking my promise? People change when they get old. Their ideas change.” I barely glanced at him. What was the use of being angry? I had wished him a life without heirs, a cursed and lonely existence. But fate had blessed him with a large, loving family. And I was nearing the end of my own life. It would be better if we never met again in the next. … I never thought I’d see him here. To be precise, I was a resident, and he was just a visitor. He was the type who basked in the warmth of family, of children and grandchildren. He would never choose to live out his days in a place like this. He hadn’t expected to see me again either. I had been so resolute when I left, cutting off all contact. Friends who tried to reconnect us were met with a wall of silence. I tore up his letters, blocked his number. My hatred for him was an art form. “I hope we never see each other again, not even in death,” I had once said. “The only reason I’d go to his funeral is to set off fireworks.” But now, all these years later, I found I could face him with a strange sense of calm. The old have a way of getting lost in their memories, spending whole afternoons retracing the paths of their past. Nathan and I were childhood sweethearts. We grew up together, and our relationship blossomed naturally. We both came from families scarred by pain. His father’s infidelity had left deep wounds, instilling in him a fear of parenthood. He wanted to be child-free. To prove his commitment, he even had a vasectomy. “Ava,” he’d told me, “I don’t want my child to suffer the way I did. I’m not ready.” I respected his decision. My mother, however, was furious. She threatened to confront him. “He’s a man! He can have children when he’s seventy, eighty! What about you? What will you do then? If he changes his mind, you’ll be the one to suffer. You think I’m being cruel, but I’ve lived, and I’m telling you this for your own good.” I had cried, defending him, promising her that we would be happy, that Nathan was different. And for fifteen years, I was happy. He adored me. Then, at forty-five, a young woman showed me a picture of them in bed together, along with a positive pregnancy test. “I think you have a right to know,” she’d said. Nathan, consumed by guilt, told me it was my decision. I could choose whether the child was born or not. My heart felt like it was being ripped apart. “I’ll schedule the appointment,” I said, my voice hollow. He didn’t even look at the girl. “Whatever you want,” he promised. “As long as you’re not angry.” But a single day was all it took for him to change his mind. He stood before me, his arm protectively around the other woman. “Ava, I’m sorry. I want this child. Let’s get a divorce.” I stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing. In that moment, my mother’s words came back to haunt me, a terrible, prophetic echo. I tried to fight for my share of our assets, to salvage some shred of dignity. But Nathan was no fool. “Ava, I know you’re angry,” he’d said, his voice cold and calculated. “But I need money to support a pregnant woman and a child. I can’t be generous with the settlement.” I never imagined the man I had loved so deeply could become such an enemy, as if we were mortal foes locked in a battle to the death. I slapped him, the sound cracking in the silent room. “You’re the one who betrayed me, Nathan! You’re the one who broke your promise! Have you forgotten who wanted to be child-free in the first place? You begged me, and I agreed because I loved you more than some hypothetical child! You’re the one who cheated!” The tears I had been holding back finally fell. My mother had died just a month before. I had promised her I would be happy. Nathan had stood by her bedside and sworn he would honor his commitment to me. There was guilt in his eyes, but it didn’t stop him. He was ruthless. He used every trick in the book to hide our assets, something he was very good at. Of the wealth we had built together, he offered me a meager one-tenth. By the sixth time we stood in court, I was exhausted. I had cried until I had no tears left. My mental state was fragile, but that didn’t help my case. It only became another weapon for him to use against me, another justification for the divorce. I looked at him across the courtroom, his face bright with anticipation for his new life, his new child. The man who had always hated complications had spent the previous night meticulously preparing bird’s nest soup for his new love, a delicacy for pregnant women. I lost. I took what little money I was given and moved to the other side of the world. I never wanted to see him again. I hated him. Life is unfair. The man who broke his vows thrived. He had three children, and then grandchildren. He was surrounded by family. And me? My health deteriorated. Eventually, I was too tired to even hate him anymore. Nathan brought his grandson to me. “Say hello to Grandma, little guy,” he prompted. The child did as he was told. “Ava,” Nathan continued, “I divorced her after the kids turned eighteen. You could have come back. The kids would have taken care of you. They’re good kids, they listen to me. I’ve been waiting for you all these years.” I looked at him and shook my head. No, thank you. We were old now. What was the point? He probably felt a flicker of guilt. He was the one who insisted on being child-free. I had trusted him, accommodated him. A man can have children his whole life. I had gambled my future on his word, and he had turned out to be just like all the others. He didn’t understand. “We’re old, Ava. Why are we still fighting? You’ve always been in my heart. That’s why I divorced her as soon as the kids were grown. They understood.” His friend, an old man named Jack, chimed in. “Ava, what Nathan did was wrong, but it’s been so long. If you go back, at least you’ll have family around. You won’t have to die alone in this place.” So naive. Their lives were intertwined in ways a piece of paper could never sever. Nathan was about to say more when his phone rang, a trendy, upbeat ringtone that young couples used. A kind young volunteer had helped me set one on my own phone last week. He quickly answered. The woman’s voice was clear. “Why aren’t you back yet? Our eldest got a promotion. He’s coming over for dinner.” Nathan quickly agreed. See? They were still connected. How could they not be? Besides, I had no interest in being a homewrecker. I was a part of his past. As they say, when a person is near death, their words are kind. So, I wished them a long and happy life together. Nathan left. I went back to my usual routine: sitting in my rocking chair, soaking up the sun, and reliving the days of my youth. He started visiting the nursing home more often. His friend Jack would tease him. “You keep signing in as my visitor, but we all know who you’re really here to see.” His grandson got used to me. He was a cute kid. After he called me “Grandma” a few more times, I found myself softening, pulling a piece of candy from my pocket for him. The grudges of our generation shouldn’t be passed down. Nathan was pleased. “See, Ava? I always knew you loved children.” His stomach rumbled. “Oops, gotta use the restroom. Old man problems.” He asked Jack to watch the boy, but the child stayed by my side. I found myself watching him, my voice soft as I warned, “Don’t climb on that.” A nurse came to find me. It was time for my treatment. I handed the boy back to Jack and followed her. The treatments were always painful. Cancer is like that. At a certain stage, the flesh begins to rot. In a strange way, being old was a small blessing. The cancer cells weren’t as aggressive. I had been living with it for five years. The doctors said I wouldn’t make it through the year. But so what? I was lucky to have lived this long. It took a while to change the dressing on my abdomen. The smell of medicine clung to me, so I borrowed some perfume from the nurse. I didn’t want to bother anyone with the stench. When I came out, they were all looking at me with frantic eyes. “Ava, is the boy with you?” I shook my head. Jack was panicking. “I thought you took him with you! He’s gone!” My brow furrowed. That was impossible. The boy was holding Jack’s hand when I left. I tried to stay calm. “Let’s check the security cameras.” But Nathan had already lost his mind. He didn’t hesitate. He pointed a finger at me, his face contorted with rage. “Ava, I know you hate me! I know you’re angry! You can hit me, curse me, whatever you want! But the boy is innocent! Don’t you dare use him to get back at me!” The familiar pain, both physical and emotional, flared up. My voice rose. “I didn’t do it, Nathan!” He grabbed my arm, his grip bruising. “The nurse can vouch for me!” The nurse came out, but before she could speak, Nathan shoved me hard. “If I don’t find him, I will hate you for the rest of my life! You’ll rot in hell for this!” He turned and ran. I fell to the floor, my old bones screaming in protest. Nathan glanced back at the sound of my fall, but only for a second before he was gone, dragging Jack with him. “We need to find the boy!” After all these years, he could still make my heart ache. Why wouldn’t he just leave me alone? The nurse rushed to help me up. “What is wrong with those two? The boy was fine when you left! How could they just blame you without even checking the cameras?” A sharp, tearing pain shot through me. The nurse checked my dressing and her face went pale. “Oh no. The tumor… it’s ruptured. We need to get you to a hospital. Now.” I was rushed into an ambulance. Through a haze of pain, I saw a younger Nathan. He had a hundred percent faith in me then. Even in the depths of our bitter divorce, when I was pushed to the brink of madness, I never once thought of hurting his new love or her child. It was always between him and me. It was laughable, really. If I had wanted revenge, I could have used my mental breakdown as an excuse. Why would I wait until now? But still, he blamed me. Why? Because he knew he was in the wrong. He knew he owed me a lifetime. He believed my revenge would be justified. The ambulance arrived at the hospital. My consciousness was fading. A ruptured tumor meant internal bleeding, infection. For an old body like mine, it was a death sentence. The pain was immense. My vision blurred. I saw a young Nathan again. We were on a mountain path, and I had fallen and scraped my knee. He carried me on his back for miles, his voice gentle. “It’s okay. I’ll clean it up when we get home. I’m practically a doctor, you know.” The taste of blood in my throat brought me back to the present. Everything was decaying. My insurance had maxed out. The doctors tried to find a contact. In my phone, they found the number Nathan had insisted on leaving a few days ago. “Ava,” he had promised, “if you change your mind, just call me. I’ll come get you. I’ve kept the house just the way you left it. The kids wanted it, but I told them no. I was waiting for you to come home.” I had been too tired to delete it. The doctor called. No answer. Finally, he picked up. The doctor spoke quickly. “Hello, we found your number in Ava’s phone under ‘Husband.’ She’s in critical condition, but her insurance limit has been reached. Can you come to the hospital to handle the admission and payment?” The line went dead. “I’m busy looking for my grandson! Stop this nonsense, Ava!” My eyes fluttered open. “Doctor,” I whispered, my voice weak. “Don’t call him.” The world had its own records. They would prove my innocence. With the last of my strength, I made one final call. To the funeral home. I had pre-arranged everything. It was a simple process. Everyone has to go through it. A clean, smooth death was a blessing. I was tired of the cycle of pain, surgery, and more pain. My affairs were in order. I had no assets left. What little I had was gone, spent on years of medical bills. It was better this way. I used up the last of my energy and closed my eyes. … Nathan finally found the boy. He was old, and it took him a while to figure out the security footage. A call from his ex-wife broke the stalemate. “Why aren’t you home? I picked up our grandson an hour ago. Where have you been?” Jack slapped his forehead. “Oh, my god. My memory… I remember handing the boy off, but I couldn’t remember if it was to you or Ava. It’s all my fault.” Nathan’s face went white. He ran back to the nursing home, but the nurse told him, “She was taken to the hospital. She hasn’t come back.” He rushed to the hospital, but the news he received there shattered his world.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “445995”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 The Cook Corporation’s illegal demolition killed my parents and turned me into a beggar on the streets. When the thugs they hired had me cornered, Jax stood in front of me. He was like a stray dog, eyes burning red with fury. “Anyone touches Ava,” he snarled, “I’ll make them regret it for the rest of their lives.” We fell in love when we had nothing. Until the day the Cook heiress sent her men for us. Jax was beaten until his head was slick with blood, but he still shielded me. He shoved me away and let them take him. Lost in the downpour, I stumbled through the alleyways and saw her car. The interior light was on, and through the rain-streaked window, I saw Jax press Seraphina Cook against the seat, his mouth crashing down on hers in a brutal, hungry kiss. In that instant, the world blurred into a wash of gray rain, and the only sound was the frantic drumming of my own heart. … “Is fucking a high-society girl that much better, Jax?” Seraphina’s breathless words, broken and panting, reached my ears. Jax was completely lost in her, his teeth gently grazing her earlobe, his eyes glazed with lust. When he didn’t answer, she grabbed his tie, flipping him onto his back and straddling him. He reached to peel off her black dress, but she stopped his hand. She looked down at him, her voice laced with a petulant complaint. “I’ve asked you so many times, Jax. When are you going to agree to be my personal bodyguard? Sneaking into the Warrens to see you was fun at first, but I’m getting tired of this whole underground affair. Besides…” She paused. “Besides, I’m sick of seeing your little beggar girlfriend.” Jax was silent for a moment, then he answered her with a kiss that was even more ferocious than the last, stripping away her clothes in the dark confines of the car. My tears mingled with the rain, my whole body shaking. I couldn’t watch anymore. I turned and ran, stumbling on the potholed ground, my knees screaming in protest each time I fell. But I scrambled back up and kept running, desperate to get away. All I wanted was to go home. My home was nothing more than a makeshift lean-to of scrap wood and tarps, but it was once a warm and happy place. It had my parents, hot meals, and a soft bed. Until the Cook Corporation tore it all down. My parents died trying to protect it, crushed under the rubble of our house. Their deaths sparked an outrage. The displaced residents protested, and the demolition was temporarily halted. We swore we would protect our land, that we wouldn’t let Cook win. But one by one, people took the money. Or they couldn’t stand the constant harassment from the company’s thugs. They left. The Warrens grew emptier, but I stayed. I was waiting to get justice for my parents. And Jax stayed with me. His parents were gambling addicts. He’d run away from home and lived on the streets. I had shared my food with him. When the thugs had me cornered, he had appeared out of nowhere to protect me. As I cleaned his wounds later, dabbing iodine on the raw gashes, I started to cry, from fear or from a pain in my own chest, I didn’t know which. “I’m sorry,” I sobbed. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into this…” Jax pulled me into a fierce embrace. “Ava, I’m staying with you. I’m going to protect you for the rest of your life.” And for five years, he did. 2 Jax came back late that night. A fresh bandage was taped to his forehead. He saw the scrapes on my knees and knelt to apply ointment. I took a step back. “Where were you?” A flicker of hesitation crossed his eyes. “They took me to see Ms. Cook,” he said carefully. “She wasn’t too hard on me. Ava… maybe she’s not as bad as you think.” I looked up at him, my heart clenching with disbelief. “Jax, you know how much I hate the Cooks.” It was a blood debt. He knew everything. And he was dismissing it with a casual, “not as bad as you think.” He reached for me. “I’m sorry, Ava. But that was our parents’ fight. Seraphina doesn’t approve of what her family did.” I pushed him away, a cold laugh escaping my lips. “You two seem to know each other pretty well.” He flinched, his eyes darting away. He didn’t answer. Instead, he started talking, as if trying to convince both me and himself. “Ava, you should talk to her. I’m sure she’d be willing to give you some compensation. I want a better life for you, for us. We can’t keep living hand-to-mouth, selling scrap metal. Do you really want to be stuck in this hellhole for the rest of your life?” I slapped him. The sound echoed in our small shelter. He turned his head slightly, his eyes downcast. I looked at him, my voice low and sharp. “This isn’t some hellhole. It’s my home. The Cook Corporation destroyed my house and killed my parents for twenty thousand dollars. I’m not leaving until I get my revenge.” Seeing the tears welling in my eyes, Jax panicked. “I’m sorry, Ava. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” Then, another lie slipped from his lips. “I found a job. A bodyguard. It’s steady work.” I gave him a faint, bitter smile. I knew it was just Seraphina’s excuse to have him at her beck and call. “Ava,” he murmured, “I’m going to make you happy.” … Jax started coming home later and later, until he wasn’t coming home at all. “The rich have a lot of parties,” he’d explain, his voice strained. “They’re always short-staffed. You have to understand, Ava.” I knew he was sleeping with her. “Your employer seems to need a lot of… company,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. At the mention of her, a light I couldn’t ignore flickered in his eyes. A small smile played on his lips. “Ava, she’s… incredible. The strongest person I’ve ever met. Besides you.” The comparison made me sick to my stomach. I didn’t confront him. I still needed his protection. Without Jax, I wouldn’t survive long enough to see justice done. But I stopped letting him touch me. And Jax, lost in his new world with Seraphina, never even noticed. 3 A few weeks later, I was alone in the alley when a group of thugs blocked my path. “Well, well, if it isn’t Ava. Where’s your little boyfriend?” I recognized them. They were the same goons the Cook Corporation had been using for years to harass the remaining residents. I backed away. “Jax is nearby. Don’t try anything.” They looked at each other and burst out laughing. They cornered me, their shadows looming. One of them grabbed my hair, his greasy fingers scraping against my cheek. “Jax? He’s too busy being the Cook heiress’s lapdog to care about a homeless mutt like you.” I sank my teeth into his wrist, hard. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. “Fucking bitch!” A fist slammed into my face, sending me sprawling into the mud. The real beating began then. They used a filthy piece of wood, a makeshift club, crashing it against my ribs again and again. My strength gave out. I lay in the grime, gasping for air. The final blow landed on my forehead. The world dissolved into a high-pitched ringing as warm blood streamed down, blinding me. When they tore at my clothes, I no longer had the energy to fight back. They took out their phones, taking turns filming me. I just stared up at the sky, a gray canvas sliced into thin strips by a web of power lines. It was the same color it had been the day they pulled my parents’ bodies from the rubble. When they were done, they spat on the ground and left, cursing. I used the grimy wall to pull myself up, bit by bit. I wasn’t sure a single bone in my body was unbroken. Every step was agony. But I couldn’t die. If I died, who would get justice for my parents? I dragged myself around the last corner, a pile of rotting garbage marking the end of the alley. I stopped, hiding myself in the shadows. A black Lincoln, sleek and utterly out of place, was parked at the mouth of the alley. And standing beside it, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, was Jax. He looked so different I barely recognized him. Seraphina was leaning against his shoulder, her fingers tracing his jawline. “You know, Jax,” she purred, “I’m just discovering you have a rather cruel streak.” He lit a cigarette, his voice nonchalant. “Ava can be stubborn. I’ve protected her for years, but she has no idea how hard life can be. A little scare while I’m gone… maybe it’s what she needs to finally agree to leave.” Huddled behind the dumpster, I heard his words, and the blood in my veins turned to ice. The man I had trusted most had just thrown me to the wolves. I bit my lip so hard I didn’t feel the pain, my nails digging into my palms. A sharp, twisting pain erupted in my abdomen, like a dull knife being turned. My vision swam, and I slid down the wall as the world spun around me. The last thing I heard before the darkness took me was Jax’s voice, laced with something that sounded like a smile. “Once she understands…” 4 I woke up in a hospital. The door was slightly ajar, and I could hear hushed, frantic voices outside. It was Jax, his voice cracking with a despair he couldn’t contain. “Seraphina! I just told them to scare her! What the hell did you order them to do?!” Her reply was a light, careless laugh that drifted through the crack in the door. “Oh, Jax. Your little girlfriend doesn’t scare easily. Since you agreed to let me send my men to ‘persuade’ her, I thought we might as well be thorough. Better to rip the band-aid off, don’t you think?” Jax’s voice was shaking. “Do you have any idea she was pregnant?! The baby… we lost the baby…” A brief silence. Then, Seraphina’s laughter, even brighter this time. “Oh? Is that so? Well, then I guess I did you both a favor. Did you really think that child would have had a happy life, Jax? Raised by a couple of beggars squatting in a garbage heap?” The sharp crack of a slap echoed in the hallway. A moment of stunned silence, then Seraphina’s voice, laced with venom. “You ever lay a hand on me again, Jax, and I swear to god… Your future, your ticket out of that shithole you came from, it’s all tied to me. Who do you think you are without me? Just another stray dog from the Warrens, fighting over scraps.” Lying in the hospital bed, I felt a wave of nausea. A child? I subconsciously touched my flat stomach. No wonder I had been so tired and sick lately. A dark, cruel thought surfaced. A part of me was relieved. I had nothing to give a child. The door opened. Seraphina walked in, followed by Jax, his eyes red and swollen. He couldn’t look at me. She bit her lip, forcing the words out. “My men got carried away. They didn’t know when to stop. On their behalf, I apologize.” She paused, pulling a checkbook from her expensive handbag and placing a blank check on my bedside table. “As for compensation, name your price. Take your time. After all, it was our company’s… mistake… that led to your parents’ deaths and left you like this.” Then she picked up her bag, lifted her chin, and walked out. We were alone. Jax looked at me, his lips moving, but no sound coming out. “Ava, I’m so sorry…” I just smiled. A slow, cold smile. I would make them pay. … Three days later, sirens blared across the Southside. Fire trucks and ambulances swarmed the streets. The Warrens were on fire. Jax’s calls came one after another. I finally answered. He sounded like a man on the edge of a cliff. “Ava, where are you?! Why aren’t you in your room?!” “You know where I am, Jax,” I said softly. “Don’t bother looking for me. I’m going to be with my parents soon. I won’t be the burden holding you back from your new life. Are you happy now? After all these years, we’re even.” Flames licked at the flimsy wooden walls of my shelter, crackling and popping. I didn’t move. I just held the cold picture frame in my arms a little tighter. In the photo, my parents and I were smiling. I could hear the media scrum outside, the police shouting. I thought I heard Jax scream my name. “Ava!” He was trying to break through the police line. I ignored it all and closed my eyes, pressing my cheek against the cool glass of the frame. The air warped with the heat. I could see my parents in the flames, beckoning to me. Just as the heat and smoke were about to pull me under, there was a tremendous crash. The burning wall exploded inward. Jax, wreathed in smoke, stumbled into the inferno. He reached for me. “Ava! Go! We have to go!” I didn’t move. I just looked at him, my expression calm. His eyes were wild, pleading. “Ava… I was wrong… I was so wrong… please, just come outside. We can talk outside…” The smoke was getting thicker, the flames crawling across the ceiling. “Outside?” My voice was a hoarse whisper. “Outside where, Jax? My home is here. The home we were supposed to have… you destroyed it.” He slapped himself, hard, twice across the face. “I’m an animal, Ava, I deserve to die… but don’t do this, don’t throw your life away… I’m begging you…” The heat was unbearable. I could hear the firehoses outside. “Is anyone still in there?! We need to get them out!” The shout seemed to snap Jax out of his panic. He lunged forward, trying to scoop me into his arms. At that exact moment, a burning beam from the ceiling came crashing down. And the world went black.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “445994”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 “So white, the clothes. So much whiter, the person.” “Next time, don’t even bother with underwear. Makes things easier for laundry.” I stared at my wife’s WhatsApp, unable to process the words. The contact name seared my eyes: “Julian Hillner.” Her ex-husband. I slammed my phone down. My wife, Kathy, flinched, startled. “Darling, let me explain, his hand is hurt, and there’s no one to look after him…” I pointed a finger at her. “His hand is hurt?” “For three years of our marriage, you wouldn’t even press a button on the washing machine, claiming it would chip your manicure.” “And now you’re at your ex’s place, hand-washing clothes? For a whole night?” “Darling, why are you so mad?” She bent to pick up her bag, her eyes darting to the coffee table. I took two swift steps, planting my foot firmly on the bag. “Don’t touch it.” “Darling…” “What happened to Julian’s hand?” Kathy’s face went instantly pale. She instinctively clutched her throat, her gaze flickering nervously. “He… he fractured his hand.” “A comminuted fracture, no one to care for him, couldn’t even pull up his pants.” “I just felt sorry for him, so I went to help out.” “Help out?” My lips twisted into a sneer. I bent down and picked up the bag. A Gucci overnight bag, bulging. “Need this thing to ‘help out’?” “Give it to me!” Kathy shrieked, lunging to grab it. I sidestepped her, gripped the zipper, and yanked it open. Whoosh. A pile of items tumbled onto the coffee table. A black lace lingerie set. Half a bottle of lube. And a pair of freshly discarded nude stockings. The air solidified instantly. I recognized that lingerie set. For our anniversary, I’d begged her for half a month, just to see her wear it once. She’d claimed the fabric was scratchy, that she was allergic, refused to wear it for anything. Now, that “scratchy” lingerie lay before me. It reeked of cheap cologne mixed with disinfectant. Pungent. Disgusting. I snatched the lace and flung it at her face. “This is your ‘help’?” “Going to your ex’s place to wash clothes, and bringing your own lube?” “Were you washing clothes, or acting as an automated ‘wash-and-wear’ service?” Kathy tore off the lingerie, tears instantly gushing. “Leo! Don’t talk like that!” “He’s sick! He can’t move!” “I wore this because… because…” “Because what?” I took a step closer, staring at her neck. A patch of concealer had rubbed off. Revealing a dark red mark. A hickey. “Because this thing cures broken bones?” I reached out to wipe at the concealer. Kathy slapped my hand away, then collapsed onto the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. “You’re just petty! You have no sympathy!” “We’re divorced, what else could there be?” “If I wanted something with him, why would I have married you in the first place?” “He’s lying there, can’t move, and you’re still slandering me!” Can’t move? I sneered, casting my phone screen to the 65-inch TV. A screenshot of game stats appeared. ID: “The Swift Serpent.” That was Julian’s gaming account. I’d been sleepless last night, using a secondary account to monitor his profile. The stats showed: 2 AM last night, ranked match MVP. Hero used: “The Blademaster.” Fastest hands on the field, most dazzling plays. “This is your ‘comminuted fracture’?” I pointed at the “Penta Kill” icon on the screen. “At 2 AM, he was slaughtering the competition.” “And you were ‘washing clothes’ in his bed.” “Kathy, do you think I’m blind, or just plain stupid?” Kathy looked up at the screen, her lips trembling. “Th-this… this was a booster playing for him!” “Yes! A booster!” “Leo, why do you have to be so dark?” “I’ve been frugal for this family, and you’re here investigating my ex?” Frugal? I laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. 2 I tapped open her shopping history on the Aethelred Market app. Australian Wagyu A9, two hundred dollars a pound. Deep-sea wild sea cucumber, five hundred dollars a box. Boston lobster, extra-large. The delivery address was always the same: Apartment 402, Building 3, Serenity Lane. That was Julian’s rented place. And what had I eaten last night? Instant noodles, without even an egg. In three years of marriage, she had never once cooked. Claiming cooking fumes ruined her skin, and dish soap hurt her hands. I washed all the dishes, mopped all the floors. All to protect those manicures of hers, which cost eighty dollars a pop. I grabbed her hand. The long, rhinestone-studded nails were now clipped short and bare. There was still unwashed grease on her fingertips. “You clipped your nails to cook for him?” “You don’t mind roughing up your hands to wash his underwear?” “Kathy, you truly are a wonderful wife.” I flung her hand away. Kathy stumbled, hitting the sofa leg. She dropped the act entirely, scrambling up from the floor, yelling defiantly. “Yes! I did go to take care of him! So what?” “A bond forged in marriage lasts a lifetime!” “He’s in trouble, how could I just stand by and watch him suffer?” “You make tens of thousands a month, what’s wrong with sharing a bit to help him out?” “Leo, you need to be more generous!” “What kind of man nitpicks over such trivial things?” Generous. Help him out. I looked at the woman before me. For three years, I’d thought she was delicate, a little princess who needed pampering. Turns out, she wasn’t incapable of doing things. She just reserved her efforts for other men. My stomach churned, a wave of pure, visceral disgust. “Get out.” I pointed at the door. “Take your lube, and get out.” Kathy froze. Before, if she cried, I’d immediately comfort her. Even when she gave my limited-edition collectibles to a relative’s child, I never spoke harshly. But today, the icy chill in my eyes frightened her. “Leo, you dare kick me out?” “Don’t you dare regret this!” “I’m leaving right now! I’m going to Elara’s place!” She grabbed her bag from the floor, shoving the lingerie in haphazardly. Then slammed the door behind her. Elara’s place? I walked to the balcony, watching her red BMW X3 drive out of the complex. The direction was clearly not towards her friend’s house. It was heading straight for Serenity Lane. Julian’s place. I pulled out a cigarette and lit it. My hand was shaking. Not from sadness, but from fury. And the humiliation of being played for a fool for three years. I turned and walked into the bedroom. Locked the door. That night, I didn’t sleep. I was checking her finances. And what I found chilled me to the bone. The next morning. The living room was eerily silent. I stared at the bank statements on my phone, my eyes bloodshot. Kathy hadn’t come home last night. I hadn’t called her either. This card was the household card I’d given her, linked to my secondary account. Every month, I transferred two thousand dollars for living expenses. For three years, I had never checked the statements. Because of trust. Now, that trust had become a slap to the face. On the first of every month. There was a fixed transfer of five hundred dollars. The recipient’s note was “Belle Beauty Salon.” But I checked the verified name on the payment app. The account belonged to “Juli*.” Julian. Three years, thirty-six months. This single, fixed expense alone amounted to eighteen thousand dollars. And that was just the small stuff. Various fragmented transfers, payments, gift money. There were even several large cash withdrawals. In total, she had transferred at least forty thousand dollars over these three years. Forty thousand. I had hesitated for half a year before buying a new car. She transferred money to her ex without a second thought. 3 I stood up and walked to the walk-in closet. It was Kathy’s sanctuary, usually off-limits to me. A whole wall of glass display cabinets. Filled with various designer bags. Hermès, Chanel, Louis Vuitton. All gifts I’d bought her over the past three years for holidays and anniversaries. Each one was worth a fortune. I opened the cabinet door and picked up the Hermès Picnic Bag in the center. Elephant grey, gold hardware. I’d given it to her for our anniversary last year, costing me well over five thousand dollars. The feel was off. Too stiff. The pebbled leather texture felt fake. I turned on my phone’s flashlight, set it to macro mode. Took a picture of the embossed logo on the bag. Then searched online for genuine comparison images. No need for expert appraisal. Blatantly fake. The edges of the “H” in the font were all fuzzy. I picked up the Chanel CF next to it. The chain was light, almost faded. Fake. All fake. The three Hermès, two Chanel bags displayed in the cabinet. All high-quality replicas. Where were the real bags? I downloaded a pre-owned luxury goods trading app. Entered Kathy’s phone number to search for users. Sure enough. Account ID: “KathyLovesLife.” The homepage was filled with “sold” listings. “99% new Hermès Picnic Bag, urgent sale, with receipt.” “Chanel CF Medium, only carried once, bargain price.” All transactions took place within a month of me giving her the gifts. The total transaction amount? Another thirty thousand dollars. She sold the real bags, bought fakes to display at home to fool me. Where did the money go? Where did the money go? I clicked on a screenshot of the account’s withdrawal records (she’d posted it in the comments). The last four digits of the recipient card were 8888. That wasn’t Kathy’s card. I entered the card number into my online banking transfer interface. The system automatically displayed the recipient’s name: “Juli*.” Julian again. I threw my phone onto the bed, covering my face with both hands. A guttural roar escaped my throat. The person was his. The money was his too. What was I? A money-making machine? Or a chump helping someone else raise his wife? Just then, my phone vibrated. It was a push notification from the Highway Pass app. “Your vehicle, State Plate A*****, passed through the airport highway toll station at 08:30 AM.” That was the BMW X3 Kathy was driving. Airport highway? What was she doing at the airport? Was she trying to run away? I immediately opened the vehicle tracking app. The car wasn’t at the airport. It had stopped at a high-end private orthopedic hospital near the airport. It was the most expensive rehabilitation hospital in the city. A single night’s stay started at three hundred dollars. I remembered what Kathy had said last night. “His hand is hurt, and there’s no one to look after him.” Turns out, “no one to look after him” meant staying in a VIP suite, eating Australian Wagyu, and enjoying “special care” from his ex-wife. And all of this cost. Was coming out of my pocket. I grabbed my car keys and rushed out of the house. In the garage, there was still a six-year-old Sedan. That was my car. The BMW was hers to drive, because she said driving an old car to gatherings was embarrassing. I started the car, pedal to the metal. Just then. My phone vibrated. A credit card transaction alert. [“Your credit card ending in 8888 has been charged $5,200 at Aesthetic Beauty Clinic.”] Immediately after. Julian sent me a photo. In the photo, he lay on a wide hospital bed. His left hand was in a cast, his right hand holding up his phone for a selfie. In the background, Kathy was bending over, feeding him grapes. Her neckline was low, revealing a flash of white skin. That was my wife. The caption was just one sentence: “Nothing beats the original; some people are only good for paying.” I stared at that photo. Blood rushed backward, surging to my scalp. Fifty-two hundred. 4 Aesthetic clinic. Was she using my money to get her ex plastic surgery? Or some other unspeakable procedure? My in-laws were still chattering away. “Leo, don’t be too bothered.” “You’re a man, be more magnanimous.” “Kathy and Julian are ancient history, isn’t she doing just fine with you now?” I looked at their opening and closing mouths. Like two blood-sucking black holes. I didn’t erupt. Nor did I flip the table. I calmly pressed the screenshot button. Saved the message, saved the photo. Then slowly gathered the bank statements from the coffee table, folded them neatly, and put them in my pocket. Since you’re treating me like “family,” Then this “grand gift.” I’ll repay it with interest. I left my in-laws’ house and sat in my car, smoking three cigarettes. My phone vibrated again. It was a WhatsApp message from Kathy. “Darling, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have lost my temper with you.” “I reflected on it all night at Elara’s place.” “That money… I lent it to a friend in urgent need, they’ll pay it back in a few days.” “Please don’t be mad, okay?” Fifty-two hundred. Friend in urgent need. She couldn’t even bother to come up with a better lie. I looked at the screen, a cold smile twisting my lips. My fingers tapped on the keyboard. “It’s fine, darling. Tell me if you need more money.” “Don’t make yourself suffer.” “I’m away on a business trip, I’ll be back in a couple of days.” After sending that message. I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat. If we’re going to act, let’s go all in. I want them to know what it’s like to invite trouble and then try to get rid of it. That afternoon. I told Kathy to stay at her parents’ or Elara’s place for a few days, not to come home yet. Kathy was more than happy to. She was currently busy acting as a full-time caregiver at the hospital, with no time to come home anyway. Seizing the opportunity. I bought a bunch of miniature pinhole cameras. Replaced the old ones with new ones that had remote cloud storage. After doing all that. I moved all my valuables—my watch, emergency cash, the house deed—to my parents’ place. Then, I set a daily limit on Kathy’s secondary card. A hundred dollars a day. Couldn’t block the card entirely, that would alert them. It had to be like boiling a frog slowly, gradually bringing the water to a boil. I opened the phone monitoring app. On the screen, the front door of our home opened. Kathy entered, helping Julian. Julian’s arm still had a cast, but his movements weren’t slow at all. He even managed to free one hand to squeeze Kathy’s butt. “So this is the house that idiot bought?” Julian looked around the living room, a look of disdain on his face. “The decor is so tacky, reeks of new money.” Kathy smiled as she helped him change shoes. She was using my slippers. “Just bear with it, he’s on a business trip anyway, so it’s ours for now.” “You can recover here for a few days, I’ll make you delicious food.” “Once you pay off those tens of thousands in gambling debts, I’ll divorce him.” “And I’ll get half of this house too.” The voice recorder faithfully captured every word. Every word was like a nail, driven into my eardrums. Julian wrapped an arm around Kathy’s waist. Pushing her onto the sofa… I turned off the screen. No need to watch anymore. The evidence was already enough to ruin their reputations. I picked up the hotel phone and dialed the bank’s customer service. “Hello, I’d like to report all my credit cards lost.” “Yes, all of them.” “Reason? They’ve been fraudulently used.” On the monitor. Julian, who was about to order takeout, suddenly cursed. “Damn it, why can’t I pay?” Kathy picked up her phone and looked. “Maybe there’s a limit, I’ll try another card.” She tried another card. “That one doesn’t work either… what’s going on?” … The show, had only just begun. I looked out at the night sky. My gaze colder than the night itself. Julian, Kathy. Since you love money so much. Then I’ll let you taste what it’s like to have none. And what it’s like to be driven mad by debt.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “445993”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 It was my first month standing in for my sister at university when a strange man burst into the classroom, cradling a baby. Under the gaze of the entire class, he thrust the wailing infant into my arms. “This is your child, and you will take responsibility!” I was utterly bewildered. When had my sister even gotten a boyfriend? He spoke with an air of absolute entitlement, giving me his demands. “Seraphina Amick, if you don’t want me to make a huge scene, you’ll agree to three conditions.” “One, pay twenty thousand a month in child support until the child turns eighteen. Two, immediately transfer two villas to the child, fulfilling your duty as a mother. Three, if you don’t want to marry me, you’ll provide the dowry for my next wife, to give the child a complete family.” The whole class erupted in gasps, and I, looking down at the tiny infant in my arms, grew even more confused. My sister’s child? But she had a congenital heart condition and was currently hospitalized, unable to conceive. So, did he mean I was the mother of the child he spoke of? But I was a man, for crying out loud! The man continued to rant, accusing me as if I truly were an irresponsible mother. Faced with such baseless accusations, I couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh, raising my voice to challenge him. “You say this is my child, but where’s the proof?” “Are you just going to slander someone’s reputation with empty words? Who knows where you picked up this child!” The man, instead of flinching at my challenge, smirked, as if he’d anticipated this very response. He slowly pulled out a neatly folded paper from his pocket, unfolding it before me for everyone to see. “I knew you’d try to deny it, so open your eyes and see! This paternity test report, in black and white, clearly states that you, Seraphina Amick, are the biological mother of this child!” “The date? Just yesterday afternoon, fresh off the press!” He waved the report, his voice rising a few decibels. “I prepared for this. I specifically asked your roommate to get some of your hair and personally took it for the test.” “Now, with witnesses and evidence, you must take responsibility for this child!” My roommate? A flash of memory crossed my mind: a few days ago, Tinsley Evans had been unusually eager to get close to me. She’d either claimed I had leaves in my hair or offered to braid it. At the time, I’d tried to keep my distance due to the gender difference. Now it seemed she was after my hair for evidence. But the crucial point was, I was wearing a wig to impersonate my sister! How could a paternity test done with a wig show a blood relation? Did they think I was an idiot? I looked at the supposed ironclad evidence in his hand, a cold sneer twisting my lips, my eyes filled with scorn. “Paternity test? I have a blood relation with this child?” “Let me tell you, your so-called paternity test is completely fake!” The man’s face changed. “Fake? How can you say it’s fake? It has the hospital’s official stamp! You just don’t want to acknowledge this child!” I met his gaze head-on, unyielding, and challenged him. “You’re trying to frame me with some hair from who-knows-where and a flimsy piece of paper?” “If you truly believe this child is mine, then come with me to a reputable hospital right now and get another paternity test. Do you dare?” The man’s eyes flickered, clearly losing some of his confidence, but he still stubbornly retorted, “Your family, the Amicks, are powerful and wealthy. Who knows if you’ve bribed the hospital? Getting a fake test report is just a word for you!” Then, he changed tack, attempting to play on the emotions of the onlookers, his voice choked with feigned emotion. “I know, when you dated me, you just wanted to have some fun. You always looked down on me, thinking I was just a poor kid, not worthy of you, the Amick heiress.” “But you shouldn’t have secretly given birth to a child and then abandoned him in a rented apartment! This is our flesh and blood, after all!” “I didn’t ask for any title, I just want a good life for the child. These conditions I’m asking for, aren’t they just a flick of your wrist? Why are you so cruel to your own child!” This tearful accusation indeed made some uninformed students begin to whisper, their gazes at me now laced with suspicion. However, I wasn’t falling for any of it. I hadn’t done it, and I wouldn’t let my sister carry this burden. “What’s the point of all this nonsense?” “I will never admit to something I haven’t done. If you’re afraid of me tampering with things, then let’s just call the police. Let them designate an institution for the paternity test, with continuous video surveillance. Surely, that’s acceptable?” “Th-this…” The man was immediately speechless, his face flushing crimson, stammering, unable to form words. Just then, the baby in my arms started crying louder, its little face turning red from straining. Tinsley, watching from the side, suddenly rushed forward, snatched the baby, hugging it tightly, and shrieked at me. “Enough, Seraphina Amick, stop making excuses!” “Do you think we can’t see through you? You just want to kill this child!” 2 Tinsley pointed at me, her voice sharp and piercing. “Seraphina Amick, you’re still putting on an act! You were pregnant and still going out drinking and clubbing every day; I told you so many times, but you wouldn’t listen.” “Now look, the child is born prematurely, sickly, and weak, but you don’t care at all. You’re denying everything, trying to drag him all over the place.” “Isn’t it because you see the child is in poor health and you want to literally drag him to his death, just to completely get rid of this burden? How can your heart be so cruel!” The man, seeing Tinsley step up as a witness, instantly found his backbone, straightening his posture, and immediately chimed in. “Tinsley’s right, Seraphina Amick, if you have nothing to hide, do you dare tell everyone why you suddenly took a month off from school? Wasn’t it to secretly give birth to my child?” “After you returned to school, you immediately applied to live off-campus, wasn’t it because you were recovering from childbirth?” Perhaps genuinely believing I had been up to something unsavory during that period, something I couldn’t disclose, the man became more self-assured, his expression triumphant. “When you were recovering, wasn’t I bringing you chicken soup every day and looking after you? But what did you do? As soon as you felt a little better, you turned on me, kicking us, father and son, out of the house! You venomous woman!” His elaborate accusations, coupled with Tinsley’s backing, instantly made the situation even more chaotic. Hearing them, my other two roommates also looked enlightened. “Yeah, Seraphina, why did you suddenly take a month off before? When we asked, you just said you weren’t feeling well. What kind of illness requires such a long hospital stay?” “And as soon as you came back, you were eager to move out of the dorm, saying you couldn’t get used to sleeping there. But we’ve all lived together for over a year, why suddenly so uncomfortable? Is it… really something you don’t want us to know?” another roommate hesitantly added. “You rarely wore makeup before, but after your leave of absence, you’ve been wearing it almost every day. Is it to cover up your complexion?” Hearing these doubts, prompted and amplified by my roommates, the man felt even more confident, as if victory was already in his grasp. And I, listening to their deductions, was almost laughing from sheer frustration! Seraphina Amick’s month off was because her condition had suddenly worsened, requiring heart surgery. But she didn’t want to make a fuss, only hoping that I, her twin brother, could complete her studies for her. And the reason I immediately moved out of the dorm and became a day student after returning to school was because I was a man, for crying out loud! No matter how much I wanted to help my sister, there was no way I could actually live with a bunch of girls! Could I state that reason openly? As for wearing makeup every day, it was simply because there were still differences in our facial features that needed to be concealed. But all these coincidences, by some bizarre twist of fate, had now become evidence that I had taken time off to have a baby. I looked at the farce unfolding before me and the suspicious glances of my classmates, a wave of absurdity washing over me. What in the world was going on! I rubbed my temples, interrupting them. “I took time off to have a baby, and lived off-campus to recover from childbirth? Are all those people who take time off from school just going off to have babies?” “Tinsley, didn’t you also take time off for a while? And now you’re so concerned about this child, I might as well think you’re the biological mother!” “You want to accuse me with such flimsy evidence? If you can’t explain yourselves, then let’s call the police. Let them see if I’m truly innocent!” Tinsley’s face turned ashen at my words, and she shrieked, stopping me from reaching for my phone. “I was trying to be kind, Seraphina Amick, do you really think there’s no other evidence?” 3 Tinsley said, giving the man a meaningful look. The man instantly understood, a cruel smile spreading across his face as he pulled a stack of photos from his pocket and slapped them onto the lecture desk with a loud thwack. “Seraphina Amick, Tinsley, in her kindness, advised me to save you some face and not bring out these photos. But you’ve pushed it too far, you don’t appreciate consideration!” “Today, I will let everyone see your true face, let everyone know what a promiscuous woman you, the Amick family heiress, are in private!” The photos scattered across the desk were utterly indecent, all intimate pictures of me and this man in various settings, with some even being extremely explicit bedroom photos! The entire class instantly erupted into chaos. Many students’ eyes now held undisguised contempt for me. Even a few boys in the back row let out malicious snickers, openly commenting on my body in the photos. “Didn’t realize the Amick heiress had such a good figure.” “If I’d known it was this easy, I would’ve tried my luck too. Maybe if I satisfied her, I could’ve become a son-in-law of the Amicks.” I stared fixedly at those photos, my anger surging, almost breaking through my composure. They were using such vile tactics to tarnish my sister’s reputation. But at the same time, a wave of relief washed over me. Thankfully, it was me standing here enduring all this, not the real Seraphina Amick. Otherwise, just seeing these fabricated, obscene photos would likely have been enough to trigger a heart attack! I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice calm. “With today’s advanced photo editing, anyone can just find a few pictures, composite them, and pretend they’re evidence of me dating you. You don’t seriously think such a trick can fool everyone, do you?” The man let out a lewd laugh, as if he’d heard the funniest joke, his eyes maliciously tracing over my body. “You can say the photos are doctored, but you can’t fake the birthmark on your lower back, can you? And there’s a small mole hidden behind your ear. If I hadn’t slept with you, how would I know your body so intimately?” Hearing his words, I actually felt a wave of relief. The birthmark and mole he mentioned did exist, but they were features I, Sterling Amick, possessed. Seraphina Amick had none of those! It seemed this clumsy plot was cooked up after I started impersonating my sister at school. A cold laugh formed in my mind. Someone who knew my body so intimately could only be someone I shared a dorm with, someone who had the opportunity for close observation. My gaze swept across my three roommates. Only Tinsley’s lips held an ill-concealed, triumphant smile. It seemed she and this man had conspired together. With that thought, I looked at them, a smile that wasn’t a smile on my face, and asked directly, “After all this circling, what do you want?” The man was about to speak, but Tinsley interjected, putting on an act of concern for me. “Seraphina, it’s good you can admit it. Who doesn’t make mistakes when they’re young?” “But I see you really don’t want to acknowledge this child. Why don’t you let his father take him back? You just need to pay for the child’s living expenses for these eighteen years upfront, a total of one million dollars. Think of it as buying peace of mind, and fulfilling your bond with your child. How does that sound?” One million dollars? I almost applauded her. What a brazen demand. A thought flashed through my mind, and a smile spread across my face as I readily nodded. “Alright, I’ll pay.” 4 Seeing the money transferred, the man and Tinsley’s eyes immediately lit up with uncontrollable delight. Their goal achieved, they had no desire to talk to me further, and the two of them, holding the baby, made to leave. But I stepped forward, blocking the classroom door. “What, you’ve got the money and now you want to leave? Not going to let me spend a little more time with the child? He is my flesh and blood, after all.” As I spoke, I made a move to touch the baby in Tinsley’s arms. Tinsley’s face instantly changed, like a hen protecting its chick. She fiercely shielded the baby, avoiding my hand, her eyes wary. “What do you want? The child support has been paid, he has nothing to do with you anymore! Don’t you dare touch him!” Just as we were pulling and pushing, the classroom door was abruptly thrown open. The academic advisor stood in the doorway, his face filled with anger. “What’s going on here! How long has class been? The teacher has been waiting for you all for half the period, and not a single one of you is in there! What are you all blocking the doorway for?” Seeing the advisor, several students who loved drama immediately swarmed him, loudly tattling. “It’s Seraphina Amick, she took a month off from school to secretly have a baby, and now the child’s father has come to claim child support!” “Sir, Seraphina Amick’s private life is so messy, with such character, how can she be eligible for awards and honors, or to be a student leader? I suggest revoking her qualifications and giving her a disciplinary warning!” “Exactly! Must be disciplined! It’s bringing shame to our school!” Everyone was indignant, as if I had committed some heinous crime. However, listening to their words, the advisor’s face grew increasingly grim. Instead of lecturing me as the students expected, he abruptly pushed away the students crowding him and sternly barked, “What nonsense are you all spewing? What ‘having a baby’? What do you know to be making such a fuss?” The advisor strode over to the man and questioned him. “Who are you, and how did you get into our school?” “Harassing and slandering our student here, and extorting money—do you know that’s illegal behavior?!” Seeing the advisor so protective of me, Tinsley immediately panicked, her face etched with unwillingness. “Advisor, she herself admitted it, you can’t just favor her because the Amick family is rich and powerful!” The advisor immediately glared at her, his tone severe. “Tinsley Evans! This has nothing to do with you! Did you personally witness Seraphina having a child?!” Tinsley choked for a moment, but then defiantly stuck out her neck and shouted, “Of course I can testify! She used to stay out all night, and I even saw her and Vance getting cozy!” The advisor seemed to understand something, ignoring Tinsley, and stared directly at Vance Miller. “Mr. Miller, isn’t it? Now, immediately clarify the facts and apologize to Ms. Amick, otherwise, I will call the police!” Vance was so startled by the advisor’s threat that cold sweat broke out on his forehead. He instinctively looked at Tinsley. Tinsley, seeing his hesitation, yelled at the advisor without thinking. “Why are you so biased towards her, just because her family is rich? I won’t let the truth be covered up by power! She is…” “Enough! Truth, my foot!” The advisor finally lost his temper, cutting Tinsley off with a furious roar. “Are you all brain-dead? Do you believe whatever he says?” “The Seraphina Amick standing in front of you is a man! Tell me, how can he, a man, give birth to a child?!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “445992”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My husband and I were in an arranged marriage. In a union built on mutual benefit, he still treated me like a princess. Until the company charity run, when his female assistant twisted her ankle. She didn’t want to drop out, crying that she absolutely had to get a finisher’s medal. My husband, without a second thought, carried her on his back for the final mile. When he crossed the finish line, he was gasping for air, but still smiling, saying, “I’m not tired.” I said nothing. That night, I had the driver take the car to the winding mountain road. I threw the spare tire from the trunk at him. “Carry this.” “You said you weren’t tired, keep going.” A man who overstepped. If he could be managed, I’d keep him. Otherwise, he could go back to where he came from. “Ah~” A scream echoed as Olivia Thorne fell on the track. Her knees were scraped raw, her ankle twisted. The medical team was just about to enter the field when Adam Lagerfelt, who was about to cross the finish line, immediately turned back and rushed to Olivia’s side. I frowned and cleared my throat. Adam, however, acted as if he hadn’t heard anything. “Olivia, are you alright?” He rubbed Olivia’s ankle, his eyes overflowing with concern. The distance between them was as close as a painful thorn. My vice president cautiously asked, “Ms. Hayes, should I have someone take Olivia off the field first?” I waved my hand. For three years of marriage, Adam had always been well-behaved, maintaining a strict boundary with other women. This was the first time he had shown such tenderness towards another woman in front of me. I wanted to see if he dared to cross the line. “I’m sorry, Mr. Lagerfelt.” “I can push through, I really want to finish and get a medal.” “I… I can’t let you down.” Olivia’s eyes welled up. She shakily stood up, took one step, and fell again. “Darling, if Olivia withdraws, can she still get a medal? She’s young and has a strong sense of pride.” Adam asked me in a pleading tone. I looked at him with disappointment and shook my head. “Mr. Lagerfelt, don’t make Ms. Hayes uncomfortable.” “I’m your subordinate, I won’t let you down!” Olivia struggled to get up, limping into the track. Then, losing her balance, she fell into Adam’s arms. “Olivia, I’ll help you achieve your wish!” In front of everyone, Adam knelt down, letting Olivia climb onto his back. He carried Olivia, straining, as he sprinted towards the finish line. The previously lively track instantly fell silent. Only Olivia’s delicate cheering could be heard. All the executives exchanged bewildered glances. I said nothing. The moment Adam carried Olivia across the finish line, Olivia cried with excitement. They hugged each other, thrilled. Adam’s face was pale, breathing heavily. Still smiling, saying, “Not tired.” Olivia got her medal. Adam looked like a hero. I led the applause, a cold sneer playing on my lips. Adam stopped all movement, nervously looking at me. “Darling, let me explain.” I wasn’t interested in listening. I turned and walked away. That night, Adam squeezed into my Rolls-Royce. “Darling, let me explain.” Still the same words. I ignored him, letting the driver take the car to the foot of Serpent’s Peak. Adam looked surprised. “Darling, what are we doing here so late? Taking a stroll?” The driver took a spare tire from the trunk and threw it in front of him. I pointed at the spare tire, then at the mountain peak. “Carry it to the top of the mountain, then run back down.” “A hundred pounds, the same weight as her.” “You said you weren’t tired, keep going.” Adam’s face went white. He tried to force a smile. “Darling, don’t be jealous.” “Olivia and I truly have nothing going on.” “If you don’t like it, I’ll throw away her medal when I get back.” He tried to hug me, but I pushed him away. “Adam Lagerfelt, know your place.” “Maintaining boundaries with other women, that’s my bottom line.” “Now, do exactly as I say, immediately.” “This is a lesson for you. If you can’t complete it, then it’s time for a replacement.” I got into the car and closed the door. Outside the window, Adam’s body was trembling. A drone followed behind him. The countdown began. Twelve miles of mountain road, two hours. Adam brought this upon himself. He quickly hoisted the tire onto his back and began running up the winding mountain road. The drone chased him, filming his every move. I sat in the car, monitoring his pathetic struggle. When Adam’s legs cramped and his knees were scraped raw, I reminded him he’d only gone one mile. When he ran and vomited, scrambling and tumbling after the tire, I didn’t even glance at him. It wasn’t until Adam collapsed halfway up the mountain, incontinent and convulsing, that I coldly uttered, “Send him to the emergency room.” When Adam woke up, he immediately deleted Olivia’s contact information in front of me. He proactively had her transferred to a different department and deliberately kept his distance from her. Compared to before, he was even more gentle and considerate towards me. I thought he had truly reformed, truly understood. Until I received a smoke alarm alert from the Southwood Manor. The moment I opened the security footage, a chill ran through me. 2 My newly purchased manor was packed with dozens of people. They were throwing a wild party, trampling on my custom-made Italian sofa with their shoes, dancing. Bottles of rare Lafite from my cellar were opened and guzzled! The ornamental fish, worth thousands each, were fished out of the tank and grilled! The barbecue smoke had triggered the alarm! A suffocating feeling tightened in my chest. Among the crowd, I spotted a familiar face—Olivia Thorne! She was wearing my brand-new Hermès haute couture. It had arrived last week; she’d found it in the closet, and I hadn’t even worn it once. I dialed Adam, attaching a screenshot of the security footage. “Explain this to me. What exactly is going on?” “Don’t tell me you don’t know.” Adam was silent on the other end of the line. After a long pause, he quietly said, “Olivia’s graduation party, they had nowhere else to go.” “I thought since you leave the house empty, you don’t live there, so I lent it to Olivia.” “Please don’t make things difficult for her.” I laughed, a bitter, exasperated sound. I retorted, “Adam Lagerfelt, that’s my house. What right do you have to lend it out?” “Get them out of there immediately.” “Furthermore, all damages will be compensated at full value.” Adam immediately became anxious. “Darling, Olivia is still a child, you don’t need to be so hard on her.” “Besides, this small amount of money is nothing to you.” “They’ll go home once they’re tired of playing…” I didn’t have the patience to hear him out. I hung up directly. No need to be so hard on her? Nothing to me? Oh, great, very generous of him. But Adam forgot, though outwardly we were in an arranged marriage. His family, the Lagerfelts, were merely a minor clan in the capital. Our so-called marriage was, in fact, him marrying into my family, a social climb. Without the support of my family, the Hayes, his family would have been swallowed whole long ago! He, Adam Lagerfelt, was merely a househusband, nothing more. And he wanted to act like the master? I immediately called my assistant, gathered my bodyguards, and headed straight to the Southwood Manor. As they were partying hardest, my Rolls-Royce pulled up to the entrance. I immediately cornered Olivia, who was trying to hide in the crowd. I ripped off the Chanel dress she was wearing. Shredding it in front of everyone, I flung the pieces at her face. Anything she touched, I considered defiled. “Olivia Thorne, is this your home?” “Ms. Hayes, I… I…” She lowered her head, squeezing out a few tears. Looking utterly pitiful. As if she had done nothing wrong, and I was bullying her. The crowd of students behind her exchanged glances. “Olivia, didn’t you say the manor was yours?” “So you were lying.” “How vain and shameless.” They tried to leave, but my bodyguards blocked the doorway. Half an hour later, my secretary tallied the damages. A total of fifteen million, three hundred twenty thousand dollars! I flung the bill in front of Olivia. “Pay up.” The students quickly backed away. “Olivia, this has nothing to do with us!” “Exactly, if I’d known it wasn’t your place, I wouldn’t have come!” “You better pay the lady, don’t drag us down.” Everyone was desperately trying to distance themselves from Olivia. Olivia’s tears splattered on the floor. She cried, wiping her eyes. “I’m sorry, Ms. Hayes, I didn’t mean to.” “I don’t have money, I can’t pay.” Tears were her best weapon. Especially against Adam. But with me, they were useless. “No money? No money, then go to jail.” I was about to call the police. Olivia dropped to her knees. “Olivia!” Adam burst into the manor. 3 “Olivia is still a child, she really didn’t mean to.” “This is all my fault.” “Darling, let’s just drop it.” “Besides, this amount of money is nothing.” Adam tenderly wiped Olivia’s tears. He then tried to touch me with those hands that had touched Olivia, but I evaded him. “Drop it? You’re remarkably broad-minded.” “Then you can pay for her.” I took the POS machine from my secretary and handed it to Adam. He immediately fell silent. I pointed at Olivia. “Bank card.” She didn’t move. “Bank card. Don’t make me repeat myself a third time.” Adam tried to intervene again, but meeting my gaze, he dared not speak. Olivia took out her bank card. She entered the PIN on the POS machine. Exactly twenty thousand dollars, no more, no less. I had my secretary write an IOU and threw it to Olivia. “Your outstanding debt is fifteen million, three hundred thousand dollars.” “Pay it back within five years. Don’t forget.” At this, I glanced at Adam. His face was grim. “You are an adult, not some child.” “When you make a mistake, you pay the price.” “No one is exempt.” I emphasized the last sentence. Adam lowered his head. That evening, Adam proactively prepared dinner. There was my favorite boiled shrimp. He personally peeled the shrimp and placed it in front of me. Yet, he remained silent throughout. It was almost as if he was sulking. I looked into his eyes, neither touching nor eating the food. I knew what he wanted. There were certain boundaries I needed to make clear to him. “Adam Lagerfelt, I despise men who lack boundaries.” “If there’s a next time, you know what I’m capable of.” Adam bit his lip. He seemed somewhat troubled. After a long silence, he forced out a stiff smile. He gave a stiff nod. It didn’t matter. I no longer held any expectations for him anyway. As long as he could honestly remain a househusband. Stop crossing the line, stop disgusting me. I wouldn’t touch him. But if… A sharp ringtone interrupted my thoughts. Adam picked up his phone, cautiously glancing at me. He hung up the call. After that, his phone rang incessantly. “Olivia Thorne?” “Yes.” “Answer it. Don’t forget what I said.” I took a sip of red wine, looking at him. Adam put the call on speaker. Olivia’s sobs came through the speaker. “Mr. Lagerfelt, I’ve been expelled from school.” “My parents are ashamed of me, they don’t want me either.” Adam’s face changed dramatically. He quickly grabbed his phone, cradling it in his palm. His face was filled with tension, full of anxiety. “Olivia, where are you? Don’t you dare do anything rash!” I sighed. Looked at him with disappointment. Shook my head with disappointment. “Mr. Lagerfelt, please tell Ms. Hayes I can’t pay her back. I’m sorry.” “Mr. Lagerfelt, I want to call you Mr. Lagerfelt one last time.” “It was my honor to meet you. Goodbye, my Mr. Lagerfelt.” 4 Olivia hung up the phone. Adam tried calling back repeatedly, but couldn’t get through. “Olivia? Olivia! Don’t you dare do anything foolish!” “Wait for me! Wait for me!” He grabbed his jacket, about to rush out. I asked him, “Are you sure you want to go?” Adam glared fiercely at me. He grabbed the plate of peeled shrimp and smashed it to smithereens. “Kelly Hayes, are you even human?!” “If you hadn’t pushed Olivia, would she be feeling so desperate?!” He overturned the table, destroying the entire dinner. He rushed out, without a second thought. I watched it all, coldly. Didn’t say another word. He wasted his last chance. Exhausted all my patience. And strangled the last possibility of this marriage. My lawyer immediately drafted divorce papers. I sent them to Adam at once. What I received in return was a barrage of angry voice messages. “What the hell is going on, and you’re still getting jealous?!” “If anything happens to Olivia, I’m not done with you!” Because of Olivia’s one desperate message. Adam’s thorns were completely exposed. Not long after, my secretary sent me a screenshot from a social media post. Olivia’s. The accompanying picture was a hotel room, with Adam’s back in a bathrobe. [“Thank you, Mr. President, for filling my desperate life with starlight.”] Then came my secretary’s call. Her voice was trembling. “Ms. Hayes, Mr. Lagerfelt is planning to collude with other shareholders to remove you…” I took a deep breath. Good, very good. Adam Lagerfelt, you’re quite something. Soon you’ll find out the consequences. The next day’s shareholder meeting was chaired by Adam. Olivia attended. All shareholders were present, except for me. No one had informed me. Adam raised the microphone. “Alright, I announce that all resolutions of this shareholder meeting are passed.” “Ms. Olivia Thorne is appointed Vice President of the Group, with an annual salary of fifteen million, three hundred thousand dollars.” “Kelly Hayes is hereby removed from all positions within the Group, effective immediately!” The applause in the conference room almost blew the roof off. Just as Adam was handing Olivia her appointment letter. I kicked open the conference room door.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “445991”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 On my deathbed, I begged my son: “Donate my heart to your father, Alistair Walker. He’s had cardiomyopathy for thirty years—it’s the last thing I can do for him.” But my son brushed me off impatiently. “Enough with the false kindness. Dad isn’t even sick.” I thought I’d misheard. “What?” He sneered. “If you hadn’t refused to divorce him, why would he have faked an illness to be with Aunt Olivia all these years?” I trembled, demanding proof. He handed me a marriage certificate—Alistair Walker and Olivia Thorne, smiling intimately. A furious pain shot through my heart. The home I’d built for half my life was a complete sham. My son’s face was cold. “Aunt Olivia is my real mother. Your own baby was drowned long ago. Back then, Dad and Olivia lost control, leading to her premature labor and heavy bleeding—she gave birth to me the same day as you. Dad was so shaken he developed heart palpitations. Fearing you’d never stop, he faked the illness for thirty years.” I collapsed, spitting blood. “Why tell me now?” His eyes burned with hatred. “You stole her place for thirty years. Now, on your deathbed, you want Dad to owe you gratitude? Why should he?” My mouth filled with bitterness as I gasped my last breath in regret. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the delivery room, next to his sister-in-law’s. An intense pain surged from below—I was in labor. … My body felt like it had been torn apart, lying utterly spent on the bed. The nurse brought the baby over for me to see. It was a boy, with a wrinkled little face and a loud cry. I made an excuse to go to the bathroom, enduring the intense pain, and slowly walked towards the restroom at the end of the corridor. The restroom was very close to Olivia Thorne’s room. The muffled sounds of conversation drifted from next door. It was Alistair Walker’s joyous voice. “Olivia, look, he has a birthmark on his shoulder, just like mine.” Olivia’s voice was weak but smiling. “It’s all your fault. I was almost due, but you just couldn’t help yourself yesterday… causing my premature labor.” Alistair chuckled softly. “My bad. But a premature birth is good, too; saves us from having to find an excuse to stall after Audrey gives birth.” He paused, “Don’t worry, after she got pregnant, just looking at her belly made me sick. I never touched her once. Later, I’ll have the doctor write a certificate saying my heart condition has worsened, so we can’t share a bed anymore.” Listening, my nails dug into my palms. When I was pregnant, I was dizzy with morning sickness, and he only said his heart was bothering him, afraid of noise. I felt sorry for him, enduring it alone. Later, he wasn’t as affectionate, and I thought it was due to his poor health and irritability. Turns out, he just found me in the way. I took a deep breath and sent a message to the male nurse I had immediately bribed after my rebirth: [You can switch the baby’s name tags now.] Then I deleted the message, returned to my room, and feigned sleep. Not long after, I heard someone come in. I didn’t open my eyes, listening as the person picked up a baby and quietly left. The next day, Alistair Walker came to the hospital, his face still pale. Following him were several doctors and Olivia Thorne’s hospital bed. She was propped up on the bed, looking weak. Alistair walked to my bedside. “Darling, you’ve worked hard.” I looked at him, a cold sneer in my heart. He spoke as if casually, “My sister-in-law’s baby didn’t make it; it was a premature birth and died. She’s upset, so I had her moved to this VIP room for a few days to rest quietly and recuperate.” I said nothing. “She is your sister-in-law, after all, and my brother passed away young. Since we’re all family, I thought she could be the baby’s godmother, what do you think?” I looked into his eyes; there wasn’t a trace of guilt. He packaged his affair with his sister-in-law and the child they had as a husband’s compassion for his sister-in-law. “Alright,” I nodded indifferently. Alistair nodded, satisfied, then turned to take his thermos out to get water. My gaze swept over the postpartum pads by my bedside. They were Olivia Thorne’s size. Even the postpartum pads he prepared for me were bought to fit her figure. I suddenly felt utterly ridiculous. Alistair left with the cup, and the doctors also left after settling in. Olivia Thorne, however, slowly rose, her steps instinctively moving towards the crib. “Olivia, you just gave birth, don’t move around too much.” My voice turned cold. She glanced at me, smiling gently. “I just want to see the baby.” “No need, he just fell asleep.” I instinctively shielded the crib, pushing her away. Olivia suddenly shrieked, collapsing to the floor. “Olivia!” Alistair cried out, rushing over. A dark red patch seeped through the hem of her hospital gown; it was blood from a burst wound. “Audrey, I just wanted to see your child, why did you push me… Are you afraid I’d bring bad luck to the baby? Boo-hoo-hoo…” Alistair abruptly looked up, his gaze at me like knives. “Audrey Hayes! My sister-in-law just had surgery, why would you push her?!” “You’re absolutely insane! I’ll have my sister-in-law transferred to a platinum suite, you need to calm down!” For several days, Alistair didn’t visit me. My wound throbbed faintly, but I endured it, never once pressing the call bell. On the fifth day, my mother arrived. When she pushed open the door, I was leaning against the headboard, looking out the window. The first glance at me brought tears to her eyes. “How did you get so thin?” I smiled and said I was fine, that all mothers looked like this after childbirth. She didn’t believe it, insisting on pulling back the blanket to look at my wound. The gauze was soaked in blood. My mother’s tears immediately fell, and she frantically called the nurse. I was helped to the examination room for new stitches. The disinfectant touching the torn flesh made me gasp, but I didn’t utter a sound. My mother stood beside me, her hands trembling. “Is Alistair treating you badly?” I didn’t want her to worry. “No, Mom, he’s not well, he can’t manage.” My mother opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but swallowed it back. “Your uncle will be here today. Whatever grievances you have, tell him. He’ll make things right for you.” I paused. Uncle Julian Thorne, CEO of Thorne Industries. In Ashton, his word could shake half the city. In these years since I married into the Walker family, my uncle and I hadn’t had much interaction. I always thought not to burden him, never bothered him. This time, I might not be able to hold on alone. After my mother left to pick up my uncle, I went to the restroom at the end of the corridor to wash my face. When I returned, the crib was empty. “Where’s the baby?” I asked the nurse anxiously. The nurse didn’t even look up. “Mr. Walker said he took him to his room, to have his sister-in-law help look after him.” My mind buzzed. I turned and ran to Olivia Thorne’s room. The male nurse followed behind me. He was the one I had arranged beforehand, and he’d been staying nearby these past few days. As I pushed open the door, I saw Olivia half-propped on the bed, her hospital gown half-open, breastfeeding. Alistair sat in a chair by the bed, a smile on his lips. I rushed over and snatched the baby from Olivia’s arms. The baby was startled awake and cried loudly. Olivia hastily covered her chest, her eyes instantly red. “Audrey, what are you doing?!” Alistair stood up, his face darkening. “Uncle Julian is here to bring the baby a welcoming gift. I’m taking him now.” I hugged the baby tightly, my voice as cold as ice. Alistair frowned. “Why are you in such a hurry? Olivia’s breasts are engorged and uncomfortable. What’s wrong with letting the baby help her?” I ignored him and turned to leave. The next second, Olivia grabbed the baby’s tiny arm. The baby cried as if his heart would break. I pushed her away. “You’re pinching him?” Olivia recoiled her hand, tears instantly flowing. “I didn’t… I just wanted to help him steady himself…” The male nurse couldn’t stand it anymore and rushed forward to shield me. “Miss, the baby is still so young, you can’t do this—” Before he could finish, two bodyguards burst through the door, pinning the male nurse to the ground, one on each side. Alistair Walker looked down at him, a cold sneer on his face. “You’re just a nurse, daring to interfere with the master?” With that, several slaps rained down, one, two, three. The male nurse’s face quickly swelled, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. “Let him go!” I tried to pull the bodyguard away, but another held my shoulder, unable to move. “Send him to the police station,” Alistair said lightly. “Bold to harm my child.” He took the baby from my arms. The baby was still crying, the red marks on his arm alarming. Alistair looked down, then suddenly froze. He turned the baby over, pushed aside his tiny clothes, exposing his shoulder. No birthmark. “Where’s the birthmark? Where’s the birthmark on the child’s shoulder?” The baby’s ear-splitting cries felt like daggers in my heart. I lunged to snatch him back, but Alistair kicked me in the lower abdomen. My freshly stitched wound immediately burst open, excruciating pain shooting through my entire body. I curled up on the ground, unable to even cry out. Alistair held the baby, looking down at me, his face ashen. “Audrey Hayes, have you been seeing someone else? Whose bastard child is this?” Sweat poured from my forehead from the pain. I gritted my teeth, refusing to speak. My silence infuriated him. He sneered, his gaze turning to the male nurse, who had fainted on the floor. “Not talking, huh? Then it must be an affair between you and this nurse.” He handed the baby to Olivia Thorne, motioning to a bodyguard. “Disable his lower half for the rest of his life.” “You wouldn’t dare!” I struggled to get up, but another bodyguard pinned me down. Fists and feet rained down on the male nurse, specifically targeting his groin. He was already unconscious, but his body still convulsed reflexively, blood pooling from his mouth. “Stop! You’re breaking the law!” I shrieked, my voice completely distorted. Alistair smoothed his sleeves, his tone sarcastic. “You cheated in our marriage, gave birth to a bastard with a strange man, and dare to talk to me about breaking the law? Do you believe I’ll make you leave with nothing, not a single penny?” Olivia held the baby, crying as if her heart would break. “Sister, please give the baby back to me, okay? We won’t pursue this, as long as the baby is safe…” I clenched my jaw, refusing to give in. Soon, hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor. My mother arrived first. Seeing the mess on the floor, her face instantly went white. “Audrey! What’s going on?!” She rushed over and hugged me, her voice trembling. Alistair gestured to a bodyguard, who kicked my mother’s knee, making her buckle. My mother, caught off guard, fell to her knees. “Alistair Walker! What are you doing?!” my mother shrieked. Alistair’s eyes were icy. “Audrey, I’ll ask you only one thing: where is the child? If you don’t tell me, your mother is next.” My mother’s eyes widened, her whole body trembling. “Are you insane? Try laying a finger on me! My brother, Julian Thorne…” Before she could finish, a bodyguard slapped her across the face. Several bodyguards began to hit my mother from both sides. Blood streamed down my mother’s chin, her hair disheveled, half her face swollen beyond recognition. But she gritted her teeth, not uttering a sound. She was a martyr’s widow. When my father died, she raised me alone, never bowing her head to anyone. But now, she was on her knees, being slapped like an animal. I charged forward like a madwoman, but two bodyguards held my arms, immobilizing me. “Alistair Walker! You’re crazy! She’s my mother! A martyr’s widow! I’ll see you rot in jail!” Alistair sneered. “A widow whose husband died, what trouble can she cause? If reporters come, I’ll just say your mother couldn’t stand the loneliness and found lovers for herself and for you. What’s wrong with me, Alistair Walker, cleaning up my household?” He walked to me, gripped my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Where is the child? Where have you hidden him?” I looked at his hypocritical face, and suddenly, I laughed. “You yourselves killed that child, and now you ask me where he is?” Alistair’s hand froze. Olivia’s crying stopped too. “What did you say?” Alistair’s voice changed. Olivia’s face drained of all color in an instant. She looked down at the baby in her arms, her lips trembling violently. She shrieked, her voice sharp enough to pierce eardrums, “You’re lying! That’s impossible!” “No… impossible…” Alistair’s voice began to tremble. His legs weakened, and he took a step back, bumping into the bedside table. Olivia had completely broken down, cradling the baby and sobbing hysterically. “My child! Give me back my child!” Looking at the two of them, I felt not a shred of satisfaction. Only a coldness seeping from my very bones. Alistair suddenly looked up, his eyes bloodshot, like a cornered beast. “Where did you hide my son?! Tell me!” He rushed forward and grabbed my neck, his fingers tightening. I couldn’t breathe, and my vision blurred. “Not talking? Fine.” He suddenly let go, turning to the bodyguards. “Drag her to the operating room. Take out her uterus. Let her never be a mother again.” My mother shrieked, “You wouldn’t dare! Julian Thorne won’t let you get away with this!” Alistair acted as if he hadn’t heard, waving his hand. The bodyguards dragged me out. I struggled, my hospital gown ripped, exposing my shoulder. People in the corridor glanced over, but no one dared to step forward. The operating room door was pushed open, and cold air rushed out. I was pressed onto the operating table, my hands and feet bound, my clothes stripped away. The smell of disinfectant made me want to vomit. “Begin,” Alistair commanded the doctor, his face cold. Just as the surgical knife was about to descend, the door was kicked open from the outside. “I’d like to see who dares lay a hand on her!!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “445990”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel